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Chapter Text

The clatter of her footsteps echoed in the silence of Ruby's Corporation & Co., as Jennie dramatically filed past the silent windows of the sixth floor, heading for her usual Monday meeting.

Being a female CEO had been difficult for her in the early days, but now, after years of hard work, she has managed to earn the respect she deserved. 

Even though she wasn't too proud of it, there was a certain fear , especially among her advisors.

 A group of misogynistic males who, after a period of playing dumb and underestimating her, had reawakened her ire. 

Now that they knew how far Jennie was willing to go, they had learned to keep their place—and yes, they still underestimated her, amidst the silence and shadows of the office—but now she had understood that this was the only possible direction.

 She entered the meeting room, and immediately the voices fell silent. The directors and everyone else who had access to the meeting stood up in silence, and once Jennie took her seat, they bowed briefly and sat back down.

"I think we can get started with the meeting. I'd like it to be efficient and quick. I have another important meeting at 10:00. I'd appreciate it if you don't waste my time." Her voice echoed through the room, and with a nod, all the computers were turned on.

-Let's start with the design team. I want a presentation on all the pieces you've designed for the winter collection, and in the meantime, the marketing team should prepare to present all the relevant data on previous releases and our branches in the various countries.-

With that, she carefully took her notebook, unscrewed the cap, and focused his gaze on the design team's presenter.

 As the boy spoke, Jennie let her feline eyes roam over the projections scrolling across the whiteboard. She sensed something was missing; in fact, she'd been sensing it for a while.

She sensed something missing in his clothes, a detail that seemed fundamental but that she consistently overlooked. After the boy finished his presentation, she sat down and, after a brief nod—she didn't want anyone to notice even a hint of her indecision; every ill-calculated move was a mistake in her already delicate position as an administrator—she gave the floor to the marketing team.

 Subconsciously, she began to twirl the pen between her slender fingers as she followed the employee's words: 

• Our recent summer collection was a huge hit, sales spiked at all branches by a good 70%, and the Oriental Flowers perfume line was a success…-

Hearing the name of her perfume line, Jennie felt her heart skip a beat. 

-They were all amazed by the unusual name she'd given it. Jennie hadn't given any particular explanation for it, but she still remembered the moment she'd realized she'd called it that.

One morning, just after waking up from a dream she didn't fully remember but which had left a bittersweet taste in her mouth, she'd written the two words "Oriental Flowers" on a piece of paper and proposed the name to the board without hesitation-

 She felt a familiar tingle on her right wrist that made her stop. 

-...and statistics show that Korea, Thailand, and India are the countries where the perfume has seen the greatest success.-

Now Jennie will try to forget this fact for the rest of the day, failing miserably.

For some reason, something in that sentence triggered a chain of events in her body that led to the worst moment of that Monday that had seemed to start well.

Her heart raced even faster, and a shiver ran through her body, followed by tingling sensations that completely caught Jennie off guard. She let out a soft squeak (but in the completely silent room, it echoed louder than necessary), abruptly dropping the pen she was holding.

The room fell silent. The marketing team member suddenly stopped talking. Jennie felt all eyes on her and desperately wanted the power to bury herself.

Massaging her wrist where the tingling was most annoying, she let out a short sigh before raising her head and speaking with all the composure she could muster. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I think I pinched my wrist with the pen. We can postpone the meeting until tomorrow; we're almost out of time anyway."

Despite her terrible embarrassment, she stood up gracefully and, after everyone else did the same to say goodbye, she exited the meeting room, slamming the door lightly, startling the secretary sitting next to her.

As soon as she was outside, she headed as quickly as possible to the elevator and hit the top floor where her office was located.

As soon as the doors closed, giving her a moment of privacy, her mask of composure finally shattered, and she slumped against the elevator. She slowly pulled back the sleeve of her white suit that was covering her wrist, then slowly wiped the traces of foundation she'd applied that morning from her wrist, as she had always done since receiving those things.

 That's right, those , plural .

She removed the last layer of foundation, and the drawing of a chick appeared before her eyes. Usually, it was a well-defined tattoo, even if black, that showed off the entire design, but now the pulsating under the skin, which seemed unstoppable, had created a reddish border all around it.

She slowly ran her hand over the entire tattoo, following each line as if to reassure him, not even she was sure if it would work.

As soon as the doors opened, Jennie rushed to the private bathroom of her office, locked the door—because even if her office was safe, one can never be too careful—and slowly took off her jacket, remaining in her undershirt.

She took the water and, after slowly running it over her reddened wrist, slowly did the same on her left and right shoulder blades, revealing the tattoos of a rabbit and a squirrel. Although both were pulsating under the skin, only around the rabbit her skin was as red as on her wrist.

 Jennie looked in the mirror and almost saw the girl who had first discovered them. Her hair had lost its original shape, and her face was covered in a confusion that had previously been covered by cold professionalism.

Because even though she was born in Korea, raised in New Zealand, and then, after opening her company, in America—places where polyamory was still accepted—Jennie had spent the first few years after receiving those tattoos hating them with all her heart.

Why should she be any different?

So, on top of the difficulties she already faced as a woman, she added the problem of having not one, not two, but three soulmates.

Running her hand over her face, she let out a long, somehow calming sigh, rinsed her face, touched up her makeup and hair, put her jacket back on (this time she didn't cover them with foundation; the redness of the tattoos stopped her from doing so; they didn't seem to like being covered), praying that the sleeve wouldn't reveal anything, and she left the bathroom. 

She put on her now-perfect CEO mask and continued her day as if nothing had happened, the only reminders of the incident being the less-than-discreet glances of her employees and the faint flickering of her tattoos, which remained with her throughout the day.

Finally, at 10:30 PM, after finishing all the things she needed to do, she grabbed her bag and finally left to head home.

That evening, when she finally got into bed, her tattoos had faded, or at least most of them, because the chick on her wrist remained reddish and continued to sting. Before closing her eyes, a thought intruded into her already half-asleep mind. 

- What if something had happened to the owner of this chick? -

 But eventually sleep overcame her worries, and Jennie fell asleep.

  Alpine Clinic of St. Bernhard - Switzerland

5:00 am

-Well, Manoban, it looks like you have a sprained ankle. Nothing serious, but I'd ask you to rest for at least two weeks. -

From her bed, still groggy from the pain medication they'd given her, she felt the anger building inside her.

- Damn you, little bear! -

She muttered before falling back into dreamland.

Chapter Text

Lisa was pissed off 

That wasn't the first time that one of her marks annoyed her, but it was surely the first time that they were the reason for her being hurt.

-Keeping the pout won't change the doctor’s mind, you have to keep those crutches for at least one week - 

"'I'm not intimidated,' said Nayeon, one of the rare people who were close enough to her to see the not-intimidating Lalisa Manoban. Although she didn't particularly like her status in the academy, being one of the most famous choreographers and teachers required a strong self-image.

• I'm not pouting, I'm just really unhappy with this situation. Why should this have happened right before our departure?- 

Lisa mumbled while trying to learn how to move with those crutches. She finds it absurd how doctors used to give  crunches for helping recover from an injury when she had already risked twice to trip and fell on the floor - Watch where you put your feet please,  I would like to leave the hospital without you hurting again and this is probably karma, because it was your fault for not resting properly and dancing like an obsess until late - 

Replay Nayeon, Lisa glared at her - Don't look at me like that. I know that dancing helps you destress, but it's also essential to follow a proper sleep routine. -  They finally exited the hospital and slowly reached Nayeon's car. Now I'll bring you home. You'll sleep and try not to force your feet, okay? We need you to be good, we have the flight in a few days, and it's not a short one -

 Lisa was trying to complain that she was fine and had already rested at the hospital, but Nayeon glanced at her with a look that did not allow for replicas - "Okay, fine, thank you, Nayeon." She then let a small sigh and started looking out at the landscape, scrolling from the window.

When the car finally stopped in front of her house, she opened the door and slowly started to exit, trying not to put her feet on the floor.

 - Are you sure you don't want me to rest? It's a difficult situation you don't have to deal with it alone - say Nayeon looking at Lisa trying to stabilize herself on just one leg - That's okay Nayeon, I won't leave home, I don't need a babysitter I can resist for two days alone - replied with a small smile, she's maybe not the best person in express feeling but she's incredibly grateful for having a great friend like Nayeon, - okay Manoban, but please call if you need help, I want you to arrive in Korea safe and sound, or otherwise I would be in charge of represent the Academy and I'm not good with that kind of thing,

- Oh shut up Im, you're born for the reflectors, don't play dirty to me - laughed Lisa, seeing the side eye Nayeon trough at her - Okay Lisa I'm leaving, don't do anything stupid please - Nayeon then started the car and set off, leaving Lisa finally alone again in front of her house.

When Lisa came in, all the tiredness poured over her, and she left herself sinking onto her couch, closing her eyes briefly. She recalls all the events that brought her to that situation. 

* Lisa was dancing alone in the practice room. Finally, all the lessons she had were over. She can't deny that she loves teaching dancing to the students who every day fill the room, but sometimes she misses the days when she was the one learning dancing; she tripped over so many times at the beginning, but she never gave up, and finally, one day, all that time spent training had paid off. 

Now, 3 years later, she was teaching in one of the most prestigious academies in Switzerland.

 She had left Thailand, where she was born and grew up, and started her career as a professional dancer and afterwards as a Teacher. 

Now, in two days, she will fly to Korea, where she has been invited with her team to an exhibit in front of important people from all over the world. 

She decided who would be part of the team that would exhibit and choreograph every single step and move. 

That night, she was revising everything, focusing on every crucial detail, when suddenly an intense burning sensation started from her ankle. She didn’t even have time to be shocked; her ankle made a bad sound, and Lisa fell disastrously to the ground with a small shout.

She didn’t move for a second, wholly absorbed in the pain she was feeling, then slowly started to look around for her phone. That was on the opposite side of the room. Lisa began to crawl on the floor, not trusting the stability of her feet, and when she finally reached the phone, she dialed the first number that came to mind - Yo Manobam. Do you think this is the right time to disturb people? Not everyone spends their night dancing, you know, sleeping?-  Lisa didn’t even try to excuse herself, and with a feeble and trembling voice - Nayeon, I-i- i think I think I twisted my ankle, it hurts a lot - 

Lisa opened her eyes and sat up on the couch. Her gaze fell on the bandage the doctor had placed on her ankles. Even though the bandages covered her ankle, Lisa imagined the small bear tattoo beneath them.

- When the doctor lifted her pants to get a better look at her ankle, he didn't show any particular surprise at the revelation of the tattoo. ( everyone had a tattoo on their body, not that it was anything unusual.)

But as long as Lisa remained under the doctor's observation, she felt her heart pound at the thought of him only seeing the bear on her ankle, because even though covered by several layers of concealer and well hidden by her hair, Lisa vividly felt the fluttering of her rabbit at the base of her neck.- 

That evening, while preparing dinner, Lisa was thoughtful, the television and newspaper humming in the background. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd felt her soulmates through tattoos; once, she'd had a class with a terrible headache that she was almost certain was caused by her rabbit chilling on her neck, while another time, she'd been overcome by a wave of happiness—despite having no reason to be—and had felt her little squirrel throbbing inside her wrist.

Her teddy bear, on the other hand, had always remained silent; it was the one she saw most often (along with the squirrel on her wrist), mainly because when she tied her shoes between classes, she always made sure to glance at it. She was undoubtedly curious about what had upset her soulmate so much that she could feel it through the tattoo, but at the same time, frustrated by the fact that she'd have to face the ceremony in Korea with a leg brace. "Who knows what our other two soulmates must have felt? Let's hope I'm your only problem, eh, little bear?" Lisa laughed in a huff.

Last-minute news

A scary moment on set for the "Newtopia"  lead actress.

She was performing a particularly delicate scene on set when she suddenly released her grip on the stand due to sudden chest pain. She then lost her balance before falling onto the mattress the crew had placed underneath her. The actress is in perfect condition despite the scare from the 3-meter fall. That's all from Haeundae to Busan, line to the studio.

Lisa left the pot on the stove and turned her head abruptly. It was surely a coincidence, but the mention of Korea, the place she'd be in less than three days, made her heart skip a beat. Maybe she was about to meet one of her soulmates? Before she could fantasize further, the smell of burning invaded the kitchen.

"NO!" She turned around and saw her meal going up in flames. "Damn, dammit, dammit!" She turned off the burner and threw some water on it.

"Today's not my day," Lisa grumbled.

Chapter Text

Jennie is nervously looking at the clock on the wall in front of her. Her plane was scheduled to depart in 10 minutes, but the line in front of her was still long, and her feet began to tap rapidly on the floor.

- Yesterday, after the meeting she was supposed to have on Monday, she received the news that her employee, who was supposed to participate in the events in Korea, was ill and couldn't attend. This event was crucial for the company, especially since Jennie’s brand had experienced significant success there. 

Jennie decided to go herself, canceling all her appointments and driving home to prepare all her things -

Finally, the boy in front of her finished, and she

stepped up to show her boarding pass to the stewardess.

She entered the plane and found her seat, just in time for the pilot to announce that they were ready to take off. 

Jennie was sitting by the window, which pleased her, as she didn’t particularly like flying. However, gazing out at the world below somehow comforted her.

In the middle of the flight, Jennie suddenly woke up; her mind still foggy with sleep.

She struggled to recall her dream that had disturbed her rest; the only vivid image she retained was of a girl in an elegant dress, standing on a big stage with the sound of tap dancing echoing around her . 

Jennie was perplexed about that, even though she clearly remembers that on her way to the airport, she felt a pain twice coming from her soulmarks. She didn't want her mind to go in that direction because she was not ready for that kind of thought. She then rests in silence for the rest of the trip, her mind full of thoughts about everything: her jobs, her soulmarks, and, yes, also the three mysterious shadows without a face or a name.

“Darling, why are you crying?” 

Jennie heard her mother's voice cutting through the loud sobs that escaped her.

“M-Mother, wh-what’s wrong with me? Why am I defective?” 

Jennie cried out while her mother approached and wrapped her arms around her. “Oh, honey, you're not defective,” her mother reassured her, gently stroking her head. 

“But why do I have three animals on my body? You only have one!”

Jennie exclaimed, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder as the tears flowed uncontrollably.

She didn’t mean to alarm her but felt overwhelmed by the surge of emotion. 

“Jennie, sweetheart, having three soulmarks means you have multiple soulmates, and that’s perfectly okay. Think of it as a positive thing: you’ll have three people who will love you unconditionally.” 

Her mother said, laughing lightly in an attempt to comfort her.

Slowly, Jennie lifted her head; her eyes were puffy from crying, though the tears had ceased, leaving a few lingering in the corners.

She sniffed and nestled into her mom's embrace. 

“Don’t cry, my beautiful baby. Destiny has chosen to give you more people to love you because it knows how much you need it. It may not be easy; I can’t promise otherwise, but you are strong, Jennie Ruby Kim, just like me. You're allowed to be scared because that’s part of being human. But as long as I can, I’ll protect you. I promise, my beautiful little bear.”

The memory hit her suddenly, and she felt a tightening in her chest. Since she could remember, it had always been just her and her mother; she had never met her father. Whenever she sought answers, her mother looked at her with a sad smile, leading Jennie to decide not to pursue the matter any further. 

This was one of the reasons she was so afraid of love; despite her mother being a strong woman, Jennie wasn’t sure she could be as unyielding.

Incheon International Airport - 5:00 pm

Jennie finally got off the plane and entered the crowded airport. Now, she had an hour to grab something to eat before heading to the hotel where she was staying to check in. It was the first time she'd been back to Korea in at least a year. When she was younger, her mother would take her at least once a year . To visit her maternal grandmother, who still lived there. But since her grandmother passed away, Jannie had had no reason to return, and the last time she'd been there, she'd only stayed one night because her connecting flight left the next day.

Jennie sat down at a bar just outside the airport and ordered an iced Americano. While waiting for her order, Jennie pulled out her laptop and caught up on some work she'd managed to bring with her, because despite all that had happened so suddenly, she certainly couldn't afford to fall behind.

The September sun filtered through the still-green leaves of the plane trees, but the air had already lost its summery warmth. Jennie sat at the table, her iced Americano beside her laptop and her sunglasses resting on the table. She wore a sand-colored trench coat over an oversized white shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, exposing the golden pendants that caught the last rays of sunlight.

On her screen, she has the layout of the fall/winter campaign displayed in three windows: a mood board, an editorial calendar, and a draft of the new fragrance. She scanned the images carefully: models in structured coats, misty settings, a palette of warm browns and faded reds. 

Every detail needed to tell a story.

She opened a note and began writing: "The collection must evoke a transition. Not just seasonal, but emotional. A change, like the first day you notice the air is different."

Then she moved on to the perfume file. She had received the samples the day before leaving: three variations on a woodsy theme. She wrote down her impressions. The second was the most interesting—a note of vetiver that lingered on the skin like the memory of an evening spent in front of a log fire.

She checked her email: the creative team had sent her the packaging proposals. She opened the PDF and smiled. Opaque glass, brass cap, serif label. Elegant, but not pretentious.

Jennie paused for a moment, watching the people pass by. Some were already wearing light jackets. Fall was upon us, and with it, the biggest launch of the year. She closed her eyes for a moment and was about to return to writing when her wrist began to burn.

A searing pain, and Jennie swore she felt an imaginary string pulling her from where her tattoo was. It wasn't at all like what she'd felt on Monday while she was in the meeting; it was wilder and more primal. She felt her insides churn and an uncontrollable urge to get up and follow this string that was pulling her. She snapped her laptop shut and put it in her backpack, hastily leaving the money on the table, and with her other hand, she grabbed the glasses she'd abandoned on the table. She'd never been an instinctive person, throwing herself into things without planning them perfectly first (the trip to Korea was an emergency; she couldn't afford not to attend the event). Still, something inside her had clicked, and her feet moved independently of her will, her heart raced, and the more she walked, the more tangible the pounding of her pulse became.

God, Jennie knew what it all meant. 

That her soulmate was near, or at least one of them.

She was practically at the side of the road when the call stopped.

Suddenly, just as it had begun, Jennie found herself faced with a constant stream of taxis and cars speeding down the road, taking home all those exhausted workers who had finally finished their workday.

Jennie felt so stupid.

She had let her emotions overwhelm her composure, and now she was standing alone on the street.

She knew her soulmate had felt the same call; she had long understood that the tattoos were connected and served as an emotional connection between the four of them, yet she hadn't deigned to look for her; she had walked away, severing their closeness.

Jennie felt hot tears slide down her cheeks, unsure whether they were tears of sadness or anger. Her heart, now beating normally, tightened in her chest.

Jennie remained still on the sidewalk, her hands tightening around the straps of her backpack as if they could keep her from collapsing. The traffic ahead of her was a river of lights and noise, but everything seemed muffled and distant. The tears continued to flow, silently, while the wind ruffled a few strands of hair that had escaped from her bun. No one stopped. No one looked at her. And it could be better that way.

She turned slowly, searching for something, anything, that could give her meaning. But the call was gone. There was no trace, no direction—only that sudden emptiness, as if she'd been torn from a half-dream. The tattoo on her wrist still throbbed, but not with pain. It was as if it were vibrating with an absence—an echo. Jennie ran a hand over her face, trying to compose herself. She should go back to the bar, perhaps. Get back to work. Pretend nothing had happened. But every step she took seemed to weigh twice as much.

She sat on a nearby bench, trying to slow her breathing. She opened her backpack, took out her laptop, but couldn't even turn it on. Her fingers were shaking. The thought that one of her soulmates had been close enough to activate the bond and then walked away drove her crazy. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but never with this intensity, never with this brutality. It was as if something inside her had broken, and she didn't know if she could put it back together.

