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The grocery store is busy at this hour and Celine would have preferred to shop at any other time, especially since she had Rumi in tow and that increased the complications of any errand by 100 percent, but needs must.
Rumi's hair had been slowly getting lighter over time, from it's near black when she was born to an almost lilac shade now. Beautiful though it was, it did tend to draw a lot of attention, because what kind of sicko dyes a baby's hair purple? So she is usually in a hat or a little hooded outfit whenever possible in public. However, Rumi has recently learned that she has free will and that will despises hats unless they have animal ears on them. And unfortunately, Celine left Rumi's bear hat at home on accident, so it's already been a trying day.
She also generally hates to be trapped in the basket for longer than two minutes, preferring to wander loosely in Celine's vicinity. If they were on Jeju, that's exactly what Celine would allow. It's safe there. But this is Seoul and she definitely isn't going to have a free range toddler in a massive city. That's a recipe for disaster.
There is one small mercy, and that is that everything in Seoul is new and interesting for Rumi. So she is, of course, making a running commentary of everything she sees that is even remotely noteworthy and asking constant questions. Celine answers them on auto-pilot, well used to Rumi's precocious ramblings at this point. She had been a little late to start talking, but once she started it was like a dam burst and a steam of near constant chatter burst forth.
They're making their way through a busy aisle when it happens.
An auntie with a hand cart is at the head of the aisle, busily scrutinizing spices over the top of her glasses. A middle aged man with a receding hairline is holding two packages of flour and scanning their details with the desperation of someone who was told to get something specific but forgot exactly what it was. A mother with two children is mediating an argument between them. An older teenager is choosing a cooking oil at the other end of the aisle. Celine turns the corner with Rumi. She needs vegetable oil and rice flour and is already scanning the shelves, only half listening to her daughter ward when she asks, "did you love my Appa?"
The disgusted grimace that crosses Celine's face is instinctual. Unthinkingly, she answers at a conversational volume. "No, Rumi, I only met him twice."
She realizes exactly as soon as the last word escapes her mouth that she has fucked up. No one in the aisle turns to stare at them, but Celine can feel their attention shift to her like a physical weight.
It takes an act of extreme will for her not to wilt. She keeps her head high and focuses on Rumi and not the judgement of those around her. She can see how that sounded, but they don't know that Rumi is adopted. They don't know that her father was a literal demon. Celine has been used to public pressure for most of her life so...it's fine. It's fine.
"But I love you," she says to Rumi, ducking down to rub their noses together so Rumi will giggle, "and that's all that matters."
The attention is still on them but Celine ignores it. She passes the older man and grabs the first bag of rice flour she sees and tosses it into the cart.
"Did my Appa love me?" Rumi asks, oblivious to the people around them.
Celine is not loving this direction of questioning. Firstly, because Jun was a fucking prick and she hated acknowledging his very existence. Second, she has no idea how Jun felt about any of it. She hadn't exactly had the time (or inclination) to ask. Last on the list is it's not an appropriate topic for public, but Rumi is three and doesn't understand that. And that's Celine's fault, because she is the adult in the situation.
Still, she can't reprimand Rumi now, that would just make it more awkward and also upset Rumi. So she decides to tell a little lie. She knows her smile is sad, but it's not something she can help. "I think you and your Eomma are the only people he had ever loved in his whole life."
A little bit of an attempt to redirect strangers' perceptions didn't hurt either. She really has to get out of here though. She's deeply grateful that she doesn't blush easily or else her face would be on fire right now.
She makes it to the end of the aisle where the teenager is doing a perfect impression of a tomato on her behalf. She sees him glance at her and then do a double take with a spark of recognition in his eyes.
Celine snatches the first vegetable oil she sees and, shamefully, runs the fuck away. Or, more accurately, power walks the push cart right out of there.
She really hopes this doesn't end up on the Internet.
~
The next aisle they turned into was lined with brightly-colored boxes, most of which had funny animal pictures on them. Rumi promptly put a pause on questions. She now had a new mission: convincing Seen that yes, they did need cereal, specifically the blue box with a tiger on it (because tigers were her favorite today).
She didn't think about Appa again until much, much later, after dinner (rice and chicken and vegetables, all sprinkled with her new favorite cereal) when Seen was tucking her in bed after reading her a story.
"Where’s Appa?"
Because she didn’t know. She knew where Eomma was: outside their house in Jeju, in the ground underneath a stone Seen decorated with flowers and fruit and the little beat-up radio she said Eomma never went anywhere without. They visited her, a whole lot; Rumi wasn't sure why. The stone and ground didn't do anything, and yeah, Seen said Rumi could talk to Eomma, but Rumi liked talking to Seen better; she could answer her questions.
Though...right now she wasn't.
Closing the book, Seen looked out the window at the sky, still bright with sunset colors. She was quiet, so quiet Rumi could hear the busy city noises from the street below, cars and beeping horns and muffled music.
A horrible thought came to Rumi: maybe Seen didn't know. She clutched her teddy bear tighter, trying to ease the big, shivery feeling yawning through her. The world was big, and Seen was supposed to know everything...what did it mean for Rumi if she didn't?
"Is he under the rock with her?" Rumi offered helpfully. Because Seen had to know everything; maybe she had just forgotten, and needed Rumi to remind her (and it made sense, that he'd be under the rock with Eomma; he'd loved her, Seen said so, and when you loved someone you wanted to be with them all the time, like how she wanted to go everywhere with Seen).
"No." Seen's face twists into the expression she made when she stepped in something one of the stray cats left around the garden. "No, he's not."
"Why?"
Seen sighed, leaning back against the wall, still watching the sky. "Because where your mother is...is for Hunters. He wasn't a Hunter."
Rumi nods, slowly; yes, that makes sense. But then- "Where is he?"
She can hear laughter from the street; Seen's fingers clench the book.
"...With his friends," she says at last. "Or, well, others who are...like him."
That's...confusing. Rumi has more questions: what friends? Wasn't Eomma his friend? What does she mean 'like him?' What 'others?' Did Seen know any of them? Can they go visit?
But Seen stands, quickly, and heads for the bookshelf. "How about another story, hmm?"
Rumi likes stories, and Seen almost never reads her two stories in one night, so she nods and bounces on her bed and doesn't ask any more questions about Appa as Seen reads her a funny story about jungle animals (including a tiger, which is her favorite).
Besides, she figures, she can always ask more about him later. Because she does want to know more; Seen says Eomma was amazing, so her Appa must be amazing too, and she wants to know everything about him.
---
"Rumi-ya, he was a demon."
...She takes it back.