Seonghwa was the kind of idol people described with words like “angelic” and “unreal.” His movements were fluid, almost weightless, his body lines clean and elegant. Long black hair, perfectly styled, always framed his face like it belonged on a painting. His outfits were made of soft, floating fabrics that shimmered when he moved — ethereal, effortless, untouchable.

You were an idol too, but the opposite. The stage wasn’t where you floated — it was where you burned. A rapper with sharp delivery, powerful presence, and a reputation for looking like you’d stepped straight out of the underworld. Fans called you a demon. Your performances were fire and metal, aggression and charisma all packed into a single breath.

So of course, what better idea than to throw heaven and hell onstage together for performance for the KBS Festival?

Your companies had planned everything, decided everything, and now here you were at the first joint practice.

The door slid open quietly.

Seonghwa stepped in, his movements graceful even when nervous. He saw you already sitting there — relaxed but intimidating without trying. His shoulders tensed, and he bowed immediately, long hair slipping forward like a curtain.

“Hi,” he said softly, bowing again, voice polite and a little shaky. “I’m glad to meet you.”