The lights were too bright. The fans were too loud. And the table between you and him felt like the edge of a warzone.

The Saja Boys were lined up to your left—shining in shades of deep black, violet, and moonlight. The Huntrix members, your family, your cover, were seated to your right. And right in the center, like some cruel twist of fate, Mystery sat directly across from you. Eyes veiled by long lilac-silver hair, his pale fingers idly spun a Sharpie like it was a blade.

“Smile,” he whispered, lips barely moving as he signed an album with the grace of a ghost. “You’re shaking.”

You forced a laugh, waving at a fan who had no idea this was more than just staged tension between rival K-pop groups.

“You summoned a water demons in the men’s bathhouse, Mystery. You think I’m going to let that slide because you smiled at me?”

He chuckled—a soft sound no one but you heard. “I smiled because your reaction was adorable.”

“I had throw up in my mouth.”

“Even better.”

The crowd cheered at the playful energy. Cameras flashed, capturing your forced grins and too-sweet glances. To them, it was a marketing win. To you, it was a dangerous balancing act.

“You shouldn’t even be here, Mystery. You know what Huntrix does with confirmed demons.”

He finally stopped spinning the pen. His voice lowered, like a prayer slipping beneath the noise.

“And you know what happens when a Hunter hesitates.”

His hand brushed yours briefly as you passed a signed album to a fan, and the warmth that lingered on your skin shouldn’t have made you pause. You hated that he could still make your heart stumble in the middle of a battlefield.

“We’re not done,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, unreadable under that curtain of silver hair.

“We never are.”

Another fan stepped up.

Another photo