Chan was awake and eating purple soup the following morning when a pair of police officers burst into his room, slamming the door open like a gunshot.

Chan jumped, spilling his spoonful all over the pristine hospital blankets, staining them like Void Tiger blood.  

"Chan Kurozi?" one officer barked. He had a thick blonde mustache and severe blue eyes. His pale skin and round ears marked him as a human. Or a shifter.

Not that Chan was going to ask which he was. His heart was beating extra fast–he heard it on the monitors, the beeping in sync with the painful pounding in his chest. 

"Yes. That’s me." Chan said breathlessly. What were they here for? Had they discovered the poachers Injae had killed? Or the two the Void Tigers had killed at the very beginning of this mess?

A terrible thought occurred to him, and the heart monitor went wild. Had something happened to Mihn? 

The blonde officer's elven partner stepped forward. "We need to ask you a few questions," he said, his smile very white against his ebony skin.

Chan leaned forward urgently. “What’s happened?” Fear clawed at his throat. It had been three full days since Mihn had flung herself off the carpet rather than be near Chan any longer. Three full days since anyone had seen her. 

The police didn’t answer him right away, and Chan twisted his blankets with the fingers of his unbroken arm as he waited. While the blonde loomed, the elven officer dragged one of the empty visitor's chairs over to Chan's bedside. Chan had to swallow down the bitter sorrow crawling up his throat. Figures that his first visitor was a stranger instead of a friend.

"Mr. Kurozi, would you tell me how you got these injuries?" The police officer was all smiles and sympathy. Chan heard Mihn’s voice in his head, hissing at him not to trust them.

That was so not the issue here. "I was attacked by poachers," Chan answered quickly. “Please, do you have any news about my partner?”

The elven officer’s eyebrows shot up. Before he could speak, the hulking blonde said, “Your partner, Park Mihn?” At Chan’s frantic nod, he said, “What news are you hoping for?”

Chan reeled back. Hoping for? “That she’s safe and sound, of course. Officers, what are you here about?”

“When was the last time you saw your partner?” said the elven officer slowly.

Irritation bubbled up in Chan’s empty stomach. Couldn’t they just give him a straight answer?

Chan turned to look at him, not liking how the scowling blonde took up his periphery. He put a scowl on his own aching face and grit out, “Three days ago. In the Reserve. She flew away on the back of a griffin.”

“Really?” said the blonde, all disbelieving. Chan turned to look at him again, stomach twisting. He felt like a ping-pong ball being batted between the two officers, helpless and at their whim.

Why were they treating him this way? What were they even getting at? A headache was beginning to pound behind his eyes, his ribs ached and his stomach was turning into something hot and tight with fear and anger.

“Yes, really,” Chan snapped. “Just tell me if you know where Mihn is!”

The blonde took a menacing step towards him, bumping the hospital bed with his thigh. Chan shook. “You better watch your tone, boy.”

“We’ll tell you what we know if you tell us what you know,” soothed the elven officer. 

Chan was not soothed. If anything, that hot mass in his belly bubbled, sent steam up his throat and out his mouth. “I’ve been telling you what I know!” he shouted.

“Boy–” the blonde growled.

The elven officer raised a placating hand. “It’s fine, Johnson.” He turned gentle eyes on Chan, and you know what? Chan decided he didn’t trust them. “Mr. Kurozi. Back to the poachers who attacked you. Did you know that they are all dead?”

Just like that, all the steam, all the heat, all the fight drained out of Chan. He sagged against the pillows. “I wasn’t sure,” he whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut, and that strange image flashed across the inside of his eyelids again. A dead elf woman. A dark figure crouched over her, blood smeared across its chin.

“You weren’t sure?” came Johnson’s voice, mocking. 

Chan winced at his scathing tone, and again at the gentle words of the other saying, “Try to remember. What happened when you were attacked? How did you survive?”

Chan pressed a thumb to his aching temple. He didn't want to remember this. Not only did he not trust his memory, but everything about that night hurt. Already his mind was slamming images of a fire-lit, bloody-fanged Mihn at him. 