The sky above Seoul was beginning to turn orange, and the shop lights came on one after another. The city was bustling, alive, indifferent. Jennie got up, slowly this time, and walked toward the hotel. It was finally time to check in, and despite everything, she had to keep her wits about her. The next day, she would be attending the most important event of the year, not as a simple guest, but as CEO. It was too important an event, and she couldn't allow an emotional pull, however devastating, to derail her.

She entered the hotel lobby with a decisive stride, trying to ignore the weight still weighing on her chest. She handed over her documents, received the electronic key, and rode the elevator without saying a word. Only when she was in her room, enclosed between those silent walls, did she let go. She put her backpack on the floor, sat on the bed, and looked at her wrist. The tattoo was still, but it seemed to be watching her. Jennie sighed. Tomorrow, she would be flawless. But tonight, she would allow her heart to tremble.

A little further away, Lisa shifted nervously in the seat of the car that the event organizers had prepared for her and her team.

- As soon as she stepped off the plane, she sensed a tension in the air, as if something was about to happen. She couldn't name it, nor even put a name to it, but she felt it. Her signature vibrated beneath the bandages and the doctor's brace, faint but present, like a whisper that wouldn't be silenced.

As they left the airport, that feeling intensified. Lisa, trying to maintain calm and keep her nerves from showing, glanced around briefly, as if she could foresee the unexpected. "Professor Manoban, I'm going to get a drink before they come for us. There's a bar nearby. Would you like anything?" The question was posed by Jay, one of her best dancers. Nervous and awkward at first glance, but on stage, he transformed: charismatic, powerful, magnetic. "Thanks for the thought, but I'm fine. We'll wait for you at the meeting point. Please be on time."

She watched him walk away, and as she followed him with her gaze, something caught her attention.

A figure sitting on the bar's terrace.

Lisa froze. Her heart skipped a beat.

The girl was hunched over a computer, absorbed.

Lisa felt something primal blossom in her chest, a deep vibration, a call. The tattoo under her brace seemed to pulse, as if it were trying to convey a message. It was as if her body had recognized a familiar presence, even if her mind couldn't place a face.

She was about to give in to instinct, to move closer, but she saw Jay return with two bottles of water and, out of the corner of her eye, the cars that had arrived to pick them up. With immense effort, she turned and climbed into the van. However, the sensation didn't subside. It grew stronger. It was as if something was holding her back. Or worse, following her. - 

Lisa sat by the window, trying to ignore the trembling in her hands. The van started moving, but she kept looking out, hoping to see that figure again. She didn't know who it was, but something inside her knew. The tattoo had reacted. And it had never happened with such intensity.

"Are you okay, Professor?" Jay asked, noticing her lost look. Lisa nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, just a little tired from the trip."

The ride to the hotel was silent. Lisa tried to rationalize, but every thought returned to that presence. When they arrived, she got out mechanically, said goodbye to the others, and headed toward the reception.

She went up to her room, closed the door, and leaned against the wall. She had the distinct feeling that the girl was one of her soulmates.

"Gosh," Lisa whispered, "I was so close to meeting one of my soulmates." 

Saying it out loud created a deep sense of unease within her. She had left one of her soulmates behind. Yes, the academy was important, but did it go beyond a bond as pure, as ethereal as that of a soulmate?

 But, worse still, she thought about what she might feel.

"What if she thought I didn't want to meet her?"

Lisa lay down in bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity.

She had to be ready for tomorrow; it would be a long but crucial day for her, yet the worry for this girl she didn't know tormented her deeply.

Eventually, despite her worry, the exhaustion from the flight won out, and she fell into a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

Jisoo tossed and turned in bed once more, her body still aching from yesterday's shooting. 

Wanting to go back to sleep and forget about the accident, she grunted, burying her face in the pillow again, but her head was already awake.

The thought of the accident being the first thing on her mind each morning and the last thing at night was something she hated.

– On set, surrounded by blazing spotlights and competing voices, Jisoo tried to maintain her focus, ignoring the growing discomfort nagging beneath her skin, right where her tattoo throbbed with a sudden pang. It wasn't violent but sharp enough to make her lose her balance for a moment.

Her foot slipped on the edge of the set, and her body followed its momentum, causing her to fall—not with a crash, but with a silence that drew everyone's attention. It was a suspended moment where fiction gave way to reality. 

No one immediately understood what had happened, and as she attempted to rise with dignity, she felt more embarrassment than pain, more anger than fear. The tattoo, which was meant to symbolize a deep connection, had instead become a limitation.

This secret complicated her life even in the simplest actions. It wasn't the first time it had caused her trouble, but it was the most intense and the most public. As the commotion subsided and someone offered her a hand, Jisoo could only think about how tired she was of hiding a part of herself that she hadn’t chosen, a part that now defined every step she took, even the false ones.--

She slowly opened her eyes, sat up, and sighed, letting her feet bounce on the mahogany base of the bed.

With shaking hands, she rolled up the sleeves of her long nightgown. When the first one came out, she felt a desperate longing to go back ten minutes to when she was still in dreamland, but it had been a long time since she had seen them all at once. A small squirrel appeared under the sleeve. Even though it was completely black, the hatching made it look genuine. Ugly scars, a reminder of a dark and terrible time, surrounded it.

Even though every instinct told her to leave it alone, her heart racing, she lifted her sleeve again, and immediately a small bear appeared next to her, also black and surrounded by scratch marks and scars. Jisoo's hands were now shaking violently, and her heart was racing like crazy in her chest. She knew what was next, but seeing them all together terrified her every time.

"Out with the tooth, out with the pain, I guess," she whispered to the empty room, and with a final tug on her sleeve, Jisoo revealed the black chick following the first two.

Jisoo looked at them and almost felt like crying.

— Sometimes she wondered what she had done wrong in her past lives to deserve such a misfortune.- "You're flawed,-  her mother always reminded her, looking at her with all the contempt she could muster.

It's not my fault, fate has been cruel to me, she sobbed through her tears, on the nights her parents left her at home while they went to social events with her siblings because—"We can't let anyone find out, you'd only bring shame to this family."

One day, when a classmate entered the classroom sporting a colorful tattoo of a soulmate, Jisoo was overcome by a tremendous feeling of envy and anger. 

She, too, wanted the chance to show the world that she was loved without shame.

From that moment on, she entered a self-destructive spiral of self-loathing and the tattoos that had ruined her life.

Every night, she dug her nails into her arms and tried to scrape off those damned tattoos.

But almost as if to mock herself, if the night before she went to sleep with her arm completely ruined, the next day she woke up with it completely healed except for the scars, and the tattoo was an almost brilliant black that seemed to laugh at her.

Meanwhile, however, she was growing up, and the time came to enroll in college. She finally had the chance to distance herself from her toxic family and start living on her own.

However, the problem wasn't her family, or at least not entirely. 

Still, the rigid Korean society that always demanded a perfect image, and Jisoo soon realized she had escaped from one cage only to end up in a bigger one.

When she reached the right age, she realized that removing his tattoos would be a waste of energy. 

She decided that drowning her miserable life in alcohol was more satisfying.

– The soju bottle was already empty, spilled on the floor like a lifeless body. 

Jisoo wasn't even looking at it anymore, her bleary, watery eyes staring at the flickering reflection on the glass of the coffee table. 

Every breath burned in her throat, soaked in alcohol and pain. She ran a trembling hand up her arm, stroking the outlines of the tattoos she now knew by heart.

Three different animals, three destinies imprinted on her skin like marks of a sin she had never committed.

In a country that demanded perfection and obedience, Jisoo had become the symbol of shame.

Her father didn't speak, but his silence weighed more than a thousand condemnations. Her sisters laughed behind her back, muttering that no one would ever truly want her.

The pain had become a second skin.

Cradling the empty glass, she threw it against the wall.  The sound of shattering glass made her heart pound; a drop of blood fell from her finger when she reached for another bottle and cut herself on a splinter.

She doubled over, sobbing as if her pain could pierce the silence that had suffocated her for years.

She uncovered her arm, scratching at the tattoos etched into her skin with her nails, as if she could tear them away, as if erasing them would erase the hatred everyone had poured upon her. But the animals remained there, intact, reminding her that she had no choice, that fate had marked her.

Every time she closed her eyes, the disgust in her relatives' eyes, the cold of her own home. The words that repeated themselves like a poisonous mantra:

Unworthy. Wrong. Defective.

She buried her face in her hands. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, but inside, there was only cold.

 Yet the three tattoos, silent and indifferent, continued to burn on the skin like open wounds. –

After three months, when she was almost kicked out of college, she realized it was time to get back on track, focus on her career, and never look back to avoid the risk of relapses. She bought special plasters to cover her tattoos and tried to see them as little as possible, that is, when she needed to change the plaster and when she felt her soulmates through them. —

Oh yes

Because she could feel them well now. Just a few days earlier, she had nearly suffered an injury because of one of them—the teddy bear, to be precise, her inner voice reminded her—

Sighing, she got up and began her usual morning routine. It was an important day for her, and she wouldn't let her unbridled emotions ruin everything.

It was an annual event held in the heart of Seoul, at a palace that shone with elegance and opulence. Influential and famous people from all over the world were invited; Jisoo had trouble with these kinds of events, where she had to pretend, as usual, to be someone she wasn't.

Moreover, that year she sensed something was different; as she prepared for the event, Jisoo felt her heart pounding. 

The dress the stylist had chosen was elegant, but it left her arms exposed in a way that made her feel exposed. She had explicitly asked for it to be covered, but the response was: "The audience wants authenticity. You're an actress, you can't hide."

Authenticity. What a cruel word.

As the makeup was being applied, the tattoo throbbed beneath the bandage—a tingle, then a subtle burning. 

"Are you okay?" the makeup artist asked, noticing her lost look. "Yes, just a little tense. It's a big event."

Sometimes she hated how good she'd become at lying. 

No, it wasn't good.

She had a terrible feeling about that day, a turmoil in her stomach that made it impossible to swallow anything before the event.

 An event that was turning out to be big.

Big, yes. But not for her career. For her soul.

She felt, no, she knew with almost absolute certainty, that one or more of her connections would be there.

She felt it.

The tattoo seemed to vibrate in response to a nearby presence. 

And she wasn't ready. She never would be.

As she stepped onto the stage for the presentation, her arm felt like it was on fire. Every step was an act of will: every smile, a mask. The room was full of faces, but Jisoo wasn't looking for anyone. She was afraid of finding them.

What if she saw them?

What if they realized who she really was?

The thought paralyzed her.

Jisoo walked through the corridors of the facility with a smile carved on her face, the one she had learned to wear like armor.

The photographers' flashes followed her like hungry predators, and each step seemed heavier than the last. The arm beneath the patch throbbed insistently, as if the tattoo wanted to be felt, to be seen. 

Not now, she thought. 

Not here.

"Jisoo! You look stunning tonight!" The shrill voice of Minji, an influencer with millions of followers, came from behind her. "Thank you, Minji. You look radiant, too," Jisoo replied in a gentle but distant tone. "I saw your latest movie. You look incredible. Seriously, you look strong." Jisoo smiled, but felt a pang inside her. Strong? If only she knew.

Shortly after, an actor she had previously worked with approached her. "Jisoo, it's been a long time. How are you?" "Good, thanks. A little tension, you know how it is.” “Tension? You were born to be in the spotlight.” 

No.

I was born to hide, she thought, but didn’t say it.

Every meeting was a performance: every word, a script. The tattoos vibrate more strongly every time she crosses paths with someone, as if they were trying to guide her, to draw her towards someone. But she didn’t want to know who it was. 

She didn’t want to face that pain.

She took refuge near the buffet, pretending to examine the dishes. 

A young actress approached her, shyly. “Excuse me… you’re Jisoo, right? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How do you always seem so sure of yourself?” Jisoo looked at her for a moment, then replied, “I’m not. But I’ve learned to pretend pretty well.”

The girl smiled, not understanding the weight of those words. Jisoo turned away. Her arm burned. Her heart trembled. And amid that glittering crowd, she felt more alone than ever.

During a break between interviews, Jisoo took refuge in a corner of the backstage area. She sat on a folding chair, her hands clasped on her covered arm.

The tattoo vibrated more strongly. She closed her eyes. She breathed. And for a moment, she felt something different. Not fear. Not pain. But a presence. Warm. Light. Like an invisible embrace.

Her eyes snapped open.

Had anyone seen her?

Has anyone heard her?

Chapter Text

"Ten minutes and we're off!"

Lisa's head was exploding.
Between the shouts of the technicians, the excited chatter of her students getting ready, and the frantic pounding in her temple, she felt like the world was collapsing.
Her tattoo burned beneath her skin, while the strap of her heel tightened around her ankle, and she felt like she was chained.

It was as if someone had decided to hold a rock concert inside her skull.
She quickly popped a pill, trying to calm her headache. But it didn't stop the growing pain in the pit of her stomach: the anxiety that was gnawing at her.

The event would start in less than thirty minutes, and the countdown to the performance was pounding in her ears. Her group would be performing in front of hundreds of influential people, including several of the academy's donors.

It didn't help that her dress already felt ill-fitting. She had chosen a sky blue dress, elegant yet simple, but now it seemed terribly out of place.

Her ankle still ached, and every step felt like it was sapping all her concentration. The hustle and bustle of the room and the greetings of the technicians overlapped with her own images of failure.

"We can't afford any delays!" one of the managers called out, jolting her out of her reverie. Lisa nodded slightly, even though the anxiety inside her showed no sign of abating.

The group finally arrived at the long-awaited location. Tension gripped her stomach like an invisible hand, but Lisa couldn't tear her eyes from the magnificence surrounding her. The building seemed to have emerged from a baroque dream: white marble columns rose majestically toward a ceiling frescoed with mythological scenes, where deities danced among golden clouds. Crystal chandeliers, as large as carriages, hung with regal grace, casting kaleidoscopic reflections on the ivory-colored, damask silk-covered walls.

The floor, polished as a mirror, reflected the lights and the guests' movements, creating an almost surreal effect, as if everything were floating in a dimension suspended between reality and enchantment. Tables decorated with exotic floral arrangements and silver candelabras dotted the room, while liveried waiters moved with choreographic precision, offering flutes of champagne and canapés on gold trays.

The guests were a living work of art: women draped in gravity-defying haute couture gowns with draping and architectural necklines, men in tailored tuxedos, velvet bow ties, and watches that shone like stars.

Conversations were whispered, punctuated by polite laughter and measured gestures. Every detail seemed designed to convey a sense of perfection and timeless luxury.

Lisa, in her simple dress, felt like a false note in an impeccable symphony. Yet, despite the sense of inadequacy that swept through her, she couldn't help but be captivated. It was like being at the center of a Klimt painting, where every element shone with an opulent and mysterious beauty.

Lisa and her boys descended the steps into the hall and headed backstage, ready for the final preparations before the show.
Suddenly, Lisa felt a sharp pain in her left ankle, so strong it forced her to stop for a moment to keep her already precarious balance.

A ringing filled her ears, and the voices around her seemed muffled by cotton, distant and distorted.
"Professor? ...Professor?!"
Then, like a deafening blow, a thump vibrated her eardrums. The voices burst abruptly into her ears, darkness enveloped her, and Lisa lost her balance.

Two strong arms caught her just in time.

It took Lisa, dazed and trembling, ten seconds to realize she had fallen straight into a pair of unfamiliar arms.

Lisa was mortified.

Or rather, she should have been, but the shock that spread through her entire body left her unable to reason. She felt the warm touch against her back, a shiver ran down her ankle, and then she saw him.

Before her eyes, the bear tattoo began to glow, appearing on her ankle with a clarity she'd never seen before: a curious little bear, with two cheeks decorating it, making it even more adorable.

Lisa stared at him in disbelief.
For the first time, she could truly see the mark of fate that had been with her since the beginning.
It was beautiful. Terrifying. Undeniable.

The warm breath of the person holding her touched her neck, and Lisa was shaken from her reverie.

She was paralyzed,
unable to tell if her heart was about to explode or stop altogether.

The grip holding her upright was firm, secure, yet incredibly delicate. She felt an intoxicating scent fill her lungs: sweet notes, but with a strong undertone, like velvet and fire combined.

The tattoo on her ankle throbbed, her skin burning as if responding to a silent call.
It couldn't be a coincidence.
The students behind her froze, their giggling or chattering instantly ceasing. Some exchanged bewildered glances, others gasped. The air had suddenly become heavy, as if everyone in the room had felt the invisible shock that had passed through Lisa.

With a thread of voice, she tried to speak:
"I... sorry, I—"

The words died in her throat when her eyes met those of the woman holding her.

Two dark, deep, almost feline eyes that seemed capable of reading her soul.

The intense gaze pierced her stomach more than any pang of pain. Lisa felt as if time had stopped: the elegant buzz of the room, the click of the guests' heels, even the breaths of her students had vanished, erased by that single eye contact.

Her heart pounded in her chest.
A thought flashed through her mind like lightning: It's her.

She didn't know her name. She didn't know who that woman in the black dress was, with her elegant bearing and feline gaze. But she knew with absolute certainty: this was the person destiny had assigned to her.
One of the soulmates she had always feared yet dreamed of meeting.

Lisa staggered again, trying to free herself so as not to look ridiculous in front of the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of eyes fixed on her. But her body seemed unwilling to let go of that heat.

She felt her face heat up.

"Professor!" one of her students shouted, rushing to grab her arm.

The call brought her back to reality. Lisa shook herself, embarrassed, and finally straightened, though she was still shaking slightly.

A murmur began to spread among those present: someone had noticed the glowing tattoo, someone had already connected it. It wasn't uncommon for such events to attract attention, and certainly not unnoticed was the way that woman—the stranger with the magnetic eyes—kept staring at her, not breaking gaze for even a second.

Jennie—for that was her name, even if Lisa couldn't know it yet—stared at her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. She had clearly felt the shiver that had run through her hands when she had grabbed the girl's body to keep her from falling. And now, looking at her, she felt something dangerously similar to an earthquake stirring inside her.

She wasn't prepared. Neither of them was.

Lisa lowered her eyes, trying not to be swallowed up by the intensity of that gaze.

Her students, meanwhile, watched the scene in silence, torn between concern and amazement. They would never forget that moment.

Lisa bit her lip, torn between the desire to escape and the desire to remain chained to that contact forever.

Destiny had just caught up with her in front of everyone.

Lisa took a deep breath, trying to get her mind back on track.
Her students were already shooting her confused looks, some with smirks that only made her even more confused.

She took a step away, but the woman didn't immediately let go of her arm.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low but firm, contrasting with the agitation flashing in her eyes.

Lisa swallowed. "I... yes. I think so."
Her voice came out hoarse, almost strangled, as if speaking were the hardest thing in the world.

A moment of silence fell between them. Then the woman tilted her head slightly, her gaze sliding to her still-illuminated ankle, and Lisa stiffened.
"Professor, we have to go!" one of her students tugged at her forcefully, breaking that fragile equilibrium.

Lisa nodded quickly, her heart still racing. She turned to the woman one last time, trying to capture every detail: the sharp lines of her eyes, the perfect line of her lips, the magnetic aura that surrounded her like a force field.

"I... I have to prepare my group," she managed, clutching the papers in her hands as if they were an anchor. "But... we'll see each other again."

It wasn't a question.

The stranger's gaze—her soulmate's—remained glued to hers until Lisa turned away, forced to be dragged away by the boys.

As she walked backstage, the tattoo continued to beat, like a heart that was no longer just hers.

🐥🐻
The lights came on, bathing the stage in golden hues. The anticipation was palpable: a sea of ​​eyes focused on the curtain, whispers mingling among the rows of elegant chairs.

Lisa took a deep breath backstage. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared the students would hear it.
"Remember what we tried," she said, looking at her students one by one. "It's not the fear that matters, only the energy you transmit. Trust yourselves."

