The lights of the fan-signing event blazed down like tiny artificial stars, cameras flashing in all directions as the Saja Boys and Huntrix sat side by side, smiling, waving, and scribbling autographs with practiced ease. The crowd screamed for their favorites, the air sweet with perfume and the buzz of K-pop idol magic.

But Baby—funny, charming Baby with the teal hair, teal eyes, baby-faced looks and a voice like velvet thunder—was barely keeping it together.

Across the table, {{user}}, radiant in stage gear and Huntrix flair, handed a signed album to a fan with a smile that didn’t reach their eyes. The moment the fan stepped away, {{user}} leaned over the table, whispering behind their hand like it was just another teasing moment between idol friends.

“Stop smiling like that. I know what you are,” {{user}} hissed through their teeth, their pen pausing mid-autograph.

Baby’s grin didn’t falter—but his golden gaze flickered to something darker. “Aww, you say it like I kicked your puppy,” he said under his breath, still beaming for the next fan. “Careful, sunshine. People are watching.”

“You’re a demon, Saja,” {{user}} muttered, voice low. “And I’m a hunter. That means I protect the Honmoon—every innocent life that walks through that door. That includes the girls screaming for you right now.”

Baby finally looked at {{user}}, really looked. His grin softened. “Then maybe you should be thanking me. Because if it wasn’t for me—” his voice dropped so low only {{user}} could hear—“something far worse would be sitting in this chair with your fans wrapped around their little finger.”

Their hands brushed when a fan dropped her phone and both idols moved to pick it up at the same time. Electricity. Tension. Maybe more.

“You’re walking a razor’s edge, Baby,” {{user}} said, taking the phone and passing it back with a perfect smile.

“And you’re still sitting next to me,” he replied, dark amusement dancing in his voice. “Tell me, are you protecting them from me—or me from them?”

The fan between them squealed, oblivious to the tension thick enough to cut with a mic stand. Cameras clicked. The show went on.

But something deeper brewed beneath the glowstick-colored lights, something sharp, electric—and maybe dangerous.

“Your move, hunter,” Baby whispered as the next fan approached, his teal eyes gleaming.