業火 | 𝐀𝐤𝐞𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐧

Nobody knew exactly who—or what—these women were. Were they humans? Demons? Something else entirely? One thing was clear: they had just turned the entire music industry upside down.

And they weren't just popular. They were a phenomenon.

"Wait, wait, wait. They have six Lamborghinis?" Zoey groaned dramatically, flopped upside down on the living room couch, her head dangling over the edge as she rewatched K/DA's "POP/STARS" music video for the fifth time. Her voice was laced with disbelief and mild existential dread.

"No," Mira corrected, seated calmly beside her with arms crossed. She gestured at the screen just as the purple Lamborghini purred onto the scene, driven by none other than the sultry diva herself. "That makes seven. Evelynn just pulled up like she owns the world."

Before Zoey could scream into the cushions, Rumi entered the room, eyes glued to her phone. She stopped dead behind the couch, her expression darkening as her thumb hovered above the screen. She stared down at the streaming numbers in horror, then scoffed—half in disbelief, half in utter despair.

"Three hundred million streams. On their debut song." Her phone dropped to her side as she let the number sink in. "Who even does that?"

Zoey sat upright and paused the video. "You're kidding."

"She's not," Mira added grimly, turning toward Rumi. "And get this—it hasn't even been twenty-four hours."

Rumi let out a frustrated groan, pacing behind the couch. "Amazing. They drop from who knows where, probably with glitter bombs and magical backup dancers, and now they're a global sensation overnight?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, arms crossed, scowling at the paused screen of her phone. The image of Ahri—caught mid-hair flip, glowing under stage lights like some celestial being—mocked her with its effortless perfection. Her golden eyes sparkled, lips curled in a knowing smirk, as if she knew she'd just stolen the world's spotlight.

"Wow," Rumi muttered, her voice flat with disbelief. "Lucky us."

Zoey let out a weak laugh from where she was curled into the couch like she wanted to disappear into it. "I mean... I'm sure they'll just be a one-hit wonder?" Her gaze darted nervously from Mira to Rumi. "Right?"

Rumi turned slowly, tucking back the loose baby hairs that had escaped her braid in frustration. Her brow furrowed, but she tried to play it cool. "Probably..." she said, though even she didn't sound convinced.

Mira, sitting beside Zoey with her arms folded tightly, leaned forward slightly. "Give it a few days. The algorithm moves fast," she said with cool detachment. "They'll stop trending soon enough."

But even as the words left her mouth, the tension in the room said otherwise.

And oh, were they wrong.

Backstage at the Mnet Asian Music Awards was a tense battlefield of glitter, nerves, and forced calm. The Saja boys stood near Huntrix, every member trying to keep their cool as the countdown to the Best Pop Song nomination announcement ticked closer.

But one group was conspicuously absent from the backstage holding area.

K/DA

"They're stiff," Abby murmured, glancing sideways at Huntrix as he bumped shoulders with Jinu. His voice was low, but his eyes were sharp behind his stylized lenses. "Like, posture-perfect stiff."

Jinu followed his gaze. Huntrix stood like statues—beautiful, branded statues—each member in full stage armor, makeup immaculate, expressions unreadable.

"Tch." Baby didn't even look up from his iPad, the tap-tap of his fingers playing some rhythm game echoing faintly. "Wouldn't you be tense? Media's gonna spin whatever happens tonight into gospel."

"The narrative," Romance said with a crooked grin, flicking his thumb against a loose chain on his jacket. "You mean who the public sacrifices, and who becomes a legend for five minutes."

Jinu didn't answer.

He wasn't looking at Huntrix anymore.

His gaze had shifted—past the stylists rushing by, past the LED screens counting down to showtime, past the tension curling off every idol like mist.

He was looking at them.

The hallway buzzed with a subtle energy as four figures emerged, flanked by shadowy coordinators and lit by nothing more than their own magnetism.

K/DA had arrived.

Ahri led the way—every step calculated, every flick of her hair designed to kill softly. Behind her, Evelynn trailed like a jaguar ready to strike, her half-lidded gaze sweeping the room with feline disinterest. Kai'Sa moved with smooth athletic precision, nodding politely to a passing manager. And Akali—hood down, chewing gum, eyes sharp—was already sizing up the competition like she'd just walked into a battlefield instead of a music award show.

Jinu's brows lifted slightly.

"Oh," Abby whispered. "The new sensation have arrived, and they're not tense"

"No," Jinu murmured, almost to himself. "They're hungry."

And just like that, the atmosphere backstage changed.

K/DA came to a halt beside the Saja boys, their heels clicking against the pavement, sleek silhouettes bathed in the neon flicker of backstage lights. Behind the Huntrix girls, the tension shifted almost instantly. Ahri cast a quick glance toward the Saja unit, her gaze cool but respectful, offering them a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

Jinu, ever the perceptive leader, arched a brow and let out a low whistle, motioning for his group to take a cautious step back. The air shifted, thick with competitive energy.

Huntrix turned at the sound—Rumi at the front, Mira and Zoey flanking her like battle-scarred sentinels. As their eyes landed on the newcomers, time seemed to slow.

Ahri stepped forward slightly, voice smooth as silk. "So you're Huntrix," she said, her tone not quite condescending, but not reverent either. "It's finally nice to meet the name."

Her eyes locked with Rumi's, and for a moment, it was like a mirror—two leaders forged by different fires, sizing each other up with quiet intensity.

Akali, leaning lazily to one side, blew a sharp pop of her gum and looked Zoey over with an unbothered smirk. "You're the one who swings that flaming chain, right? Saw a clip. Not bad."

Zoey's eye twitched. "Want a demo?"

Evelynn's lip curled slightly as she regarded Mira from head to toe, violet gaze calculating. "You look like someone who's tasted blood before. I like that."

Rumi barely swallowed the sudden chill in her chest. K/DA looked sharp—too sharp. Their confidence wasn't loud, but it pressed down like a weight. If you asked a random person on the street, someone who didn't know the scene, they'd probably point at K/DA and say they're the veterans.

The irony stung. In reality, Huntrix had been in the game for years—fighting demons, surviving scandals, holding the line between two worlds. K/DA? They had debuted less than a week ago. But standing here, they looked like they owned the night.

Rumi could feel the doubt trying to creep in—until she shoved it down.

"K/DA," she said, steadying her voice, "We've heard of you too."

Ahri's expression twitched—barely. But to a trained eye like Rumi's, it was enough. A flicker of irritation? Challenge? Confidence?

"Have you?" Ahri said coolly, her voice velvet-smooth but edged like a blade. Her eyes gleamed beneath the stage lights. "We're just getting started."

Rumi met her gaze without flinching. The corner of her mouth curled into a small, defiant smirk. "So are we," she replied, her tone steady as her eyes hardened. "Again."

The tension crackled in the air between them like static—rivals in different realms, but equals on this battlefield.

"And now," the announcer's voice boomed through the arena, "give it up for the global phenomenon, the queens of virtual pop! With over five hundred million streams on their debut single—POP/STARS—it's K/DA!"

Cheers erupted like a tidal wave. Spotlights swirled as Ahri strode past Rumi without a backward glance, her heels clicking against the stage like a countdown. Evelynn followed, sparing Mira a sly, lingering glance over her shoulder. Her lips curled into a dark chuckle, as if savoring the tension like a fine wine.

Kai'Sa trailed behind them with practiced grace, her body relaxed, movements fluid, as if nothing could touch her. Nonchalance wrapped around her like armor.

Then came Akali— swagger casual. She raised one hand and began bobbing her head to the beat already rolling in from the speakers. The bass dropped. The crowd roared. Before taking her place, she turned and gave Zoey a cocky grin.

"Try to keep up," she said, winking.

Her eyes met his, unbothered. He swallowed the rest of his question and slowly pushed himself up to his feet, favoring one side.

"You..." he began, voice soft and tentative, "are you okay?"

She paused, then gave a short nod. "Yeah."

An awkward silence settled between them, heavy as the still air after a storm. He didn't know what to say—he never did, especially not to women like her. Strong. Unapologetic. Fire in her tone.

"I was handling it," she said at last, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Jinu tilted his head. "You were being harassed. I wasn't going to stand there and let them treat you like that."

"And now look at you." She crossed her arms. "You got yourself beaten half to death."

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, his gaze flickered to her hair—a small leaf had gotten caught in the strands during the scuffle. Without thinking, his fingers reached up to brush it away.

Smack!

He yelped, recoiling as she swatted his hand away. Her nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes trailing over him like she was assessing some broken artifact.

"Tch." She shook her head, almost disapprovingly, before stepping past him.

Jinu's eyes followed her for a moment, but they soon drifted down to the shattered bipa at his feet. His knees buckled slowly to the ground. His fingers trembled as they grazed the broken wood, splinters biting his skin.

It was ruined.

