The gumiho balls her hands into fists. “Stop acting like I didn’t lose her, too.” Somi uses the sleeve of her sweater—an oversized cream turtleneck just like the ones Hani wore in the nineties—to wipe away a stray tear. “I d-did something horrible. I’m not going to say that I didn’t know better, because I did. I just lost control. I hadn’t gotten my Jitters and Cravings under rein yet. You can h-hate me for it all you want, Seokga, but you’ll never hate me as much as I hate myself. As for this?” Somi tugs at the hem of her sweater, her face twisting into a self-loathing expression. “She wouldn’t have wanted her clothes to go to waste, or be tossed into the garbage—”

The world grinds to a halt. Seokga’s blood goes dangerously cold as he stares at Somi. “Are you…” he breathes, gripping his cane so tightly in his free hand that his knuckles pop. “Are you actually wearing Hani’s clothing?” He’s noted the resemblance before, but he never thought…

Somi slowly releases her fingers from the fabric, which Seokga is now staring at in a new light. The cream-colored wool might have once sat atop Hani’s skin. It would have smelled like her shampoo, the citrus and vanilla scent of her, mixed with that unique smell of smoke, like a crackling fire. Hani was always burning so brightly.

“Answer me,” Seokga hisses, barely able to breathe. He never knew what became of Hani’s tiny apartment after she died. He honestly had no idea how those affairs were handled on Iseung.

“Yes,” Somi finally whispers. “It’s hers. The bag, too. The books.”

“I,” snarls Seokga, “am going to kill you.” Never mind the fact that Nam Somi is already dead. He will find a way to destroy her very essence, shred her into nothingness—just as soon as he puts Hwanin down somewhere safe. “I am going to kill you—”

“She gave it to me!” Somi half-screams as Seokga transforms his cane into a sword. He freezes. Panting hard, Somi hugs her waist with her own arms. “All of it,” she whispers. “Hani gave me all of it. It was in her will. I snuck back into New Sinsi to tell her I was sorry…and got the will instead. The apartment, the clothes, the jewelry, the weapons, and the novels…Hani had left it all to me.”

“Bullshit,” Seokga snaps, but he’s faltered. Part of him isn’t too sure. “You were just her co-worker, a younger gumiho she took pity on—”

She bristles. “I was her best friend until you came along. We’d both fucked each other over by the end, but we were friends. And who else would she have left it to?” Somi fires back, squeezing her middle tight. “And…And she wrote that will before I went and r-ruined everything.”