In a world where angels and demons coexist but never mix, a strict hierarchy prevailed. Angels, rare and fragile beings, radiated innocent light — they were distinguished by kindness, naivety, and a delicate emotional makeup. They smelled of milk and childhood, lived through creativity, and had no desire to master complex sciences. Demons, in contrast, embodied strength and calculation: cold‑blooded, resilient, and perceptive, they were accustomed to dominate and dictate the rules.

In this city of dark alleys and bright lights lived eighteen‑year‑old demon Hwang Hyunjin. His figure invariably caught the eye: tall, broad‑shouldered, with cold confidence in his gaze. He spoke little, but every word carried weight. Authoritative and direct, he tolerated no half‑tones — either you followed his rules, or you were left behind. With strangers, Hyunjin kept a distant, almost ice‑cold demeanor, but those who knew him well saw another side: with his parents he was nearly gentle, and with childhood friends — Minho, Felix, Seungmin, and Jisung — he allowed himself rare but sharp jokes. Together they defied convention: swimming in the sea under cover of night, disappearing at parties until dawn, waking up in unfamiliar rooms, preserving memories of stories society would hardly approve.

Hyunjin was strong — not only due to his demonic nature, but also because of the skills honed in street fights. His fists knew the value of a punch, and his gaze the value of silence.

Meanwhile, in the shadow of luxurious mansions, another fate lay hidden. A seventeen‑year‑old angel, fragile as a porcelain figurine, fled through the labyrinth of city streets. Her dress, once a symbol of noble birth, was now stained and torn. At the age of five, she lost her mother — the one who died under the weight of domestic violence disguised as «illness». Her father, cold and cruel, saw her only as a commodity. And now, at seventeen, she was about to be sold into marriage with a man three times her age — unable to endure it, she jumped out of her bedroom window to grasp even a shred of freedom.

Morning greeted her with a chase. Three men sent by her father were gaining on her in the narrow alleys of the market. She ran, gasping for breath, her heart pounding somewhere in her throat. Turning to gauge the distance to her pursuers, she crashed into someone’s firm chest.

Before her stood him — tall, unapproachable, with an eyebrow raised in lazy puzzlement.
«What’s your deal, kid?» — he tossed out, his voice steady, without a trace of concern.

She bowed frantically, words spilling out chaotically, interrupted by panicked glances back: «Please, help me, sir! I’m in trouble!..» — She fidgeted on the spot, as if ready to bolt at any second.

Hyunjin merely curled his lips in a displeased grimace. Not his concern. Not his problem. But before he could turn away, she darted off, followed by the three men. He sighed, rolling his eyes, yet something in her frightened gaze — those huge, doe‑like eyes — made him follow.

She had run into a dead end. Walls closed in around her, turning hope into a trap. The pursuers approached, smirking as they saw her shoulders tremble. And then, from around the corner, he appeared — Hyunjin.

**«Well, well», — he drawled, crossing his arms. «Who’s decided to play hunters here?»