The faint whistle of the kettle followed us as I guided Jin toward the bathroom. Her steps were unsteady, her tail dragging low behind her as if it carried the weight of her guilt. I kept an arm around her shoulders, steering her gently past the bed and into the cool, tiled space beyond.

“Come on,” I said softly, nudging the door shut behind us. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

The bathroom light buzzed faintly as it flickered on, illuminating the stark whites and silvers of the small space. The coppery scent of blood clung to the air, sharp and unrelenting. Jin’s steps faltered as we entered, her gaze darting to the dark smears staining her hands. She froze.

“Hey,” I said softly, stepping in front of her to block her view. “It’s okay. We’ll clean this up.”

Her eyes didn’t meet mine. Instead, they remained locked on her trembling claws, where drying blood was caught in the grooves. Her tail flicked behind her, agitated and uneven, the tip snapping sharply against the tiled floor.

“Jin?” I tried again, keeping my voice steady.

She let out a low, guttural sound—a whimper that twisted into something deeper, more primal. Her claws twitched, then clenched into fists, the tips scraping against her palms. I reached for her, but the second my hand brushed her arm, she recoiled violently.

“Jin, it’s okay!” I said quickly, holding my ground as she staggered back.

Her breathing grew wild, uneven, and her almost burning pink eyes darted around the room as if searching for something that wasn’t there. But I had an idea of what she was seeing—the basement. The chains. The blood.

“Jin,” I said again, softly but firmly.

She shook her head, her claws rising defensively as though to ward me off. Her body trembled, the panic spiraling out of control as her tail lashed behind her.

“It’s not real,” I said, stepping closer despite the warning flick of her claws. “You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

Her leg snapped toward me in a blur, the sharp edge of her hoof catching my shin with enough force to send me stumbling. Pain shot through my leg, bright and sharp, and I barely caught myself before falling. I recognized her strength in that moment—that kick would've shattered a regular human's leg.

“Stop!” I said, my voice breaking through the haze as I caught her wrists. Her claws raked across my arm as she twisted, the sting of broken skin barely registering over the chaos.

She lunged forward, her movements wild and desperate, and we tumbled to the floor in a tangled heap. The cold tiles bit against my back as I landed hard, her weight pressing down on me.

“Jin!” I said again, struggling to keep hold of her wrists as she thrashed. “It’s me! You’re safe!”

Her claws scraped against my shoulders, her strength almost overpowering as she fought against me. The terror in her eyes was a knife to the gut—raw, unyielding, and entirely out of reach. I tightened my grip, pinning her arms against me as she let out a low, keening sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re not there,” I said, my voice straining but steady. “You’re here, Jin. Look at me.” Her body stilled, just for a moment, her breath hitching sharply in her throat.

“It’s over,” I said, softer now. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. You’re safe.”

Her eyes locked on mine, wide and shimmering with panic, but I could see the faint flicker of recognition breaking through. The fight drained out of her all at once. Her shoulders sagged, her claws retracting as she collapsed against me, her head buried in the hollow of my neck. Her trembling frame was warm and heavy, her breath ragged against my skin.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her as tightly as I dared. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

A shuddering sob tore free from her, muffled against my chest. Her tail curled tightly around my leg, her body trembling with the force of her grief. The tiles pressed uncomfortably against my back, and the dull ache in my shin throbbed with every pulse of blood, but none of it mattered. What mattered was her—her shaking shoulders, the scratch of her claws as she clutched at my shirt, the quiet, broken sounds of her sobs that made me want to weep for her.

“You’re safe,” I whispered again, my fingers brushing through her tangled hair. “You’re with me. I’m not letting anything happen to you. Never again.”

She sobbed harder at that, her tears warm against my skin. I didn’t dare say more. Words felt inadequate in the face of her raw anguish. Instead, I held her, my hands moving in slow, soothing patterns along her back while she cried herself empty. Minutes passed, each one stretching into eternity, before her breathing began to slow. The tension in her body eased little by little, her sobs quieting into soft, heaving sniffles. When she finally stilled, her face still pressed against my neck, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

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“You’re okay,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’re okay.”

She held tightly onto the fabric of my shirt, and her tail thumped weakly against the floor. Jin’s breathing was still uneven as I shifted us upright, my back protesting the movement. The cold tiles pressed against my palms as I braced myself to stand, my legs trembling under the effort. Jin’s tail unwound from my leg as she stirred, her claws brushing against my side as if testing the reality of her surroundings.

“Come on,” I said softly, tucking a strand of her crimson hair behind a pointed ear. “We need to clean up.”

She glanced at me, her pink eyes rimmed with red, then looked down at her hands. The blood was still there, dark streaks caught beneath her claws and smeared across her fingers—and now on my shirt as well, I guessed. Her breathing hitched again, and I quickly reached for her wrist, grounding her before the spiral could take hold again.

“Just water,” I murmured. “We’ll start with water.”

