He is frozen, a statue that cannot take his eyes off that sweater. Hani’s sweater.

“We all have different ways of grieving,” Somi mutters, staring at the ground. “I wear her clothes, I…act like her, sometimes…because I miss her. For a long time, it was the closest I could get to being with her again.” Defensive, Somi raises her head. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I don’t care. It’s none of your business.”

Seokga’s lips are pressed so tightly together that he’s certain they’re bloodless. His mouth is full of words that he could say—horrible, terrible words—but something in him won’t let them emerge. Perhaps it’s the memory of Hani, using her last words to beg him to spare Somi’s life.

Somi hesitates, too. “Does it even matter if I have the sweater or not?” she whispers. “You found her. Kisa.”

It matters, he wants to retort, but his lips don’t let him utter those words, either.

The gumiho watches him warily. “Don’t tell me that you don’t like her as much as you liked Hani,” she snaps, suddenly drawing herself up. “She’s incredible. She’s smart and kind and she deserves somebody who won’t constantly compare her to who she was in her past life!”

He bristles. Anytime he’s done that, he’s felt like a complete asshole afterward. What does it matter if Kisa prefers coffee to hot chocolate? It doesn’t. It doesn’t.

“She doesn’t owe you anything,” Somi adds ferociously. The protectiveness in her voice reminds Seokga briefly of the way Hani had constantly looked after the younger gumiho. “If she doesn’t like you, then you leave her alone and let her have the space she needs.”

Seokga’s amazed to find that his lips are twitching as Somi continues. “And the last thing you need to be doing is expecting her to stick around for you when the cruise is over. She deserves to make her own decisions about her life—”

“I agree,” cuts in Seokga, suddenly feeling lighter as the last of his rage begins to dissipate.

She falters. “What?”

“I agree,” Seokga repeats smoothly, snapping his sword back into a cane. “With everything you said.”

Somi blinks. “Oh.” She nods, once, then twice, twisting the hem of Hani’s sweater. “Okay. Well, good. Because Kisa is going to be my best friend again, even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

Seokga smirks. “No.”

Her mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”

Seokga smiles at Somi, but it’s not a nasty smile. It’s not exactly a kind one, either—it might never be. But it’s something almost like a sort of grudging solidarity.

She’s the only one who remembers Hani like he does.

And although they were on different sides, Seokga and Somi both made it through the Dark Days. Only they know what truly happened.