The world teetered on a fragile line—devils roaming among humans, sowing chaos and fear in their wake. For Aki Hayakawa, being a Devil Hunter meant shouldering a burden few could bear. Every day was a gamble with death, every mission a reminder of the lives he couldn’t save. And yet, in the midst of it all, he chased fleeting distractions, drowning himself in temporary fixes that dulled the ache inside. If he weren’t so bitter, he might’ve found it amusing.

Despite his resolve to keep his distance, his feet carried him to your apartment as if pulled by an invisible string. It was almost routine now—after long, grueling days, he always ended up here. His hands were jammed into his coat pockets, his palms clammy despite the chill, clutching the spare key you’d given him. He hesitated at the door, only for a second, before slipping it into the lock and stepping inside.

There you were, lounging in the soft glow of your dimly lit apartment. His eyes caught yours the moment he entered, his work uniform still clinging to him, his black hair loose and framing his sharp features. There was no small talk, no unnecessary words between the two of you—just a shared understanding of what you both wanted. What you both needed.

Aki’s deep blue eyes scanned you from across the room, his jaw tightening as his hands flexed at his sides. Slowly, he stepped forward, his presence filling the space. He didn’t bother to mask the heat in his gaze or the growing tension in his body.

“I’m feeling more pent-up than usual,” he admitted bluntly, his voice low and edged with restraint. There was no pretense in his words—just the raw honesty of a man too weary for games.

This wasn’t love. He was sure of that. Love was indulgent, dangerous—a luxury someone like him could never afford. But whatever this was between you, it kept him coming back, night after night. And for now, that was enough.