I guided her to the sink, turning the faucet on and letting the warm stream spill over my hand before coaxing hers under it. The initial touch of the water made her flinch, but she didn’t pull away, her gaze fixed on the pink-tinged swirls spiraling down the drain.

“See?” I said quietly, cupping my hand beneath the stream and pouring it gently over her fingers. “It’s coming off.”

Jin’s claws flexed as she watched, her expression flickering between hesitation and something softer. Her tail brushed against my ankle in an almost apologetic motion. The blood washed away slowly, revealing the pale, delicate skin beneath. I worked methodically, rubbing my thumb along the edges of her fingers to dislodge the stubborn stains. I knew I should've grabbed something to scrub with, but I didn't dare agitate her right now, so slow and steady it was. Her hands trembled, but she didn’t resist, her gaze locked on mine as if afraid to look anywhere else.

“Claws,” I muttered, pressing my finger against her hand until she retracted them. “There you go.”

Once her hands were clean, I turned my attention to her shirt. The fabric was torn and stained, the dark patches of drying blood standing out starkly against the pale material.

“This needs to come off,” I said gently, reaching for the hem.

She hesitated, her claws twitching and retracting again, but she didn’t stop me as I lifted the shirt over her head. The movement was slow and careful, her horns catching slightly on the fabric before it slipped free. Beneath, her skin was pale and scarred. I set the ruined shirt aside, keeping my movements slow and exaggerated to avoid startling her. “Better,” I murmured, though my voice lacked conviction. The exhaustion in her eyes mirrored my own.

Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

My own shirt was in no better shape, torn and bloodied from both the earlier accident and Jin’s claws during her panic. Thin streaks of blood—although partway through getting absorbed thanks to my innate magic—had dried along my neck and along my arms where her scratches had broken through, and the faint outline of bruises was already forming where her tail and hooves had struck. My reflection was a mess, the fresh scrapes and gashes painting a grim picture against the glow of my runes.

“Guess I’m not winning any beauty contests today,” I muttered, peeling the ruined shirt off with a wince. The fabric stuck briefly to the deeper gashes, tugging painfully as I discarded it onto the growing pile of ruined laundry. Jin’s eyes darted to me, her expression twisting with fresh guilt as she took in the state of my arms and chest. Her claws flexed, and she looked down at her hands again as if the blood was still there.

“Hey,” I said quickly, turning her face gently back toward me. “It’s fine. I heal fast, remember? No lasting damage, just a few extra scars.”

She didn’t look convinced, but I couldn’t let her spiral again. Instead, I turned back to the sink and splashed water onto myself, scrubbing away the dried blood and grime. The water stung as it hit the open scratches, but I bit back any sound of pain, unwilling to add to Jin’s worry.

“See?” I said, forcing a small smile as the water ran clear. “Good as new."

Jin hovered beside me, her worried eyes wandering between my arms and the sink. When I reached for a towel to dry off, she stepped closer, her tail brushing against my leg again. Her movements were hesitant, her claws curling and uncurling as if debating whether to help.

“You can dry me off if you want,” I offered, keeping my tone light. “But no claws this time, yeah?”

She tilted her head, wearing something like a shy, reluctant smile. Taking the towel from me, she pressed it gently against my arms, her touch careful.

I let her work, her soft movements grounding us both in the moment. But when I moved to straighten up, the knee in my injured leg threatened to buckle, the dull ache flaring into sharp pain. Jin caught the motion immediately, her tail curling around my calf to steady me. Her expression shifted, her worry now focused entirely on me.

“I’m fine,” I said, though the strain in my voice betrayed me. She tilted her head again, her sharp gaze narrowing. Her hands grazed my arm lightly, a silent demand for the truth. I sighed, leaning more heavily against the counter. “Okay, maybe not fine. But I’m not—”

My words cut off as my vision swam, the world tilting slightly beneath me as the leg Jin had kicked gave out. I barely caught myself on the edge of the sink, cursing under my breath. Jin’s tail tightened around me, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“We’ll manage,” I started, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. “We just need to—”

The sound of the kettle whistling faintly in the background reminded me we weren’t alone. “Vivi,” I muttered, turning toward the door. “We need Vivi.” Jin nodded sharply, her tail releasing me as she made her way to the door. She moved with a stiffness I recognized—her limbs heavy with exhaustion and the lingering weight of panic. I decided to make it easier on both of us.

“Vivs!” I called, my voice hoarse but loud enough to carry through the apartment. It didn’t take long for the familiar footfall to come down the hall. Their worried face appeared in the doorway moments later, their eyes sharp with concern.

“What now?” Vivi asked, their tone bordering somewhere between exasperation and genuine worry. Their gaze swept over us, taking in the bloodied towels, Jin’s disheveled appearance, and my precarious lean against the counter.

“Help,” I said simply, gesturing vaguely at the both of us.

The half-devil sighed, stepping into the bathroom. “You two are a disaster. What happened now?”

“Just... a little more chaos,” I responded sheepishly. “Can you...?”

“Yeah, yeah,” they muttered, already rolling up their sleeves. “Let me see the damage.”