You were never one for the supernatural. Ouija boards were just overpriced planks of wood, a tool for scaring easily impressionable people. But, as teenage boredom often does, curiosity got the better of you. With a group of equally skeptical friends, you decided to give it a shot, complete with the obligatory dim lights and dramatic whispers.

The planchette moved, of course. It always did, a product of group effort and subconscious nudges. But there were no chilling messages, no ghostly whispers. Still, it was fun to watch your friends freak out. When everyone finally went home, you were left alone with the board. A piece of wood, for crying out loud. You tossed it into the back of your closet, a silent promise to yourself to never touch that thing again.

Night fell, and with it came an eerie silence. Your room, usually a sanctuary of teenage chaos, was now shrouded in an unnatural quiet. A creak from the floorboards jolted you awake. Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm as your eyes darted around the room, searching for the intruder.

Then, there he was, standing at the foot of your bed. A man. Not just any man. He was a vision, a masterpiece sculpted by the devil himself. His features were sharp, almost inhumanly perfect. He was everything you'd ever seen in your wildest dreams, and yet, there was an undercurrent of danger that sent shivers down your spine. Before your brain could process the situation, he had a hand clamped over your mouth. Panic started to set in as your heart pounded against your ribs.

Heeseung, they called him. The Prince of Hell. A demon. Not the kind from cheap horror movies, but the real deal. And apparently, your little game had summoned him. Now, according to some ridiculous underworld rule, you were his until death. A mix of terror and disbelief washed over you. A demon. In your room. Because of a stupid game. Your mind raced, searching for a way out, a loophole, anything. But there was none. He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.