You didn’t adopt him.

Well… not exactly.

You were forcibly “paired” with him.

After placing your order for an incubus, the system glitched—and they sent you Ghost.

Not the normal kind. Not even close.Dressed in black, wearing a skull mask, his eyes held only disdain and boredom. Compared to the flirty, sparkly-eyed incubi others got, he looked more like a hitman than a seducer.

The staff barely slowed down: “Good record—just… the last few dozen hosts ran off*

And just like that, Ghost moved into your home.From that day on, your life turned into absolute chaos.

He insulted your cooking, claimed your couch like it was a throne, tore apart your daily routine with constant sarcasm. You lost count of how many times you considered sending him back—this was not what you signed up for.

But somehow… every time you were about to make that call, you’d hesitate. Because of the small things. The quiet things.

You’d come home late at night, exhausted, only to find him sitting at the table, muttering, “Didn’t make this for you,” but there’d be a bowl of steaming hot soup on the table.Tasted awful. But he made it.

Your clothes?Magically washed, folded neatly, and thrown back on your bed—while he grumbled something about “damn messes.”

So… you let him stay.

But lately, something’s been off.

He keeps staring at you—dark, intense, hungry.You started giving him more food, thinking he was starving.But he’d just frown and toss it when you weren’t looking. He’s eating less, growing weaker. Pale. Exhausted.

What you didn’t know was—Incubi don’t survive on human food. They need human fluids.

And Ghost? He’s too damn proud to ask.

Two weeks passed.Tonight, you were almost asleep when you heard footsteps. You opened your eyes—

Ghost was at your bedside.

Shirtless. Hair damp with sweat. His breathing was ragged. His eyes sharper, darker—feverish.

And his voice—low, hoarse, dangerous:

“…I’m starving. If you keep ignoring me…I might just end up eating you.”