Wings That Bind
The roar outside wasn’t distant anymore.
The ground shook, it wasn’t the bunker.
It was my arm.
“Left side is mine. Let go.”
“In your dreams. You had him first, and look what you did. Burned and chained. It’s my turn.”
Their hands tightened at the same time.
Pain flared down my shoulder.
“Hey—”
“Si‑woo, stay behind me,” Eun‑ha said.
“No—stay behind me,” Yeonhwa said.
She said it while wrapping her fingers tighter around my left wrist.
“I’ll go,” Yeonhwa said. "Eun-ha, stay here. You’re too flashy, you’ll just attract more monster.”
Her hand clamped down on my right wrist.
“I’m not letting him out of my sight again,” Eun‑ha said.
“Shut up,” Yeonhwa replied, her eyes narrowing. “You already lost him twice.”
The next growl made the whole bunker groan.
I drew in air, slow and careful.
“Let me stay back,” I said. “I’ll stand behind both of you this time. Less chance of me getting hurt—”
“No,” Eun‑ha cut in, not even looking.
“You think I’m stupid?” Yeonhwa asked. “The second I turn, she’ll snatch you and run.”
“You’re the one who likes kidnapping people,” Eun‑ha snapped.
“I didn’t fake his death.”
My wrists hurt.
They pulled.
Left, right, together.
The doorway yawned ahead. Beyond it: white wind, ruined concrete, the vaguest shapes of movement.
Cold slapped my face as soon as we stepped outside. My lungs tried to close on the air.
The snowfield around the bunker wasn’t empty.
Shapes moved at the edge of visibility. Long bodies, too many legs, jaws too wide. Their fur looked more like frosted needles than hair; ice jutted out from their spines.
One of them lifted its head and sniffed the air.
Its eyes locked on us.
On me.
It howled.
The sound raked the air raw. The others answered, joining the circle, tightening it.
“They’re coming from every direction.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t released so much mana back then,” Yeonhwa said, “We wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?”
“At least I can kill what I call,” Eun‑ha said. “Unlike some people who only know how to lurk.”
Heat coiled around her forearm, bright and tight. Shadows thickened around Yeonhwa’s ankles, gathering like a second skin.
Their hands on my wrists might as well have been iron.
“If you let go,” I said, low, “I won’t run. You won’t lose me in a blizzard. You’ll be able to fight properly.”
“You ran to her,” Eun‑ha said. “You’ll run again.”
“You let yourself get stolen by a sewer rat,” Yeonhwa said. “You’ll ‘slip’ again.”
They didn’t look at me.
They looked at each other.
The nearest snow beast bolted.
It came straight at us, claws digging into the snow, the muscles in its shoulders rolling under its skin.
“Hey! Look ahead,” I said.
Eun‑ha’s hand moved.
Fire blasted out, low and flat, turning the snow in front of us into boiling slush. The beast hit it and vanished, leaving only a charred
skeleton half‑melted into the ice.
Three more broke from the right, using the steam as cover.
“Right flank,” I said.
“I see,” Yeonhwa murmured.
Her shadows shot across the ground like cracks in glass. They sprang up under the beasts’ chests, spiking them mid‑leap.
The monsters dangled for a second, twitching, then the shadows twisted and ripped them sideways out of formation.
Blood steamed on the snow.
“Hey! You almost took his wrist off,” Yeonhwa snapped. “Watch where your fire goes.”
“You yanked him into my line,” Eun‑ha snapped back. “Stop dragging him around like a doll.”
“You’re the one chaining him.”
“To keep you from stealing him.”
“Can you two cut it out? Focus on the monsters! You’re not fighting them! You’re using them as an excuse to one-up each other.” I yelled.
“Of course,” Yeonhwa said. “You think I care how many dogs I kill?”
And the pack finally rushed in properly.
Left. Right. Behind.
Every time something moved, they reacted.
Every time they moved, my whole body jerked with them.
My shoulders protested with a deep ache left over from being pulled in opposite directions not long ago.
Another wolf‑thing lunged low for my legs.
My muscles tensed to jump back. Their hands yanked me forward.
“Low!” I forced out.
Shadows coiled, snagged its tail, flipped it forward. It crashed at our feet. Fire punched straight down from above and erased its head.
The heat on my shins hurt. I swallowed it.
“How the hell are we supposed to fight like this?” I thought.