The bipa—his only possession, his only way to earn a few coins on street corners, to buy rice, to feed his mother and sister—was now just another casualty in this cruel world.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Behind him, her footsteps slowed. She stopped, back still turned to him, but he felt her eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked, voice quieter this time. Not cold. Not mocking. Just curious.

Jinu looked up, startled by the softness.

"Jinu," he answered.

She hummed—low, unreadable—and turned to face him fully. Her expression had shifted. No longer irritated, but... something else. Wariness, maybe. Or understanding.

"Y/N," she replied simply.

His breath caught. He hadn't even realized until now how much he'd wanted to know her name.

Y/N.

a/n: a little sneak peek to you all

For centuries, demons have stalked the shadows of our world—stealing souls to strengthen the one who rules them all.

Gwi Ma. The Demon King.

Back then, humanity stood no chance. The strongest warriors had no weapon that could pierce demon hide. Villagers locked their doors, huddled in corners, whispering desperate prayers to their forgotten gods, hoping the darkness would pass over their homes.

On the outskirts of one such village, a woman—weathered with age but not broken—stood trembling before a beast. She clutched a crude rake, hands shaking, shielding the small child behind her. Her daughter's tiny fingers clung to her skirt, tears silently trailing down her cheeks.

The demon snarled, crouching low, ready to pounce.

But before it could strike—

Swish.

A blur of light sliced through the air, followed by the demon's shriek. Its body split in two before dissolving into ash, carried away by the wind.

Where it once stood, a woman appeared.

Silks of pale blue and soft pink flowed around her like smoke. Her armor shimmered in the moonlight, and a sword—still humming with power—was clenched tightly in her hand. She was not just a warrior.

She was a protector.

The child's eyes widened. A gasp escaped her lips, then bloomed into a smile.

"Unnie..."

The warrior knelt beside her, placing a warm, gloved hand atop the child's head before turning to the mother.

"It's not safe here, eomeonim," she said gently, but firmly.

Then she turned back to the child, brushing her hair away from her face. Her eyes, sharp yet soft, searched the girl's face before she cupped her cheek.

"I'll protect you. No matter what," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "That is my promise... to your brother."

A tender kiss to the child's forehead sealed the vow. She rose, her silhouette framed by smoke and ash.

"Get inside. Lock your doors. Do not open them until the village is safe."

The mother nodded, holding back tears, and hurried her daughter into the small home. The door closed with a soft thud behind them.

Alone once more, the warrior turned. Her gaze swept across the burning village, locking onto the wave of demons descending from the hills.

She gripped her sword tighter. Her eyes narrowed.

And then, without hesitation— She ran toward the chaos.

a/n: HELLO I am happy to announce that I was blessed by a magnificent idea when I was listening to Dimple by BTS AND honestly we need MORE jinu fanfics yall so I'm giving you a full course meal with this one. Buckle up buttercup this one will be a SERIES. I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this will take BUT I'll really try to make the chapters longer. Actually, this is a pretty nice prologue a little short, but ill try to make the first chapter longer, but also not adding too much information. Do drop theories and notes, I love reading them. <3

It was never supposed to happen.

You weren't supposed to feel this. To hesitate.

But fate — cruel, laughing fate — had always toyed with you, over and over again. And here you were, caught in its trap once more.

Your scythe had cut down hundreds of their kind. Demons had crumbled into dust at your feet, your blade unflinching, your heart colder each time.

But now?

Now you couldn't kill even one.

Why him?

You didn't belong in the spotlight. You hated it — the blinding lights, the staged smiles, the never-ending swarm of paparazzi. The fake interviews, the forced poses, the soul-sucking brand deals. You hated being told to be perfect.

So you stayed in the shadows, right where you belonged.

You let Huntrix shine in the public eye: Mira, Rumi, and Zoe — the idols, the faces, the voices. They danced in the light, while you hid behind soundproof glass.

You were their producer — the faceless fourth. The one who stayed up late tuning tracks, patching lyrics when writer's block hit, and crafting every beat that sealed away the honmoon. You wove magic into the melody, just like the ones before you.

Because this was tradition. Always three on the stage. Always one in the dark.

You were older than them — not by much, but enough to feel responsible. You were their unnie, their protector. You had more battle scars, more stories, more secrets. That's why they never worried when you went on solo missions.

And that was your greatest weapon: anonymity.

The demons thought there were only three.

There had always only been three — as far as they knew.

But behind every generation of Hunters, there was someone else. Someone offstage. Someone who wrote the songs, not to climb the charts, but to trap the shadows lurking in the echoes.

You didn't need powerful vocals.

You had powerful visions.

And now... your power betrayed you.

Your mind spiraled. A million thoughts screamed inside your skull.

Should I let my heart keep listening? Up 'til now I've walked the line—nothing lost, but something missing...

You had everything, didn't you?

A found family that never let go. Best friends who would die for you. Your parents—alive and well. A career that others only dreamed of.

So why... why did your chest ache like something had been carved out of it?

And then—you saw him.

That's when it clicked.

What you were missing wasn't something. It was someone. It was love.

The kind that doesn't knock politely—it breaks the door down and stands in your ruined threshold.

You cursed yourself, quietly, for saying yes to Bobby.

"Come on," he had begged, "You've got the lightest schedule. Just help us set up the fan sign?"

And because you were you—softhearted, capable, and impossibly easy to guilt-trip—you agreed.

Even went the extra mile.

You planned the whole event. Stayed up finalizing logistics. Then told the rest of the staff to clock out early and go home to their families.

Now here you were. Alone in the quiet morning, taping up last-minute signage outside the venue.

You were halfway through unfurling a tarp when you spotted them—four bundled shapes huddled in sleeping bags along the curb.

"...Idiots," you muttered, frowning. Fans like these were rare and reckless. Sleeping outside just to be first in line for autographs?

You shook your head and kept working—until one of them stirred. One pulled back his hood and stood, dusting off the creases from his shirt.

That's when you saw him.

Eyes still puffy from sleep. Hair a soft, tousled black. That calm, unreadable face framed by the dawn's early light.

Back then, you had no idea who he was.

You'd been off the grid for days. Locked in the studio producing songs for idols you barely knew. Huntrix had been hunting without you. You hadn't checked socials in a week.

So when he stepped forward and said—

"Uh... can I use the bathroom?"

—you didn't even blink. Just sighed, rolled your eyes, and jerked your head toward the venue.

"This way."

No thanks. No recognition. He simply nodded and followed.

You didn't think much of it. You were too busy—back to climbing a wobbly stool to hang the tarpaulin behind were the girls will be sitting .

Balancing on tiptoe, gripping the thin banner with cold fingers.

Until a quiet voice called behind you:

"You know, that thing's totally uneven."

You didn't have to look to know it was him.

"And you're going to fall if you keep shifting like that."

You gritted your teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said flatly. "At least let me help."

You finally glanced down—and your heart skipped. He was already walking toward you. Calm. Composed. His face unreadable, but his hand was outstretched, palm open like he already knew you'd take it.

You didn't.

And in that split-second—of course—you slipped.

"Shit—" you hissed as your balance gave out and gravity claimed you. The ground rushed up too fast. You braced, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for the sharp slam of wood against your back—

But it never came.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist, halting your fall mid-air like it was nothing.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you cracked one eye open—then the other.

There he was.

Smug. Too close. Too confident.

That crooked smirk on his lips practically screamed "told you so."

His dark eyes flicked over your face, glittering with something unreadable—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. The hold on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you in his grip.

He was close. Too close.

You could feel his breath against your mouth. Hear the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart. And yours—yours was stammering like it didn't know what to do with itself.

He tilted his head a little. "You always this stubborn?"

You swallowed hard. "You always this annoying?"

His smirk widened—but his eyes softened, just barely. "Only when I'm right."

Later that afternoon, the event hall buzzed with energy—fans lined up, banners waving, cameras flashing. But your focus narrowed sharply when your eyes caught a familiar face.

Him.

He was back, but not alone this time. He stood upfront at the signing table with a few others you recognized from earlier—those same guys who'd been in the sleeping bags back at the entrance. And now they were freshen up, styled, and posing as if they belonged.

The Saja Boys.

You stood stiffly near a concrete pillar, arms crossed, trying to keep your face neutral. Rumi, Mira, and Zoe exchanged less-than-thrilled glances. No one had told you this was going to be a joint fan sign. The Huntrix event you had personally organized—put your own hours into, from venue to logistics—was now sharing space with a brand new K-pop boy group?

Your eye twitched.

You caught sight of him again, seated right next to Rumi. They were speaking quietly, heads close. Something about the way he leaned in, relaxed but confident, made your skin prickle.

"Do they know each other?" you murmured to no one in particular.

You flagged down one of the event staff, your voice firm. "Who approved the seating chart? Who is that?"

She gave you a sheepish smile, clearly overwhelmed. "Oh—uh, that's Jinu. He's the leader of the Saja Boys.

Your stomach dropped.

Leader? Of course he is.