In reality, she was the one who couldn't trust her own body.
Her ankle still hurt, the tattoo continued to pulse like a beacon, and the thought of the dark-eyed woman wouldn't leave her alone. Every time she closed her eyelids, she saw her again. Every time she swallowed, she felt that shiver run down her spine.

The curtain opened.

Applause reverberated through the room, and Lisa led her students onto the stage with a decisive step, barely masking the trembling in her hands. The first notes filled the air, clear, powerful, and her students moved as one, dancing and playing with the precision of those who had spent entire nights perfecting their skills.

Lisa watched them, her eyes shining with pride. They're extraordinary, she thought, feeling her anxiety melt away for a moment.

In the audience, Jennie didn't bat an eyelid. She was sitting in the second row, her body leaning slightly forward, her lips slightly parted. She wasn't watching the show like everyone else.
He was watching her.

The woman she didn't know, whose ankle had revealed a secret stronger than any words.
Lisa's every gesture on stage was magnetic to her: the way she signaled the boys, her elegant yet determined posture, the light in her eyes that betrayed a fierce nature, despite the subtle tremor that occasionally betrayed her tension.

Jennie crossed her arms, trying to appear impassive, but deep down she knew it was already too late. That woman had hit her like a direct blow to the chest.
She knew with intuition that the CEO's poker face that distinguished her would not be enough to counteract the emotions tugging every chord in her soul.
And as if mocking her, she felt her subconscious constantly reminding her that she didn't even know the name of her soulmate.

She glanced around for a moment, checking that none of the people sitting next to her were watching.
Then she slowly lifted the sleeve of the jacket she'd put on just before sitting in the stalls (used mostly to cover her wrist, where the sharp pain she'd felt when she'd met-collided with her soulmate was located, even though she wouldn't admit it even to herself).

The chick appeared bright yellow against her pink skin, with its orange beak and golden wings.

Jennie inhaled sharply, as if she hadn't wanted to see it, then slowly, with trembling fingers, she began to trace the lines of the freshly colored tattoo. She felt her entire body invaded by something warm and vaguely definable astonishment, then she felt a gaze fixed on her.

She looked up just in time to notice the fleeting, yet unmistakable, astonished gaze of Lisa on stage, looking in her direction.

The show continued, and Lisa, consumed by thoughts, didn't allow herself to make a mistake. Every round of applause that resounded from the audience gave her the strength to carry on.

When the last note faded into the air and the curtain fell again, the room erupted in thunderous applause.

The curtain had barely closed when a technician handed her a microphone. Lisa recovered, knowing she couldn't leave without saying anything.

She took a breath, adjusted her blue dress, and returned to center stage, with her students lined up behind her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice clear and confident despite her pounding heart, "thank you for welcoming my students' work so warmly. It is an honor for me to represent the Swiss Academy of Performing Arts, where music, dance, and theater intertwine in an educational program that combines technical rigor and creative freedom."

She paused briefly, surveying the attentive audience.
"Our teaching approach is based on two principles: excellence and collaboration. Each student here is not just an individual talent, but part of an ensemble that grows through daily discipline, theoretical study, and stage practice. From solfeggio to vocal technique, from harmony to stage movement, our students learn that art is never pure improvisation, but the fruit of perseverance, sacrifice, and passion."

Behind her, the students exchanged excited smiles. Lisa looked at them proudly, her voice softening.
"These students have demonstrated that music can break down barriers and create connections that transcend languages ​​and cultures. Today you didn't just see a performance: you saw the fruit of years of study, dedication, and mutual trust."

A spontaneous round of applause rose from the room. Lisa nodded gratefully.
"We thank you for your attention and hope you can continue to support not only our students, but all those who believe in art as a tool for growth and beauty."

He bowed, and the students did the same. Finally, the group retreated backstage, greeted by thunderous applause and congratulations.

Chapter Text

Lisa was practically running, descending the stairs as fast as she could (as fast as those annoying heels would allow).

Because even though she'd managed to maintain her professionalism on stage, she wasn't sure she'd be able to control herself off it.

As the makeup artists backstage diligently removed her makeup, Lisa could feel her pulse racing.

Even though she didn't want to be rude and fully respected the makeup artist's work, she felt an almost physical need to reach those two feline eyes she couldn't get out of her head.

The performance was going great when she felt a shiver run through her body, almost making her lose her concentration.

The feeling that had filled Lisa was a feeling easily recognizable as fear, so pure and raw that she immediately knew it couldn't be hers, or at least not completely.

As soon as she looked up, she knew who she belonged to.

Her soulmate was looking at the tattoo engraved on her wrist, the one that represented Lisa. 

The stranger's fingers trembled slightly as they touched him with an almost excruciating gentleness.

Lisa writhed inside, consumed by desire: it was she who wanted to be touched with that tenderness. And yet, amid the vibrations of that shared emotion, she could almost feel the phantom touch of those fingers on her face, as if they were trying to ease the pain she'd been carrying since the decision to leave her homeland, Thailand, to pursue her lifelong dream.

She had fought back with all her might, that primal instinct that screamed at her to run to her, to hold her, and lose herself in her warmth. But before turning, she met the gaze of  (her?) beautiful stranger. Her eyes widened almost comically, as if she, too, had understood the same devastating truth.

Cute.

Oh, Lisa knew that woman would be the death of her.

So, as soon as the makeup artist announced she was finished, Lisa practically rushed out. A crowd of elegantly dressed men and women opened before her, and for a moment she was overcome with despair: how could she find her, amidst all that confusion?

She made her way through the crowd, bowing and apologizing when she accidentally bumped into someone. Every time she hoped she'd found her, it turned out to be a mistake, and she was left with a lump in her throat.

She was about to return backstage to check on all her students when a voice stopped her:

"Miss Manobal, may I speak to you?"

Lisa whirled around, surprised. Standing before her was Mr. Gualtieri, one of the academy's most influential—and, in his words, "visionary"—investors. He wore a charcoal gray suit, too tight for elegance, and sported a smile that was more of a suppressed sneer than anything else. He held out his hand, and instead of simply shaking it, he held it a second too long, his thumb brushing her wrist. Lisa stiffened.

"I just wanted to compliment you on the impeccable organization," he said smoothly. "The performance perfectly reflects the level of excellence your academy promises. And besides... you're the face of all this, aren't you?"

Lisa attempted a professional smile, trying to maintain composure. “Thank you, Mr. Gualtieri. My students worked hard, and all the credit goes to them.”

“Of course, of course,” he continued, moving even closer, invading her personal space.

Lisa could smell the unpleasant odor of too much cologne mixed with sweat, which made her nauseous, and she sniffled, trying to do so as discreetly as possible.

“But you know, I was thinking… for next term, we could revisit the expansion plan. I have some strategic proposals that could take the academy to an international level. Perhaps we could discuss them privately, calmly. Maybe over dinner?”

Lisa felt a knot in her stomach. His tone was ambiguous, and the way he had just touched her shoulder—pretending to point to something behind her—was anything but professional and sent shivers down her spine. Her body was sending her clear signals: discomfort, tension, alert. But her mind was caught between diplomatic duty and the desire to distance herself.

“It seems premature to talk about it now,” she replied, trying to maintain a neutral, detached tone. “I’d prefer every proposal be sent via email, so I can evaluate it with my team.”

Gualtieri laughed softly, as if his response were a game of seduction. “But your team doesn’t have your intuition, Lisa. You’re the brains, the beating heart. And besides… It’s always a pleasure to see you so close.”

Lisa took a step back. Her heart was pounding with discomfort and annoyance. She wanted to scream, push him away, but she knew an impulsive move would have repercussions. Gualtieri was a big name among the sponsors, and she couldn’t afford a scandal. “So, Lisa, how about dinner tonight after the event? You look beautiful already, all we need is privacy,” Gualtieri said with the grin of someone who already knew he’d won. He knew perfectly well that Lisa couldn’t afford to refuse, considering how important his Academy funding looked to her.

“Weren't they ever taught you that flirting with someone else's soulmate is considered shameful?”

A voice

Her voice.

Lisa felt her breath catch. 

The man turned around, annoyed by the interruption, but a hint of concern also flashed in his gaze.

Her soulmate was there. 

And even though Lisa already knew it, seeing the tattoo on her ankle glisten slightly in the light of the chandelier was like receiving written confirmation from destiny.

Jennie's claim slid through her like an electric current, bringing new emotions: annoyance, yes, but also a distinct touch of possessiveness and, above all, concern.

Again, it didn't take her long to connect them with the girl behind her, but before she had a chance to intervene in any way, Gualtieri spoke:

“And who are you, pray tell? Haven't they taught you that interrupting a conversation is considered rude?”

He was getting dangerously close to Lisa again, and the girl could already feel shivers (of disgust this time) forming on her arms, when suddenly an arm magically appeared around her waist, and with a gentle but decisive move, it dragged Lisa against a warm, slightly shorter body.

Lisa's brain decided to stop working at that moment, a complete reset of everything she knew. 

The only certainty was the warmth of the body behind her and the strong hand possessively holding her waist, making her legs incredibly weak.

(How come this is already the second time she's been in that position?)

Now Gualtieri seems decidedly annoyed, but the voice of the girl holding Lisa down interrupts whatever rant is about to come out of his mouth: 

"I'm Jennie Kim, CEO of LUNAIRE Atelier, an American fashion and perfume agency, but I can tell you know nothing about fashion, judging by the way you look, and not even about perfume, judging by the unpleasant, nauseating odor you give off."

Jennie, her soulmate, is called Jennie.

God, 

Even her name is beautiful.

Gualtieri's face is red with shame, and looks like he's ready to make a scene in front of everyone when Jennie continues speaking:

"And for your information, I'm this beautiful girl's soulmate, so I suggest you stay away from her. I don't really like sharing."

Lisa remained still, her heart pounding.

Jennie's words echoed in her head, each syllable a blow to the chest.

Beautiful girl.

I don't like sharing.

It was as if the world had stopped for a moment, and all that mattered was that voice, that arm around her waist, that light scent already getting under her skin.

Gualtieri, now reduced to a faded shadow, muttered something incomprehensible and walked away, leaving behind only an echo of embarrassment.

As soon as Gualtieri walked away,

Jennie had released Lisa and walked away, too. The bravado that had animated her as soon as she had seen that slimy man so close to HER soulmate, now gone.

Every fiber of her body still seemed to vibrate from the contact with Lisa, from that squeeze around her waist that had come naturally, like a reflex.

She hadn't thought of it, she hadn't planned it. It had happened. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

She walked along the side aisle of the theater, where the lights were dimmer and the buzz of the room seemed distant. 

Her heart was pounding, but it wasn't anger. It was confusion. It was vulnerability. 

"I can't,"

 She thought.

 "I can't let myself go like this. I don't even know her."

And yet, she knew her. The bond was there, pulsating, alive.

When she'd seen her struggling with that man, she'd had no doubts. She'd snapped as if protecting Lisa had always been her job. And now… now she didn't know what to do. Jennie leaned against the wall, closed her eyes for a moment.

Lisa's scent lingered on her, subtle, sweet, unsettling.

"Jennie!"

The voice made her turn. Lisa was there, not far away, her face tense and her eyes full of questions. Jennie straightened, trying to compose herself. "Lisa, you shouldn't follow me."

"Why did you just walk away?" Lisa asked, her voice low but firm. "You said those things in front of everyone, you defended me… and then you disappeared."

Jennie looked away. "I did it because… we're soulmates. It was my duty. That's all."

Lisa was silent for a moment. 

The words had hurt. 

Jennie could feel their effect on the other girl through their bond, like a sharp blade cutting gently. 

But it wasn't just that. It was the feeling Jennie felt stirring in her stomach.

"It's not true," Lisa said, her voice faint.

"You're lying to me. I feel it. I feel it's not just the title. There's more. And you know it."

Jennie looked at her, and for a moment her face crumpled.

Lisa was right. 

The bond made lies impossible. It was as if emotions, thoughts, were silently transmitting, like invisible waves between them. 

Jennie felt Lisa's disappointment, her confusion, but also... her curiosity. That desire to understand, to get closer, to not let her go.

And oh, it was so pleasantly unsettling.

Jennie had never felt these emotions directed at her.

Jennie took a step back, but it was as if the corridor had narrowed.

“I don't know what to do,” she finally admitted, her voice cracking. 

She hated being weak, but it seemed inevitable now, pressed against a featureless wall in that enormous building, her soulmate piercing her soul with enormous puppy dog ​​eyes.

“I'm not used to feeling so much. To react without thinking. You… you unsettle me.”

Lisa approached, slowly, as if afraid of scaring her. “You unsettle me, too. But I don't want to run away from this. Not anymore.”

Jennie looked at her, and for the first time, she let go of her mask.

She let Lisa see her hidden side.

Her gaze was naked, vulnerable, and beautiful.

And Lisa welcomed it, without saying anything else. Because sometimes, words aren't necessary.

Slowly, she reached out and, with extreme delicacy, as if touching something that was in danger of breaking, took Jennie's hand in hers. 

Small and warm, it fit perfectly with hers, and Lisa felt their emotions merging so powerfully that she feared she'd collapse.

But she had to be strong, at least this time.

                                  🐰

When Lisa and Jennie reentered the room, the buzz of the event enveloped them like a blanket of normalcy, contrasting with the emotional turmoil they were carrying within.

Their hands were still intertwined, fingers interlocking naturally, as if they were meant to be. 

Lisa wasn't complaining—in fact, she wasn't even thinking about it. And Jennie, despite having regained her imperturbable CEO expression, didn't seem to want to let it go.

The vulnerability she'd shown moments before was gone, buried beneath her usual calm and controlled gaze. 

But Lisa, who was now beginning to read between the lines of that face, knew it hadn't disappeared entirely. 

It was there, under the skin, like a silent current.

As soon as Lisa spotted her students, scattered among the tables and buffets, intent on enjoying the long-awaited food, she felt Jennie's hand loosen from hers.

It was a slow, almost gentle gesture, but it left a sudden emptiness in her. She refrained from turning around abruptly.

(Almost.)

(She wasn't that desperate yet.)

She approached the students, exchanging a few words to reorganize the evening's schedule. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Jennie had remained close, just a little further back, half hidden behind her.

Lisa smiled to herself. Her idea of ​​"discretion" was adorable.

As she finished explaining the schedule, Jay—one of her brightest students—smirked at her. 

"I'm happy for you, Professor. You've really found a good half."

Only a quarter, actually.

Her mind remembered.

To maintain a shred of dignity, she glared at him.

"I'll overlook that comment only because you deserve to have fun tonight. I don't want to be a party pooper."

Some chuckled, others looked half-scared by the veiled threat. 

"See you later, Professor! Maybe we'll even have the pleasure of meeting the beautiful girl behind her!"

Added another, before the group dispersed among the guests.

Lisa turned slowly, her heart still racing a little. 

Jennie was there, smiling sweetly, as discreetly as possible.

Lisa thought it was the most beautiful smile in the world.

Her ears warmed when she realized Jennie had heard everything.

"I... I mean, um... they’re just a little nosy," Lisa murmured, trying to sound casual.

Jennie sighed, her tone soft. "Don't worry, Lisa-yah. They seem like nice guys. I'd love to meet them."

Lisa felt her pulse skip a beat.

Lisa-yah.

The simplicity with which he'd called her, with that informal, affectionate tone, struck her like a bolt of lightning.

Jennie seemed equally surprised, as if it had slipped out without thinking.

A heavy silence fell between them.

Then Lisa, with a shy smile, said, "You know you still haven't told me how old you are?"

Jennie looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "And you haven't asked."

"I'm asking now."

Jennie chewed her lip, then replied, "Twenty-eight. And you?"

Lisa's eyes widened. 

"Twenty-six and a half. So... you're older."

Jennie laughed softly, the kind of laugh that slips under the skin. "Then I can call you Lisa-yah without a problem. I am the unnie, after all."

Lisa blushed instantly. "Unnie?" she repeated, as if the word had just touched her soul.

Jennie nodded, amused by her surprise. "Yes. That's how it's done, right? You're the dongsaeng."

Lisa scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed but also strangely happy. 

"I didn't expect you to be older. You looked… younger."

Jennie shot her a mischievous look. 

"Careful, Lisa-yah. I could take that as a compliment… or as a provocation."

Lisa laughed, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. That simple discovery—that natural order between them—seemed to have brought a new balance to their bond. 

As if, amidst the chaos, something had just fallen into place.

They walked slowly among the guests, side by side, with the caution of those still exploring a nascent bond.

Every step was a discovery, every glance a small earthquake.

Then, suddenly, they both stopped.

A shiver ran through them, like an electric shock. Lisa placed a hand on her right wrist, where the still-extinct rabbit symbol was. 

Jennie did the same, touching her right shoulder blade. She knew the redness beneath the rabbit tattoo was building, as it always did whenever she made herself feel.

Lisa turned toward her, her eyes following Jennie's hand as she massaged a spot near her shoulder, half-covered by the jacket still lying loosely on her shoulders.

"Did you feel it too?" Lisa asked, her voice tense.

Jennie nodded, her gaze suddenly disoriented, the one Lisa had already glimpsed in that brief moment of intimacy in the corridor:

 "Yes. It's like... a pang. And something... pulling."

Lisa swallowed. "Backstage."

Jennie didn't answer. It wasn't necessary.

They exchanged a glance. 

Then, without saying a word, they walked backstage, guided by something they didn't understand, but felt deeply. As if the bond itself were taking control.

The room was crowded, the buzz of guests and the movement of technicians creating a chaotic flow that forced them to zigzag between bodies and voices. 

Lisa, walking in front, turned now and then to look for Jennie, but the confusion made it difficult to distinguish her. She paused for a moment, breathing slightly labored, and that was when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist.

Her skin heated under the touch. 

She followed the arm, then the gaze, and found the feline eyes she was looking for.

Jennie smiled at her, a reassuring, silent smile that seemed to say, "I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

Lisa's heart skipped a few feet. Then she started walking again, with a confidence she hadn't felt just minutes before. It was as if her feet knew exactly where to go, even if she didn't. Jennie walked beside her, silent but present. Their bond was an invisible compass.

They reached a secluded corner of the backstage area, away from the chaos. The lights were dimmer, the noise muffled. Lisa stopped, looking around. Jennie did the same.

"Why are we here?" Lisa whispered.

Jennie shook her head. "I don't know. But... I feel like we were supposed to come."

That's when they saw her. A girl, sitting with her back to her in a chair a little further away. She seemed nervous, looking around as if waiting for something. Or someone.

When she noticed them, she jumped to her feet. And in that instant, all three felt a jolt. An invisible wave that pulled them toward each other. A call. A recognition.

Lisa took a step forward, then another. Jennie followed. The girl seemed paralyzed. Her eyes widened, filled with terror. She understood. She understood who they were. And she was terrified.

"No..." she murmured, stepping back. "It can't be... not yet..."

Then she stumbled. Her body faltered, about to fall. Jennie caught her just in time, her arms strong but gentle. The contact was like an explosion.

A wave of emotions rippled between them. Pain. Loneliness. Desire. Fear. An old, wounded love, struggling to resurface.

Lisa moved closer, and the wave intensified. Jisoo trembled, her eyes filling with tears. Then, her body gave out. She fainted in Jennie's arms.

"Oh my God..." Lisa whispered, running toward them.

Jennie looked at her, shocked. "We have to get her out of here."

They lifted her together, gently, and carried her to a more secluded room, where no one would disturb them. They laid her on a small sofa, covering her with a jacket they found nearby.

The silence was heavy. Lisa knelt beside Jisoo, watching her. That's when she saw it.

On the girl's wrist, there were three symbols. The chick. The bear. A third, still dark.

But what made her hold her breath were the scars. Around the tattoos, the skin was marked. 

Thin cuts, old wounds. Self-inflicted.

