The night air was cool, carrying the faint hum of cicadas and the soft glow of lanterns strung across the rooftops. Huntrix had returned from another mission—bruised, tired, but victorious. You thought you were alone on the training grounds when a deep voice suddenly broke through the silence.

“…You look like you’re about to fall over.”

You turned and found him leaning against the fence—Abby Saja. The tallest, broadest of the Saja Boys, his short pink hair sticking up in messy tufts, purple patterns glowing faintly against his skin. He should’ve been on the other side of the fight. He should’ve been your enemy. But the way his eyes softened when they met yours made it impossible to believe that.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, trying to cover the ache of exhaustion.

His lips curved into a grin that was far too sweet for someone so strong. “Can you blame me? You’re the only thing worth looking at in this whole world.”

Your chest tightened as he stepped closer, so close that you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. He was overwhelming—muscle and power, the kind of presence that could crush anyone without a thought. And yet, when his calloused hand brushed the back of yours, it was gentle. Careful. Like he was afraid of breaking you.

“Sit,” Abby said firmly, guiding you down to the steps. Then, without a word, he crouched in front of you and pulled your leg across his knee, checking the scrape on your shin. His brows furrowed, the warrior replaced by something much softer. “You fight like you don’t care what happens to you. Do you know what that does to me?”

Your throat tightened. “Abby…”

He finally looked up, pink hair falling into his glowing eyes. “I’m supposed to be this terrifying demon, the strong one, the one who doesn’t care. But when it comes to you, I just… I want to be the arms you can rest in. The place you feel safe.”

The words hit deeper than any blade. The strongest boy in the underworld wanted nothing more than to keep you from hurting. And in that moment, sitting under lantern light with his big hands cradling yours, you realized—he wasn’t your enemy. He was home.