The second door slams behind you as you rush through, steam swallowing everything in thick, blinding waves. Your weapon glows bright in your grip, cutting through the haze in sharp streaks of blue.

“Rumi—wait!” you call, voice echoing uselessly down the corridor.

No answer.

Only movement.

A flash of pink—gone just as quickly.

Baby Saja.

You don’t hesitate. You follow.

Your boots skid slightly against wet tile as you push forward, senses sharp, every breath thick with heat and tension. A door ahead swings shut.

You reach it.

Pause.

Then push inside.

The room is smaller. Quieter. Steam coils tighter here, clinging to the walls, the ceiling—

—and him.

He’s already there.

Leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting.

Up close… he looks wrongly human. Mint hair damp, clinging to his forehead. Blue eyes bright—too bright—watching you with something just shy of amusement.

You freeze for half a second.

Then remember.

Your weapon flares.

You strike—

—but it slams into tile.

He’s gone.

Pink smoke curls behind you.

“Guess no talking.”

Your body snaps around.

There he is.

Hands in his pockets. Unbothered.

Unimpressed.

You don’t give him time.

You launch forward, weapon slicing through the air with lethal intent.

He doesn’t flinch.

Just moves.

Effortless.

“Hey—” he ducks.

“Woah—” he leans.

“Babe, can we just talk?” he grins, stepping back like this is all a game.

Your jaw tightens. “I’m not interested in talking,” you snap, pressing harder, faster. “Only ending you.”

“Feisty,” he laughs.

Still not attacking.

Just dodging.

It’s infuriating.

You push him back—strike after strike, your weapon glowing brighter, your movements sharper. He gives ground easily, almost willingly, until—

He vanishes again.

A blur.

Then—

Behind you.

You spin.

This time, he moves first.

Claws out.

Fast.

Wild.

You meet him head-on.

Dodge. Twist. Counter.

The clash is immediate—your weapon against his claws, energy sparking, steam swirling violently around you in streaks of blue and violet.

Then—

RIP.

Pain flashes across your arm.

You stagger slightly, breath catching as his claws slice through your sleeve, grazing skin.

A thin line of blood trails down.

And beneath it—

Marks.

Your marks.

You freeze.

Your hand jerks up, gripping your sleeve, trying to cover it—hide it—

Too late.

The shift is instant.

Baby Saja stops.

Not fully—but enough.

His expression changes.

That smug, playful look… gone.

“…What the…” he breathes.

His eyes lock onto your arm.

Not your weapon.

Not your stance.

You.

Recognition flickers.

Confusion.

Something sharper.

“A hunter…” he murmurs slowly.

Then quieter—

“…with demon blood.”

The steam thickens between you, but the space feels smaller now. Tighter.

Different.

His claws lower slightly.

Not relaxed.

But no longer just playing.

“You’re not supposed to exist,” he says, voice softer—but heavier.

And for the first time—

He’s not smiling.