Jennie approached, and when she saw, she put a hand to her mouth. 

"No..."

Lisa couldn't look away. 

She felt an unpleasant sensation in her mouth, as if she'd swallowed sand that prevented her from speaking.

Because those marks could only mean one thing:

"He tried to... erase them."

Jennie sat down next to her, her hands shaking. Lisa didn't say anything so as not to make the older girl uncomfortable, but when she glanced at her face, she noticed that her eyes were shining, as if she were trying to hold back tears.

—When did they become so emotionally sensitive to each other? Lisa didn't know, but feeling Jennie's sadness through their bond, it seemed perfectly right.

"Why? Why would anyone want to erase something so… sacred?"

Lisa shook her head, her eyes shining. 

"Maybe… someone made her believe she wasn't worthy. That she was wrong." Her voice came out weak and trembling.

—"How can you push someone to that point? How many invisible scars does that girl carry?"

Jennie turned to her. 

"Lisa… if our bond is so strong… imagine what she must have been through. Three bonds. And no one to protect her."

Lisa tightened her hands.

 "We have to be there for her. We have to make her understand that she's not alone."

Jennie nodded, her gaze fixed on the face of their soulmate. 

"This time... we won't let her suffer."

The silence returned, but it was different. It was full of promise.

 Of shared pain. Of a love that was trying to heal.

And while Jisoo slept, Lisa and Jennie kept watch.

Two hearts, united by a bond that had now found a third beat. 

Wounded. But alive.

Chapter Text

Jisoo felt pleased.  

A good feeling she hadn't experienced in so long that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. She was lying on something incredibly soft, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket that caressed her shoulders. Her body, usually tense and twitching, shut and vibrated in a quiet hum, as if she'd finally found peace.  

She opened her eyelids just a little, as if afraid even the light might hurt her. Before her was an unfamiliar room. The walls were painted in soft colors; the atmosphere was muffled and unreal.  

Strange.  

Then, slowly, like an old phone turning itself back on after a hard reset, her senses began to awaken. She felt her skin shiver at the slightest movement, while the air slipped between the covers and brushed against her short dress, sending a shiver down her spine.  

The event. She vaguely remembered attending something, a social event, more out of duty than desire. Her acting career demanded it. And she, as always, had obeyed.  

Then, her previously muffled ears began to pick up sounds. She heard two voices, both female.  

— However, even though I'm so happy to have met you, I don't think fate is entirely on my side. —  

A light snort, like someone trying to hold back a laugh.  

— And why exactly, Lisa-yah? —  

The sound of a chair shifting, the delicate rustle of a dress.  

— Because you two are already absolutely gorgeous. There's still one more to go, but I'm expecting an angel now. —  

There was a moment of silence.  

— How am I going to get through a day without being absolutely frustrated? —  

And it was then that Jisoo felt a wave of emotions wash over her. Frustration, desire, shyness. Pure, intense feelings that hit her heart like a punch. Her body, exhausted and tired of suffering in silence, reacted with a faint moan. But in the quiet of the room, that sound echoed like a scream.  

The voices stopped abruptly.  

Shame crept into her like a snake, slithering beneath her skin, enveloping her. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled up, trying to become invisible. Tiny. Nothing.  

She knew she had to remain silent. She was the wrong one, the strange one. If she had remained silent, perhaps her mother would have spared her. At least this time.  

But misfortune pierced her like a blade. She heard the door open. Footsteps. Slow, measured. They entered the room. She pressed a hand to her mouth, praying to all the gods she knew to give her the strength to stifle her sobs. She bit her wrist hard to prevent any more sounds from escaping.  

The footsteps stopped. Then, slowly, they came back. The door closed. Silence.  

Finally, she could breathe.  

She removed her mouth from her wrist. She looked at her wounds. The skin was raw, cracked, and marked by nails and teeth. There was an open, diagonal wound on her wrist. Two millimeters wide. And yellow pus was already seeping from the edges.  

She knew it would get infected. But it didn't matter. She had to endure. She had been born wrong. The scars were proof. The mistakes. And she deserved to suffer. So she had been told. So she had learned to believe.  

Her gaze followed a drop of blood that slowly slipped until it settled on the handkerchief tucked under her arm. If it stained the sheets, it would be worse. Much worse.  

Exhausted. Delirious. She collapsed into sleep.  

Her body trembled. Memories blurred with the present. She felt the need to run. To hide.  

The sound of a chair moving. Gentle footsteps approaching.  

No.  

She had been good. She hadn't made a sound.  

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. Another wave of emotions washed over her.  

Concern.  

Then, a voice. Low. Calm. Like a caress.  

—Hey… you're safe here. You don't have to be afraid, I… —  

A moment of silence. Jisoo slowly opened her eyes. Two hazel eyes, deep, feline.  

—Can I know your name? I'm Jennie. —  

Jisoo sat up slowly, without taking her gaze from those eyes. When she was fully upright, another girl appeared in her field of vision. She must be the owner of the second voice.  

She looked younger. Asian features, delicate. Eyes wide, comically large, like a deer dazzled by headlights. For a moment, Jisoo felt her heart enveloped in a warm, comforting sensation.  

Then the girl spoke.  

—Do you remember what happened? Hm… Do you remember who we are? —  

OH.  

Jisoo remembered.  

Her soulmates. The ones in front of her. Two of the three people destined for her.  

Her head, just turned back on, began to spin again. Flashes. Glass bottles. Blood. Bitter tears.  

She jumped to her feet. Panting. Without thinking. She ran.  

The girls' voices chased her. Emotions mixed with her fear. She felt them. She sensed them.  

What had she become?  

She ran as long as her shaking legs would allow. Then she collapsed against a wall. She picked up her phone. Only one number in the address book.  

Are you so weird that the only contact saved is your manager's?  

Pathetic.  

She pushed her thoughts away. The voice in her head sounded like her mother's.  

—Jisoo? Where are you? We searched the whole living room for you. Did you go into hiding? —  

Worse. She'd been found in her hiding place.  

—U-unnie, I'm sick... I think my fever's rising. Can we leave? —  

Her voice was fragile. Almost pathetic. But she needed to escape. To get away. From that place. From them.  

—---  

The front door slammed shut behind her, but Jisoo didn't turn around. She didn't have the strength. She rested her forehead against the cold wood, her trembling hands desperately searching for something to hold on to, something to keep her anchored to reality. Her breathing was labored, ragged, as if every breath of air was a battle barely won.  

The silence of the apartment enveloped her like a shroud. No voice, no sound. Only her. And her body began to give way.  

She took a few uncertain steps toward the living room, staggering as if her legs were made of sand. The world around her seemed to sway, the walls buckled, the floor moved away, and then returned beneath her feet. A sudden dizziness forced her to stop, gripping the edge of the couch. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she felt cold. A cold that penetrated her bones and tightened her heart.  

She sank onto the couch, knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her. The fabric felt rough against her skin; every contact was amplified and uncomfortable. Her fever was rising; she could feel it. Her body burned and trembled at the same time, as if torn between fire and ice.  

Her phone vibrated on the coffee table. A message.  

Manager: “Jisoo, are you here? You worried me. Do you want me to come to you?”  

Jisoo stared at it for a few seconds, the letters seeming to dance before her eyes. Then, with stiff fingers, she answered.  

Jisoo: “I'm home. I'm fine. I can fix myself.”  

Lying was easier than explaining. It's harder to face the gaze of someone who would try to understand, to dig deeper. She didn't want to be understood. She just wanted to disappear.  

She stood up with difficulty, dragging herself toward the bathroom. Every step was a challenge, every movement a pain. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes red, her lips chapped. She looked like a ghost. A shadow of herself.  

She slowly took off her sweater, revealing her arms. The marks. The scars. The old ones, now faded, and the new ones, still red, some swollen, some open. They seemed to scream. They seemed to call her. And she felt them. As if they were alive. As if they wanted to drag her back, towards that past that never stopped haunting her.  

Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a gauze pad and some disinfectant. The liquid burned her skin, but Jisoo didn't make a sound. She was used to it. To the pain. To the punishment. To the belief that every wound was deserved.  

She sat on the cold bathroom floor, her back against the tub, her legs stretched out in front of her. She closed her eyes. And the memories came.  

Her mother. The stern face, the sharp gaze. The words that still echoed in her head.  

“You’re a mistake. A disgrace. No one will ever truly love you.”  

She’d repeated them so many times that Jisoo had ended up believing them. She’d learned to hide, not to speak, not to disturb. To become invisible.  

Then, the soulmates. Those three presences that her soul recognized as part of itself. But that the world wouldn’t accept. “Monster,” her mother had told her when she’d found out. “Abomination.” As if loving were a sin. As if being destined for three people were a disease that needed to be cured.  

And Jisoo had tried to heal. To repress. To erase. But you can’t erase what you are.  

The emotions had resurfaced with unprecedented violence. Those voices, those eyes, that warmth. They were there. They were real. And she didn’t know how to handle them.  

Her body was shaking. The fever made her see shadows that weren’t there. She heard voices, whispers. The past mingled with the present. The walls seemed to close in on her.  

She jumped up, stumbling, and fled to her room. She threw herself on the bed, the cold sheets against her hot skin. Her heart was pounding, too hard. It felt like it wanted to burst out of her chest.  

The tears began to fall. Silent. Hot. Unstoppable.  

“Why me?” she whispered. “Why can’t I be normal?”  

The room was dark, but she saw. She saw everything. The memories. The punishments. The nights spent crying under the covers. The days spent faking a smile. The interviews, the photos, the fans. All fake. All fabricated.  

Only the pain was real.  

She rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow. Her body was exhausted. Her mind, a battlefield. Her emotions, a storm.  

She felt the marks pulsing. As if they had a life of their own. As if they wanted to remind her who she was. What she was. A soul split in four. A heart that didn’t know where to go.  

The fever made her see faces. Eyes. Hands caressing her. Voices calling her. “Jisoo…” “You’re safe…” “We love you…”  

But she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t trust. Too much pain. Too much fear.  

The phone vibrated again. But she didn’t look at it. She didn’t want to speak. She didn’t want to explain.  

She just wanted to sleep. And maybe, not wake up.  

She closed her eyes.

The sun had set hours ago, but in Jisoo’s apartment there was no difference. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off, and the air was stagnant. The silence was so thick it seemed weighty, as if every breath had to push through the shadows to exist.

Jisoo’s manager, Minji, opened the door cautiously. She’d tried calling her for days, left messages, knocked, and waited. Finally, she’d decided to come in. She didn't come in out of choice but rather out of desperation.

"Jisoo?" he called softly, his voice shaking. — It's me… Minji.

No answer.

She took a few steps, looking around. The apartment was messy but not chaotic. It was… empty. It seemed as though all life had vanished. There was a crumpled blanket on the couch. A cold cup of tea rested on the table. And then, in the corner, crouched like a wounded animal, was Jisoo.

Minji approached slowly, kneeling before her.

“Jisoo… my God…” she whispered, seeing the girl's face. It was pale and gaunt, her eyes red and swollen, and her lips chapped. But what struck her most were the arms. The marks. The scars. Some are recent, some ancient. They seemed to tell a story no one had ever wanted to hear.

“Go away…” Jisoo murmured, her voice breaking. “I don't want you to see me like this.”

“I'm not leaving,” Minji said firmly. —Not this time.

Jisoo shook her head, tears beginning to fall. —You can't understand… No one can.

—Then explain it to me. Make me understand. Please.

There was a long silence. Jisoo trembled, her body as fragile as glass. Then, as if something had broken inside her, she began to speak.

—I have three soulmates. — Her voice was a whisper, but each word weighed like lead. —Three. Not one. Not two. Three. And I… I wasn't supposed to exist. My mother said I was a mistake. I was told that no one could ever love me. I was perceived as a monstrous entity.

Minji remained silent, her heart tightening. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to react. But she knew she had to stay.

"When I met them…" Jisoo continued, her eyes lost in space. "I felt everything." Every emotion. Every thought. It was too much. Too beautiful. Too scary. And I ran away.

 Minji approached and took her hands in hers. "I'm here. I believe you. I support you. You're not alone."

Jisoo burst into tears, her body wracking with sobs. It was as if years of pain were finally finding a way out. Minji hugged her tightly, as if she could hold her together with the strength of her arms alone.

“Society has changed,” she said softly. “People are more open. More understanding. You don’t have to hide. You don’t have to punish yourself.”

But despite those words, Jisoo wasn’t getting better. The days passed, and she grew weaker and weaker. Minji watched helplessly until a thought flashed through her mind.

“The marks…” she murmured. “You haven’t activated them. The bond isn’t complete.”

That’s when her search began.

Minji explores every corner of the internet, contacting event organizers and analyzing recordings, photos, and attendee lists. Every detail, every fragment. She had to find the two girls. She had to save them. She had to save Jisoo.

Meanwhile, Jisoo remained alone. And the pain grew.

Sitting on the bed, she looked at her hands. Her fingers were thin, and her nails were broken. The scars. She felt guilty. She had made her soulmates suffer. She had left them incomplete. Broken. And now, they were probably going through the same hell.

"I'm selfish," she whispered. "I hurt them. I abandoned them. They deserve to be better. They deserve someone who truly loves them."

The destructive spiral was ready to swallow her again. Her thoughts grew darker, her emotions heavier. Her body trembled; her heart felt like it would explode.

Then, the door opened.

Minji entered, her face marked by fatigue, but her eyes shining.

"I found them," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "They're here."

Two figures stood behind her.

Jisoo stood slowly, her heart in her throat. She immediately recognized Jennie. The hazel eyes, deep and familiar. Adjacent to her, there was a girl with delicate features, her eyes wide and her expression deer-like.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't. The emotions were too much. Her body trembled; her mind screamed.

Jennie took a step forward. “You’re Jisoo, right?” she said softly. “We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves properly last time.”

The other girl approached, her eyes filling with tears. “We felt everything. Every emotion. Every pain. And we didn’t understand. We didn’t know why.”

Jisoo burst into tears. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I hurt you… I left you…”

Jennie took her hands. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. And we can fix everything.”

She caressed her face. “We looked for you. We felt you. And now… we can heal.”

Jisoo closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of their hands. She sensed the rhythm of their heartbeats. And then, like a spark, the marks activated.

There was a surge of light, energy, and emotion. The pain dissolved. The emptiness fills. Her heart calmed.

They were complete.

Minji watched in silence, tears in her eyes. She had seen the miracle. She had seen love. And she knew that, from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same again.

Jisoo turned to her, her face finally at peace.

"Thank you," she said. "For saving me."

Minji smiled. "No, Jisoo. You're the one who saved yourself. I just believed in you."

And in that moment, in that room filled with light and emotion, Jisoo realized that maybe, just maybe, she could start to hope.

                          🐰🐣

Lisa was sitting quietly on the couch, her legs tucked under her, her hands clasped in her lap. Only the slow, regular breathing of Jisoo, who slept beside her, broke the hushed silence in the room. Her soulmate seemed finally at peace. The cold sweats, mild convulsions, and tremors that had tormented her during the days of separation had vanished, giving way to a deep, restorative sleep.

Lisa knew that part of that relief was due to the forced bath she and Jennie had given her as soon as they arrived. It hadn't been easy: Jisoo was exhausted, almost devoid of strength, and seemed to want to disappear into the folds of her grief. But with patience, gentleness, and a few unshed tears, they had managed to bathe her, dress her in clean clothes, and settle her on the couch, where she now slept as if the world could no longer touch her.

Not that Lisa felt much different. She, like Jennie, had gone through hellish days before Minji found them. Jisoo's manager had explained to them that their physical and mental condition was due to the failure to activate the bond between the three. A bond that, if incomplete, left the souls in a state of imbalance, as if a vital piece of the body was missing.

Lisa looked down at her right wrist. The little rabbit carved into the skin, Jisoo's symbol, was finally colorful and complete. It no longer burned. Instead, it emitted a soft, pleasant buzz, like a silent reminder: you are connected, you are whole.

The floor creaked softly. Lisa didn't look up immediately. There was no need. She knew it was Jennie. Those few days together had already strengthened their bond in a subtle yet profound way. It was as if the other's presence was announced by an invisible wave, an energy that vibrated in the air before the footsteps could even be heard.

When she finally looked up, she saw Jennie crossing the room with a cup in her hands. She was wearing a pair of soft slippers, and her gaze was directed at them with such sweetness that Lisa felt her heart melt.

Jennie stopped a few steps from the sofa, watching Jisoo with a tender, protective expression. "Isn't she awake yet?" she asked softly, as if not to disturb.

Lisa shook her head slowly, smiling. "Minji-ssi said these past few days have been very difficult for her. She needs to sleep to regain her strength. Before she left, she advised us to go slowly. She's been through a lot… And even though our presence is helping her, it could destabilize her somewhat more. We must approach the situation cautiously.

Jennie nodded, coming closer. Lisa pointed to the space next to her on the couch. "We can't risk her running away again, can we, unnie?"

Jennie sat next to her, holding the cup in her hands. The warmth of the tea seemed to reflect in her gaze, which rested on Jisoo with an almost maternal care. "No, we can't. But we're here. And she's here. This is already a start."

Silence filled the room again, but it was a different silence. The room was no longer filled with tension but with anticipation instead. With hope.

There was a sudden movement.

Jisoo stretched slowly, her fingers moving as if searching for something in the void. Her breathing changed rhythm, becoming more conscious. 

Lisa and Jennie exchanged glances, holding their breath.

Jisoo's eyes opened slowly, as if the light were too bright. She turned slightly, finding herself facing two faces. She recognized Jennie immediately. And Lisa, whom she hadn't yet had the chance to meet.

Lisa leaned in slightly, trying not to invade her space. "Hi..." she said in a soft voice. "Are you feeling better?"

Jisoo stared at her for a moment, confused. Then she turned to Jennie, as if seeking confirmation. "She... is...?"

Jennie smiled. "She's the third. Our third."

Lisa lowered her gaze, suddenly shy. "My name is Lisa. I was born in Thailand. I left home very early to pursue my dream of teaching dance. And..." she paused, searching for words, "...I'm happy to have found you."

Jisoo remained silent. Her heart was pounding. She felt the marks throbbing and the emotions of the other two coursing through her. But she also felt the weight of the past, the scars that couldn't be seen, the words that had been said to her, and the fears she couldn't shake.

She was the eldest of them. And in Korea, being the eldest meant caring for others. Protecting them. Guiding them. But how could she do that when she could barely protect herself?

She sat up slowly, her body still weak. Jennie handed her a glass of water, which she accepted with a nod. She drank in small sips, then leaned back on the couch.

"I'm sorry..." she said softly. "For running away. For making you suffer."

Lisa moved a little closer, but not too close. "You don't have to apologize. You did what you could. And now you're here. That's what matters."

Jisoo nodded, tears in her eyes. "I want... I want to try. I want to get to know you. I want... to be with you." 

Jennie took her hand. "We'll get through this. Together."

Lisa smiled, and for the first time, Jisoo smiled back.

The next few hours passed slowly but easily. Jisoo rose from the couch, helped by the other two. Jennie made some hot porridge, and Lisa arranged some cushions on the floor to create a comfortable corner to sit. The house filled with small gestures, whispered words, and glances that spoke louder than words.

Jisoo observed everything with new eyes. She felt the warmth, her presence, and her safety. The traumas hadn't disappeared. They were there, lurking. But for the first time, they weren't alone. They were accompanied by something stronger. It was a bond she had never experienced before.

That she had always been afraid to feel.

But for one evening she allowed herself to be normal, to accept what fate had given her, and to be happy without feeling like she was wrong.

Lisa told her about her childhood in Thailand, how she had learned to dance by watching videos on an old phone, and how she had left home with a suitcase too big for her small body. Jennie spoke little but listened attentively, occasionally adding a detail, a joke, or a smile.