As if on cue, Jinu glanced up from the table and locked eyes with you across the venue. Recognition flickered instantly in his gaze—and then he smiled.

That same maddening, devastatingly charming smile from earlier. The one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn't bother looking back.

The moment you stepped off and slipped behind the black curtains marking the backstage area, it was like you could finally breathe again. The air felt less heavy away from the flashing cameras, squealing fans, and—most of all—him. You paced for a second, then stopped by a corner to scroll through your phone, pretending to be invested in it. Anything to not think about the way your stomach twisted when he was near.

The distant noise of the crowd faded just enough for you to hear footsteps. Lazy, heavy, tired ones. You looked up.

It was Jinu—of course it was. He stood a few feet away, sharp eyes unreadable beneath dyed bangs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, the rest of the Saja boys passed by in a blur of exhaustion—Abby tossing his bouquet dramatically into a trash bin, Mystery yawning, Baby leaning heavily on Romance's shoulder as they all disappeared toward the van.

But Jinu? He was the only one who didn't just throw the bouquet in. He placed it gently—deliberately—on top of the pile. A folded piece of paper stayed clutched in his other hand, something he didn't discard. A letter from a fan, maybe. Or something else.

You glanced back down at your phone. He didn't leave.

"So what are you to them?" he asked, voice smooth, slightly amused. "Their manager? Event organizer?"

You looked up again. He was staring at you, head slightly tilted, brows raised in quiet challenge. The others were gone now—just the two of you. You squared your stance.

"I'm their producer," you replied flatly, folding your arms. Cool. Professional.

Jinu's lips tugged into a half-smirk as he slowly folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And you planned the fan event too? Damn. All in one, huh?"

He took a few slow steps in your direction, casual but not aimless. Calculated.

"I'm a perfectionist," you said simply, holding his gaze.

"Mm. Figures," he said, voice lower now as he closed the distance just a little more, eyes scanning your face. "You've got that look. Like nothing ever passed by you."

There was something in the way he said it—less teasing, more observant. He didn't mean just the event.

You looked away first.

You always did.

And ever since that day, your lives kept tangling—deliberate or not. Jinu always seemed to be just a few steps behind you. Or ahead of you. Or waiting.

There was something about the way he smiled—just a little too slow, a little too soft. The way his eyes held yours longer than they should've, almost as if memorizing the shape of your face each time. And then there was the way his gaze would flick down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, like a secret only he knew.

It wasn't just glances. It was tension. Thick and charged, like static before a storm.

The day he reached out—his hand resting on your waist to move you gently aside in the crowded idol common room—it felt like something clicked into place. The contact lingered. Not enough to raise suspicion, but just enough to make your breath catch.

Then there were the late-night run-ins. The 24-hour convenience store closest to your apartment, where you'd both pretend surprise even though you frequented it around the same hour. That time he "accidentally" found you working late in the studio, hunched over your laptop, trying to produce a new track under deadline.

"I didn't know anyone else was here," he'd said. But his voice didn't match the words. It was too calm. Too knowing.

Neither of you made the first move right away. But one night, you both stopped pretending.

Your lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then hungry. The kiss tasted like everything you'd both been holding back. Like the first breath after drowning.

And somehow, it felt like more than just a kiss. It felt like a beginning. A fragile, burning beginning.

You were falling for him. And he was falling too.

But then you heard it.

A conversation behind closed doors—Huntrix voices lowered in warning, laced with urgency. Jinu's name. A word you weren't meant to hear.

Demon.

Your heart plummeted like it had been cut loose from your chest.

Enemy.

And now, here you stood—frozen in place, suffocating beneath the weight of everything you knew and everything you felt. Love, twisted with betrayal. Warmth, laced with danger.

I can't decide what's wrong, what's right... Which way should I go?

The lyrics echoed in your mind, torn from a memory you couldn't quite silence. A song that once comforted you—now mocking your indecision.

Your scythe's blade hovered dangerously close to Jinu's neck. Your hands trembled, not from fear, but from fury barely contained. Your jaw locked as your blurred vision clung to the shape of him. The boy you used to trust. The demon he became.

Jinu didn't move. Didn't even raise his eyes to meet yours at first.

The wind whispered across the rooftop ledge, catching the hem of his jacket and brushing through your hair like some ghost trying to push you apart. He let out a slow breath, and when he finally looked at you, it wasn't with defiance.

It was guilt. Heavy. Real. Like he'd been carrying it for lifetimes.

"I never wanted you to find out like this," he said quietly, voice low and raw.

Your grip tightened on the scythe's handle. The curved blade shimmered under the moonlight, inches from his skin.

"You lied to me," you hissed, each word heavy like it cost you something to speak them aloud. "All this time. You were one of them."

Jinu lowered his gaze again. "Four hundred years is a long time to regret something."

"Don't you dare make this poetic," you snapped. "You could've told me. You let me care about you—trust you—when you knew what you were."

He didn't defend himself. Just stood there, letting your anger land where it may.

"I'm still me," he finally said, barely louder than the wind. "Even if the past is monstrous... I never stopped being me when I was with you."

Silence stretched. Your blade didn't waver, but your heart did

You didn't know when the tears started to fall—only that they burned on the way down.

All this time, you thought he was your safe place. The quiet in the chaos. But now... now he was the very storm you'd been trying to survive.

Jinu stepped forward—slowly, cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.

"You're right," he said softly. "I should've told you. I should've let you hate me from the beginning. But I didn't want to lose you before I ever had the chance to keep you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, half-choked and broken. "So instead you let me love a lie?"

He flinched.

The scythe dropped from your hands with a metallic thud against the rooftop. You couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't hold anything anymore. Not the rage. Not the love. Not the grief curling inside your ribs like fire.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive you," you whispered.

Jinu looked like he wanted to speak, but the words never came. Maybe there weren't any left that could fix this.

And maybe... that was the point.

You turned away from him, the wind now at your back. The skyline blurred through your tears, the city below indifferent to the war inside your chest.

Behind you, Jinu didn't move. Maybe he knew chasing you would only make it worse.

Maybe he knew he'd already lost.

Your voice broke the silence one last time, barely above a breath:

"If only I knew what my heart was telling me... Don't know what I'm feeling, is this just a dream?"

And then you were gone— leaving Jinu standing alone beneath the stars, with nothing but regret and the sound of your fading footsteps.

And you taste so sweet Leave me wanting more soon as we get out the sheets

It was wrong. So wrong.

A demon hunter falling for a demon?

Unthinkable.

Yet, it happened.

Just like your mother—who once bore the same sin—you did too. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was a curse.

Lights are turned off Music is on Minds are unlocked This feeling is amazing

You remember the first time Jinu saw the marks blooming like fire across your arm. The room had fallen silent, but your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You’d never felt so exposed.

He didn’t speak at first. He just looked at you, eyes soft but heavy with something unspoken. Without a word, he pulled a piece of cloth from his jacket and knelt down, gently wrapping your arm. Hiding the truth. Protecting you from the world, from your friends, from everything that would shatter if they ever knew.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, fingers brushing your skin. “Let me carry it with you.”

That was when the walls between you began to crack. Slowly. Dangerously.

You remembered the tension that buzzed in the space between you both, like lightning before the storm.

How he’d grin when you pouted over shared rehearsals— “You look like a kicked puppy,” he’d tease, flicking your forehead.

How he kissed you there, right between your brows, every time you got a move wrong in the studio— “You’re getting better,” he’d whisper. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

How your pinkies secretly interlocked backstage at Mnet when your group passed by the Saja boys. A forbidden moment buried in stolen glances.

And the kiss—

The first time his lips pressed against yours, desperate and trembling. You’d been wounded from an ambushed demon attack, blood on your side and your breath uneven. He held your face like it would shatter.

“You could’ve died,” he whispered, voice cracking. His tears clung to his lashes, unfallen. You kissed him before they could fall.

You remembered him yanking you into a quiet hallway during a fan sign event—risking everything just to feel your lips against his for a fleeting second. “Just one,” he’d said breathlessly. “Just in case we don’t get another chance.”

Liquor is all that we taste Your freckles lead the way I trace your constellations

Your fingers danced over the piano, notes rippling into the stadium like echoes of the life you once knew. The crowd roared. Your face flashed on every screen.

But your eyes searched for a ghost.

And then came the memory—

Now you're gone in the blink of an eye I try to remember what you look like

You remembered the scream tearing out of you, raw and broken, as Gwi Ma’s attack arced toward you. You remembered how powerless you felt, how small. And then—

Jinu.

He stepped in front of you without hesitation, the clash of impact blinding. Your ears rang. Your vision blurred. You didn’t realize you were crying until your feet ran.

“No!” You ran to him—he was already fading. Already slipping. “No, please... Jinu, please...”

He smiled, even then. His hand cupped your face with the last of his existence. “I’d do it again,” he said. “For you.”

Your hands trembled as you cradled his face, your tears spilling freely.

