Back in the hostel, my body finally gave in.
The weakness I had been fighting all day overwhelmed me, and I staggered into my room, barely managing to reach the bed before my legs failed. I fell onto it, my chest rising and falling unevenly, my limbs heavy as though they no longer belonged to me.
With the little strength I had left, I reached for the music box and placed it carefully on the desk, the ballerina frozen mid-spin, silent and watching. Something about it made my heart ache, but I was too tired to think.
I lay back on the bed.
And that was it.
Sleep—or something deeper—pulled me under. I didn't know how long I stayed like that. I didn't notice when the door opened. I only felt a presence, faint footsteps, the shift of air in the room, but I was far too weak to open my eyes.
Far away, deep inside the forest, Minho was running.
His breath was sharp, controlled, his steps fast and deliberate as he moved through the trees. He kept glancing over his shoulder, alert, cautious, as though something—or someone—might follow him. Leaves cracked beneath his feet as he pushed forward without stopping, determination etched into his face.
Finally, he reached a long, towering rock hidden among thick vines and shadows.
He slowed.
From his bag, he carefully brought out the music box.
A smile crossed his lips—not warm, but knowing.
"This is where you belong," he murmured.
He stepped closer to the rock, pushing against what looked like solid stone. A hidden wooden door revealed itself. Minho slipped inside quickly, pulling the door shut behind him as darkness swallowed the light.
Back in the hostel, the door to my room opened again—this time gently.
Yoon stepped inside and locked it behind her.
The sight of me on the bed made her heart drop.
"Jina," she called softly.
No response.
Her steps grew hurried as she rushed closer, shaking my shoulder. "Jina!"
Still nothing.
Her hands trembled as she shook me harder, panic rising fast. Then, suddenly, my body slipped sideways, and I slid off the bed onto the floor.
Yoon froze.
"Oh no… Jina… no, no, no…" her voice cracked as she dropped to her knees beside me. "You can do it. You have to wake up."
She ran to the bathroom, splashed water into her hands, and flicked it onto my face again and again.
Slowly—painfully—I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was Yoon's face, pale with fear, her eyes glossy.
I tried to sit up, but my body refused. The moment I lifted myself, dizziness hit, and I fell back onto the bed with a weak groan.
"Don't," Yoon said quickly, holding me down. "Don't force it. Please."
My throat felt dry as sand. "Yoon… what's happening to me?" I whispered. "Why am I like this?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she took my hands gently, turning my palms upward as if searching for something invisible. Her fingers traced familiar paths, waiting—expecting—to feel energy.
There was nothing.
Her breathing became uneven. Slowly, carefully, she lifted one of my eyelids.
The moment she saw my eyes properly, she stumbled backward.
Her face drained of all color.
I forced myself to sit up, fear replacing exhaustion. "Yoon," I called weakly. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"
She stared at me, frozen, as if the words refused to come out.
"Yoon," I begged. "Please talk to me."
She swallowed hard.
"Jina…" she called my name, her voice shaking.
"Yes?" My heart pounded painfully. "What is it?"
Her eyes filled with shock, sorrow, and something close to grief.
"Jina," she said again, barely above a whisper.
Then the words finally fell.
"Your powers… are gone."
The room went silent.
The air felt heavy, pressing against my chest. I stared at her, waiting for her to laugh, to say it was a mistake, to tell me she was wrong.
"Gone?" I repeated slowly. "What do you mean… gone?"
Yoon couldn't look away from me. "I can't feel anything," she said. "There's no trace. No spark. No response. It's like… they vanished."
My hands trembled as I looked down at them.
Gone.
The power that had defined my fear, my pain, my purpose—
the power that had healed, protected, destroyed—
Gone.
Somewhere deep inside me, something cracked.
And for the first time since everything began,
I wasn't scared of monsters, or betrayal, or death.
I was terrified of being empty.
The room remained silent as the truth settled between us—