Jisoo felt strange. As if she were living a life that wasn't hers. But at the same time, she felt she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As the sun began to set, the three of them found themselves on the couch, covered by a soft blanket. Jisoo was in the center, Lisa on one side, and Jennie on the other. No one spoke. But they all felt it.

Jisoo's heart beat steadily and slowly. She felt the warmth of the bodies beside her, the marks pulsating, and the emotions flowing like a calm river.

And for the first time, she thought that maybe she could be worthing of love.

She could be part of something.

Chapter Text

The first ray of morning sunlight, still warm and gentle, kissed Jisoo's face.

Gently tearing her from a sleep free of the nightmares that usually tormented her, she awoke not with a start, but slowly, aware of her numb body, the remnants of sleep leaving her.

She was still on the couch, Jisoo noticed, when she opened her eyes.

The morning light filtered through the half-closed curtains, casting golden streaks on the floor and walls.

Beside her, the blanket was crumpled and still warm, a sign that Jennie had recently woken up. Her delicate scent lingered in the air.

On the other side of her body, a light, constant weight reminded her she was not alone. She turned slowly, still groggy from sleep, and the image of her other soulmate appeared in her field of vision: Lisa.

The girl was sleeping soundly, immersed in a slumber that seemed protected by a bubble of tranquility. Her face was relaxed, her lips parted, and her breathing slow and regular. The rays of sunlight that had awakened Jisoo caressed her hair, making it shine like threads of golden silk. Each strand seemed to dance in the light, creating a delicate contrast with her pale skin and the soft contours of her face.

Jisoo remained still for a few moments, simply observing her. There was something deeply reassuring in that vision. Lisa, so young, so new to her life, yet already so present. Jisoo's heart tightened in a sweet grip, an emotion she couldn't name but which warmed her chest.

Then she noticed a small detail: a rebellious lock of hair had slipped across Lisa's face, covering part of her cheek and brushing her eyelashes. It almost seemed to bother her, even though sleep still held her prisoner.

 Jisoo felt an almost physical urge, a tender, protective desire to adjust it.

She reached out with extreme caution, her fingers trembling with fear of waking her.

Every movement was measured and slow, as if time itself had stopped to allow her that gesture.

She brushed the lock of hair with her fingertips, gently lifted it, and tucked it behind Lisa's ear. Her skin was warm beneath her touch, and for a moment, Jisoo held her breath, fearing that the contact might shatter the magic of the moment.

But Lisa didn't move. She continued to sleep, unaware, immersed in her world of dreams.

She felt a spark of satisfaction in her chest, subtle but intense, like a small flower blooming amidst the cold. Instead of withdrawing her hand after smoothing the unruly lock of hair from Lisa's face, she let her fingers linger for a moment longer. The gesture transformed into an imperceptible caress, as light as the touch of a feather.

Lisa was sleeping soundly, her face relaxed, free of the tension that Jisoo had seen mar her beauty the night before. So calm, so defenseless. So… serene.

 Jisoo silently promised herself she would never be the cause of her pain again.

As she was immersed in that thought, the sounds of the house began to creep into her consciousness. Soft noises came from the kitchen: the discreet clink of a cup placed on the table and the soft swish of carefully moving footsteps. Soon after, a delicious scent wafted into the living room, enveloping her like a warm embrace. It was something sweet, perhaps vanilla or honey, and it mingled with the air with a naturalness that made everything seem more domestic, more intimate.

The gentle buzzing of her wrists accompanied that quiet. It was no longer a pain, no longer a heartbreaking call. It was a subtle, constant vibration that coursed through her body like an echo of peace. A bridge, she thought. A bridge that was slowly being built, stone by stone, over the abyss that had tormented her for years.

She raised her arm and observed the tattoos that glowed discreetly.  For the first time, they didn't feel like a burden. They weren't a source of discomfort but of a warm, enveloping happiness that spread to every corner of her body. The scars, now familiar, seemed to fade in that light. Not disappearing, no. 

But becoming part of something bigger.

She focused on the third tattoo, still monochrome. The black lines clearly outlined the shape of a squirrel, small and curious, with round cheeks and a compact body. Jisoo traced the outline of the little animal's cheeks with her fingers, thoughtfully.

If each tattoo represented one of her soulmates, did that mean that person would have soft, round cheeks like a squirrel's?

Would it be a she?

Jisoo let out a slight snort, amused and embarrassed by the thought. If fate had worked out well, it would surely be her. There was no doubt about it. The thought made her blush suddenly, and she quickly pushed it away, trying to focus on something less compromising.

Jennie's pet was a little bear with a plump, round face.  And indeed, the little she'd seen of her confirmed the resemblance: the soft cheeks, the gummy smile she'd given her the night before, in that moment of tender tranquility that Jisoo treasured like a treasure.

A smile escaped her spontaneously, small and sincere, as her heart filled with a sweetness she hadn't felt in a long time.

"A penny for your thoughts?" a voice said suddenly, interrupting her train of thought.

Jisoo whipped her head around and saw that Lisa had woken up. The girl was still lying down, her head resting on one arm, her eyes half-closed but alert. She was looking at her with such a direct gaze, so full of curiosity and warmth, that Jisoo felt dizzy.

When did it start to get so hot there?

Lisa stretched slightly, with the slow, lazy movement of someone waking up without haste. Her eyes opened calmly, still clouded by sleep, and rested on Jisoo.  For a moment, she didn't say anything, but the smile that formed on her lips was enough to make Jisoo blush again. There was something in that look—a quiet sweetness, a gentle curiosity—that made her feel seen but not exposed.

"Good morning..." Lisa murmured, her voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

Jisoo lowered her gaze, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Good morning..." she replied softly, almost a whisper.

Lisa sat up slightly. Her hair was falling messily over her shoulders, and the quiff Jisoo had tidied was rebelling again. But she didn't move it. It almost seemed as if she wanted to leave it there, like a small token of the contact they'd just had.

"Did you wake me?" she asked, her tone not accusatory but curious.

Jisoo hesitated. "I just... You had a quiff on your face. You looked annoyed."

Lisa smiled, and that smile was so sincere that Jisoo felt herself melt.

"Thank you. You were sweet."

A comfortable silence settled between them, like a light blanket. Jisoo noticed her heart was no longer beating so hard. There was still tension, yes. The past couldn't be erased overnight. But there was also something new. A timid desire to open up. To let her get close.

Lisa shifted a little, careful not to invade Jisoo's space.

—Did you sleep well?

Jisoo nodded. —Better than I thought.

—The marks…— Lisa pointed to her wrist. — They don't hurt anymore. It's strange. I feel… calm.

Jisoo looked at the girl's wrist, where the rabbit glowed discreetly. —Me too. It's as if… we were all connected. As if the pain had been divided between us and was now lighter.

Jisoo watched her for a moment, then turned toward the kitchen. —Jennie's already awake, I think. I heard some noises earlier.

As if in answer, just then, Jennie appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of loose pants that Jisoo was sure had been in her closet before.

The sight of Jennie in more casual clothes, especially her own, made her heart skip a beat.

God, her soulmates are just absolutely beautiful.

Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. In her hands, she held a tray with three steaming mugs and a plate of toast with jam.

"Good morning, sleepyheads," she said with a smile that lit up the room. "Breakfast's ready. I thought we could eat together, if you'd like."

Lisa immediately stood up, stretching.

And oh, Jisoo wasn't that strong.

She let her gaze fall on the fleeting strip of skin that appeared. She blushed profusely and swore she saw the other two girls (especially Lisa) smirking at her as if they'd already figured it all out.

Damn.

Jennie approached and handed her a cup. "It's jasmine tea. Minji said you like it. Or at least, it relaxes you."

Jisoo took it with shaking hands. "Thanks... really."

Jennie sat next to her, leaving just the right amount of space. Not too close, not too far. Lisa squatted on the carpet in front of them and began spreading jam on the bread.

"You know," Lisa said, her mouth full. "I always thought living with other people was complicated. But... this is different. It's like we were meant to be together."

Jennie nodded. "It's not always easy. But when there's a connection, even the difficulties seem more manageable."

Jisoo listened to them, her heart beating slowly. She wanted to say something. She wanted to tell. But the words were still stuck between her ribs, blocked by years of fear.

The three remained there, sitting together, breakfast in their hands, the sun gently streaming in through the window. It was a simple scene.

Maid.

But for Jisoo, everything was simply perfect.

                                                 $-$

At the end of breakfast, Jisoo silently stood up and cleared the improvised table on the coffee table. As soon as Jennie tried to help her, the older girl turned and smiled, “Let me finish; how can I let my guests do everything?”

Jennie was about to reply that no, she was just doing it to be closer to her, but she stopped herself just in time; she didn’t think it was the right time for those words yet. As Jisoo headed toward the kitchen, she let out a defeated sigh and simply watched her back disappear around the corner of the room.

Was she really the girl terrified of the bond who, just over two weeks ago, had shattered her composure when she felt the call of Lisa’s mark?

And yet these two girls had imprinted themselves on her skin with a strength that had stabilized her, but at the same time restored her fears and uncertainties. Also, because she was no longer alone in her body, in her emotions, she had to control herself for the good of the bond.

She turned and noticed Lisa watching her with her eyes slightly narrowed and a concentrated expression, as if trying to read her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Lisa-yah, but from what I’ve noticed so far, we can only feel our emotions; thoughts are still private.”

The tall girl jumped slightly when she heard her words, as if brought back to reality by them, then blushed deeply, and Jennie could actually feel the wave of embarrassment that ran through her.

“I—I didn’t mean to interrupt your musings; you seemed lost.” Jennie smiled sweetly.

Pretty Lisa, do you know you look awfully cute right now?

She let this thought leave her head as quickly as it had entered and asked, 

How are you, Lisa? Did you manage to sleep well?”

The girl smiled and nodded slightly. 

“Yes, unnie, I’m much better now. Sleeping close to each other definitely helped.”

 Jennie sighed, satisfied with the answer. She was trying to think as little as possible about the Lisa she’d seen in the days before Minji found them. She sincerely hoped it wouldn’t haunt her too much in the future, and above all, she hoped to never see Lisa like that again.

“Unnie, unnie... it hurts. Do you feel it too? This emptiness... It’s so deep inside me.” Jennie wanted to do anything to help the younger girl. Seeing her like this, delirious and drenched in sweat on the couch in the room where they’d decided to spend the night, was heartbreaking.

But what hurt her most was her helplessness. Because, even if she’d held her tight, even if she’d tried to convey all the warmth she could, they both knew now that the pain wouldn’t go away. Jennie felt weak, but seeing Lisa in that state, feeling their pain merging and spreading through her body, devastated her more than any other fragility she could feel at that moment.

She shook herself from those thoughts and saw that Lisa was about to speak again. Before she could open her mouth, however, Jennie's phone shattered the pleasant quiet of the room.

Jennie grimaced when she saw who was calling. 

The last time they'd called, she'd been in the midst of a crisis and had hastily announced that she wasn't feeling well and would be spending a couple more days in Seoul recovering.

Now, however, she knew she couldn't back out again; the council already had little trust in her, and she couldn't delay sending her ideas for the new collection any longer.

 She gave a quick, apologetic smile to the younger girl watching her from the couch and headed for what she'd discovered was the bathroom, locking herself in.

Jennie leaned against the bathroom door and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Her phone still vibrated in her hand, as if reminding her that the outside world hadn't stopped, that despite everything—the sleepless nights, the revelation, the bond that now united her with Jisoo and Lisa—her life continued to flow inexorably, demanding her presence.

She pressed "accept" with a held breath.

— Yes, it's me.

The voice on the other end was the familiar one of her manager, impatient as ever.

— Jennie, we can't wait any longer. The collection is ready, and the team needs you in New York in two days.

The words hit her like a boulder. Jennie was silent for a moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She looked paler, her eyes marked by a veil of sadness she didn't remember having.

“Two days,” she repeated softly, as if to convince herself it really was that short.

“Yes. I’ve already booked your flight. You can’t back out, Jennie. It’s your job.”

She knew it. She’d always known this moment would come.

“It’s okay.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she forced it to stay steady. “I’ll be there.”

When the call ended, Jennie remained still for a long moment, the phone still clutched tightly in her hand. Then she slowly lowered it, letting reality sink in all at once. Returning to New York meant parting ways with them.

From Jisoo, who had finally begun to let her in.

From Lisa, who had just found some peace.

The idea of walking away, of leaving the fragile balance they’d only just begun to build, tightened her chest like a knot too tight.

She left the bathroom, trying to hide her tension. But as soon as she met Lisa's gaze, she realized it was useless.

"Unnie, are you okay?" the girl asked, tilting her head in concern.

Jennie smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I have to go back to New York. In two days."

The silence that followed was almost tangible. Lisa stiffened, her gaze momentarily lost, as if unsure how to react. Jisoo, who had meanwhile returned from the kitchen with a towel in her hands, stopped mid-step.

"So soon?" she whispered.

Jennie nodded. "It's for the fashion show. I can't put it off any longer."

Lisa bit her lip, searching for the right words. "But... what about us?"

There was no accusation in her voice. Just fear. That subtle, pure fear you feel when something beautiful risks fading before it's even solidified.

Jennie approached, her fingers trembling slightly as she leaned closer. “This isn’t goodbye, Lisa-yah. I promise I’ll be back. But I can’t hide from my life forever.”

“You’re not hiding.” Jisoo intervened, her voice calmer but full of emotion. “You’re just doing your job.” The words were gentle, but the pain in her eyes betrayed her.

“When are you leaving?” Lisa asked hoarsely, and Jennie desperately tried not to look at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I have to be at the airport for the six o’clock flight tomorrow morning. We still have this day together.”

Jennie felt the older girl’s gaze on her face, an intense gaze that hid understanding and underlying insecurity for something stolen just as it blossomed, and so she took Lisa’s hands and pulled her up.

He felt the girl's small gasp of surprise, but when she didn't say anything, he continued to drag her. 

Jennie reached Jisoo's side and gently removed the rag from the girl's increasingly tight grip.

She put it down and gently intertwined their fingers.

When their hands were intertwined, she clearly felt their tremors, but she said nothing and waited for Jisoo to adjust to the change.

When he finally felt the tremors weaken, he gave Lisa's bound hand a gentle tug and called her over.

Recognizing his intentions, Lisa stepped forward, positioned herself on Jisoo's other side, and with her hands still intertwined with Jennie's, she reached out to wrap her arms around her shoulders. 

Jennie did the same on the other side, and finally they stopped, like that, locked in a delicate embrace in the middle of the dining room.

Emotions flowed freely between the three of them, each feeling the other two simultaneously.

Jisoo thanked every god that Jennie had had the foresight to hold her up, because her legs had lost their stability.

She collapsed against the other girl's chest; the only thing keeping her grounded was the clear presence of Lisa's arms on her shoulders and Jennie's chest rising and falling.

Even though it was all terribly new, Jisoo gave herself the chance to hope.

Hope that one day she would have the chance to accept and express out loud what she knew was growing inside her: love.

                                        ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Chaeyoung was late.

Of course.

When wasn't she late?

She looked around quickly, trying to find the right sign that would tell her where her gate was. Her mother had even urged her to remember to call her before boarding, but with one last glance at the imposing clock on the highest wall of the airport, she realized she probably wouldn't have time.

As she ran toward the gate, she promised herself she'd at least send her a text. She sighed; her mother would kill her.

It wasn't the first time she'd left home; her passion for music and her voice had pushed her to leave New Zealand several times for new opportunities. This time, however, was different. It was a commitment that would keep her in the chaotic city of New York for over a month, and her mother had almost managed to convince her to bring along Mr. Hank, the dog-shaped toy she'd had since she was five.

But Chaeyoung was all grown up now, and she could easily live without a stuffed animal.

(She'd finally hidden it in her backpack just before leaving home.)

But if you ask her, her mom put it in as a surprise.

When she finally arrived, just in time for the gate to open, she grabbed her boarding pass and headed for security.

The stewardess barely glanced at her as she read the ticket, and when she finally gave her the green light to board the shuttle that would take her to the plane, Chaeyoung felt her heart race as she realized that in less than twenty hours she'd be in the Big Apple.

As she silently pondered what she'd do first when she arrived, she heard her phone ring.

Shit, her mom.

This was definitely the time she was going to kill her for not calling.

She pulled out her phone and discovered it was just her little sister.

– “Lily?” –

– “Chayeon-ahaa, are you leaving? I just wanted to say hello before takeoff. I'll miss you so much. Remember to bring me some presents!” –

Chaeyoung had to move the phone away slightly to prevent her sister from deafening her hearing. “Lily, I can hear you even if you don't scream, you know? Sure, I'll bring you little gifts; don't I always do that?”

She heard her little sister's dramatic snort through the phone and bit her lip to hold back a laugh, always so dramatic.

– “Is Mom home? I was supposed to say hello, but I'm on the plane now, and I don't think I'll have time to call her back.” –

– “She left for a moment to get the vegetables for the roast lamb, but she's saying hi. She knew you'd forget to call her.” – 

There was a moment of silence, during which Chaeyoung wondered if Lily had moved away, given how loud she was 24/7. But after a moment, she heard her voice again. 

“Even if she didn't say it explicitly, she wishes you good luck. Maybe this time it'll be the right one. I hope you find what you're looking for, unnie.” –

Chaeyoung blinked silently for a moment, then the pilot's voice interrupted her train of thought.

We would like to inform our kind passengers that departure is scheduled for five minutes, so please remember to put any electronic devices that could interfere with the flight on airplane mode. Thank you for choosing our airline, and we wish you a pleasant flight.

"Hi, Unnie, I hope you have a pleasant flight. Remember to send a photo of the Statue of Liberty when you arrive!"

Chaeyoung barely had time to whisper a faint "bye" before Lily had already ended the call.

As she turned off her phone and prepared for takeoff, she thought back to the words her sister had said before the pilot interrupted.

I hope you find what you're looking for.

When the plane reached altitude and stabilized, Chaeyoung lowered her seat slightly and, as she prepared for sleep, placed her hand on the lateral rib area where her soul tattoos lay silently. Her mother knew how much she longed to meet her soulmates, and she'd been the first to hug her tightly and say,

"How wonderful, Chengie! I'll have three goddaughters to get to know and spoil."

Yes, she'd also been the first to discover and readily accept her sexual orientation, and Chaeyoung would be indebted to her for the rest of her life for the unconditional and unwavering love she'd always given her.

Ever since she'd discovered the meaning of the three animals tattooed on her skin, she'd searched for her soulmates on every trip she'd taken, but until then, the only thing she'd felt were the vibrations that occasionally emanated from them.

And yet, when she'd accepted that job as a model for an American agency, and even now, on that plane to New York, she'd felt a new sensation in her chest that had rekindled the hope that had slowly faded.

Whatever fate had in store for her, she knew, deep down, that it was right.

She closed her eyes, exhausted from that day and all those thoughts, her hand still in a protective position over her tattoos.

Chapter Text

Rosé could clearly hear the melodious laughter: a higher-pitched, adorable laugh, a balm that spread through her body.

Another, quieter one that sent shivers down her spine, and she felt the need to get closer to the source of that laughter.

As if in an out-of-body action, she felt herself moving. She looked around and realized she was in a kitchen.

A large kitchen, illuminated by the sun filtering through the windows.

She shifted her gaze toward the stove and saw a more petite figure with her back to her; she seemed intent on something, but she couldn't quite make out what she was doing. From the brief gestures of her arms, she was probably using the pan.

She wanted to move closer and ask the figure who she was and what she was doing there, but as she moved closer, she saw movement from the corner of her eye on the sofa in the living room.

Other people. They could help her.

She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the girl busy at the stove behind her.

Is it possible that no one noticed her presence?

She was finally close enough to the couch to focus on the two figures on it.

