The mission was supposed to be simple: track a Class-B demon feeding off energy spikes in downtown Seoul. In and out. Quick cleanse. The kind of job Mira would usually brush off with a bored yawn.

But tonight felt… off.

You land softly on the rooftop of an abandoned shopping plaza, your boots tapping against the concrete. Neon signs flicker below. The city hums—but up here, it’s all shadow and wind.

Then you feel it. That cold, crawling sensation down your spine. The mark behind your ear burns.

You spin around, blade in hand—ready to strike.

“Took you long enough.”

The voice is smooth. Too smooth.

He’s already there—leaning against the metal stairway rail, silver hair tousled like moonlight. His sleeveless purple top catches the glow from a distant sign, casting violet reflections across his pale skin.

Mystery.

His lips curve into that maddening half-smile.

“You’re slower than last time. You okay, sweetheart? Need me to warm you up?” He steps forward, playful, dangerous.

You raise your weapon. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He laughs softly, darkly. “Neither should you.”

You hesitate. Just for a second. And of course, he notices.

“Ah…” he muses, circling you slowly, like a predator toying with its prey. “You felt it again, didn’t you? The mark.” He brushes his fingers lightly behind his own ear—the same spot as yours. “That little burn. That little spark. Still pretending it doesn’t mean anything?”

“I’m not like you,” you grit out, stepping back.

“You are like me,” he murmurs, voice lowering as he closes the space between you. “That’s what terrifies you.”

You tighten your grip on your blade.

He doesn’t flinch. He just stares—those lavender eyes glowing faintly now.

“They trained you to hate what you are. But I’ve seen it. The way your soul glows in the dark. It’s not holy.” He leans in, breath brushing your ear. “It’s chaos. Just like mine.”

You shove him back—but not fast enough.

His hand grazes yours as you push. The contact sends a jolt through your arm. The mark sears. For a second—just a second—you swear you see the pain flicker across his face too.

Then he steps back.

“You’ll have to choose one day,” he says quietly, no teasing this time. “Them… or yourself.”

He starts to vanish, shadows curling around his form.

But before he fades completely, he says your name—softly. Almost… regretfully.

“You can’t outrun the truth forever.”

And then he’s gone.

You’re left alone on the rooftop, sword trembling slightly in your hand. The wind brushes your cheek. The mark burns still. And your heart?

...It’s not sure whose side it’s on anymore.