Orion's Belt in the sky Closest thing to you other than my mind

You traced the constellation on his chest, the one you always joked about.

Now it was all that remained.

He faded like a falling star— Gone before you could stop it. Gone before you could scream loud enough for the heavens to listen.

Now you're gone in the blink of an eye I try to remember what you taste like Replaying in my head The smell of your body still in my bed

You didn’t even realize the tear had slipped until it hit the piano keys — soft, but loud in your own ears — a drop of grief interrupting the silence between notes. It pooled in the tiny crevice between E and F, glimmering beneath the harsh spotlight, and for a moment, you just stared.

Then you looked up.

The stadium was glowing. Thousands of fans held up their phones, flashlights flickering like distant stars. Some swayed gently, others clung to their best friends, families, siblings… and lovers.

Lovers.

That’s what you two were — once.

His hands used to rest gently on your waist like you were something fragile, like you might break if he held too tightly. His breath always tasted like some awful mix of stage liquor and cherry lip balm. His freckles — you could never resist them — always reminded you of scattered stars. You used to trace them lazily, half-awake, half-drunk on him.

And now… all of it was just memory.

Hands on your waist Liquor is all that we taste Your freckles lead the way I trace your constellations…

You closed your eyes, pressing the tears back, though they fell anyway. Slipping past your lashes like everything else that had slipped through your fingers.

Your hands didn’t stop playing. Even when your chest ached, even when your throat tightened and begged you to scream instead — you kept playing.

Because this wasn’t just a song. It was the goodbye you never got to say. The apology you never got to hear. The version of love that died the moment he turned away.

I trace your constellations…

The final note rang out, long and lingering — like a heartbeat fading.

And then the crowd erupted.

Cheers swallowed you whole, but none of it felt real. Not without him beside you. Not without his hand reaching for yours in the dark.

He should’ve been here.

But he wasn’t.

And maybe he never would be again.

〃✦ ┆ You vaulted over the railing of your penthouse bedroom, landing with a soft thud on the floor below. Sliding the glass door open, you walked in with a tired groan and shook your head, muttering under your breath.

“Why the hell did I do that…” you sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Stupid. So stupid.”

Sealing your father’s voice—the ancient, terrifying weight of Gwi Ma’s presence—into Jinu’s head temporarily? That wasn’t just reckless. That was borderline suicidal.

A low, rumbling growl snapped you out of your spiral.

Your gaze shifted toward the bed, where a massive figure had claimed your mattress.

Not a dog.

A wolf.

No—a demon wolf.

It lay there like it owned the place, sprawled across your bed with limbs stretched out in every direction, completely unbothered by your mental crisis. Its fur shimmered faintly under the moonlight slipping through the windows, black with streaks of silver like ink in motion. Its tail gave a lazy flick.

The demon yawned, glancing at you with glowing amber eyes before settling back down.

You raised an eyebrow. “You're real comfortable, huh?”

In response, the wolf purred—a deep, vibrating sound—and rubbed its fur deeper into your mattress. You plopped down at the edge of the bed with a tired grunt. The wolf shifted without protest, curling around and laying its massive head on your lap.

You stared down at it for a long moment. The gentle rise and fall of its breathing didn’t match the chaos in your mind.

Because really, what the hell had you done?

You sealed Gwi Ma’s voice inside Jinu.

Temporarly

Jinu. Of all people.

Why him?

Was it pity? Guilt?

Or was it something uglier—some selfish instinct to push the curse onto someone who could carry it without tearing your world apart?

You couldn’t even explain it to yourself.

And now, it was done.

The seal was in place. Gwi Ma’s voice echoed in Jinu’s mind, long gone for now. And you could only hope he was strong enough to handle it.

You sighed, hand absentmindedly brushing through the wolf’s thick fur.

Even if you tried to avoid it, your paths were bound to cross again. You were both idols, standing on stages under the same spotlights, your names whispered in the same circles.

Destiny had its own sense of humor.

“Maybe the Huntrix will just finish the job,” you muttered dryly. “Save us both the trouble.”

The wolf let out a sleepy snort.

You weren’t even sure if that was agreement—or mockery.

You stood in front of the mirror in your waiting room, hands braced on the vanity as you tried to calm the racing of your heart. The makeup lights made your skin glow, but your eyes—your eyes told a different story. Focused. Fierce. A little scared.

You inhaled deeply through your nose, held it, then exhaled slowly.

Tonight wasn’t just another comeback. This was the comeback.

Your outfit shimmered under the warm lights—custom, sharp, stage-ready. The mic was clipped to your ear, in-ear monitors already tucked in. Everything was set. This was your newest single’s first live performance on Mnet, and the world was watching.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Y/N, you're up in five!” called a staff member through the door.

You swallowed hard and forced a reply. “Y-yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Their footsteps faded. Silence returned. You looked back at your reflection and gave yourself a small nod.

You’ve worked too hard to get here. Too many sleepless nights. Too many sacrifices. This stage is yours. Nothing and no one’s going to take it away.

With that thought, you turned and grabbed the door handle.

But the second you opened it, your body froze.

Your breath hitched.

“What the heck are you doing here?” you blurted, eyes narrowing.

“Jinu…”

He stood leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed over his chest, wearing his idol outfit, but there was no mistaking him. Same intense eyes. Same aura that never really let you breathe when he was close.

“We need to talk,” Jinu said calmly, voice low but serious.

You blinked, shaking your head. “Now? Really? I’m about to go on stage.”

You moved past him quickly, boots echoing against the linoleum floor as you headed for the backstage corridor. But of course, you heard him behind you. His quiet, deliberate footsteps.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, not even glancing back.

“I think there is,” he replied, but his tone wasn’t biting. It was... tired. Hesitant.

You kept walking.

But then you felt it—his hand wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. You stopped in your tracks. You feel the demon patterns on both of your arms starting to form.

“Y/N,” he said, and this time when you looked back, you saw it—whatever he’d been holding in. The regret. The urgency. The softness he only ever showed you behind closed doors.

You didn’t speak.

Not yet.

But you didn’t pull away either.

“I don’t want to work with him anymore,” Jinu said finally. “With Gwi Ma.”

You blinked. 

He looked straight at you.

“You can help. You’re his daughter.”

You stiffened instantly. The hallway felt colder.

“Don’t say that out loud,” you snapped, stepping forward, eyes darting. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t back off.

“You are,” he said. “You don’t work under him. You were never branded. Never bound like the rest of us. You're the only one who can talk to him without a blade at your throat.”

Your mouth opened—but you didn’t know what to say.

The truth was… he wasn’t wrong.

You hated it. You hated that your blood had ties to a name like Gwi Ma’s. You hated that even after cutting every tie, leaving the underworld, his rule, everything behind, people like Jinu still found you. Still needed something from you that only he could give.

But beneath the tension, the unspoken history, and all the things you left unsaid... You and Jinu shared one undeniable truth— Freedom.

You both craved it. From the shadows. From the blood-soaked contracts. From the underworld that shaped you and broke you in the same breath.

You weren’t just performers. You were survivors. Bound by the same cursed fate that ran deeper than fame, deeper than music. You both wanted out.

Jinu’s grip on your wrist loosened slightly, like he didn’t want to force you—like he hoped you’d choose him on your own.

And you did.

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything catching up to you for just a second. 

“…Fine.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Tired. Resigned. But resolute.

You opened your eyes, lifting your gaze to meet his. Jinu’s expression had softened, the usual cool edge in his stare melting into something vulnerable. Something real.

“I’ll help you,” you said quietly.

His hand didn’t let go—but it didn’t tighten either. It just stayed. Solid. Grounding. A silent thank you.

The stage was calling, but now… so was the war you swore you'd never fight again

Your legs dangled over the balcony railing, swaying slightly above a dizzying drop—hundreds of feet from the ground. One wrong movement and it would be over in an instant. But the danger didn’t faze you. Not tonight.

The city glowed beneath you—alive, unaware. Neon signs blinked in rhythm with traffic. A breeze rustled your hair, cool against your skin.

“You’re a terrible sneaker, you know that?” you said casually, not even turning your head.

A low chuckle answered you before a soft thud followed. You glanced sideways to see Jinu, landing on your balcony with the grace of someone who’d done it a thousand times.

“What gave it away?” he asked, brows raised as he pulled back his hood.

You turned your eyes back to the skyline. “I can feel your energy. It always gives you away.”

A dim glow started to pulse along your arm—faint, curling demon marks slowly forming like ink soaking through your skin. You studied them with no urgency, just resignation.

Jinu leaned beside you on the railing, hands in his pockets. He didn’t interrupt the silence.

“My father…” you began, voice low, “is the worst man alive.”

That caught Jinu’s attention. He turned slightly toward you, waiting.

You gave a bitter laugh. “And I’m his favorite daughter. Funny, right? The one he loved most… is the one who betrayed him.”

Jinu didn’t speak, but his silence felt like encouragement. You continued.