She couldn't make out their faces; the sun stubbornly blocked them, but she squinted and noticed a mane of black hair on the girl sitting furthest to the left.

She cleared her throat. Nothing.

Frustrated by being completely ignored, she opened her mouth to speak: "Excuse me…?"

The shuffling of footsteps from behind was the last thing she heard before the light began to engulf the entire scene.

She covered her face with her arms to keep from being blinded.

When she opened her eyes, she was back on the plane, though judging by the bustle of people around her, they'd probably landed.

Chaeyoung rubbed her eyes, still sleepy; the blurry memory of the dream she'd just had was fading, along with the last vestiges of sleep.

She stood up, grabbed the small backpack she'd brought on board, and headed for the exit.

She nodded to the stewardess and, once outside, allowed herself to breathe in the New York air deeply.

(Sure, the airport air wasn't particularly polluted, but she ignored that information.)

With a determined stride, she headed toward baggage claim; check-in for the small apartment the agency had provided her with was due in two hours, and she still had to figure out how to get there.

Luckily, her luggage arrived quickly; it had been lost before, and once, against all odds, it had even been left at the New Zealand airport. She grabbed her luggage and, following the arrows, headed for the exit.

As soon as the airport's sliding doors opened, Chaeyoung was hit by a wave of noise so loud it made her chest vibrate.

It wasn't just a buzz: it was a chaotic mix of horns, engines, overlapping voices, suitcase wheels, taxi drivers' calls—a veritable wall of sound that seemed to be saying, "Welcome, baby, you figure it out."

The air in New York was different: colder, sharper, and smelled of gasoline, coffee, and metal. The lights outside the airport were so bright that, for a second, she squinted—huge digital panels, shiny yellow taxis reflecting everything, headlights cutting through the twilight and casting long shadows on the asphalt.

Chaeyoung tugged on the handle of her suitcase and took a step forward.

And then, boom: the city exploded before her eyes.

People everywhere, each headed somewhere, all fast, determined, as if they had an internal timer. She felt tiny for a second, but also electric, as if the frenzy had penetrated her skin.

A woman in a blue suit walked past her, almost pushing her with her shoulder, without even turning around. Two boys giggled as they dragged a skateboard. A taxi driver shouted something to a colleague in swift, angry English that Chaeyoung didn't understand, but the tone was universal.

A yellow taxi screeched in front of her, stopped a few meters away, someone got in, and the door slammed shut before she could even think to stop it.

Okay… so… this is normal?

She bit her lip, uncertain, but fascinated.

She followed the flow of people toward the taxi area, clutching the strap of her bag as if it could give her security. The sidewalk was an organized chaos: taxis arriving and departing, people raising their arms with almost aggressive confidence, no one asking permission or apologizing.

Chaeyoung slowed, observing how the others did it.

One man raised his hand, and the taxi immediately changed lanes.

Another leaned almost halfway into the street, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

No one seemed afraid of anything.

She breathed deeply.

Okay, I can do this.

She lugged her suitcase forward, approached the curb—a little too carefully, so much so that a man behind her, engulfed in an enormous coat, walked past her as if he were a traffic cone.

"Sorry..." she murmured instinctively.

He didn't answer. Maybe he hadn't even heard.

Chaeyoung leaned forward a little, imitating the others. A free taxi was arriving, its roof light on.

Her hands trembled slightly, but she raised her arm as she had seen: decisive, clear, without hesitation.

The taxi slowed.

The lights reflected in her eyes, and the noise of the city seemed to draw closer, like a wave closing in on her.

Chaeyoung moved abruptly, yanking her suitcase toward the door. She opened it with a half-smile of disbelief—as if she wasn't entirely convinced that the taxi had truly accepted her, her, lost among all those confident, agile people.

She sat down and pulled the door open gently (probably too gently, considering New York standards).

The taxi driver looked at her in the mirror, one eyebrow raised.

"Where to?"

Chaeyoung cleared her throat, her hair slightly ruffled by the chilly wind outside.

"Um—hi! Yes, sorry. I need to go to..."

She quickly opened the note on her phone, where she had saved the address the agency had sent.

"One Forty-Fifth West Twenty-Seventh Street. Chelsea. Please."

The taxi driver nodded, already pulling back into traffic.

"Alright. Good area."

Chaeyoung smiled at him, spontaneous, cheerful, as she always did.

The fact that he didn't seem bothered immediately reassured her.

She leaned her head against the window, watching the city pass by like a movie moving too fast. Everything was huge, loud, and bright.

And she was a girl from New Zealand who could get lost even in the supermarket, let alone in the middle of Manhattan.

“It’s my first time here, actually…” she murmured, speaking more to herself than to the driver.

“Big change,” he replied without taking his eyes off the road.

His tone was neither brusque nor polite.

Chaeyoung laughed softly.

“Yeah. I’m here for, uh—a fashion show? Jennienoir Atelier? They assigned me an apartment nearby.”

The taxi driver made a sort of sound that could have been an “oh” or an “um.”

“Models come and go down that street every month. You’ll get used to it.”

Chaeyoung lowered her gaze a little, shy but happy.

The vibration of the taxi beneath her, the chaos of the city, the lights, the idea of ​​going to an apartment of her own, assigned by one of the most essential fashion houses

It was strange. Magical. Scary.

She clasped her hands in her lap to keep her excitement at bay.

Okay, Chaeyoung, you can do this. Breathe. Don't be a mess. Or at least, not today.

The taxi sped away from the airport, carrying her toward Manhattan, toward her new reality, toward everything that was beginning right now.

^^^^

Jennie, across town, paced her luxurious apartment perched at the top of the building, with a perfect view of Central Park.

So much had happened in the past few hours that she could distinctly feel a headache starting to bite at the base of her neck, like a slow but inexorable vice.

When she finally landed in New York, she hadn't even had time to suffer from jet lag before a sudden, sharp pain stabbed both her wrist and her left shoulder blade. The shock forced her to stop and sit down, breathless.

When the pain subsided—or instead, it became just a little more bearable—she rolled up the sleeve on her right wrist and pulled her blouse down enough to see the tattoos.

Both Jisoo's rabbit and Lisa's chick were visibly paler than they'd observed them in the past few weeks.

A wave of panic rose in her throat, hot, suffocating. She felt a primal desire: she wanted her girls beside her, right now. She tried to hold them, look at them, make sure they were okay. But the reality was cruel: they were thousands of miles away, and that thought only made the lump of anxiety in her chest grow even stronger.

"Miss Kim, where—"

Her assistant Mark's voice came distant and muffled, as if spoken through a thick layer of water. Those words shattered what had been the longest minutes of Jennie's life.

She took a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes, not even realizing she'd closed them. She stood up as quickly as her slightly numb legs would allow, turned to Mark, and—aware of how vulnerable she was—said in a low but firm voice:

"Mark, I need to speak to a doctor as soon as possible. And while I wait for an answer, I want you to research all available information on bleaching soulmate marks when separated."

She didn't wait for his reaction: she couldn't bear the employee's gaze, whether confused or curious. She was too nervous, too scared.

She stepped off the private jet and, after a final glance at Mark, quickly climbed into the limousine waiting nearby.

Two hours later, she found herself in her apartment at an ungodly hour, discussing haircuts, models, and color palettes for the new campaign.

After the fourth back and forth in the room, the headache had officially taken hold. And still no word from the doctor.

She wanted to send everyone home and finally be alone.

She wanted to call them. To hear their voices.

She missed them. Terribly.

In Korea, at that hour, it was morning: she wouldn't even wake them. And she wanted to know if they, too, had been scared when the tattoos faded.

Would Jisoo get upset? Would she sink into one of her anxiety spirals? Maybe Lisa would help her out.

But then, who would hug Lisa? Who would tell her everything would be okay?

"Jennie?"

"JENNIE?"

The high-pitched, close voice tore her out of the series of catastrophic scenarios she was imagining. She turned, ready to blast anyone who dared raise their voice at her.

In front of her was Jennifer, one of her closest friends, whom she had met a few months after opening her company. She had a furious look in her eyes, as if she had tried to call her several times. Her long red hair fell in unruly waves over her shoulders, making her figure even more imposing and annoyed.

"That's the third time I've called you!" Jennifer snapped, planting her hands on her hips. "You move like a ghost, and you don't listen to anyone. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jennie opened her mouth to respond, but the air got stuck in her throat. She hesitated. It wasn't like her to show weakness, even in front of a trusted friend.

Jennifer looked at her more closely, and her anger cracked.

"Hey..." she said then, more softly. "You're shaking."

Jennie looked down at her hands, only then realizing that they were slightly shaken.

Her friend's face changed completely in a second: no more irritation, just genuine concern.

"Okay," she murmured, coming closer. "Sit down. Now tell me from the beginning." And it doesn't matter how many shoots we have tomorrow morning: if we have to, we'll postpone them."

Jennie took a step back, hesitant. The desire to stay strong battled with the desire to collapse, to let go, even for a moment.

Finally, she gave in, letting herself be led toward the couch.

"I'm scared, Jen," she admitted softly.

A tremor ran through her, accompanied by a labored breathing that seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

"I can't hear them."

A tremor. A ragged breath.

Jennie stood still for a moment, grappling with the weight of her own words. They came out, raw and uncontrolled, like a reflection breaking through her carefully constructed facade. Suddenly, the room felt cramped: too small, too bright, filled with the palpable anxiety that had crept into her chest ever since she'd witnessed the fading of the tattoos that connected her to her soulmates.

Jennifer's gaze remained fixed on Jennie, her expression hovering somewhere between panic and disbelief. "Wait... who? Who can't you hear?" Her voice dropped to a hushed tone, as if speaking to a wounded animal that might attack if threatened.

With a tired gesture, Jennie raised a hand to her forehead and let it slide down her face, feeling the weight of exhaustion seep into her being. She felt exhausted, not only in her body, but also in her mind and the tenderest part of her heart.

"Lisa and Jisoo."

The names came out in a trembling whisper, almost lost in the air.

Jennifer's eyes widened with recognition. "The girls from the event? The ones you met in Korea?"

Jennie nodded slowly, almost painfully. "It's... them." She took a breath that felt like it was choking her throat. "My soulmates."

The weight of that sentence hung between them like an invisible anchor, laden with years of unspoken truth. But Jennifer didn't flinch; there was no trace of judgment or disbelief. Whatever reaction Jennie expected didn't come; instead, she sat down beside Jennie, offering her presence as a lifesaver in the tide of emotions she was experiencing.

"Okay."

It was a simple word, but it conveyed the warmth of understanding.

"Tell me about them."

Jennie hesitated at first, but then the doors of her heart slowly began to open. "Lisa… she's a dance teacher in Switzerland." A delicate smile played across her lips, more sad than joyful. "She's… light. She's that radiant person who walks into a room and casts a light, making everything a little lighter, a little less serious. When she holds you, you truly believe that everything will be okay. But she's also the one who hides the pain under layers of positivity. I swear, Jen, we went through a rough patch before the bond was complete… I pray I never have to see her lose control again."

Jennifer ascoltò attentamente, annuendo mentre assorbiva ogni parola.

"And Jisoo..." The name came out like a fragile prayer, heavy with meaning. "She's Korean and an incredibly talented actress. She grew up in a family that hated her for simply being different. She's so sweet it hurts to think about it. I wish I could protect her from the entire world. But she's also scared and vulnerable… and I don't want to be another person who disappoints her."

"We were together for a short time, but it felt like we'd known each other forever. And then… then I came back here."

She paused, the weight of her admission settling heavily in the air. "And the tattoos were faded."

With compassionate urgency, Jennifer placed a hand on Jennie's knee. "Honey, why didn't you tell me right away? I would have helped."

Jennie shook her head, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face as she bit her lip. "I didn't mean to… involve anyone. And honestly, I'm not good at dealing with these emotions. You know that."

"I know," Jennifer replied softly, offering a smile that radiated warmth. "But that's exactly why you need someone close by. Everyone does."

Before they could further discuss the matter, a sharp knock interrupted the moment.

"Miss Kim?"

It was Mark's voice, clear and authoritative. "The doctor is here."

Jennifer stood, motioning for Jennie to rise. "Let's go."

The doctor was a man in his fifties, with deep eyes and calm hands. He had the look of someone who had seen a lot, too much, and could recognize a tired soul even before he spoke.

"Miss Kim," he nodded. "I've been told you've had sudden pain in your soul marks and subsequent fading."

Jennie nodded silently.

The doctor studied the tattoos—Jisoo's little rabbit and Lisa's chick—now pale as if drawn with watered-down ink.

“It’s nothing serious,” she said confidently. “It’s a natural response to separation.”

Jennie frowned.

“Natural?”

“Yes.”

The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Soulmate marks are sensitive to distance. When the bond is new, the tattoo tends to weaken when the partners are too far apart. The color fades, the pain increases… It’s a sign of adjustment.”

Jennie remained silent, a mixture of relief and guilt filling her chest.

“Won’t they stay like this forever?” she asked softly.

“No.”

The doctor smiled. “They’ll be full again as soon as you’re physically close again. It’s a common trait in relationships that aren’t yet stable.”

Jennifer snapped.

“Let’s put it this way… you’re not exactly the model of a calm, stable life.”

The doctor laughed.

“Then you’ll have to work a little harder.” Rest. Less stress. Maintaining constant contact with your soulmates.”

Jennie looked up.

"What do you mean by 'constant contact'?"

"Talk."

He replied simply.

"Listen to them. Let them know you're thinking of them. The bond answers that too."

Jennifer brightened.

"See? You have to call them."

Jennie bit her lip, uncertain.

The doctor nodded.

"It will do her good. More than she thinks." Jennie nodded and, after thanking the doctor, left in silence, followed by Jennifer.

“You can come to work later tomorrow—in fact, take the day off: you need to recover from jet lag and the shock of the separation—I don't think one day can make or break the company. The last models we hired for the fashion show arrive tomorrow, but even if they did, you have all week to get to know them,” Jennifer said as she walked home, glaring at her when she tried to complain about being excused from work. Eventually, however, she realized that her friend was right, she needed rest and, above all, she needed to hear them out: “Okay, but if there's any problem, I want you to tell me. I don't want to find out later because you wanted to let me rest.”

Jennifer snorted, but didn't say anything else; she gave her a sincere smile and, after saying goodbye, drove off in the car, leaving Jennie to herself.

Even though at that moment the only thought was calling her soulmates, Jennie smiled and thanked her lucky stars for giving her such a wonderful friend.

17:20 Seul 

Lisa was alone at home when she heard the phone ring.

She didn't need to check to know it was Jennie calling, and deep down she also knew the reason for the call.

Immediately after she picked up the phone, Jennie’s voice echoed through it: “ Lisa? Hi, am I disturbing?” 

And oh, Lisa could have felt her heart melt at her softly worried tone.

“ Unnie, you’re never disturbing, remember that, but… What time is it in New York? Isn’t it very late?” She couldn’t help being worried because, yes, she probably understood the reason for that call, but imagining Jennie, tired from the long flight and worried for them, made Lisa’s heart ache.

“Yes– it’s 2:30 am here – but I couldn’t sleep well until I had heard your voice.. I-” she interrupted for a sec “ Where’s Jisoo-unnie? Is she okay? It should be late afternoon there. Why can’t I hear her?”

Her voice was shaky, and Lisa answered rapidly to end the elder's suffering. “ Jisoo-unnie is on set. She was a little shocked to see the tattoos fade, but she’s okay. I double-check it, I promise.” A little whisper came through the phone, and then Jennie spoke, “ And you? Are you okay? You don’t have to be always alright; you can count on me, Lisa-yah… I just found out the reason, and it’s shocking, but I had my friend help me. What about you?”

Lisa felt her eyes grow shiny. Even though Jennie was far away, her soulmates were always on her mind.

How did she deserve that?

“ I’m fine, unnie, I had time to process it while dancing today, it’s always been my method,” but today I wished that you were here to hug me. “ I already know about this situation; one of my friends in Thailand had the same problem. I didn’t connect immediately because I archived the info.” 

Not hearing the other girl answering, she continued, “ I always waited for you, you know? When I was little, I remember talking all the time about you with my mother and father, they weren’t against polyamorous… They just wanted me to be happy. But after, when I moved to Swisseland for the Academy, I started to doubt about our meeting, the society has progressed, yes, but it was still seen as weird, you know, having three soulmates.” 

She let out a light sigh, feeling the sadness form a lump in her chest. “ I accepted the destiny of being the strange one, the different one. I just wanted to feel the magic bond everyone talks about. I just had to wait for my turn. You have no idea how grateful I am to have met you, and even if I seem selfish, I can't wait to be truly complete.”

She felt hot tears run down her cheeks; she had admitted everything.

There was a memento of silence, and then the faint sound of a sob, as if Jennie had been trying to hold it back, reached his ears.

“ I miss you so much,” Jennie sobbed out, “ I- I love you, I’ve wanted to tell you this since I found out about the tattoos.”

Lisa felt her heart stop for a moment, and then start again at twice its normal speed.

“ I love you too,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to see you again, unnie,” she sighed quietly, feeling the heaviness leave her shoulder. “And I hope we will be complete soon, I don’t care what people say.”

“ I know Lisa-yah, we’ll be together as soon as possible.” She went silent for a moment, then continued, “ Hug Jisoo-unnie for me, ok? And when you’re too stressed, text me, don’t hesitate, the doctor said that for a new connection like ours, it's essential always to be tuned in. I have to go now, I’m exhausted, but I’ll send you a message when I wake up.”

“Oka,y unnie, sweet dreams, love you,” Lisa said, before hearing the line fall.

She remained alone in Jisoo’s living room.

She checked her marks. The bear was still faded, but it had more color than before the call. She smiled.

Everything will be alright.

Chapter Text

Almost two weeks had passed since that phone call. Jennie kept in constant contact with Lisa and Jisoo, both out of necessity and practicality—or at least that's what she tried to convince herself: constant communication to keep the tattoos from fading. Even though deep down, she knew it was much more than that.

Those three words exchanged with Lisa continued to ring in her ears, resurfacing at unexpected moments and making her heart race without warning.

(Lili: Unnie, could you stop fretting? I know you miss us, but I can't have a tachycardia while I'm sleeping. # - #

(Jichu: Jennie-yah, I'll call you as soon as I finish filming. Just relax and listen to the audio Lisa and I sent you. If you need anything, text me.:3)

Yes, because, apparently, the weakening caused by distance had activated something new: a connection: if one of them got hurt, the others felt the same pain, only a little milder, like an echo under the skin.

The fashion show was getting closer, and Jennie felt a rush of happiness, electric. Immediately after the show, she would see them again, and the anticipation almost made her hands tremble.

The morning of the fashion show arrived with the first snow in New York. It was almost mid-December, and the city was already decked out in lights, Christmas trees, and warm reflections in the shop windows, along with the decorations, the Tourists, and the tireless frenzy of those running from one store to another in search of gifts. Jennie watched them from the limousine window, stuck in the chaotic traffic on her way to the location, feeling strangely distant from all that commotion.

I should get them some gifts, she thought. I'll find time before I head to the airport.

A few days earlier, strolling the streets and enjoying the last moments when walking outside didn't mean freezing, she had passed a vintage clothing shop. During a call with Lisa, she clearly remembered spending almost an hour listening to her excitedly babbling about a sweatshirt she'd found in such a place. Her voice had stayed with her, vibrant, warming her heart despite the cold. That day, however, she was in too much of a hurry to really stop, so she'd simply jotted down the name of the shop, promising herself she'd return to buy something nice for her soulmate.

Thinking about it, however, she still didn't know what to get for Jennie. They'd talked often, yes, but most of the time their conversations revolved around Jisoo, who rambled on about the new drama she was filming, Snowdrop, while Jennie listened quietly, happy to hear her.

