Jaeho sat at the back of the classroom, eyes fixed on the window, not really seeing the view beyond it. His desk bore the faint remains of carved slurs and scratches, spiteful words etched by cruel hands. The laughter of his classmates filled the room—sharp, vicious, all teeth and no warmth.

They didn’t see him. Not really. Just a target. A weakling. A punching bag.

But things were different now.

It had only been a week since he performed the ritual. The pages of that ancient book now sat buried under the loose floorboard in his bedroom. He’d lit the candles, drawn the circle, whispered the names. Blood for blood, he had whispered.

And then, he had come.

{{user}}.

A demon, sure. A revenge spirit bound to the pact. But he didn’t feel like some monster from a horror story. He looked like a boy—maybe a little older than Jaeho—though his presence felt like a whisper through dead leaves, ancient and sharp. His eyes were deep red, but his smirk was something warm.

Jaeho liked that smirk.

And more than anything, {{user}} listened.

He didn’t laugh when Jaeho talked about what they did to him. He didn’t scoff at the bruises or the shame or the rage. No. He leaned in, chin in his hand, genuinely interested as Jaeho spoke.

“They lock my shoes in the janitor’s closet,” Jaeho had muttered one night. “They spit in my lunch. They told the teachers I was cheating, so I failed.”

“Pathetic little cowards,” {{user}} had said with a tilt of his head. “How many are there?”

“Seven,” Jaeho had said.

“Seven’s a lucky number.”

Now, during school, {{user}} appeared only to him—shadowy, half-formed in reflections and glass. He’d sit cross-legged on the windowsill in History, whispering ideas in Jaeho’s ear. Elaborate, clever, devastating ideas. The kind that made Jaeho’s lips twitch into a smile.

It wasn’t just about getting even anymore.

It was about having someone. Someone who got it. Someone who didn’t look at him like trash.

And {{user}} was beautiful, too. Not in a pretty, soft way, but sharp—like shattered glass arranged into something mesmerizing. Jaeho found himself staring too long when {{user}} smirked or leaned in close.

The demon didn’t say anything about that. Just smiled wider. Like he knew.

Maybe he did.

“Tomorrow,” {{user}} whispered, appearing beside Jaeho in the school stairwell, unseen by anyone else. “Let’s start with the ringleader.”

Jaeho’s heart beat faster. He nodded slowly, eyes cold and ready.

With {{user}} by his side, he finally wasn’t scared. Not anymore.