Rheon
A blade to the heart
The fire crackled low, shadows dancing along the cracked temple walls of our hideout.
Seori stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, her posture stiff but her energy unmistakable. That pulse in our bond again — soft but insistent. She hadn’t spoken a word since the fight. Since Taeyang’s warning.
But I knew what she was going to ask. I felt it before she opened her mouth.
"Why does he think I’ll destroy you?" Her voice was quiet. Not a whisper — no, it had too much steel for that. But low enough to tell me she was treading into dangerous waters. “What does he know that I don’t?”
I didn’t answer. I Couldn’t. The silence between us stretched. Seori turned to face me fully, her gaze sharp, cutting through the space like a dagger. “Don’t play games, Rheon. Not with this. You told him something. And now he looks at me like I’m your ruin.”
Still, I didn’t speak. Because shecouldbe. She stepped closer.
"Tell me."
I turned away, jaw clenched, my shadows curling at my feet like restless dogs.
“You want the truth?” I rasped, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “It’s not what you think.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“Try me.”
I exhaled hard, running a hand through my hair. "Because he knows what I would do for you."
She blinked.
I looked her dead in the eye, my voice a low, scorched whisper.
“Because I’d take a blade to the heart if it meant keeping you safe. Because love — for someone like me —kills. That kind of devotion is poison in our world.”
She inhaled sharply, her lips parting as if to speak.
But I wasn’t done.
“And he knows,” I said, stepping closer now, unable to stop myself, “that if I let myself fall, I won't survive it.”
The bond flared between us — hot, electric, violent.
“But you’re hiding something,” she said suddenly, softer now. “That’s not the whole truth.”
I looked away. A flash — not of her — but of another face. Another time. A memory I buried so deep it was rotting.
“I’m not ready to tell you that part,” I said, too tightly.
Her gaze hardened.
“Coward.”
I smirked, stepping closer, voice velvet and fire.
“You’ve never minded what I keep hidden before.”
I reached for her, fingers brushing down her bare arm, slow. She flinched. Not from fear — no, from something more dangerous.
Desire.
