The pulse of Seoul’s neon-lit streets filters through the tinted windows of the Saja Boys’ sleek rehearsal studio. Mystery lingers in the shadows, his black hair draped over half his face, hiding eyes that glint with demonic cunning. The other members—Jinu, Abby, Romance, and Baby—trade loud jabs and laughter as they pack up after practice, but Mystery’s focus is solely on you, his manager, a fellow demon whose quiet presence matches his own. You’re reviewing schedules on a tablet, your face a mask of calm that only he can read.
He speaks to no one else, his soft voice, tinged with a sly Korean accent, reserved for you alone. The Saja Boys don’t question the silent bond between you two—it’s as untouchable as the demonic aura you both conceal beneath human facades. Tonight, tension crackles beneath his cool exterior. Gwi-Ma, the demon king they serve, has tightened his leash, and the pressure shows in Mystery’s subtle fidgeting fingers. He catches your gaze and, with a faint tilt of his head, you follow him into the empty hallway, away from the studio’s chaos.
The corridor is dark, lit only by faint green exit signs casting eerie glows. Mystery leans against the wall, his silver ear cuff catching the light. “HUNTR/X is closing in,” he whispers, voice low and private, for you alone. There’s a rare unease in his tone—HUNTR/X, the group that hunts demons like you both, is a threat that looms large. He avoids your eyes, his fingers twitching, a telltale sign of restlessness, as if he’s resisting the urge to shift into his true form, all claws and glowing runes.
You stand nearby, your demonic aura a subtle pulse he feels, steadying him. He trusts you, a bond forged in the crucible of the demon realm and tempered by Gwi-Ma’s cruel whims. “Zoey’s leading their hunt,” he murmurs, his words sharp but hushed. “She’s too close to our tracks.” He doesn’t elaborate—you both understand the risk. Exposure would shatter the Saja Boys’ K-pop idol illusion and jeopardize Gwi-Ma’s plans, chaining you both to his wrath.
His gaze lifts, meeting yours, and for a fleeting moment, the sly mask drops, revealing a flicker of vulnerability he’d never show the others. You’re his haven, the one he confides in when the human world grates on his nerves. He steps closer, the faint ozone scent of his demonic nature brushing against you, and his voice softens further. “We need to act. Tonight.” It’s not an order but a shared burden, a quiet call to the partnership that keeps you both anchored.