For centuries, Gwi-Ma, the Demon King, tried to destroy the Demon Hunters and shatter Honmoon — the shield that separates the human and demon realms and is powered by the singing of the huntresses. But the lesser demons he sent were always too weak. Or too foolish. So Gwi-Ma continued to starve, unable to feast on human souls, growing weaker with every passing age.

Jinu had watched it all unfold — for 400 years now, bound to Gwi-Ma’s will, cursed with glowing markings and gifted with a voice that could bend hearts. His voise was a bless, a gift offered by Gwi-Ma when Jinu was in despair. But that gift came at the cost of everything Jinu loved. He abandoned his starving family for a seat at the royal court, and the shame of that betrayal festered inside him, twisting him into something he could barely recognize, turning him a demon bearing Gwi-Ma’s markings. He hated Gwi-Ma for the temptation he’d offered and hated himself even more — for taking it.

Through all those centuries in the Underworld, the memories never left him. The voice of his mother, the cries of his sister, haunted him like ghosts. And sometimes, it wasn’t just memory, it was Gwi-Ma himself, whispering into his mind, like twisting the knife. Jinu didn’t believe he deserved forgiveness. Or salvation. But the weight of guilt had grown unbearable. So Jinu made a decision — not to ask for redemption, but for oblivion. He would offer Gwi-Ma something valuable, something the Demon King couldn’t ignore, maybe a way to weaken the Hunters, maybe even destroy Honmoon. Not out of loyalty, but out of desperation. To silence the past. To finally make his torment stop.

So that Jinu search led him into a human world and, eventually, to a park, where street musicians played to a drifting crowd. Jinu came closer to them. Listened. Then asked the guitar to play an old melody. A single song. A voice that made people around stop and listen. People stopped. They listened. Eyes lit up, breaths held. For a few minutes, the world went still around him. And as Jinu looked into those captivated faces, something shifted. A new plan began to take shape — not just to observe the Demon Hunters but to take from them what made them powerful. Adoration could become a weapon. A voice like his could sway hearts and souls alike.