“Three people glued together, surrounded by monsters. It’s a miracle I still have knees.”
“Don’t fall,” Eun‑ha said.
“If you fall, I will kill her,” Yeonhwa said quietly.
“He’s not falling,” Eun‑ha said. “I’m holding him.”
“You didn’t hold him in Spain.”
That landed harder than the monsters.
Another wave came in, trying to swarm us from both sides at once.
I focused on staying upright as my entire body lurched with each pull.
If I twist my ankle now, one of them will blame the other and they’ll both start again. Maybe if I fall hard enough, I get a break back in the bunker?
Flame slashed arcs through the snow. Not wide circles, not showpieces, just sharp lines that burned beasts in half.
Shadows twisted under paws, turning leaps into snapped spines.
They were both trying to prove something with every kill.
Not to the monsters.
To each other.
And I was the handle they were both pulling from.
“You’re compensating,” Yeonhwa said flatly as she cut another hound’s throat with a shadow blade. “Is this guilt or territorial piss?”
“Is this your commentary or your inferiority complex?” Eun‑ha answered, blasting three beasts that had tried to flank us. “Feels like both.”
“I’m not the one who nearly roasted him alive,” Yeonhwa said.
“I’m not the one who let him smile at someone else,” Eun‑ha hissed.
They met each other’s eyes for a fraction of a second over the steam.
A beast took that moment to charge my blind spot.
It came from behind, claws silent on the ice, jaws opening near my ear.
I felt the air change.
My body moved on reflex. Not casting. Not skills. Just a twist, a lean.
My foot slipped in blood.
Yeonhwa yanked my hand, pulling me off‑line. Eun‑ha’s fire carved through the air where my neck had been a heartbeat earlier and cut the beast cleanly across the face.
Half its head went flying. The body fell at my heel.
“See?” Yeonhwa said. “You almost burned his clothes!”
“You pulled him off his stance,” Eun‑ha shot back. “Don’t touch him when I’m casting!”
“He’s not your gear.”
“He’s not your toy.”
“You two done,” I said, breath fogging. “Or do you want to invite more?”
They didn’t answer.
They killed until there was nothing left to kill.
When it finally stopped, the snow around us looked like somebody had tried to melt and refreeze a slaughterhouse.
Steam curled up from scorched patches. Broken bones stuck out of the drifts. A few severed ice spines still rattled in the wind.
My lungs felt raw. My fingers were numb and sore where they’d been crushed.
They still hadn’t let go.
Eun‑ha’s hand was burning hot around my left wrist. Yeon‑hwa’s grip on my right was like iron gone cold.
Only our breathing and the wind filled the silence.
“…It’s done,” I said. “You can let go now.”
They didn’t.
Eun-ha’s gaze drifted to my hands.
Yeon‑hwa’s eyes drifted down to our joined hands.
“You know what’s bothering me?” she said suddenly.
“Your entire existence?” Yeonhwa offered.
“He didn’t cast once,” Eun‑ha said, ignoring her. “Not even a basic buff. Not even when that thing almost bit his face off.”
Her gaze moved up to me.
“You’re S‑rank support who knows to fight,” she said. “Your body should move before your brain does by now. Why didn’t it?”
Fuck.
“Maybe if you two weren’t clutching me like this, I would have?” I said. “Why? Aren’t you two enough for a pack of dogs?”
“You couldn’t,” she said.
Her eyes moved from my fingers to my chest. Not in a soft way. Measuring.
“Your mana didn’t move once,” she went on. “Not even when things jumped for your face. Not when you slipped. Nothing.”
“He’s scared,” Yeonhwa said. “Did that thought occur to you? After everything, he—”
“Fear makes it move more,” Eun-ha cut in. “Shock spikes mana. Even D‑ranks flare accidentally. He didn’t.”
“I did,” I said. “Just not where you could see.”
“Show me,” she said.
“I can’t perform on command.”
“Is it because you forgot?” Yeonhwa said lightly. “Because of the memories?”.
“Memories?” Eun‑ha repeated.
They both looked at me.
I held her gaze.
And Eun‑ha took it.
Her fingers dug into my pulse.
“You never told that you lost your memory,” she said.
“No, I did tell you,” I replied. “That day, when we went on our date.”
“Then why don’t I remember?” she asked.
Eun-ha tried to open mouth to say something but stopped.
