The lights were still hot on her skin long after the fight ended.
Aara stood in front of the locker room mirror, wrapped hands shaking, face bruised and beautiful in that way only the broken could understand. The cut above her eyebrow was still open. The swelling on her ribs hadn't gone down.
She didn't care.
She'd won.
But it didn't feel like victory.
It felt like survival with an audience.
The door opened behind her.
Haru stepped in, quiet. He didn't speak right away, just moved to stand beside her at the mirror.
"They're already cutting together highlight reels," he said."Slow motion. Your blood, her fall. They'll make it poetic."
"It wasn't," Aara replied. "It was ugly."
"That's what made it real."
She didn't nod. Didn't look at him.
"I wasn't fighting her," she said finally."I was fighting the part of me that stayed here."
"Did you kill it?"
Aara stared at her reflection.
"No," she said quietly."I think I gave it a name."
Outside, the press was rabid.
Cameras. Lights. Screens flashing her name and SORI's in all caps. Reporters shouting questions about legacy and vengeance and what it felt like to reclaim the crown.
Jin stood between them and the door, acting as a buffer.
"She's not giving interviews today," she said calmly."She didn't fight for your headlines."
Still, the world didn't care.
They were already rewriting her.
ASH: The Comeback Queen.ASH: The Killer Who Got Up.
They loved her again — but only because she bled in the right direction.
Back in the locker room, Aara unwrapped her hands slowly, wincing with every pull of the tape.
"You need stitches," Haru said.
"Later."
"They'll scar."
"Good."
She dropped the bloodied wraps into the trash and leaned back against the cold tile wall.
"He's not done," she murmured.
"Daehyun?"
"This wasn't about the fight. It was a test."
"You passed."
"No," she whispered."I survived. That's not the same."
Haru hesitated.
Then said:
"I'm pulling away from him."
Aara turned her head, eyes sharp.
"What?"
"DaeCorp. My family. The board. All of it.I've got a small team. People who want out too. We've been planning this for months."
"You were going to tell me?"
"When I had something real. Something that could protect you."
Aara stepped forward, closer than comfort.
"You think I need protection?"
"No," Haru said. "I think you deserve freedom.And the people holding your chain have worn my last name too long."
She stared at him.
Then nodded once.
That was enough.
Downstairs, Jin finally pushed through the crowd and slipped into the stairwell. Her hands were still shaking — not from fear, but adrenaline.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small pin someone had passed to her backstage.
A simple symbol.
Nothing flashy.
But she recognized it.
An underground faction. Fighters. Whistleblowers. Survivors.
And carved into the back, a single line:
"If they crown you, make sure it's not to watch you fall."
Jin didn't tell Aara about it.
Not yet.
Because something in her was starting to stir.
Not ambition.
Not rebellion.
But something colder.
Purpose.
Later that night, Aara stood on the balcony of their rented apartment, city lights humming beneath her. The air was cold. Her bruises ached.
Haru leaned in the doorway behind her.
"You'll be everywhere tomorrow," he said."Interviews. Headlines. Maybe even sponsorship offers you don't hate."
"Let them talk," she replied."Let them build me a throne.I'll sit on it just long enough to set it on fire."
He smirked.
"You never wanted the crown, did you?"
"The crown was never the point," she said."I just wanted them to know I wasn't theirs to break."