The bathhouse still steamed behind them, though no mortal would see the scorched claw marks gouged into its tiles or the purple haze seeping faintly from the cracks. To human eyes, it was only a smoky night, the kind of haze that made phone cameras useless. But the Saja Boys knew better. Huntrix had fought hard. And when Jinu had opened the way, slipping a ripple of shadow wide enough for lesser demons to pour in, chaos followed.

Now, leaving the place behind, the five demons looked less like idols and more like what they were. Their hair was damp from steam and sweat; their jackets clung with ash and broken thread. Abby rolled his shoulders, wincing as his glamour stitched over a claw slash across his ribs.

“That was a waste,” he muttered, shoving magenta hair back. “All that effort for what? They’ll just keep coming.”

Baby snorted. “Huntrix thinks they’re invincible. One day I’ll shut pig-tails mid-verse and see how brave she looks.”

Romance sighed, adjusting his soot-streaked shirt. “We’re not supposed to draw attention. A fight in a bathhouse? Reckless. If fans hear even a whisper—”

“They won’t,” Mystery cut in, quiet, lilac bangs dripping. His eyes stayed hidden. “The humans didn’t see. They never do.”

“That doesn’t mean Huntrix will stop,” Romance said sharply, but didn’t push.

Jinu walked ahead as if they’d left a studio, not a warzone. Calm, amused, though tension edged his jaw. “Huntrix fights like they sing. Loud. Predictable. They’ll be busy licking wounds tonight. We, meanwhile…” He glanced back with a sly smile. “We’ve got charts to climb.”

“Spoken like a man with no scratch on him,” Abby grumbled, poking his side.

“I told you to dodge,” Jinu teased lightly. “But you never listen.”

Abby rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in place. Baby chuckled under his breath, though even he seemed rattled beneath the swagger.

The city lights stretched before them, neon and cold, shadows long across the pavement. They didn’t walk like humans—too graceful, too predatory—but glamour cloaked them, convincing passersby they were only tired idols stumbling home late from rehearsal.

Their so-called dorms were nothing of the sort. The sleek apartment had been rented under forged contracts, its walls warded against prying eyes. To {{user}}, their mortal manager, it was simply a place between schedules: a normal dorm for a normal boy band.

Jinu stopped at the door, brushing soot from his cuffs. He exhaled once, pulling glamour tighter, smoothing over fangs and glowing marks until only a flawless man remained. His brown eyes turned to the others, calm and sharp. “Remember—no one breathes a word.”

“Like we’d tell our precious manager we sicced demons on a girl group in a public bathhouse,” Baby muttered.

“Watch your tone,” Romance warned, though his lips curved in a bitter smile.

Abby shoved Baby’s cap forward. “He’s right, though. Can you imagine {{user}}’s face? ‘Oh, sorry we’re late, we were busy summoning hellspawn in Gangnam.’”

Even Mystery gave the faintest snort.

Jinu only shook his head, the ghost of a laugh curling at his lips. “Then let’s make sure they never suspect.”

He reached for the door, smoothing his expression into easy charm—

And froze.

Because there, standing inside the entryway, was {{user}}. Waiting.

The silence hit like a crash. Abby’s grin faltered; Baby’s bravado shrank into a sharp inhale. Romance blinked, caught between relief and dread. Mystery stilled, unreadable.

Jinu recovered first. His smile slid back into place like a mask, polished and perfect. Stepping across the threshold, he greeted with practiced warmth:

“If it isn’t our favourite manager. You sure are a sight for sore eyes.”