“We were wrong,” Kisa whispers. “We were wrong.” It’s always been a terribly devastating feeling for her—being wrong. Never has Kisa encountered a more soul-crushing experience than confidently raising her hand in class only to be at once corrected, or receiving an exam back to see she had completely botched a question she’d felt certain about. Worse still was making a mistake in the hospital. Yet in comparison to this, all her past mistakes dim to nothing. The shame is hard to breathe past, and Hani is silent as Kisa buries her face in her hands.

“It’s not too late,” Hani finally says. “When you wake up in a few minutes, you’ll know what to do.”

“I need to wake up now,” gasps Kisa, and concentrates extremely hard, as if it will force her sleeping self to consciousness. The result, she fears, is that she looks very constipated.

“It doesn’t work like that, darling.” Hani sighs, scooting closer to the panicking Kisa. “You don’t remember it, but you’ve—we’ve—faced the impossible before. And what’s the worst that can happen to you? Death? Please. Been there, done that. The stakes are high, but we can overcome them. We have to—for Seokga.”

A strained laugh escapes her lips and Kisa turns to look, really look, at Hani. “He loves you,” Kisa whispers before she can stop herself.

Hani’s expression hardens. “He loves us. And we love him.”

“I just met him,” Kisa rasps, although something about the statement feels like a lie, an excuse to hide behind. Hani stares at her, and Kisa almost recoils at the fury in the gumiho’s eyes. She’s reminded, suddenly, of Hani’s notoriety and flinches in surprise as Hani launches herself upward from the couch.

“You’re not going to ruin this for us,” Hani snaps. “I’m not even going to waste my breath explaining to you that we knew him long before he came onto the ship. I died for him, Kisa. You died for him. But in this life, what have you done besides lead him along on a literal string?” She snatches the book from the couch and flips it back open. “ ‘Kisa steadfastly denies her true feelings to herself, and is somehow fine with breaking the heart of the god who loves her, leading him on and on and on…’ It’s preposterous. I could slap you. If you go into that reincarnation queue, I will slap you. ‘Squashing,’ my ass.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Kisa snarls, suddenly venomous. “What it’s like on that ship—I’m exhausted. I’ve been exhausted for years.”