Yuna
What remains behind
She didn’t look back. That’s what broke me first. Seori walked down the long, dim corridor of the safehouse, wrapped in shadow and resolve.
Her steps were steady — blade strapped to her back, coat flaring like wings behind her.
She was walking into hell and wearing bravery like it didn’t weigh her down.
But I knew better. She was terrified. And she was leaving us anyway.
I pressed my palm to the doorway’s edge, willing myself not to move. Not to scream after her. Not to beg her to stay. If I did, I knew she’d break — and Seori never allowed herself to break.
I watched the back of her silhouette disappear into the horizon light, and something inside me cracked.
“Come back to us,” I whispered. “Please… come back.”
I didn’t notice the tears slipping down my cheeks until a shadow passed beside me.
Taeyang.
He was silent, his massive frame a wall of stone and storm. I felt his presence like pressure in my chest — always too much and too near. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d shatter completely.
But he stopped beside me. Neither of us spoke.
I wanted to scream at him — You’re letting her go into your world alone. You’re supposed to protect your people, your prince. Why not her?
But I didn’t.
Because deep down, I knew Taeyang was breaking, too.
“You should’ve stopped her,” I said hoarsely, my voice catching on a sob.
He didn’t turn.
“You think I didn’t try?”
His voice was low — not cold, but ragged, like he hadn’t slept, like he hadn’t breathed since she made her decision.
“Then why didn’t you drag her back?” I asked, trembling. “Why didn’t you do something?”
His eyes flicked to mine, and what I saw there made my heart stutter. Pain. Rage. Guilt. And underneath it — fear.
“Because she’s like him,” he said quietly. “Once Seori chooses, there’s no stopping her. Even if it kills her.”
His gaze dropped to my lips, lingered for a breath too long — then snapped away like it burned.
“And maybe…” he added, so soft I almost missed it, “she was always meant to die for him.”
That was it. The final thread in me snapped.
“Don’t say that,” I hissed, fists clenched. “Don’t you dare say that.”
He looked at me like he wanted to take it back. Like he didn’t know how. But instead of comforting me, instead of saying anything, he turned — ready to vanish again like he always did.
“Taeyang,” I called out, voice raw. “Why does it hurt when you walk away?”
He froze.
His hand went to his chest — right over his heart. And for the briefest moment, I saw it — not just confusion, but agony.
“I think I was meant for you.” I whisper to him
“I’m not meant for anyone” He sneers “I am nothing but rage and agony in one. And you, you’re not meant for anyone either.”
I felt a sharp pain near my chest again. As if I was being rejected.
“You’re not just rage, Taeyang. I see you.” I whisper again to him and he looks taken aback.
He didn’t answer. He just walked.
I sank to the floor, knees pulled tight to my chest, tears sliding down in silence.
“She’s gone,” I whispered into the emptiness. “And so are you… even if you’re still standing here. Please come back to me…both of you.”
The bond tugged between us like an echo I didn’t understand. Like something ancient was stirring inside me, calling his name.
But Taeyang was already gone.
And I cried — for Seori, for the friend I might never see again. And for what could’ve been… if he’d just turned back.