“I don’t even know how I survived all these years.” He tilted his head. “Then how did you?” he asked softly.

You finally looked at him, eyes tired but calm. “I fed,” you said bluntly. “On corrupted souls. I hunted them myself, quietly. It was the only way I knew how to live without becoming what he wanted.”

Jinu's expression darkened, but he remained quiet.

“When I was a child,” you continued, “he started sending me here… slipping me through cracks between realms like I was nothing. Just a spy. A pawn.” You exhaled sharply. “He didn’t care how small I was. He just wanted information. Souls. Obedience.”

Your hands clenched the railing. “But every time I crossed over… I felt something. Peace. Even if it was brief.”

You smiled faintly, eyes softening with the memory.

“A young couple found me once. Took me in. They thought I was just a lost child.” You paused, your voice nearly breaking. “They were kind. They raised me. Loved me. And when my father found out—he forced me to take their souls.”

Jinu finally looked at you fully. You didn’t meet his eyes.

“That was the moment I knew,” you whispered, “it was all wrong. Everything. I ran. I hid. I started using my power in secret—helping the Hunters. Sealing the honmoon. Destroying demons that slipped through.”

“…And killing your own kind,” Jinu finished for you, voice steady.

You nodded.

“I killed them because they were hurting innocents. Because they didn’t care who they destroyed. But I’m no hero either… I’ve taken souls too, even after I swore I wouldn’t.”

Your voice cracked as you added, “I know this world isn’t perfect. It’s full of pain and selfishness. But it’s still better than the never-ending torment of the underworld.”

Jinu didn’t speak right away. The wind rustled your hair again. Then he said, barely above a whisper:

"Sounds to me like you saved yourself."

You blinked slowly, letting his words sink in like a knife dulled by time but still sharp enough to hit where it hurts.

Then, quieter, gentler—his voice barely above a breath:

“And maybe… there’s still more worth saving.”

Your gaze met his, locked—daring, vulnerable, charged with something you didn’t want to name.

"You..." you whispered.

In a swift motion, you leapt from the railing, boots landing soundlessly against the cold rooftop tiles. Jinu pushed himself off the opposite side, standing tall as he faced you—chest rising with every slow inhale.

Then, it began.

Your patterns awakened first—slowly crawling up your arms like living ink, pulsing with familiar power, before consuming you entirely. Your eyes burned with a fierce, glowing violet hue. This was the real you. The form you didn’t show just anyone.

Your demon form stood bare before him.

Jinu's breath caught in his throat. His lips parted. He couldn’t look away. Something primal stirred in him as he lowered his gaze—his own markings responding instinctively. They crawled across his skin like heat rising beneath the surface, until his yellow eyes locked with yours—burning to match.

You stepped toward him, silent, slow, dangerous. Your hand rose, fingertips barely grazing his jaw before your palms gently cupped his face—like you’d done the last time you were alone. Back when everything was simpler... or maybe just easier to ignore.

Jinu didn’t move. He stood there, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. You leaned in slightly, almost ready to speak the chant pulsing at the back of your throat.

But his voice stopped you.

“You never noticed me…” he murmured, barely audible—like a secret spilling from a locked place in his chest.

You froze, the words anchoring you in place.

“What?” you breathed.

He smiled faintly. Not out of happiness—out of resignation.

“I kept seeing you with Gwi Ma… I wanted to talk to you, I did. But I always got cold feet.” His laugh was soft, bitter. “Back then, I was barely holding it together. Newly turned, still figuring out how to control the patterns. But you...”

His voice trailed as the memory pulled him back. His gaze softened.

“You stood there, with your head high, commanding the space like you were born for it. Gwi Ma gave you orders, and you didn’t even flinch. You looked untouchable.”

You remembered that moment. The spy meetings. The night before everything shifted.

Jinu’s voice broke the silence again, quiet and aching:

“Ever since that day…” his voice was low, smoky, just above a whisper. “I couldn’t stop watching you.”

Jinu stepped forward—slow, deliberate. The kind of step that didn’t just close distance, it claimed it. His golden eyes flickered under the moonlight like burning embers behind smoke, catching every unsteady breath you took.

“And then you disappeared,” he murmured, now just inches away.

His words ghosted over your lips, and though he hadn't touched you yet, you could taste him in the air—warm, wild, and aching with something unsaid.

“Without a word,” he added, almost accusing. But his tone was soft. Hurt, maybe. Or worse—longing.

You couldn’t answer. Not really. Not with how your chest tightened. Not with how his presence filled the air like a storm.

“Until now.”

Your breath hitched. You hated how much he still affected you. How he always had. Since the first time he saw you—really saw you—backstage during Play Games With Us.

He told himself you just looked like her. Just a random idol with a familiar face. But when your paths crossed… when your shoulders brushed and he felt that undeniable pattern in his soul unlock—he knew.

It was you.

The girl he never had the courage to speak to in the demon world.

The one who haunted him across dimensions.

Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, deafening in your ears. It was too loud. Too fast. And somehow, Jinu heard it anyway.

“I see it now…” he whispered, his hand rising slowly to cup your cheek. His touch was impossibly gentle. No trace of the coldness your kind were known for. Just warmth—steady, real.

“The real you.”

You didn’t dare speak. The moment was too fragile, like it would shatter if you so much as breathed wrong.

Only the tension. The breath you both held. The weight of everything unsaid.

The ghost of hands that had hovered close but never touched.

Lips that once looked but never dared.

Not until now.

When his lips pressed against yours, your eyes widened. It was slow. Searching. Testing a boundary he’d waited years to cross.

You didn’t pull away.

You melted.

Your eyes closed.

Your lips parted—inviting him in without knowing why. Needing him like oxygen.

His hand moved to your hip, firm and possessive, pulling you against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips, and the kiss turned hungry, urgent, electric.

And all you could think was:

Finally.

Your heels hit the floor with each backward step, heartbeat pounding loud enough to drown everything else out—except him.

Jinu followed without hesitation, lips crashing into yours, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you like he’d been starving. His hands were everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer like the space between you two offended him.

Your back hit the cool glass of the sliding door. The contact made you gasp into his mouth, your hand still cupping his cheek while your other reached behind blindly, fingers fumbling until the door slid open. You stepped backward again, drawing him in, and he didn’t even pause—just kicked the door shut behind you.

The room was colder than expected, but neither of you noticed.

Not really.

Jinu broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning against yours as he stared at you—eyes blown wide, dark with something primal.

"You're so beautiful..." he breathed, but it wasn’t just admiration. It was a whimper. A confession. A breaking point.

Then he kissed you again—messier, harder, almost frantic. Desperate hands pulled you forward as he guided you to the edge of the bed, gripping your hips to keep you from falling too fast.

You shivered, but not from the cold.

He laid you down with care that contrasted the hunger in his touch. One hand slipped under your shirt, palm splaying over your stomach, fingers dragging up—slow and teasing—until they reached the curve of your chest. The other hand slid down, rougher now, grabbing your thigh and lifting it up, anchoring you to him.

You wrapped your leg around his waist instinctively, pulling him in, grinding into the pressure.

He groaned low in his throat, redirecting the kiss—his lips trailed from your mouth to your chin, along your jaw, then lower. His mouth attacked your neck—biting, sucking, leaving a trail of heat and bruises and sin. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping his scalp as your hips arched into him.

You turned your head to the side, offering more, wanting more.

And he took it. Eagerly.

His lips found the spot behind your ear and when his tongue flicked against the skin, you nearly lost it. His knees shifted between your thighs and when one of them brushed there—through the fabric, right against your already wet slit—

You moaned.

You tried to stop it. Bit your lip. But it slipped out, raw and breathy and broken.

Jinu froze for just a second—just long enough to hear it, feel it—and when he looked back down at you, eyes dark and wild and locked on yours, it was clear.

He wanted to ruin you.

And God—you were going to let him.

Jinu’s hand slid slowly up your thigh, fingers trailing fire beneath your skin. He brushed against the edge of your shorts, and his smirk deepened the moment he felt it—the telltale dampness soaked through the fabric.

“Mm,” he hummed lowly, eyes locked on yours. “You’re already wet for me.”

The way he said it, voice all gravel and dark delight, made your breath catch. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down where his fingers teased, hovering but never touching where you needed him most. Your lips parted—maybe to protest, maybe to pretend you weren’t so shamelessly worked up already.

But you couldn’t lie. Not to him.

Not when your body betrayed you so easily.

Jinu's eyes gleamed. "No need to hide it, baby."

He gripped the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down in one slow, deliberate motion. You lifted your hips for him, heart pounding, heat pooling low in your belly. He peeled the fabric away, baring you completely, and let it drop to the floor with a quiet thud.

You turned your head, shame rising despite the arousal surging through you.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softer now—dangerous in another way.

His hand left your waist, slipped under your shirt and up to your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. “Didn’t I say all eyes on me?” His thumb brushed over your lips, slow and intimate, like he owned every inch of you already.