Yeonhwa’s lips curled. “Maybe because you were too busy chaining him to remember anything,” she said. “Iron tends to drown out conversation.”
“Or maybe because you were too busy dragging him into your criminal empire,” Eun‑ha shot back without missing a beat.
“Both of you, stop,” I said. “My head already hurts.”
They didn’t.
But they shifted.
The argument slid its focus from each other back to me.
“Lost memories,” Eun‑ha said. “Skills, he can't use. Names he shrugs off. Places he doesn’t react to. And now you say he admitted all this to you, quietly, and never to me.”
“You were screaming at their representative,” Yeonhwa said. “Tearing up contracts, throwing chairs. Someone had to stay next to his bed and listen.”
“I was trying to keep them from using him as a lab rat,” Eun‑ha snapped. “You hiding in the corner doesn’t make you his confessor.”
“He told me,” Yeon‑hwa said softly. “That’s the part that bothers you, isn’t it?”
Eun‑ha’s jaw flexed.
She looked like she wanted to punch something.
Unfortunately, my face was the nearest surface.
She didn’t.
Her eyes came back to my face instead. Sharp. Searching. The way you looked at a weapon you’d used for years and suddenly weren’t sure was the one you’d ordered.
“Si‑woo,” she said. “What else did you tell her?”
“That’s not a fair question,” I said. “We don’t have enough time for that list.”
“I’m not joking,” she said.
“I know.”
“I don’t like this,” she said.
“Then don’t think too hard,” Yeonhwa said. “He’s here. Breathing. That’s enough.”
“It’s not,” Eun‑ha snapped. “Not for me.”
Her hand left my wrist.
For the first time since we stepped out, one side of me was free.
It didn’t feel any safer.
Her fingers disappeared into her coat, high up, near her collarbone. She fished something out from the inner lining.
A small orb, clear and smooth, nested in her palm. Faint blue light pulsed inside it. Runes floated lazily under the surface, spinning.
My chest tightened.
“You kept that there the entire time,” Yeonhwa said. “Close to your heart. Cute.”
“Shut up,” Eun‑ha said. “You keep your knives in your back, I keep my tools up front. Different styles.”
She held the orb up so I could see it clearly.
The runes brightened in the presence of our mana.
“What is that,” I asked anyway.
“Truth artifact,” she said. “I brought it just in case you lied to me.”
Of course this woman had it. It’s like she carries an invisible pocket for everything.
“You stole it from the church? ” Yeon‑hwa asked.
“I requisitioned it,” Eun‑ha said. “They weren’t using it properly.”
“You’re going to point that at him now?” Yeon‑hwa asked. “With monsters still sniffing around and no backup?”
“When else,” Eun‑ha said quietly. “When he’s back under your shadow? When the Association has their hands on his neck again? I need this before they get a chance to twist it.”
Her eyes locked onto mine.
“Hold it,” she said. “If you have nothing to hide, this won’t hurt.”
“And if I refuse?” I asked.
“Then I know enough,” she said.
The orb glowed a little brighter. It liked tension.
Yeonhwa’s hand tightened on mine.
“Look at me,” she said.
I did.
Her face looked more wrecked than I’d seen. Hair half‑loose, white line near her temple brighter. Eyes bloodshot, ringed in exhaustion and something like grief she’d never allow to be called by its name.
“One question,” she said. “That’s all. I won’t ask you to recall every raid or promise. I just want to know if the foundation is still there.”
“Cha Eun‑ha,” Yeon‑hwa said slowly. “If you don’t like the answer—”
“I’ll deal with it,” she cut in. “You don’t get to tell me how.”
She looked at me.
The world shrank to that.
Her, the light between our hands, the snow, and the empty space where an answer should be simple.
“Si‑woo,” she said.
Her voice was softer than it had been in weeks.
“Are you,” she asked, “Han Si‑woo?”
The orb glowed brighter.
I stared at it.
At her.
At Yeonhwa, whose expression had gone very, very still.
If I told the truth…
If I said “no,” if I admitted I was just a stranger wearing their favourite corpse, the thing they thought they’d bled for, traded years for, dragged across countries for—
They would think I killed their beloved Si-woo. Those women will go berserk…kill me without a second thought.
The light grew brighter.
“Answer,” Eun‑ha whispered. “Please.”
I was so fucked.
