The air crackled with the stench of scorched earth and demon blood, the clearing a battlefield of shattered trees and smoldering grass. Suyeon stood poised, her hands wreathed in silver foxfire, its glow casting sharp shadows across her face. The demon loomed before her, its molten-iron hide scarred from her last strike, its six legs clawing furrows into the dirt. Its red eyes burned with primal fury, locked on her as if she were the only prey in a world of ash. Behind her, the warrior—still nameless to her—gripped his chipped sword, his stance unsteady but unyielding. His dark eyes darted between her and the beast, torn between the instinct to fight and the shock of her revealed tail. Suyeon's heart pounded, not from fear of the demon, but from the weight of his gaze. He'd seen too much. Her life as Yuna, the healer, was a fading dream.
"Stay back," she hissed, her voice cutting through the demon's guttural snarl. She didn't turn to face him, couldn't afford to. The beast lunged, its claws slicing through the air like scythes. Suyeon twisted, her body a blur of shadow and grace, dodging by a hair's breadth. Her hands wove another spell, foxfire flaring into a whip of light that lashed across the demon's flank. The beast roared, stumbling, but its hide absorbed the blow, cracks glowing briefly before sealing shut. This was no ordinary demon—it was old, forged in some ancient crucible of malice, and it wasn't going down easily.
The warrior shouted, his voice raw but steady. "Aim for its eyes!" He charged, ignoring her warning, his sword arcing toward the demon's face. The blade struck true, grazing one glowing orb, but the beast swiped with a claw, catching his shoulder and hurling him into a tree. He hit with a sickening crunch, sliding to the ground, blood seeping through his torn hanbok.
"Idiot!" Suyeon snarled, her focus splitting. She couldn't let him die—not after risking her disguise to save him. She darted forward, foxfire surging around her like a storm, and slammed a burst of light into the demon's chest. The force drove it back, its legs scrabbling for purchase, but it gave her the seconds she needed. She reached the warrior, kneeling beside him, her hands glowing as she pressed them to his shoulder. The wound was deep, bone visible beneath shredded muscle, but the venom hadn't spread this time. Her foxfire knit the flesh, slower now, her energy waning from the fight.
His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. Up close, she saw the flecks of amber in his irises, the stubborn defiance that refused to break. "You… didn't run," he rasped, his voice thick with pain. "Why?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Suyeon snapped, her fingers trembling as she worked. "I just don't like wasting effort." But her words felt hollow. She didn't know why she stayed, why his reckless courage pulled at her. A Kumiho didn't save mortals—she deceived them, used them, left them to rot. Yet here she was, burning through her power for a man whose name she didn't even know.
The demon's roar snapped her back to the fight. It was on its feet again, shaking off embers, its wounded eye oozing black ichor. Suyeon stood, placing herself between the warrior and the beast. "Stay down this time," she said, her voice low, dangerous. "Or I'll kill you myself."
He coughed, a weak laugh escaping. "Noted." But he was already struggling to rise, gripping his sword like it was his lifeline.
Suyeon's lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through her frustration. Mortals were infuriatingly stubborn. She turned to the demon, her hands weaving a new spell, one she hadn't used in decades. The air around her shimmered, heavy with the weight of her power. Her cloaking spell strained, two more tails flickering into view, their silver light dancing like liquid starlight. The warrior's sharp intake of breath told her he saw them, but there was no time to care. The demon charged, faster now, its claws aimed for her heart.
She leaped, her body twisting midair, and unleashed a torrent of foxfire. The flames roared, a silver inferno that engulfed the demon, searing its hide and forcing it to its knees. The beast thrashed, its screams shaking the forest, but Suyeon didn't relent. She landed lightly, her hands glowing brighter, drawing on the deep well of her Kumiho power. The curse pulsed in her chest, a reminder of its cost—every spell, every tail revealed, brought her closer to losing control, to becoming the monster the stories warned of.
The demon's hide cracked, molten light spilling from its wounds. Suyeon saw her chance. She darted forward, her fingers curling into claws, and drove a spear of foxfire into its wounded eye. The beast convulsed, its body collapsing in a heap of ash and embers, the forest falling silent except for the distant crackle of Haeryong's flames.
Suyeon staggered, her breath ragged, her cloaking spell barely holding. Three tails shimmered behind her, visible to anyone who looked. She turned to the warrior, expecting fear, a drawn sword, a shout for the village to hunt her. Instead, he was on his knees, staring at her with something she couldn't name—wonder, perhaps, or something dangerously close to trust.
"You're a Kumiho," he said, his voice steady despite the blood staining his clothes. "A nine-tailed fox."
She tensed, ready to bolt. "And you're a fool who should've run when I told you to." Her voice was cold, but her heart raced. He knew. There was no undoing this.
He pushed himself to his feet, wincing, his sword still in hand but lowered. "You saved me. Twice. Why?"
Suyeon's laugh was sharp, bitter. "Don't read into it. I just didn't want your death on my conscience." She turned away, her tails fading as she forced her spell back into place. The village was still burning, its screams fainter now, replaced by the wails of survivors. She had to leave before they came looking, before they saw what she was.
"What's your name?" he called after her, his voice cutting through the smoke.
She paused, her back to him. "Yuna," she said, the lie heavy on her tongue.
"No," he said, stepping closer, his boots crunching on ash. "Your real name."
Suyeon's breath caught. No one had asked her that in centuries. She turned, meeting his gaze, those amber-flecked eyes that saw too much. "Suyeon," she said, the truth slipping out before she could stop it. "But you'll forget it by morning if you know what's good for you."
He smiled, faint but genuine, and it unnerved her more than the demon's claws. "I'm Jinwoo," he said. "And I don't forget debts. You saved my life. I owe you."
"You owe me nothing," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. "Stay away from me, Jinwoo. Or you'll regret it." She turned to the forest, ready to vanish into its shadows, but his next words stopped her cold.
"I swear on my blood," he said, his voice low, solemn. "I'll protect you, Suyeon. Monster or not."
She whirled, her eyes blazing. "You don't know what you're saying." But the weight of his oath hung in the air, a mortal's reckless promise that felt like a chain. She could feel the curse in her chest tighten, as if it sensed the danger of his words. A Kumiho didn't need protection—she needed solitude, secrecy, survival. Yet Jinwoo's gaze held no fear, only a stubborn resolve that made her want to scream.
The distant sound of footsteps broke the moment—villagers, their torches bobbing through the trees, their voices calling for survivors. Suyeon's spell snapped fully into place, her tails vanishing, her eyes dimming to a human brown. "Go to them," she said, stepping back. "Tell them the demon's dead. But not a word about me."
Jinwoo nodded, but his eyes promised he wouldn't forget. "This isn't over," he said, his voice soft but firm.
Suyeon didn't answer. She melted into the forest, her footsteps silent, her heart pounding with a mix of anger and something she refused to name. The village's flames lit the horizon, a beacon of the life she could never have. Jinwoo's oath echoed in her mind, a dangerous spark in a world already burning. She was a Kumiho, cursed and alone, but tonight, for the first time in centuries, she felt the weight of a mortal's trust—and the terror of what it might cost her.