You met his gaze.

His smile was pure sin. “That’s my good girl…”

You clenched around nothing, heat flooding you all over again from just those three words.

Jinu dropped to his knees between your thighs like he belonged there. He slid one of your legs over his shoulder, positioning you exactly how he wanted, spreading you open like a gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap.

He looked down at you, then back up—his eyes dark, pupils blown wide, jaw tight with restraint.

“I want you to watch,” he said, voice like velvet and vice. “Don’t look away. Just keep your eyes on me… while I make this pretty pussy forget how to breathe.” 

He didn’t hesitate—not even for a second.

Jinu dropped to his knees like he was born to worship you there, hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he dove in without mercy. His long, eager tongue plunged deep into your soaked cunt, and you nearly lost your balance right then and there.

The obscene sound of him slurping at your core filled the room, his mouth messy with your slick as he groaned into you like a man starved.

“Mmf…, you taste like heaven,” he muttered between licks, his voice thick with hunger.

He didn’t stop—he devoured you. Tongue flicking wildly against your swollen cunt, then sucking on it like it owed him something. Your legs shook as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding his mouth right where you needed him.

“Jinu—ah—don’t stop, fuck—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he kissed every part of your slit like it was sacred. His gaze flicked up, dark and locked on yours, and it only made the heat in your belly coil tighter.

Then—just when you thought you couldn’t take more—you felt it.

A sudden stretch inside. His fingers.

Two of them, sliding into your dripping hole with ease, curling upward with wicked precision as he pumped them in and out, his mouth never once leaving your clit.

The combination made you choke on a gasp.

“Oh my god—”

His growl sent a hot vibration through your core, and your hips bucked instinctively.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasped, breath hot against you, “All for me, huh?”

Your stomach clenched.

That knot—tight and burning—started building fast. Too fast.

He sucked your clit hard, fingers driving deeper, faster, and your body gave in with a cry. The knot snapped.

You came undone on his face with a moan so raw, it echoed around the room. Your body trembled as the waves hit, one after another, and he didn’t let up—didn’t stop—until you were shaking, until your thighs were twitching around his head.

And when you finally looked down at him…

He was smiling.

Lips glistening, tongue darting out to lick up your release, shamelessly savoring it.

Then slowly—deliberately—he slid his fingers out of you and held them up between you both, watching you.

And without breaking eye contact, he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them clean.

“Tastes like fucking addiction,” Jinu growled against your lips, his voice a low, sinful drawl that sent heat straight between your legs.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, then leaned in again—claiming your mouth in a kiss that was messy and hungry. You gasped as you tasted yourself on him, the tang of your arousal still wet on his tongue as he licked deep into your mouth, slow and deliberate. His tongue curled behind your teeth, exploring like he owned every inch of you—and he did. Tonight, he fucking did.

When he finally pulled away, your lips were swollen and your lungs desperate for air. You let your head fall back against the pillow, dragging yourself up the headboard, legs still spread and trembling slightly.

Jinu just smirked at the sight—your wrecked expression, flushed skin, the way your chest rose and fell like you were trying to keep it together.

“You okay?” he asked, low and husky, with just a flicker of concern under all that cocky heat.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah…”

“Good.” His voice dropped another octave as he reached down and peeled his hoodie off in one slow motion, tossing it to the floor without a care. It left him in nothing but those black pants, the fabric hugging his hips in the most unfair way.

Your eyes dropped immediately. Down the hard line of his torso—past the chiseled abs, the demon marks curling over his skin like some kind of dark prophecy etched into his flesh. Down to the sharp cut of his hips, the V-line so defined it made your mouth go dry.

And then there it was—his cock, thick and hard and pressing against the fabric.

He caught you staring, and that smug, lazy smirk spread across his face.

“I knew I’m hot,” he said, already unbuckling his pants with one hand, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room.

“You’ve been looking like you want to fuck me all night, baby.”

And honestly?

You did.

you tossed your own shirt leaving you on your bra and nothing else. once jinu took off his pants he went back kissing your neck sucking on it giving marks, his cock pressed against your bare cunt, one of his hand moved its way on your back

clicked 

His fingers made quick work of your bra, the clasp undone like second nature. He didn’t even hesitate—he just pressed himself closer, his lips catching your gasp as your bra was flung somewhere into the shadows of the dim bedroom.

You felt him roll his hips against you, and your breath hitched. You could feel him—hard, needy, pressed right where you were pulsing for friction. A desperate sound escaped your throat, something between a moan and a plea.

Jinu’s breath was hot against your neck, but his voice? Low, strained, laced with restraint he was barely holding on to.

“Can I?” he asked, forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching—burning with both desire and something softer. Need.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. It was more than consent. It was surrender.

He slid his boxers down, and his cock pressed right against your entrance—hot, heavy, and aching. When he pushed in slowly, the stretch burned in the best way, making your legs tremble.

“A-ah—” you hissed through clenched teeth, your back arching slightly.

Jinu let out a rough groan, fingers flexing around your waist as he buried himself deeper. You could feel how he shook with the effort of holding still, breathing ragged. He reached up, brushing your hair gently from your damp forehead, voice soft—soothing.

“Hey… I got you, yeah? You’re doing so good for me already.”

When he was fully seated inside you, he didn’t move. He waited—only moving when you gave a shaky nod of approval.

Then he started.

At first it was slow. Tender. Every thrust deliberate, like he was savoring every second inside you. You whimpered, your body adjusting around him, pain melting into something slick and molten.

Then his rhythm shifted—slowly, gradually—until his hips snapped into yours with growing force. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, messy and obscene, your moans rising in pitch with every stroke.

He grunted as he braced himself against the headboard, hand digging into the wood for leverage. The pace was rough now—cock, relentless—and then with a sharp snap, the headboard cracked beneath his grip.

But neither of you cared.

Not when you were moaning his name like a prayer, not when his voice dropped to a low growl in your ear:

“Damm—you feel so fucking good. So tight—like you’re made for me.”

He slammed back into you, chasing deeper. “Say it. Say you want it.”

Your voice broke, breathless and wrecked, “I—want it —Jinu, please, don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

He didn’t slow down—not even when the bedframe gave a harsh crack beneath you. His pace only grew rougher, more punishing, as if chasing something deep inside you. Each thrust dragged a broken sound from your throat, and the knot in your belly twisted tighter, sharper.

“Fuck.. you’re so tight,” Jinu hissed between clenched teeth, his voice guttural as he felt you start to clamp down on him. “You’re about to—aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t form anything but a moan that pitched higher with every slam of his hips. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red marks that made him groan—not from pain, but pride.

“Just like that,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. “Fucking take it.”

And you did. You took all of him—deeper, harder—until your body couldn’t take anymore. You shattered around him, crying out his name, spine arching off the mattress as your orgasm crashed into you.

That was all it took.

He cursed under his breath as his rhythm faltered—then stilled—burying himself to the hilt as heat flooded inside you. You felt it, that warm pulse of cum, and the way he trembled slightly above you as he rode the high with you.

Both of you were gasping, the room thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and something heavier. Jinu leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, still inside you.

Neither of you moved. Not yet.

“I can’t hear him anymore,” he murmured against your lips—eyes fluttering shut, voice almost... relieved.

You closed your eyes too, pulling him even closer. His skin was warm against yours, heartbeat steady, chest rising and falling in sync with your own. There were no more walls. No more distance. Just the quiet rhythm of breath and the lingering fire of everything unspoken now laid bare between you.

You stayed like that for a while—bodies tangled, souls unwinding.

Jinu opened his eyes first.

He looked at you—really looked at you. And this time, there was nothing but love swimming in his gaze. Relief. Longing. The kind that had waited too long and held on too tight.

He exhaled softly, brushing a thumb along your jaw.

“…The bed broke,” he murmured, almost like he just realized it.

You blinked slowly, and then let out a breathy laugh. “It’s the demon strength,” you whispered back, voice tired but laced with affection.

He smiled—lazy, genuine, and rare.

“Guess I owe you a new frame.”

You rested your forehead against his. “Guess you do.”

Neither of you moved to get up. The world outside could wait a little longer.

For once… there was no hunt. No stage. No pressure.

Just you, and Jinu, and the quiet in between.

a/n: ITS SO BADDD OMGGG STOPPP it's my first time writing full-on smut yall don't judge :( also idk how to end it so here your food Jinu was a bit ooc during the smexy scene lol

You paced back and forth in your room, fingers tangled in your hair as you struggled to stay grounded. Each step felt frantic, your breath sharp and uneven, heart pounding so violently it felt like it might tear out of your chest.

Your mind screamed for peace, but Jinu's face refused to leave. No matter how hard you shook your head, no matter how tightly you clenched your fists— there he was again.

The softness in his eyes. The way his lips whispered your name like a vow. The unbearable urge to just—kiss him, lose yourself in him.

You stumbled, catching yourself against your desk. "What the hell is wrong with me?" you muttered, voice barely audible.

