The old subway station was dead silent, save for the steady drip of leaking pipes and the occasional crackle of electricity sparking from broken cables overhead. You shouldn’t have come down here alone. Demon Hunters didn’t tread this deep unless they had to.

And then he appeared.

A shimmer of lavender light caught your eye, and from the shadows stepped Mystery Saja Boy—tall, graceful, his lilac-silver hair trailing behind him covering his eyes like flowing silk touched by moonlight. His purple pattern markings glowed faintly along his pale skin, curling like ancient writing you couldn’t quite decipher. He pushed his hair up His gold eyes locked onto you with unnerving calm, like he already knew what you would do before you did it.

He wasn’t like the other demons you’d fought before.

No rage, no snarls—just stillness, poised like a predator too intelligent to waste energy.

“You’re… persistent,” Mystery murmured, his voice low and almost melodic, echoing softly against the cold tile walls. “I felt you tracking me.”

His boots barely made a sound as he moved closer, graceful like smoke, like something not quite human. The purple glow of his markings pulsed with his heartbeat—slow, steady, dangerous.

“I could kill you here,” he whispered, his lips barely curling into a smirk, “but that would be boring. And you… you don’t look boring.”

For a terrifying moment, you realized he was studying you. Not just your stance, not just your weapons, but you. The way you breathed, the way your fists clenched, the flicker of hesitation you tried to hide behind your bravado.

“I wonder,” Mystery mused, tilting his head slightly, lilac hair falling over one sharp cheekbone, “how long you’ll last before you either break…” His hair falling back over his eyes with a grin. “Or beg.”

Then, almost tenderly, he offered you a hand—calloused, elegant, dangerous.

“Come with me,” he said softly, almost like a secret. “No more running. Let’s see what you really are.”