“I…” It’s as if her throat is attempting to force down a giant pill dry. Kisa digs her fingers into the couch, afraid that she’s choking on some enormous truth, some desire that she’s not allowed herself to want in full until now. There’s a certain air of smug satisfaction radiating from Hani as Kisa curls over herself from the want of it.

“Promise me you’ll ask, Kisa,” Hani urges, suddenly desperate. When she looks up at the gumiho, Kisa sees that there are tears shining in her eyes. Their eyes. “Some stories deserve a happy ending.”

It’s all she can do to nod. She’ll ask. Of course she’ll ask.

“Thank you,” her past-self whispers. “Thank you.” She hesitates. “It’s almost time for you to wake up…but I would hate myself if I didn’t ask about her. About Somi.” Guilt shines on Hani’s face. “How is she?”

Kisa smiles slightly, thinking of the other gumiho’s flirtation with Hajun, boba teas and laughter. “She’s found friends. I’m one of them.”

“She told you what happened?” Hani looks nervous.

“I forgave her,” Kisa replies honestly. “I mean, well, to me—it didn’t seem like there was anything to forgive. I don’t remember her, or her betrayal…It’s like it never even happened. I forgave her before she even apologized.”

“Because you’re right. There’s nothing to forgive. Deep down, you’ve known it. Because it’s true.” Hani grimaces, fiddling with the corner of the book. “It was our fault from the beginning. She was so young, so innocent. We weren’t there for her when she needed us, but Eodum—that fucking demon—was.” Her eyes are bright. “I’m glad you forgave her. I’m glad that she’s doing well…”

“Her claws, though,” Kisa cuts in. “They’ve been—broken.”

Hani stiffens. “Broken?”

“She was murdered. I don’t know who did it. She doesn’t want to talk about it.” And she can’t blame her for it.

Rage dances across Hani’s face like a tumultuous storm, yet she looks as if she might be sick at the same time. “No. Not Somi. Not her claws.” Hani stands again, shakily this time. “Somi-ah…” she whispers, stumbling to the kitchen counter, where a Polaroid stands in a frame. In the photo, Hani is grinning in a light brown apron next to a younger Somi, whose face is flushed pink with pleasure as their cheeks press together. Kisa watches as Hani’s fingertips brush over the photographed Somi. “Find out who,” Hani whispers. “Find out who, and then hurt them. Just as they hurt her.” The apartment begins to blur. Kisa blinks in panic as Hani whirls back around. “You’re waking up. Remember what I told you. You need to read it when you wake. The answers are there.”