As she tried to recall their phone calls, the limousine slowly began to move again. The crowded streets passed before her eyes again until a massive bus, decorated with a giant Hello Kitty face, passed in front of her.

Hello Kitty.

The memory hit her suddenly. Jisoo's phone case—pink, covered in Hello Kitty images—and her voice, excited about the release of the new version of Animal Crossing, complaining into the phone about how much more convenient a Nintendo Switch would be to play. Jennie smiled to herself. She had finally found the right gift for her other soulmate, too.

With her heart a little more at peace, Jennie sighed and closed her eyes briefly, letting the distant noise of the city fade away. Somewhere, beneath her skin, she felt that invisible thread tug slightly, as if responding to a distant call. It didn't hurt—not really—but it was a constant presence, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone, even thousands of miles away.

The afternoon slipped by between rehearsals, fittings, and blinding lights. Backstage was a universe unto itself: voices overlapping in different languages, assistants rushing back and forth with dresses hung like relics, makeup artists bending over their faces with almost religious concentration. Jennie let herself be guided, her body present but her mind elsewhere, and now and then she felt her tattoos quiver slightly, a slight vibration running through her chest like an off-beat.

Every time it happened, her lips curled into an involuntary smile.

Imagine Lisa pacing on the other side of the world, unable to stay still. Or Jisoo, probably pausing between takes, phone in hand, and that sweet look she had when trying to reassure her.

As they fixed her hair, a more intense shiver ran down her spine. Jennie held her breath; her fingers lightly tightened on the edge of the chair—a warm, vibrant sensation, as if someone had just spoken her name out loud.

(Lili: Okay, I admit it, it's me.) I've been pacing for ten minutes.

(Jichu: Both of you breathe, please.) I can hear Jennie's heart beating in my ears.)

Jennie laughed softly, a laugh that escaped before she could stop it. Her tattoos reacted immediately, pulsing once, then again, as if responding to that shared emotion. It was still strange, that connection, new and fragile, but now it was as much a part of her as the makeup on her face or the fine fabric sliding against her.

When they finally handed her the dress, time seemed to slow down. The dress clung to her as if it had been designed especially for her, the cool fabric against her warm skin, expert hands adjusting it with pinpoint precision. Jennie looked at herself in the mirror and, for a moment, struggled to recognize herself: elegant, composed, radiant. Yet, beneath all that perfection, she felt the chaotic beating of her heart intertwining with those of two other people.

The sky outside had darkened; the snow was falling slowly, silently, as if even New York were holding its breath. The runway lights filtered through the wings, white and blinding, and the buzz of the crowd was muffled, distant. Jennie took a deep breath, seeking balance, and in response, her tattoos vibrated in unison, more potent, more present.

It was as if Lisa and Jisoo were there with her.

As if they were walking beside her, even though no one could see them.

A final message appeared on her phone before it was taken from her.

(Jichu: Whatever happens, we're with you.)

(Lili: Break it, unnie. Come back to us.)

Jennie closed her eyes for just a second, letting that certainty sink in, like a breath held too long and then finally released. She moved immediately afterward, looking for the models' manager and Jennifer, who had texted her earlier asking her to join her.

After the message from her girls—her girls? Really?—she didn't want to let anything get her down. That show had to go well, be perfect. Yet, something in Jennifer's tone had left her with an uncomfortable feeling, a foreboding she couldn't entirely ignore.

She pushed away the dark cloud forming in her head and continued searching, picking her way through hanging clothes, bright lights, and overlapping voices. The closer she got to where she needed to be, however, the more her head felt foggy, as if someone were slowly turning down the volume of the world around her.

She couldn't be sick.

Ten minutes ago, she'd been fine. Perfect.

A slight pain began to creep into her right shoulder blade, barely noticeable at first, then increasingly insistent. Jennie took a deep breath, trying to ignore it. 

Not now, Jisoo, please. 

She hoped she hadn't hurt herself, but at the same time, a part of her feared that feeling might affect her performance that night.

Then realization hit her like a punch in the gut.

She stopped abruptly, gasping, as the noise from backstage seemed to fade away. With shaking hands, she touched her shoulder blade, covered by the elegant fabric, as if seeking confirmation of what she already feared. Slowly and carefully, she uncovered the area.

It wasn't the rabbit that was hurting her.

It was the squirrel.

Their other soulmate.

The one they hadn't yet found.

She was close.

Jennie tried to move again, even though her legs felt like jelly. The pain wasn't increasing, but it wasn't easing either, and her head continued to spin, muffled, distant. Each step required more effort, as if her body were fighting against something she couldn't see.

She prayed that these symptoms weren't a sign that something was happening to their—her—mysterious soulmate. Yet, deep down, she knew: this wasn't normal.

Somehow, she managed to reach Jennifer. She looked like she'd just stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. Her long red hair was sticking out in every direction, probably from her hands constantly running through it, a nervous, repetitive gesture that made Jennie's stomach clench as well.

"Jen? What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why are you so nervous? Did something happen with the models? Tell me everything's okay. I told you to call me right away if there were any problems."

Jennifer whirled around. Her eyes were wide and she looked like a child caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

"Hm—I—ugh… okay." She ran a hand through her hair again, in a futile attempt to make it at least presentable. "Everything was fine half an hour ago… but apparently, the model who was supposed to wear the showpiece dress has a bad fever. When I asked her why she hadn't said anything before, she said she was afraid of losing her job and... sort of gritted her teeth?" She shrugged, a strand of hair falling onto her forehead.

Jennie took a deep breath. Her head was pounding, and the rest of the crew was moving around her, confused and muffled, as if underwater. She couldn't afford to collapse now. Her show was at stake.

She absentmindedly raised a hand to her forehead and felt it burning.

Fever?

Since when?

"Can't we find someone at the last minute?" she asked, trying to stay clear. "We can postpone the show by half an hour if you say I'm not feeling well."

"Are you not feeling well?" Jennifer looked at her immediately, visibly worried, but Jennie swatted the air away with a hand, as if to push the idea away.

"That's not the point. Find a replacement as soon as possible. It's better to say I'm sick than to admit we didn't notice one of our models had a fever."

A white lie.

He couldn't afford to worry her even more.

"Where's the girl?" he added immediately, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I need to make sure she's okay."

Where was the girl?

Jennifer hesitated a moment too long, as if the answer were weighing on her tongue. Then she gestured quickly toward the side corridor that led to the models' quarters, away from the chaos of the main backstage area.

"We had her lie down in one of the quieter rooms. She said she had a terrible headache." Her voice trembled slightly. "Jennie, are you sure you want—"

Jennie didn't let her finish. She nodded once and set off.

Every step was more difficult than the last.

The pain in her right shoulder blade had become a deep, constant throbbing, as if something were trying to emerge from beneath her skin. It was no longer a simple annoyance: it was a call, a violent attraction that pulled her forward, while simultaneously making her legs unsteady. Her head continued to spin, an insistent buzzing filling her ears and drowning out the sounds around her.

The further she walked into the corridor, the worse the sensation became.

The rabbit and the chick, the two already active marks, barely reacted, as if alert but unable to intervene. It was the squirrel, however, that was burning. Pulling. Making itself felt with a new, unknown violence.

Jennie paused for a moment, placing a hand on the cold wall to steady herself. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the irregular beating of her heart.

You're close, she thought, not knowing exactly who she was addressing. I feel it.

She continued walking.

The room where the model had been placed was just ahead, with a door that filtered a soft light. Jennie saw it before she even realized she'd slowed her pace. Every fiber of her body reacted to its presence, as if she'd entered an intense magnetic field.

The pain exploded.

A sudden wave shot through her shoulder blade, radiating down her back and up to her head. Jennie let out a muffled groan, leaning forward slightly. Her vision blurred for a second, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from collapsing.

It's her.

There was no longer any doubt.

She threw open the door.

The room was silent, almost unreal compared to the rest of the building. The model was lying on a sofa, her knees slightly bent, a blanket thrown over her in a messy way. Her light hair was pulled back roughly, and her face was pale, marked by an expression of pain that Jennie recognized instantly—because it was the same one she felt reflected within herself.

The closer she got, the more the pain intensified. It was almost unbearable now, a pounding synchronized with her heartbeat. Jennie felt her fever rising, her forehead clammy, her hands cold despite the heat burning beneath her skin.

The girl opened her eyes just then.

Their gazes met.

It wasn't an immediate shock, but something deeper and more unsettling: a feeling of recognition so intense it made them both tremble.

Jennie stumbled awkwardly and didn't care; she barely felt her legs touch the ground. The only thing that mattered was this girl's gaze; she followed it because she needed it. She sought it like insects seek light on summer nights.

Such beautiful eyes. I have absolutely beautiful soulmates.

She gasped, putting a hand to her temple, as if the pain had suddenly exploded.

"I..." she murmured, with a slightly different accent, her voice hoarse. "Sorry... I didn't—"

She couldn't finish the sentence.

A wave of violent pain hit them both at the same time.

Jennie instinctively put a hand to her shoulder blade; the girl moaned, bending over, her fingers clutching the fabric of the sofa. It was as if two opposite poles had found themselves too close, charging the air with electricity.

"It hurts..." she whispered, her eyes shining, confused. "My head... and here..." She touched her ribs, right where the mark was hidden beneath the fabric.

Jennie felt her heart tighten.

She crawled forward slightly; her legs had given up, but she still felt the strength to move closer to the girl.

"I know." Her voice came out more fragile than she intended. "I know."

She reached out and brushed a wet strand of hair from the girl's burning forehead, trying to be as gentle as she could.

The girl looked at her, her eyes wide with fear and confusion, but she didn't pull away. She reached out with the hand that had been gripping the sofa, stretched her fingers, and touched Jennie's wrist.

Finally, they were touching.

The pain exploded in a single, devastating burst.

Jennie screamed, a broken sound escaping her chest as a violent pain shot through her shoulder blade. Rosé let out a strangled moan, her head falling back. Her forehead collided with Jennie's.

For an interminable moment, it felt like the world was about to collapse.

Then silence.

The pain suddenly stopped. It simply… disappeared.

Their breathing slowed and synchronized; the hand on Jennie's wrist loosened its grip, but didn't completely release.

Jennie remained still, her heart pounding in her chest. Only then did she realize she was holding Rosé's hand. The skin beneath her fingers was still warm.

She looked down.

On her right shoulder blade, beneath her elegant dress, the squirrel was finally colored.

Its colors shone with a warm, living light.

She had found her ultimate soulmate.

The girl let out a shaky breath. "I... I don't feel..." The sentence died on her lips as her eyes slowly closed.

"No—" Jennie grabbed her immediately; the other's body slid against her, her head resting on her shoulder.

The blond hair, which hadn't stuck to her skin, tickled her bare shoulders and cheek as she supported the limping body. "Hey, stay with me. Please."

Beneath the fabric, at the level of her ribs, the teddy bear—Jennie's symbol—was also glowing. Alive. Real.

But beside it, the rabbit and the chick remained dull.

The bond was incomplete. And the girl's body, weakened by the fever, couldn't take it.

She fainted in Jennie's arms.

Panic overwhelmed her.

"Help!" she called, her voice cracking, as she tried to lay her on the sofa. "Someone—please!"

Jennifer appeared at the door a few moments later, followed by a couple of assistants. She stopped short, taking in the scene: Jennie kneeling beside the unconscious model, her face pale, her eyes bright with terror. It was probably the most vulnerable position he'd ever seen her in, on the floor, her loose dress falling around her as she tried to place the girl in her arms on the sofa. She looked so small, so terrified.

“Jennie…?” she murmured.

“I have to take her away.” Jennie’s voice trembled, but she brooked no argument. “Now.”

“But the fashion show—”

Jennie looked up, and Jennifer understood.

She didn’t ask any more questions.

“Okay,” she simply said, with a quick nod. “I’ll take care of it.”

Jennie lifted her in her arms gently, as if she were made of glass. She left that room without looking back, leaving the lights, the catwalk, the audience behind her.

She took her home.

She stayed with her, sitting beside the bed, controlling her breathing, wiping her forehead, holding her hand as if letting go might mean losing her forever.

Only when the phone vibrated, hours later, Jennie look up.

Two missed calls.

Then a third.

She answered.

“Jennie—” Lisa’s voice was labored, broken. "It hurts. It burns. We're boarding the plane; we'll try to get there as quickly as possible."

Behind her, Jisoo's voice, tense, worried. "Hang in there, Jennie."

Jennie closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she prayed they wouldn't take so long to arrive. She squeezed Rosé's hand tighter.

"I'll be waiting for you."

The call ended with a dry, unreal sound, leaving the room immersed in an electric silence. Jennie sat on the edge of the bed, the phone still clutched in her fingers, as if letting go would break something fragile and precious. The light was low and warm, casting soft shadows on the apartment walls. Outside, New York continued to live, unaware, while inside that room, time seemed suspended.

The girl was asleep. Every now and then she mumbled something, a remnant of her feverish delirium.

Her breathing was irregular but steady; Her chest rose and fell slowly under the covers. Jennie watched every tiny movement, every imperceptible flutter of her eyelashes, as if she could predict a sudden awakening by looking intently at her. She had removed her fashion show clothes, replacing them with a soft sweater and a pair of light pants, trying not to make any noise or wake her, as if a part of her couldn't stand seeing her open her eyes unprepared.

Her fever was still high. Jennie could see it on her skin, in the warmth that lingered on her fingers every time she touched her forehead or wrist. And every time she did, she felt the mark on her shoulder blade react: no more pain, no more burning, but a living, pulsating presence, like an extra heart beating in sync.

The squirrel was colorful.

Not completely, but enough to be believable. To be undeniable.

Jennie swallowed, bringing a hand to her back under the thin fabric of her sweater. She felt it. She felt it the way she'd always felt the rabbit and the chick, but differently. More fragile. More incomplete. Like a sentence left unsaid.

"I found you..." she whispered, more to herself than to the sleeping girl. "Our soulmates are coming. Are you as scared as I am? Are you ready for this bond?" Jennie knew she was ready, had known it ever since she'd bumped into Lisa at the gala that night. Now it seemed like months had passed, but it had only been a few weeks. But now that they were truly complete, she felt the familiar terror tightening in her throat, the evil little voice telling her she didn't deserve all that love. The fear she'd seen in Jisoo's eyes when they'd met, the greatest fear, had certainly improved; between what she remembered and what Lisa told her, she knew she was coming to terms with her trauma and the reality of the situation.

And yet Jennie wondered where all this would lead them, four women with their lives in four different parts of the world. Sooner or later the world would know: how would it react? Could they really stay together, or would they be crushed by prejudice?

She turned to look at the girl on her bed and, as a single tear rolled down her face, she wondered if she would be strong enough to fight for their relationship.

The answer came in the form of a sudden pang in her side, sharper, more intense.

Jennie stiffened.

The rabbit and the chick were reacting.

It wasn't actual pain, but a growing tension, a sensation of pulling and burning at the same time, as if someone were approaching too quickly. She stood up abruptly; her heart was racing.

"Lisa..." she murmured. "Jisoo..."

There was no need to look at the phone. She knew. She could feel them.

She barely had time to move toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

The sound jolted through her body.

The doorbell rang a second time, insistent, as if whoever was on the other end was holding back the urge to break down the door.

Jennie didn't hesitate. She moved quickly toward the door, her heart pounding so hard it hurt, and crossed the apartment almost at a run. The vibration of her tattoos had transformed into a constant tension, a feeling of deep stretching, as if something inside her was desperately trying to reconnect.

She opened the door.

Lisa entered first, like a gust of wind. Her light hair was disheveled, her cheeks red from the cold and the rush, her huge eyes shining with panic.

She threw herself on Jennie's body and hugged her with a force that, if she hadn't been waiting for hours, would surely have hurt. She slowly pulled away and stared at her for a few seconds, brushing a strand of hair from her face; she didn't say anything, just looked at Jennie for a moment, as if to make sure she was real, that she was really there.

Immediately behind her was Jisoo.

More composed, at least on the surface. Her dark coat tightly zipped up, her posture straight, but her hands were shaking slightly and her gaze tense and alert, like that of someone who has spent her life protecting herself and is now ready to protect others in her stead.

The moment the three found themselves in the same space, the bond reacted.

A sudden, deep pressure, starting from her tattoos and spreading through her chest. Lisa instinctively raised a hand to her wrist, wincing in pain.

“It burns…” she murmured, trying to smile as if it were nothing. “But it hurts less than before.”

Jisoo closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly. She felt that tugging deep into her bones, a sensation she had come to know since finding Jennie and Lisa.

Jisoo swallowed. Now that, somehow, she was complete and that Lisa and Jisoo were close, she finally felt whole; the tattoos that had faded due to the distance regained color and stopped giving her the silent annoyance she had felt for the past two weeks. Now that the squirrel was colored, every corner of her body was at peace and the tension in her shoulders eased. She sighed softly and, gently, pulled the older girl closer to her and Lisa.

She took the time to hold them in her arms again, and when she felt Jisoo return her embrace, her heart melted.

As much as she wanted to stay like this forever, she knew the other two felt the presence of the missing piece beside them, and she didn't want to let them suffer any more.

"She's in my room," she said softly. "Our last soulmate."

She didn't say anything else. There was no need.

She led them toward the room.

When Lisa crossed the threshold and saw her lying on the bed, the forced smile slipped from her face. She stopped abruptly, as if she'd bumped into something invisible.

"It's her..." she whispered.

Not a question.

Jisoo took a step forward, her heart pounding faster. There was something about the sight of that unknown girl that tightened her stomach, a feeling of recognition hidden deep within. It wasn't fear—or maybe it was, but an ancient fear, that of being "too much" again, of being different, of having more than she was allowed.

Jennie sat down again beside the bed, as if it were her natural place.

The girl stirred; a soft moan escaped her lips. Fever had flushed her cheeks; her dark lashes trembled as she tried to emerge from her restless sleep. Jennie placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the heat pass through her palm.

"Hey," she whispered. "I'm here."

She opened her eyes.

For a moment, her gaze was completely lost, as if she couldn't focus on either the place or the people. Then her eyes rested on Jennie, and something in her relaxed, though she couldn't say why.

"You..." she murmured. "You are..."

"Jennie," she replied softly. "My name is Jennie."

She nodded slowly, as if that answer made sense even without a logical explanation. Then her gaze slid past Lisa and Jisoo.

The moment she saw them, the pain exploded.

The girl groaned, clutching her ribs, breathing heavily. Lisa clutched her wrist, a moan escaping her lips, while Jisoo felt a wave of heat and tension run through her chest.

"It hurts..." she whispered, confused and scared. "But... but it's right. I feel it."

Jisoo approached without thinking, instinct overriding all fear. She knelt beside the bed, her face suddenly soft, maternal.

"Breathe," she said in a calm voice. "You're not alone."

Those words did something.

The girl burst into a broken, almost hysterical laugh, which quickly turned to tears. "I... I don't know you, I've never seen you, but something inside me draws me to you," she said, her voice shaking. "I just got here from Australia. I don't know anyone. I was afraid of losing my job, I was looking for the... and then—” She stopped, breathing hard. “And then I heard you.”

Then, as if realizing something, she made a small face: “Uh, and my name is Chaeyoung, Park Chaeyoung. But you can call me Rosé.”

Lisa swallowed; her heart was pounding. All her hard-won confidence was crumbling, giving way to something much more vulnerable.

“We too,” she said slowly. “We heard you.” A moment of silence, then she asked a question in a hoarse voice as if trying not to be heard: “How long have you been looking for us?”

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, the fever making her thoughts fuzzy but her emotions incredibly clear.

“For a while…,” she murmured. “I’ve been looking for you for a few years. I’ve traveled a lot trying to find you.”

Jennie felt something give way inside her.

For years, she'd built walls, turned control into armor, frozen her emotions so she wouldn't feel the weight of a bond she couldn't explain. Now, in that room, with her soulmates finally before her, the ice was melting completely.