This was insanity.

For a demon.

An enemy.

Demons were monsters—your whole life had taught you that. Manipulators. Predators who thrived off the souls of the living. That was your mission: hunt them down, destroy them, protect the innocent.

Not... fall for one.

Your fingers trembled as they hovered over your heart, which still beat out of control beneath your ribcage.

"Steady yourself... Y/N," you whispered, trying to control your breathing. In... and out. Calm down. Focus.

But it didn't work.

His face—Jinu's—still lingered behind your eyelids.

And then, like a ripple through time, a memory returned. Not recent. Something ancient. Familiar.

That same face...

His hair pulled into a sangtu, his hanbok dusted with snow. It was winter. You remembered how cold it was—how his fingertips, even colder, gently held your face. You couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

Only stare.

Jinu smiled. A soft, gentle thing.

Then his eyes flicked from your lips, back to your eyes. "I'll always protect you," he had said.

And then he kissed you.

It was warm. It was real. It was terrifying.

KNOCK.

The sound jolted you like a slap. You turned sharply as the door opened. Mira, Zoe, and Rumi stepped in, their faces etched with worry.

"Y/N?" Rumi was the first to speak, gently stepping forward, her voice laced with concern. She rested a hand on your shoulder. "Hey... are you okay?"

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Y-Yeah... I'm fine."

It didn't sound convincing. Not even to yourself.

Zoe's brows furrowed, her voice gentle but firm. "We can postpone the performance, you know. Just a few days—just so you can breathe."

You nodded slowly. "Yeah... maybe just a short break. That's all."

But deep down, you knew that wasn't the reason.

It wasn't the pressure of the performance. It wasn't exhaustion from practice.

It was him. It was Jinu.

And you couldn't even tell your best friends the truth.

Not yet. Not when the truth might just tear your world apart.

For the past few weeks, the memories of Jinu haunted you like a ghost — persistent and unrelenting. Morning and night, even in broad daylight, you'd catch yourself drifting, zoning out. And each time, he was there. Not physically, but in the corners of your mind. A whisper, a flash, a phantom that refused to fade.

He had done something to you. You didn't know what exactly — a mark, a pull, a curse — but it left you feeling off. Different. And you'd give anything just to feel normal again.

Now, here you were.

Leaning against the cool stone railing at the base of a quiet temple, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the golden horizon where the sun dipped behind the mountains of Seoul. The distant city below was beginning to glow, streetlights flickering to life one by one as dusk embraced the skyline.

You had sent a message to Jinu's tiger — a request to meet. He agreed. And yet, surprise surprise, he was late.

You exhaled, long and sharp, pushing yourself off the stone railing. "Asshole..." you muttered under your breath, about to turn and leave—

"Gah—!" you yelped, instinctively jumping forward as a hand suddenly tapped your shoulder.

You spun around, heart racing, only to find Jinu crouched casually on the railing behind you, a familiar smug smile tugging at his lips.

"You're still just as easy to scare," he said, voice low and amused, like he was reliving an old memory only the two of you shared.

Your hand flew to your chest as you tried to calm your breathing. "You scared me!" you snapped, panting slightly.

Jinu only chuckled in that smooth, infuriating way of his before hopping down from the railing with a light thud, brushing dust from his palms. His eyes flicked up the stone steps toward the temple.

"A temple date?" he said with a teasing grin. "You sure know how to set the mood."

"It's not a date," you shot back quickly.

But then Jinu casually pulled out the postcard you'd handed to his tiger — the one that said Save the Date in your handwriting.

You froze. Mentally cursed yourself. Idiot.

Jinu gave you that familiar cocky smirk — the one that always seemed to hold more secrets than words ever could.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to his bait this time. Instead, your expression hardened. You stepped closer, the air tightening between you.

Your voice dropped, quiet but sharp.

"What did you do to me, Jinu?"

The question lingered, thick in the air like incense smoke — slow, suffocating, inescapable.

Jinu's smirk vanished. His shoulders stiffened. "What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to sound casual — but his voice faltered.

You looked down at your hands, watching them tremble just slightly. "I keep seeing things," you whispered. "Memories... of you and me. But they're not real. They never happened."

You closed your eyes, struggling to keep your breathing steady. "They're not mine, Jinu."

When you finally looked up, Jinu froze. The sight of your eyes — cracked with emotion, uncertain and too familiar — hit him like a ghost returning home.

"You and me... under the moonlight. A lake," you said slowly, brows furrowing in confusion. "You held my hand. You smiled like—like you knew me. And I felt like I knew you too."

You shook your head. "It felt real."

Jinu's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His voice softened — no trace of his usual charm now, only something raw and buried. "What else do you remember?"

You closed your eyes again, digging into the haze, trying to pull the threads of something that shouldn't exist but lived somewhere deep inside you.

"You have to get out of here," you whispered urgently, heart pounding as you threw open the familiar window—the same one you used to sneak out on quiet nights. But this wasn't one of those nights. The sky outside bled with the colors of a dying sun, casting long shadows across your chamber floor.

Your eyes darted around in desperation. There has to be something... anything I can give him. Your fingers trembled as they grazed over a few keepsakes, but nothing seemed enough—not for this.

"Y/N..." Jinu finally spoke, voice low and filled with hesitation. But before he could say more, you turned, walking up to him quickly. You placed both hands gently on his cheeks, your thumbs brushing across his skin like a silent goodbye.

"You have to go," you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. "If my father finds out about the marks on your skin—Jinu, they'll kill you." Your eyes welled up. The thought of losing him clawed at your chest like a beast desperate to escape.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment to memorize the feel of you. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice cracking slightly. "I should've told you sooner."

You shook your head and cut him off gently, "It's okay. I understand." You tried to smile, though it faltered with the tears that blurred your vision. "But you need to go. I can't let them hurt you because of this."

A tear slipped down your cheek, warm and silent. "I don't care about the marks, Jinu. I care about you. Just... live. That's all I ask." Your hands moved to his shoulders as you pushed him slightly toward the open window.

But Jinu didn't budge. Instead, he caught your hands, holding them tightly in his. His grip was firm, but tender—a silent plea, a goodbye, a confession all in one.

"If I leave... I won't see you again, will I?" His voice broke at the end, eyes locked with yours—filled with sorrow, with love, with fear of what waited on either side of this choice.

Your lips trembled, and it took every ounce of strength not to fall apart in front of him. You reached up once more, cupping his face as gently as if he might vanish in your hands. You gave a small nod, barely visible, as another tear slid down your chin and hit the floor.

"I know," you whispered, voice trembling. "But this... this is better than losing the man I love forever."

Jinu's gaze didn't falter. He looked at you as if trying to memorize everything—the glisten of your tears, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the quiet ache in your eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in.

His kiss wasn't like before. It wasn't playful, or teasing, or rushed in secret corners of the palace. This one was different. It was desperate. Heavy with guilt, regret... sorrow.

And love.

Your arms wrapped around him as you kissed him back with just as much passion, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, eyes tightly shut as if that would freeze this moment—keep him here.

Then— BANG. The chamber doors burst open.

You flinched, pulling away as Jinu instinctively stepped in front of you. Your eyes shot to the doorway—guards, armed and ready, stormed in. At their center stood General Jae-won, his expression unreadable.

And then came your father. His eyes were sharp, filled with fury.

"Step away from the princess!" one of the guards shouted, sword drawn and pointed directly at Jinu. "Demon."

Your stomach dropped.

"Wait—!" you gasped, reaching out—but General Jae-won grabbed you first, yanking you behind him like a shield. Like he was protecting you.

From Jinu.

But Jinu didn't run. He didn't leap out the window or vanish into shadow like you knew he could. He stood his ground, arms at his sides, eyes distant and hollow.

"Jinu..." you whispered, voice cracking.

The guards descended. You cried out as they struck him—once, twice, then again. He didn't fight back. He just took it.

You tried to push past Jae-won, but he held you firm. "Stop! Stop! He's not hurting anyone!" you begged.

But they dragged him away, blood staining his lip, his wrists bound tight as they pulled him toward the hall.

"Jinu!" you screamed, heart breaking.

Then— SLAP.

Pain bloomed across your cheek, your head whipping to the side. The tears you'd tried so hard to hold in finally fell.

You turned your face slowly, stunned, and met your father's blazing eyes.

"You..." he seethed, voice low but searing. "You are a disgrace to this family."

Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

You collapsed against General Jae-won's chest—his grip steady, though his body held tension like a drawn bowstring. You barely registered the tremble in your hands as you clung to him. Then the tears came—hot, bitter, and unstoppable. You wept for the boy they called a demon. For the love they all spat on. For the history they buried.

Through the veil of tears, your gaze flickered toward the mirror. It wasn't far. You caught your own reflection, distorted by grief—eyes swollen, lips trembling.

Then something shifted.

Reality unraveled like silk slipping from the loom. The air twisted, the warmth of the past fading like dying embers.

