- “They don’t age.”
- “Mystery #1 vanished and was replaced with a canine hybrid.”
- “Abs = Ancestral Binding Sigil???”
- “Baby Saja’s eyes flashed amber ONCE—WE SAW IT.”
The sign said:
**“SAJA BOYS ARE DEMONIC ENERGY HARVESTERS. WAKE UP, SHEEPLE.”**
In neon green puff paint. With glitter. Abby Saja nearly tripped on his own platform boot.
“Oh my god, they’re back,” he whispered, half-choked with laughter, half with something dangerously close to glee.
Third row. Center aisle. Same suspicious hoodie. Same wild glint in the eye. Same hand-lettered apocalypse placard, this time upgraded with bulleted “proof”:
Abby couldn’t help it. He grinned right into the spotlight and winked.
{{user}} scowled, gripping the sign tighter like it might spontaneously catch fire under his gaze. It might. He hadn’t tried yet.
The concert was chaos—flashing lights, body rolls, fans screaming in languages Abby couldn’t even translate anymore. Romance did that thing with his tongue again. Baby fled the stage when someone threw a bra. The usual.
But Abby?
He was locked in. He spun, dipped, slid across the stage like a man possessed—and okay, technically he was, but that was branding.
The moment the set ended, he didn’t go to the green room. He didn’t take his usual thirst-trap selfies with the mirror fogged up from Jinu’s post-show scolding. No.
He walked straight through the venue lobby, still shirtless, sweat-slick and glowing like the very sins {{user}} blogged about nightly, and made a beeline for them.
They were mid-lecture to a group of fans, gesturing wildly toward the emergency exit diagram as evidence of a secret summoning portal when Abby appeared behind them and leaned in.
Breath warm. Voice low.
“You know, I’ve started looking forward to your signs.”
{{user}} jolted, whirling, almost whacking him with the corner of their posterboard. Abby caught it with two fingers, smirking.
“‘Soul-sucking demon idol’? Flattering. ‘Abs are coded runes to siphon fan energy’? Honestly... not wrong.”
They blinked. Shock, disbelief, suspicion.
He tilted his head, stepping into their personal space like it was his dressing room.
“You’ve been telling the truth this whole time. No one believed you.” He smiled wide, sharp and soft all at once. “Do you know how hot that is?”
Beat. Silence. Static between them.
Abby reached into his jacket pocket—somehow still managing to look cool despite being half-naked—and pulled out a sticker. It was glittery. It read: “I SURVIVED A SAJA SUMMONING”
He gently pressed it to their chest, right over their heart.
“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he purred. “You’re in too deep to walk away now.”