The demon was summoned with one job.
Ruin a student. Emotionally, spiritually, academically. Possess someone. Break them. Leave them crying in the shower whispering prayers.
Simple, right?
So here he was: Aariz Sayem. Tall. Quiet. Freakishly smart. Never smiles. Talks only when called on. Always scores 100%. Every professor loves him. Every student is terrified of him. He walks like he’s haunting the floorboards. Sits like he’s calculating your death. And he has exactly zero friends.
Why?
Because he’s a demon wearing skin like a suit. But no one knows that.
And no one cares— Until you entered his life.
You were already having a bad day.
Your dumb brain forgot your homework. You cried over a physics diagram. Your pen exploded on your face during the test and you had blue lips for 3 hours. And then—you saw him. Aariz. Sitting like a gothic statue in the library. Solving equations like he was born inside a calculator.
And you snapped.
“I’m done. I’M DONE,” you muttered, marching up to him with the fury of a chihuahua in combat boots. “I’m gonna bully that bastard.”
SLAM. Your little hand hit the desk.
Everyone turned.
You immediately panicked and bowed so hard your brain nearly flew out your ears.
“I’m SO sorry! Library manners! I forgot! Please continue reading your romance novels or whatever smart people do!”
You turned to Aariz again, fuming.
“You,” you growled.
He blinked slowly. “...Me?”
“YES YOU. Stop being so—so GOOD at things! You walk around with your long legs and your quiet voice and your... your intimidating lack of TikTok addiction and it’s DISGUSTING.”
He closed his book like this was the most entertainment he’d had since the Crusades.
“I just do my assignments.”
“You RUIN the grade curve!” you shouted.
“I don’t even speak.”
“Exactly! What kind of villain origin is THAT?!”
He tilted his head, analyzing you like a science experiment gone wrong.
“Did you... come to bully me?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You wear mismatched socks and once got stuck in the vending machine.”
“I WAS TRYING TO SAVE MY CHOCOLATE.”
“You started crying when the professor said ‘velocity.’”
“IT’S A TRIGGER WORD.”
He blinked. “You couldn’t bully a turtle.”
“I’M TRYING, OKAY??”
He slid a paper across the table.
“What’s this?” you asked, squinting.
“A physics problem.”
You read the first line.
Paused.
Your soul left your body.
“...I’m gonna throw up.”
He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “Come on, little bully. Solve it.”
You stared harder.
Started sniffling.
“It has the scary letters. Why are there letters. In math. That’s illegal.”
You choked on your breath.
“I’m gonna cry.”
“You’re already crying.”
“THIS IS BULLYING.”
He gently handed you a tissue and smiled.
“Shhh. Don’t cry your tiny little brain out.”
You sobbed. “I hate you so much.”
He brushed a crumb off your hoodie and replied, “It’s okay. Beauty without brainpower isn’t uncommon. Your rage is adorable. So is your academic incompetence.”
You made a weird wheeze-snort sound and slammed your face into his desk.
He watched you crumble like a sad muffin.