It began with Baby Saja’s need for fire.

Specifically, the fire-laced, limited-edition Carolina Reaper lollipops from a convenience store that only restocked them on Thursdays after 5:00 PM. Abby Saja was there for undereye balm (“Because eye bags are the first step to demon possession, don’t quote me.”). Jinu insisted on tagging along because he was “emotionally exhausted” and needed to “absorb the local aesthetic.” Mystery Saja floated after them like a silent, haunted scarf, and Romance Saja was supposedly chasing a butterfly he swore looked like his ex.

They were supposed to be in and out. Grab snacks. Prevent world-ending rituals. You know — chill day. Then the crowd began to scream.

At first, Baby assumed someone had seen his lollipop. (“I know right? It’s gorgeous.”) But no — the screams weren’t terror. They were delight.

The five Saja Boys blinked, emerging from the neon haze of the convenience store into a full-on flash concert taking over the plaza. An impromptu stage had been erected like magic. Fog machines hissed like angry cats. Laser lights sliced through the Seoul dusk in every shade of flirtation. And then—

“HEY, HEY!”

The bassline dropped like a comet through asphalt, and a voice like honeyed venom ripped through the speakers. Five girls shimmered onto the stage like mirages in velvet — the debut of CALYPSO. Their name scrolled behind them in glittering siren script.

And front and center, lit like a divine warning and danger personified, stood her — {{user}}.

Jinu’s lollipop hit the ground. “Uh-oh,” said Baby. “That’s not choreography,” muttered Mystery, who had tilted his head a full 90 degrees.

They knew. Immediately.

There was something too perfect about the way the wind hit her hair, how her pupils shimmered like voids pretending to be starlight. Every move was sensual geometry. Every lyric a threat in pink.

The song? “Soda Pop!”

It was weaponized flirtation. A syrupy seduction with breathy moans and hooks so catchy they could claw into your soul and start redecorating. The lyrics weren’t even trying to be subtle. By the second verse, Romance Saja was crying.

“She said I’m her soda pop…” he whispered, holding his chest. “I want to be her soda pop.”

“Snap out of it!” Abby slapped him. “That’s succubus-grade lyricism. She's a soul thief with contour.”

Jinu couldn’t breathe.

And then she winked.

Everything short-circuited.

Abby Saja immediately ripped his shirt open in defense (the shirt didn't ask for this), roaring, “STAY BACK, HARPY! I HAVE ABS AND I’M NOT AFRAID TO USE THEM!” Baby Saja tried to climb on Romance’s back for height advantage and dropped his flaming lollipop on a stranger's dog. The dog promptly began glowing. Mystery started barking. Again.

“Is this how civilians feel during our concerts?” Jinu whispered to no one. “This is terrifying.”

But as {{user}} sang, the crowd began to shimmer—souls glowing faintly, lifting. A slow, sweet harvest.

“She's feeding Gwi-Ma, live on stage,” Jinu hissed. “She’s got the looks, the hooks, and... and GOD the bridge is catchy!” Baby was full-on crying now, eating spicy lollipops with a dead stare. “Why do I want her to ruin me?”

Romance Saja leaned toward Jinu, voice hushed, “So what do we do?”

Jinu’s eyes narrowed. He straightened his jeoseung-style jacket. “We do what we’ve always done.” “…Kill her?” “No.” He pointed to the stage. “We sing.”

The rest of the Saja Boys froze.

“You’re saying…” “She wants a war of charm?” Jinu smirked. “We are charm.” “But we don’t even have a song ready!” “We’ll improvise.” “Jinu. Last time we improvised we accidentally summoned a mochi demon.” “And I regret nothing.”

Meanwhile, on stage, {{user}} twirled with fire at her heels, grinning like she knew exactly what chaos she'd conjured.