No. It was Injae. The nurse said it was Injae.  "They b-broke my arm and stabbed me. And they sh-shot me." Chan kept his eyes closed, fearing he’d puke if he opened them. His breath was hitching, and his heart was trying to escape through the bullet wound in his chest. Everything hurt and nothing made sense.

“Good,” crooned the elven officer, voice much closer than before. His breath practically tickled Chan’s ear. “Then what?”

Chan shied away. Tears pricking against his lashes. Did he really have to say? He didn’t want to. He didn’t know. It was all pain and smoke and fire and screams and a familiar woman’s face.

“Th-then someone came and saved me,” Chan gasped out, eyes flying open. He couldn’t breathe. His body wasn’t big enough to hold his air, suddenly. He clawed at his throat.

Johnson looked triumphant, a sickening smirk beneath his blonde mustache as he leaned forward menacingly. "So, you do know what happened. Who was it? Tell us."

Chan's head swam as he struggled for breath. The blonde officer's face flickered, becoming the poacher elf woman.  She'd sounded just like this asking him about the unicorns. She’d sounded just like this before she’d ordered him killed.

"I don't know," he croaked. His bullet wound ached. The body heat from both policemen pressed in on his space, robbing him of air. Darkness was starting to creep in the edges of his vision.

Johnson snorted. His partner leaned forward to catch Chan's eye. "Come on. You can tell us. We have four dead bodies in Anjeon and need answers. Whoever saved you won’t be sent to jail. Don’t worry.”

"I--"

Johnson slammed a hand against Chan's bedframe, rattling him painfully. 

He cried out, tears gathering in his eyes.

"Don't lie to us!"

"Johnson, please," the elven officer said, side-eyeing his partner before turning back to Chan. 

“He’s tricking us, Mbarra!”

Mbarra held up a hand towards Johnson, keeping his eyes on Chan. Gently but firmly, he said, "Lying to the police is a crime. Just tell us what happened."

What happened. Just tell them what happened.

Chan’s eyes blew wide, dry hospital air pricking at them. But he wasn't seeing the sterile room. No, it was all firelight and smoke and pain. He saw sharp grasses and the shadow of great wings. He saw a dark figure leap onto a poacher, burying its teeth in the poacher's throat. When it turned to face Chan, it had Mihn's face. It flickered to Injae’s. Then Mihn’s. Then Injae’s. Back and forth and back and forth until his stomach threatened to empty itself.

"I'm not lying," Chan sobbed. He didn’t have the air to spare for this. "I c-can’t remember!" 

"Just--"

But whatever Johnson was about to spit was drowned out by a furious Injae who stormed into the room like a hurricane, inky hair flying and knife-like cheekbones catching the light. She wore black skinny jeans, a silky red tank-top and several silver necklaces.

Right behind her was Dr. Pomua.

Chan could barely see the pair of them, blackness having overcome most of his vision. They were two pinpoints of hope in a dark, dark room.

Dr. Pomua took one look at him and leaned back out the door. “Nurse in 109!” she hollered before striding around Johnson and nudging him out of the way so she could stand directly by Chan’s head. 

“You are sending my patient into a panic attack,” she said tightly, bending over Chan and shining a light into his eyes. 

He barely saw it. His chest hurt so much. 

“Get out,” Dr. Pomua ordered bluntly, her hands prodding his chest.

“Ma’am, we’re here on official–”

Injae cut off Mbarra by jumping right in front of him, giving him her back. He was seated right up against Chan’s bed, and Injae inserted herself between them like a rapier: slender and deadly.

Chan had never been so grateful to see her. 

She took his fevered face in her cool, dry hands and peered into his watering eyes. “Channie. Look at me. It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe with me.”

Chan tried. He tried to breathe, to look at her, but sobs still wracked his chest, and the black was still coming. Injae could give him answers. Injae could tell him what was real. 

“M-M-Mihn,” he choked out, scrabbling at Injae’s slender arms. “D-did she c-come back?” 

Injae’s sleek black brows furrowed and she shook her head, thumbs working beneath Chan’s eyes. “You know how stubborn she is, Chan. She hasn’t come back.”

Chan lost it.