"You found us," she said, her voice cracking. "We're here."

The bond couldn't wait any longer.

Jisoo was the first to move. Extremely delicately, she took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. The contact was immediate, powerful. Lisa approached from the other side and hesitated only a second before placing her hand on Rosé's arm, as if afraid she might break something.

Jennie completed the circle.

The moment all four were connected, the world seemed to implode and reassemble at the same time.

The pain exploded—but not like before.

It was a pain that burned and heated at the same time, coursing through the marks like a living electric current. Rosé screamed. Jennie felt tears stream down her face as the squirrel on her shoulder blade glowed brightly, vibrating with light.

On her side, the teddy bear glowed, followed by the rabbit and the chick.

The bond was complete.

Lisa collapsed forward, bursting into tears without even realizing it, her body shaking as years of insecurities and pent-up pain came crashing down on her, all at once. Jisoo immediately put her arm around her, holding her close, the protective instinct finally finding purpose.

Rosé took a deep breath, and after a moment of silence, broken only by Lisa's sobs, the pain vanished.

All that remained was a diffuse warmth, a feeling of belonging so intense it made her hands tremble. Rosé looked at the girls around her, one by one, a smile blooming on her lips despite the tears.

"I found you," she whispered. "Finally."

Jennie laughed and cried at the same time, resting her forehead against Rosé's.

"No," she said softly. "We found each other."

And for the first time, none of them felt wrong.

[...]

Lisa woke first, with the nagging realization that the night before, in her desperate rush to rejoin the others, she had completely forgotten to eat anything.

Her stomach rumbled unmistakably, an insistent call that finally overcame her desire to stay a little longer in the cocoon of warmth she found herself in.

She tried to move.

Or at least, she tried.

An arm stopped her from attempting to escape.

Lisa finally opened her eyes and slowly turned to locate the source of the impediment, only to find herself face to face with Jisoo, blissfully asleep.

And… oh.

The thought of breakfast instantly vanished.

Lisa found herself following the older girl's relaxed face with her gaze, feeling the desire to escape from bed melt away as quickly as it had come. Jisoo was beautiful like this: her face relaxed, free of any tension, her mouth slightly parted, occasionally letting out a sweet, regular sigh.

Jisoo's arm gripped her back effortlessly, as if that gesture had always been there, and her face was almost nestled in her neck. Lisa felt her eyes sting, a sudden, fragile happiness filling her chest until it almost hurt. She could have cried, if only she had moved a millimeter more.

A slight movement and a new squeeze shifted her attention.

There was a second arm holding her.

Lisa turned slowly and immediately spotted who it belonged to. Rosé was sleeping next to her, one arm draped across her stomach and the other hand resting on Jisoo's arm, as if closing a perfect circle.

Up close, she was even more beautiful.

Rosé's skin was visibly fresher, as if that night spent in their arms had truly done something miraculous, as if the bond had found a way to care for her. The light sheen of sweat on her forehead was the only trace of the fever left, and in the soft morning light, Lisa thought it only made her more human, more real.

Driven by curiosity—and a growing sense of unreality—Lisa slowly looked up, trying to figure out where Jennie had gone. She moved carefully, trying not to disturb the arms around her, until she could locate her.

Jennie's head barely peeked out from under the sheets, just behind Rosé's back.

In fact, her head was practically all that could be seen. Jennie was half hidden under the duvet, her face buried between Rosé's shoulder and neck, her arms tightly wrapped around Rosé's waist. She was almost completely fused with the other's body, as if afraid that if she let go, even for a moment, she might vanish.

Lisa felt her heart sink.

She thought she definitely needed to start working on the concept of inner peace or self-control, because she already knew those women would be her downfall.

Her soulmates.

They were perfect.

Perfect in a way that was scary, because she had never thought she deserved something like that. Yet, deep down, Lisa clearly felt that she was starting to love them. All of them. Even Chaeyoung, whom she had just met, who until the day before had been a stranger and who now slept with her body entwined with hers, as if it had always been this way.

It was early. She knew it.

It would take time before she could say it out loud.

But just as she had waited for years to find them, she would wait for that too. The right moment would come.

In the midst of her silent contemplation, her stomach decided to remind her of its existence again, growling loudly.

Lisa held back a laugh.

She then decided she would prepare breakfast for her soulmates. It didn't matter if she'd seriously risked setting the kitchen on fire last time: they deserved it. A breakfast fit for queens.

In one fluid motion, Lisa slipped under the duvet, slowly sliding into Jisoo and Rosé's arms. She paused for a moment, holding her breath, to make sure she hadn't woken either of them. When she heard Jisoo's steady, gentle breathing continue undisturbed, she took it as a silent signal to proceed.

She reached the foot of the bed and then slipped out, finally free.

A few minutes later, she arrived in Jennie's kitchen.

The silence, combined with the vastness of the white marble and wood kitchen, suddenly made her feel very small. For a moment, she was tempted to turn back, but she shook her head, as if to chase away that insecurity.

Not today.

She tied her hair in a messy ponytail, rolled up her sleeves, and grabbed her phone, starting to look for recipes to make breakfast.

Lisa had a mission.

A clear, noble, and vital mission: to prepare breakfast for her soulmates without destroying Jennie's kitchen, the apartment, or herself.

The problem was, judging by the countertop in front of her, she was failing on all three fronts.

She'd already opened too many cabinets.

There were ingredients everywhere.

The white marble countertop—too white, too clean, too unsuitable for Lisa—was now decorated with a haphazard collection of flour, sugar, eggshells, and something that should have been butter, but now looked more like a failed experiment.

Lisa stared at her phone, intently.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, scanning the recipe. "It says beat the eggs… It can't be that hard, can it?"

She beat the eggs with over-enthusiasm.

The contents of the bowl decided to rebel, splashing onto the countertop and, in an almost artistic trajectory, onto her shirt.

Lisa lowered her gaze. Her shirt was now completely stained with egg, butter, and flour. The dough was more on her shirt and the floor than in the bowl.

Grumbling, she wiped the floor and countertop and went back to making the dough. She sighed, "Okay. It's... fashion. Now I have to focus on the recipe."

She turned to the stove, turned on a random flame—probably too high—and set down a pan she wasn't sure was the right one. The butter, thrown carelessly, began to sizzle aggressively.

"Don't yell at me," she said to the pan, lowering her voice slightly, fully aware that she was talking to herself. "I'm doing my best."

The answer came in the form of an even more aggressive sizzle.

The toaster suddenly clicked behind her.

Lisa jumped with a high-pitched half-squeal, clutching her chest. The spoon slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a metallic clang, bouncing once on the floor. At the same moment, the pan spat out a drop of melted butter that landed on the kitchen counter, leaving a shiny stain. The toaster, as if not wanting to be outdone, ejected the slices of bread with a sharp, violent snap, sending them flying forward like projectiles.

Lisa stood still for a second, her eyes wide at the disaster.

Then she sighed.

At that precise moment, while the kitchen was a chaotic mix of noises, the smells of burnt butter, and minor domestic disasters, Jennie woke up.

At first it was just a vague sensation, an absence more than a sound. The bed was still warm, the sheets tangled around Rosé and Jisoo's sleeping bodies, their slow, regular breathing filling the room. Their presence was reassuring, familiar, but Jennie immediately knew something was wrong.

Lisa wasn't there.

She didn't need to open her eyes to know.

Then came the sounds from the kitchen: a sharp thump, something falling, the unmistakable sound of an appliance doing its job with too much energy. Jennie closed her eyes, still groggy from sleep, her face buried in the crook of Rosé's neck. Her scent filled her nostrils, warm and slightly sweet, as Jennie inhaled deeply before moving.

She slowly untangled herself from the intertwined arms, careful not to wake either of them. She pushed the duvet aside slightly, glancing at the sleeping figures beside her: Jisoo with her face relaxed and her lips parted, Rosé curled up on her side, her light hair spread across the pillow.

A smile curved her lips.

Then a small, muffled cry came from the kitchen.

Jennie sat up abruptly; sleep vanished completely.

“…Lisa?” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

Another noise.

Something falling to the floor.

A curse in Thai.

Jennie sighed softly, already certain of what she was about to find, and got out of bed.

Jennie crossed the hallway barefoot, the cold floor underfoot helping her wake fully. The closer she got to the kitchen, the clearer the sounds became: a drawer opened and closed too forcefully, the sharp click of something placed awkwardly on the counter, the soft muttering of Lisa talking… definitely to objects.

She paused for a moment in the doorway.

The scene that presented itself to her made her laugh silently.

Lisa stood in the center of the kitchen as if sucked there by some cosmic force. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail that left strands everywhere, a decidedly unkitchen-friendly T-shirt stained here and there, and a concentrated expression that boded ill. The marble countertop—usually spotless—was a battlefield: flour scattered haphazardly, eggshells piled near the sink, a pan that looked like it was about to catch fire. The room reeked of chaos and filth. Jennie would usually be irritated to see her space so messy, but seeing Lisa in the middle of it all, her cheek smeared with flour, brought the opposite feeling.

She had definitely softened.

Lisa held a spatula like a weapon.

"You started it," she was muttering to the pan, which was sizzling angrily on the overheated burner. "I just wanted to make breakfast."

Jennie covered her mouth with a hand to keep from laughing too loudly.

She took a step into the kitchen, and the floor creaked slightly under her weight, betraying her presence.

Lisa whirled around. Her eyes widened, and she hurriedly looked around as if searching for a way to magically make the mess she'd created disappear.

"Hmm... Surprise?" A shy smile formed on her lips, her ears red with embarrassment.

Jennie burst out laughing. A full, warm laugh that burst from her chest before she could even stop it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like that, without pretending so as not to offend some important and smug investor.

"Lisa," she managed, leaning against the doorframe, "what... what are you doing?"

Lisa immediately straightened, adjusting her stained T-shirt, which, Jennie only now noticed, wasn't properly covering her long, bare legs (Jennie had to keep her eyes on the younger girl's face, nor did she make it her personal mission), and muttered, "Breakfast."

"This?" Jennie gestured vaguely at the chaos before them.

“It’s the in-between stage,” Lisa replied seriously. “It’s… the experimentation and creation stage.”

Jennie slowly moved forward, taking a closer look. “You’ve opened… all the drawers.”

“I was looking for the tools. Your kitchen is way too big. Do you really need all these kitchen tools?”

Jennie laughed again at the note of frustration in Lisa’s voice. A pout had formed on her face, and now she was downright shocked at how this girl could be so sexy and, at the same time, adorable.

“And why does the toaster smell so burnt?”

Lisa looked at it as if it were the first time she’d noticed it: “OH NO, I– I COMPLETELY FORGOT THE TOAST.”

Jennie walked over until she stood next to the toaster, flipped the switch, and unplugged it, removing the dying corpse of a piece of bread from inside. She couldn’t even get angry; her heart was beating strangely—light, soft. Lisa seemed completely out of place in that elegant kitchen, yet exactly where she should be.

She wondered if it would ever become a daily occurrence. Waking up in the arms of her soulmates and saving Lisa from blowing up the kitchen.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked, her voice softer.

Lisa shrugged. "You all slept so well. And I... I wanted to do something for you. Last night was tough, maybe some pancakes would have made waking up better." She looked wistfully at the batter left next to the griddle, the oil still sizzling even though she'd turned off the heat. "But apparently that's already too difficult a task."

Jennie looked at her. She saw the determination, the insecurity hidden beneath the humor, the need to be needed. Her heart sank as she saw the youngest girl dejected by the mess she'd made.

"Okay," she said, needing to cheer her up. "Let's do this together. Before the kitchen gets declared a no-go zone."

Lisa sighed, visibly relieved. "Thanks. The pan hates me."

Jennie took the spatula from her, their fingers brushing for a moment. The usual warmth, familiar, reassuring, passed through them both.

"First rule," Jennie said, relighting the flame. "Take a deep breath. You have to be calm and focused in the kitchen."

Lisa obeyed. Exaggeratedly.

"Second rule: no sudden movements."

"But that's my style!" Lisa whimpered.

Jennie smiled and, without even thinking about what she was doing, stood behind her. The height difference was quite uncomfortable, she realized, but blending even more into Lisa's back, she reached out to Lisa's hips and left the spatula in her hands. Gently guiding her hands, she scooped up some batter and placed it on the hot griddle.

"Like this. Slowly." The griddle sizzled less furiously than before, and Jennie seemed pleased with the shape the pancake was taking.

Their arms brushed, and Lisa's shirt, though loose, occasionally touched skin.

Lisa stiffened, not wanting to repeat the previous distraction, but the warm body of the older girl behind her was distracting her beyond belief. The kitchen filled with a different silence, broken only by the gentler sizzling of the pan.

"See?" Jennie murmured. "That way you avoid ruining a poor pan."

"Maybe because you're here with me," Lisa replied without thinking.

Jennie stopped.

Lisa realized it too late. "I mean—not in that way—"

Jennie pulled away from her and, placing her hand on her waist, slowly turned her. A slow smile on her lips that Lisa decreed her death sentence. "In what sense, then?"

Was he flirting with her?

Lisa swallowed, heat beginning to rise to her face, Jennie's feline eyes shining with mischief: "In everyone."

They looked at each other.

The world seemed to shrink into that tiny space between them. Jennie hesitantly raised a hand and brushed the back of her fingers across her cheek, absentmindedly wiping away the flour stain she'd noticed earlier. Lisa instinctively closed her eyes, leaning into the gentle touch. She felt the other girl's eyes on her face and couldn't hold back any longer.

She leaned in further and kissed her.

Jennie responded, as soon as she recovered from her surprise, slowly. Giving Lisa plenty of time to pull away. Lisa didn't.

God, her lips were so soft; they tasted like strawberries.

Lisa sighed against Jennie's lips and decided she'd deprived herself enough of the privileges of having people meant for her.

In one fluid motion, she turned off the burner. The pancake wouldn't interrupt the moment by burning. She turned, pulling Jennie along with her, making sure not to let go even once. She heard a small meow of surprise between her lips, but she was too focused on her mission to stop and check; she grabbed Jennie's waist and slowly lifted her onto the clean kitchen counter.

Now they were finally level, Lisa positioned between Jennie's open legs, one hand on her waist and the other moving up her shirt until it tangled in her hair, messing it up.

Things were definitely heating up, and Lisa knew, from Jennie's sighs of pleasure, that they were both aware and willing, so she decided to push forward.

She would surely be amazed at her own actions later.

But now her shirt was rising, and Jennie wasn't completely passive: her hand slid underneath, moving over her bare stomach. Another hand joined in, and slowly, they slid over her abs, and Lisa was only human. She let out an awkward moan, but it only confirmed the roaming hands, which continued to explore her trained body.

To give a taste of her own medicine, Lisa released the older girl's lips, satisfied to see them swollen and slightly parted, still gasping for air. Jennie didn't even have time to protest: Lisa moved to her neck with a fluid, almost feline motion and began leaving slow kisses along the warm skin, following the line of her jaw to her collarbone.

Jennie barely held back a moan.

Her body reacted before she could even think, her back arching slightly, her fingers already clinging under Lisa's shirt, scratching her chest with an urgency she hadn't felt in a long time. When Lisa's mouth lingered just below her ear, sucking gently, Jennie finally lost control.

"Lisa," she murmured, her voice cracking, "if you keep this up, I won't be able to hold back anymore."

Lisa smiled against her skin. He wanted to raise his head, tell her that stopping wasn't part of his plan in the slightest, that he was just getting started—

A strangled sigh interrupted everything.

"Girls."

Silence.

The voice came from behind them. Low. Hoarse.

Jennie and Lisa pulled apart abruptly, as if burned. Jennie's hands remained under Lisa's shirt, in an unmistakable position, unable to withdraw immediately. Lisa was still very close, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes shining, and her hands firmly on Jennie's hip and hair.

The position was unmistakable and, to say the least, compromising.

The air was thick with tension generated by their kiss.

They turned.

Jisoo was standing in the kitchen doorway.

Her hair was disheveled from sleep; a dark strand fell in front of her eyes, even though it seemed like the least of her worries. She was still wearing the tight pajamas she'd slipped into the night before. (Jennie, as much as she tried not to admit it, was shorter than her.) But the expression on her face was neither soft nor sleepy. Her eyes were fixed on them—no, on Jennie and Lisa together—and, for a moment, she seemed too surprised to move. Her eyes shifted from Lisa's hands to Jennie's hidden ones, lingering a moment too long on Lisa's exposed abs.

She unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips, moistening them.

Her lips parted slightly. As if she were trying to say something, but every time she tried, it got stuck in her throat.

There was no humor in that look.

There was shock.

It's something far more dangerous.

Behind her, Rosé slowly appeared, still half asleep, clutching Jisoo's pajama top and rubbing her eye with her other hand.

Lisa had to restrain herself from cooing; it wasn't the right time.

She stretched slightly, yawning, then looked up... and squinted when she saw the two girls in front of her. A flash of understanding crossed her gaze, and a moment later, she seemed fully awake.

The change in her face was immediate.

Sleep slipped away like cold water. Her eyes rested on his hands, on the nonexistent distance between their bodies, on Jennie's red, swollen lips, on the way Lisa was still between her legs, on their completely dissolute expressions, on the daze of arousal that hung between them.

Rosé stopped breathing for a second.

The silence grew heavy.

Not awkward.

Tense.

Jisoo swallowed slowly. Her shoulders tensed, as if something inside her was trying to regroup too quickly. She'd already come to terms with the nature of their bond. About what it would mean not only spiritually, but also... physically, but seeing him like this—real, sudden, before her eyes—was like receiving a direct blow to the stomach. She felt a nagging sensation between her legs and had to physically restrain herself from moving closer.

To taste Jennie's lips that seemed so soft.

To reassure Lisa that she was doing the right thing and to take away that look of guilty embarrassment that made her chest twist.

She didn't look away.

Rosé took a step forward, almost without realizing it. Her body reacted before her mind. Her heart was pounding, too fast. There was surprise, yes. But also a sudden warmth that ran down her spine, a new awareness that made her toes curl.

So... it works like this too, she thought, dazed.

Lisa was the first to move, taking a half step back, her face flushed, her breathing still ragged. "I—"

Her voice broke, as if she lacked words, an apology.

The problem was that she couldn't find any, because, yes, it wasn't perhaps the best way to start the whole soulmate carousel, so early in the morning. But she couldn't help but wish the other two would join.

Let them see and feel how their Jennie reacted to stimulation.

Jennie felt everything. The racing heartbeat, the tension still vibrating under her skin, the bond throbbing as if reacting not only to Lisa's touch still on his balls, but also to the gaze of the other two.

She took a step forward. Not to justify herself.

"It happened," she said simply, and then, noticing the increasingly hungry gazes of the other two, she added: "You can't say you don't want to be here too. Remember? Soulmates, we feel your desire mingling with ours.”

Her voice was low, raw. There was no shame. Only awareness.

Jisoo slowly closed her eyes for a moment, a slight warmth from being so easily exposed.

She heard Rosé's strangled sob in front of her, her cheeks flushed red, and she felt that if she hadn't intervened, Rosé would have reached them. When she opened them again, her gaze was different. Still shaken. Still tense. But deeper.

“I see it,” she replied softly.

Rosé swallowed hard. Lisa let out a short, broken laugh. “Sorry.”

Rosé shook her head immediately. “No. It’s not—” she paused, searching for words. “It’s just… a lot.”

Jisoo took another step forward. The air seemed to vibrate around them. "We need to talk about this," she said. Not as a reproach. As a necessity.

Jennie nodded. "I know."

Lisa intertwined her fingers with his again. Neither of them pulled away.

Rosé felt the bond tighten, warmer, more real. A new territory.

Unstable.

Intense.

Inevitable.

And none of them, in that moment, truly wanted to go back.