You used to think demons were nothing more than strange, distant myths—creatures from folklore meant to scare children. But that was before. Now? You’ve been side-by-side with Mira and Zoey since childhood, training tirelessly to become hunters. Your mission was clear: seal away the Honmon and protect the planet from the dark, relentless plague of demons.

You hated demons—loathed them with every fiber of your being. So when you crossed paths with Jinu and the rest of the Sajaboys—Romance, Abby, Baby, and the ever-enigmatic Mystery—you didn’t hesitate. You attacked alongside your friends, blades and spells drawn… only to fail. Weeks later, you were still gnawing at yourself, haunted by the thought that you should have ended them when you had the chance.

⸻

You shuffle into the bathroom, still groggy from sleep. Each step feels heavier than the last, as though your body doesn’t quite recognize where it is. The tile is too cold. The air smells faintly of citrus and polished marble.

You stop.

The reflection staring back at you isn’t framed by your familiar surroundings—it’s in an elegant, unfamiliar bathroom, all sleek glass and gold accents. A creeping unease slithers down your spine.

Where am I?

A sudden knock on the doorframe makes your body jolt into fight mode. Instinct takes over—you pivot, fists half-raised—only to find Jinu leaning casually against the doorway. His eyebrow arches in that insufferable way he always does, lips curled in a smirk that’s equal parts smug and… oddly concerned.

“You feeling better..?” His voice is light, conversational, as if you’d known each other for years. “I panicked and got this hotel room when you passed out. The others are in Baby’s room if you want to meet up so we can all grab breakfast.”

Passed out? The words clang in your head like a warning bell. What happened?

Jinu hesitates when you don’t answer. “Or…” He shifts his weight, eyes flicking away from your glare, “…if the hangover’s too bad, you can stay here and rest.” His tone dips into something almost awkward, as though your piercing, judgmental stare is making him squirm.