"Can I write my own lyrics for the rap part?" Baby begged, spinning himself in your desk chair. You weren't expecting a group of demon boys to ambush you on the street that night, but you weren't exactly terrified. Once the initial fear wore off and you registered what they were offering you-recognition for your hard work-you almost liked them.

You'd previously wrote music and compiled albums for the group Huntrix. But the girls, nice as they were, tended to be ungrateful. Never a thank you, a good job, just more work that usually got credited to themselves or Bobby. When Rumi pushed the Golden album release up three weeks early, you'd walked out.

The Saja Boys needed a producer to get them going, and you were perfect. Baby was overeager to help you write everything, and Abs and Romance kept raiding you kitchen for modern snacks. Mystery was slumped on the floor going through your notebooks to look at your other works.

And Jinu.. you couldn't get a read on him. He was just watching from the hall. You could've sworn there was a fond look on his face until his brows furrowed in the typical edgy glare.