Chapter 1
The rooftop had always been high enough to make the rest of the city feel small, but tonight it felt endless — a dark ocean of lights stretching out beneath Rumi’s feet. The wind was sharp, carrying the smell of rain and the faint hum of traffic far below. It tugged at her hoodie, lifted strands of her hair, and brushed cold against the tear tracks she kept wiping away before they could dry.
She sat on the concrete ledge with her knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, chin resting on her sleeves. Her legs dangled over the drop like she didn’t care how far down it was. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was too tired to care about anything except the ache in her chest.
This rooftop used to feel alive.
It used to be filled with laughter — his laughter — the kind that started soft and then cracked into something warm and real. It used to echo with their arguments, their teasing, their late‑night training sessions that always ended with him pretending he wasn’t scared of heights.
“I’m not scared,” he’d say, gripping the ledge with white knuckles.
“You’re literally shaking,” she’d reply.
“It’s the wind.”
“There is no wind.”
“…Then it’s the cold.”
She used to roll her eyes.
He used to grin like he’d won something.
Now the rooftop was silent.
Rumi pulled her hood lower, hiding her face even though no one was there to see it. She hated how empty the space felt without him. She hated how the city lights blurred when she blinked too hard. She hated how her chest tightened every time she remembered the last thing he ever said to her:
“If anything ever happens… this is where I’ll find you.”
She had replayed that line so many times it felt carved into her bones.
She hated that too.
She hated that she still came here.
She hated that she still waited.
She hated that she still hoped.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the ledge, nails digging into the concrete. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, trying to be the version of Rumi everyone expected — the strong one, the leader, the one who didn’t break.
But tonight, she felt breakable.
“Get it together,” she whispered to herself. “He’s not coming back. He’s not—”
“Rumi.”
Her entire body went rigid.
The wind stopped.
The city noise faded.
Her heartbeat slammed into her ribs so hard it hurt.
No.
No, no, no.
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to turn around.
Refusing to breathe.
Refusing to believe.
Because that voice wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be real.
She’d heard it in dreams, in nightmares, in the quiet moments when she missed him too much.
But not here.
Not now.
Not alive.
“Rumi… look at me.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Slowly — painfully slowly — she opened her eyes.
The world blurred at the edges.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
Her hands trembled against the ledge.
She turned.
And the rooftop — her rooftop — stopped feeling empty.
Jinu stood near the rooftop door, rain dripping from his hair, clothes torn, breathing uneven. He looked older, worn, like he’d been fighting shadows she couldn’t see. But his eyes… his eyes were exactly the same.
Soft.
Warm.
Familiar.
A face she never thought she’d see again.
Rumi’s breath hitched. Her throat closed. Her vision blurred instantly.
But she shook her head — hard — backing away a step like the sight of him physically hurt.
“No,” she whispered. “No. You’re not— you can’t be—”
Jinu’s expression softened, pained. “Rumi, it’s me.”
“Stop.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t do that. Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You’re not real.”
“I am real.”
“You died.” Her voice rose, trembling. “I saw the explosion. I saw— I saw—”
She couldn’t finish.
She couldn’t breathe.
Jinu took a slow step forward, careful, gentle, like approaching something fragile.
“I didn’t die,” he said quietly. “I was taken.”
Rumi shook her head again, harder, like she could shake him out of existence.
“No. No, you’re just— you’re just my brain messing with me. I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m—”
“Rumi.”
He said her name like a promise.
She flinched.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say it like that. Don’t make it sound real.”
“It is real.”
Her back hit the ledge. Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered. “You’re supposed to be gone. I— I already accepted it. I already—”
Her voice collapsed.
Jinu’s eyes softened with something like heartbreak.
“I know,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
Rumi squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling despite her best effort.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered. “Why now? Why like this?”
“Because I promised I’d find you here,” he said. “And because the demons who took me… they’re coming.”
Rumi’s eyes snapped open.
“You led them here?”
“No.” He shook his head. “They were already watching you.”
Her blood ran cold.
“What?”
Jinu stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“They know you’re the strongest. They know you’re the one who can stop them. They know you’re the one I—”
He stopped, breath catching.
Rumi’s heart pounded.
“The one you what?” she whispered.
Jinu looked at her like the truth was tearing him apart.
“The one I came back for.”
Rumi’s breath broke.
Her denial shattered.
But before she could speak, a sharp metallic sound echoed from the stairwell — a scrape, a click, a low growl that didn’t belong to anything human.
Jinu’s eyes widened.
“They found us.”
