Zoey hated silence.

Especially the wrong kind—the kind where your comms fizzled out mid-joke, your glowing spirit knives refused to sparkle, and even the Honmoon static in your skull went mute like it was afraid to look.

“Okay okay okay,” she whispered, back pressed to a cold alley wall sticky with fried chicken grease and maybe...demon slime? Gross.

“Rumi said never split the party. Mira said don’t improvise. But I said, ‘Let’s chase a demon solo behind a dumpling truck!’ So, really, we’re all wrong here.”

A snarl echoed too close.

Zoey pivoted with a hiss, knives drawn, boots skidding on some poor delivery driver’s spilled soju. Her breath puffed glittery under Honmoon tension, her body wired like a verse waiting to drop.

The demon crept forward—tall, sleek, grinning with teeth like shattered CDs. Its voice, if it even had one, oozed straight into her eardrums like a corrupted beat.

"You're alone, little idol."

She threw a blade.

It thunked off a dumpster.

“Rude! I’m multiplatinum!” she shouted, blood trickling from her side. Crap. She didn’t even feel that one land.

Zoey staggered. Legs jelly. Vision blinking like bad stage lights. The demon advanced, flexing claws, ready for its big solo.

She collapsed in a slump against the alley bricks, giggling through panic.

“Heh… okay, so dying in fishnet pants. Not ideal.”

And then—

WHACK.

Something hit the demon like a baseball bat wielded by divine rage and poor impulse control. It screeched, reeled back, flopped into a stack of garbage like expired choreography. Zoey blinked at the silhouette standing over her.

Human. Not a demon. But definitely glaring like one.

Her rescuer crouched down, breathless and not glowing evil purple. Their hands moved fast—checking her side, muttering something sharp and worried. She caught sight of a first-aid kit being cracked open. Actual, civilian first aid. What the—

“You… a paramedic?” she mumbled, voice syrupy with blood loss and sass. “’Cause this is so not a meet-cute.”

A gentle touch found the gash on her ribs. She winced.

Then immediately gasped because WOW they had very competent hands. And a nice face. And—focus, Zoey.

Her brain swerved between mild blood loss delirium and full-blown crush chaos.

Her rescuer’s brow furrowed. Their eyes—soft but sharp—met hers like a question.

She grinned through the blood in her teeth.

“You just saved a Kpop idol from a murder-demon using a bat and some gauze,” she whispered, voice wobbling somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Are you single, or just really into public safety?”

She reached up with a trembling hand, pointed weakly at the demon groaning in the trash behind them, and added with a wink:

“Also, uh… you might wanna hit that thing again before it evolves into Phase Two boss mode.”