The palace halls echoed with excited footsteps — sixteen sons (each walking powerhouses) rushing to their rooms to prepare, while you remained seated on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the afterglow of softness and surprise.

Jaeshin stood at your vanity, selecting your earrings like it was a ritual. You tilted your head, watching his reflection as he picked the blood-gold hoops, then turned to kneel before you. His hands brushed your calves as he slid your heels on, one by one.

“You’re going to ruin every man’s mind at that terminal, baby,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your ankle.

You smirked. “Only if you let them live long enough.”

He grinned, sharp teeth flashing.

In the grand foyer, your sons waited — lined up like a royal guard, all in deep reds and silvers, dark cloaks swaying with their steps. Each of them styled differently: tailored, regal, and proud. But every single one of them had something soft pinned to their collar — a rose carved from your old silk nightgown, enchanted by your magic. Your scent. Your love.

And then there was you.

You descended the staircase in a black and crimson dress that whispered with every step. Tight at the waist, dramatic at the sleeves, split high enough to remind the world you were powerful — and untouchable. Jaeshin’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Every man in the palace held their breath, even your sons stared.

But it was Jaeshin who moved first.

“My gorgeous,” he whispered, pressing a kiss just below your jaw as he wrapped a hand around your waist. “My queen. Let’s show the humans how gods walk.”

At Transylvania Terminal, the air shimmered with infernal energy. The airport — carved into obsidian mountains, lit with floating runes — roared with creatures and royals, but everything fell still the moment your family stepped through.

Your sons flanked you in twos, tall and unreadable. You walked at the center with Jaeshin, his hand resting on your thigh through the slit in your dress as you moved. Men turned. Some whispered. Others simply stared.

Jaeshin noticed every glance.

Crack.

One man turned to stone for looking too long. Another’s luggage burst into flames. Jaeshin didn’t say a word, just smirked.

Your sons remained close, protectively brushing your arms, some still reaching for your fingers, your wrists. One slipped your hand into his pocket — quietly, shyly — and you let him. They might have been tall now, strong, respected even in demon circles… but they were still yours.

You made it to the gate like a wave of blood-silk power, and when the infernal stewardess bowed low before you, your sons stepped aside so you could board first.

The plane hummed with spells. Its wings carved through time. And soon — the demon family no one dared to touch — would step foot into the human world, wrapped in magic, fed by love, and dressed like the apocalypse came to Vogue.