Jisoo The Ruin I Made
Jisoo
The ruin I made
Her slap still echoed in my skull long after she walked away.
Not because of the pain. I’d survived blades through the heart, had my wings torn off by the ones who once called me brother. Pain was nothing new to me.
But Minji’s pain? Her disappointment? That tore deeper than anything I’d ever bled for.
I stood frozen in place, staring at the space where she’d just been, her voice still slicing through me like a cursed dagger.
“You don’t get to decide what sacrifices I’m worth.”
Gods.
I told myself I’d done the right thing. That if they had hurt her—if they had taken her instead of Seori—I wouldn’t have survived it. I acted. I chose.
And in doing so, I became the very thing she had never feared until now: a traitor.
My fingers trembled as I touched the mark beneath my shirt. It still burned. Still pulsed in time with hers. As if the bond was mocking me. Reminding me that fate didn’t care if I was ready.
I wasn’t.
I never wanted this.
Not her. Not the mark. Not the part of me that craved her like salvation and damnation all at once.
And yet… I’d chosen her. In the worst way. Not by protecting her honorably. But by letting another girl—her friend—be taken in her place. A girl she loved like a sister. A girl I, too, should’ve protected.
I clenched my fists, the shadows curling around my feet like they sensed the storm building in my chest.
Minji had every right to hate me.
Because I hated me.
I wasn’t born to be a mate. I wasn’t made to love or protect or cherish. I was created for war. For ruin. Fallen. Twisted. Cast out.
But Minji… gods, Minji made me want to be something else.
And I broke her anyway.
I sank to one knee, the demon realm’s ash sticking to my fingers as I buried my hands in my hair and pressed my forehead to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the dirt, knowing it wasn’t enough.
Knowing it never would be.
But I would make it right.
Somehow.
Even if it meant burning for it.