And just like that—you were back.

Present day.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as dizziness spun the room around you. Disoriented, you reached out blindly—anything to steady yourself. You felt arms wrap around you, steady and familiar. Jinu.

"Hey—easy. I've got you," Jinu murmured, grounding you with his touch.

But your eyes caught something—just beyond his shoulder.

You turned.

Slowly.

Almost afraid.

She stood. Staring. And she wasn't just some phantom of your imagination.

She was you.

But not now—you dressed in a delicate hanbok, sleeves stained with tears, hair adorned in a style centuries old. Her eyes—the same eyes—held a heartbreak so raw it pierced through time.

You reached for Jinu with trembling fingers. The moment your hand moved, the image shuddered—then cracked like glass.

Memories didn't return—they rushed back, like a dam breaking.

You remembered the night you heard him sing with his old bipa.

You remembered the night you passionately shared in pleasure in your chambers.

You remembered the chains clinking as they dragged Jinu through the palace courtyard.

You remembered screaming, held back by Jae-won's arms.

You remembered Jinu turning his head toward you one last time, bloodied and defiant.

His voice back then—softer. Almost human.

"If the world calls me a demon," he whispered, knuckles brushing your tear-streaked cheek, "then let me burn for you."

You stumbled back as if struck. His voice echoed across lifetimes.

Your knees buckled.

And you fell.

The ground met you gently—but the weight in your chest didn't relent.

Tears fell, unstoppable. One after another. Each one remembering.

Your voice trembled, raw and hoarse.

"The memories... they're mine..."

Your hand clutched at your chest, as though the pain might be buried somewhere beneath your skin.

"I was there. Four hundred years ago... I was her."

But no—you were her.

The cursed princess.

The one who fell for a poor musician plucked on the streets by the king.

The one who stood beside him—even when he sold his soul to Gwi Ma.

Even when the world erased them both.

He spoke, his voice low—controlled, but not cold.

"You remember now... don't you?"

You froze.

That voice.

That tone.

You lifted your gaze slowly.

He was here.

Jinu.

Present-day Jinu. Not the boy dragged in chains. Not the demon the world feared.

The same soul, standing in front of you—no longer hiding.

And he knew.

He placed a hand gently on your cheek, wiping the lone tear that slid down your skin. His touch was warm, grounding. His lips curled into a quiet smile as he chuckled, voice low and nostalgic.

“Four hundred years later… and I still need to catch you,” he whispered, the weight of centuries laced in his words. His hands moved to cup both sides of your face, holding you like you were something sacred—like you always had been.

Your lips quivered, heart pounding beneath your ribs. Everything in you wanted to speak, but only one word made it past your throat—one that lived deep in your memories.

“…Bipa.”

Jinu laughed softly, the sound more boyish than you remembered. He lowered his gaze for a second, then looked up at you again with eyes full of aching affection.

“Still the same as ever,” he murmured, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. His voice softened even more as he added, “My princess…”

Four hundred years ago, he was just a boy with a dream and a desperate heart. He gave his soul to Gwi Ma for his voice—a voice that lifted him from the shadows of poverty and carried him into your world.

It brought him fortune. It brought him pain.

And it took you away.

Now, he stood before you—no longer just a man, not entirely a demon either—and you, reborn as the very thing destined to destroy him.

But none of it mattered.

Not the bloodline you came from. Not the curse in his veins. Not the time that separated your souls.

Because he had you now.

The real you.

The girl who sneaks herself out beneath palace lanterns. The girl he sang for by a moonlit lake. The girl he never stopped searching for.

You.

He leaned in slowly, his forehead gently resting against yours as his breath tickled your lips. His voice was a whisper, barely audible, but it trembled with devotion.

“I lost you once,” he said, “I won’t lose you again.”

And before you could reply, his lips met yours—soft, sure, and filled with the kind of love that could survive lifetimes.

The past didn’t matter. The curse didn’t matter. Only this moment did. Only him. Only you. And the kiss that sealed what fate had tried to tear apart.

Forever.

a/n: I was listening to free the whole time writing this lol but yeah here part 2 y'all hope you like it. ill also be making part 2 of the other jinu oneshot I wrote <#

〃✦ ┆You had everything others could only dream of—fame, wealth, influence. On stage, you were untouchable. Off stage, you were a legend wrapped in mystery. But even with everything, there was one thing you could never truly claim:

Humanity.

Because you weren’t human. Not even close. You were a demon—and not just any demon.

You were Gwi Ma’s daughter, the feared and merciless Demon King who ruled the underworld with blood and shadow.

Since your childhood, you served as his spy—sent through the cracks of the Honmoon, infiltrating the human world to gather intelligence and prepare for invasion. It was meant to be temporary, just another mission. But the longer you stayed, the more you saw.

Humanity was nothing like the wastelands of the demon realm. Where your world thrived on pain, theirs held warmth. Where demons tore each other apart, humans sang, cried, danced, and dreamed.

For the first time, you felt something—curiosity, wonder… guilt.

So you turned your back on the underworld.

You became a traitor.

Quietly, carefully, you aided the hunters from the shadows—feeding them information, sabotaging your father's forces. And when the day came, you were there among them, cloaked and unseen, helping to seal the Honmoon and trap your kind behind it.

No one knew.

No one ever could.

You fled. You ran from your father’s wrath, scouring every shady shaman’s store in the country, collecting protection charms, sealing talismans—anything that could shield you. And somehow, through luck or fate, you survived.

Five lives. Five hundred years. Each life, quieter than the last—until this one.

Now, you were Y/N—a rising soloist, known for her fierce performances and a haunting stage presence that no one could explain. People whispered that you were descended from a 90s screen legend—not knowing that legend was just one of your old lives.

And for once, you were at peace.

You watched from a distance as the Huntrix, the newest generation of demon hunters, proudly took up the mantle. They didn’t need your help. The Honmoon stayed sealed. The world was safe. You were safe.

Or so you thought…

Until he showed up.

Until that damned boy walked into your life with a smirk, a wink, and smile that somehow defied the laws of shame.

Jinu.

Of all the people… it had to be Jinu of the Saja Boys.

You knew something was off from the beginning. The moment their debut track “Soda Pop” exploded online, your gut screamed that it wasn’t just another rookie group rising through the ranks.

That stupid, sugar-coated song had the internet wrapped around its finger in hours. Every scroll through social media was torture—fan edits, dance challenges, streaming parties. Their bubblegum anthem was everywhere.

“Motherfuckers had it easy,” you muttered under your breath, eye twitching as you sat in your penthouse suite, high above the city. Your jaw clenched tighter with every swipe of your phone. That cursed chorus echoed over and over like a broken record.

With a sharp snap, the screen cracked beneath your grip—your superhuman strength getting the best of you again. You let out a heavy sigh and pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose, trying to calm your fraying nerves.

It only got worse.

You had the misfortune of crossing paths with them at the “Play Games With Us” variety show. You were just backstage, minding your business, your manager trailing behind you and raving about the episode’s record-breaking views.

“Your segment went viral, again! The fans are loving it—especially that part when you snapped the controller in half!” your manager beamed, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you.

And then—you saw them.

The Saja Boys. Walking straight in your direction, faces glowing under the stage lights, laughter echoing like they didn’t have a care in the world. You stood taller, lifting your chin with unshakable pride, refusing to let them rattle you.

But just as you passed their leader, Jinu, something happened.

Your fingers brushed for a split second—barely a touch.

And your blood turned to ice.

A sharp sting burned up your arm as your demon mark responded instantly, crawling from your skin like it had been awoken. You froze mid-step.

So did Jinu.

His body stiffened. His eyes widened. There was no mistaking it. He felt it too.

Your mark flared beneath your sleeve before dulling to a low pulse, as if unsure whether to attack or retreat. Panic surged in your chest, but you kept your face blank, eyes forward, breaths shallow.

“No…” you whispered, so quiet it was almost soundless.

You didn’t dare turn around.

You knew—without question—Jinu was staring at your back with the same haunted look you wore now.

Your manager kept walking, still rambling. But your heartbeat was loud enough to drown everything else out. The mark faded… but the damage was done.

Something ancient had just awakened.

And you knew, deep down— This wasn’t over.

You let out a weary sigh as you sat perched on the edge of a quiet rooftop in the outskirts of the city, where the old hanok-style houses still stood. The moon hung high, casting a cold silver light over the curved roofs and narrow alleys. It was deep into the night—no footsteps, no noise. Just silence. Peace.

Peace… at least for now.

Far from the crowded districts, away from the suffocating presence of human souls—the very essence your demon self constantly hungered for—you could finally breathe without temptation gnawing at your will.

“A demon playing idol in the human world… how poetic,” a voice murmured behind you, smooth and laced with dry amusement. You heard the soft thud of footsteps land gently on the tiled roof behind you.

You didn’t bother to turn around. “Says the one doing the same thing,” you replied, your tone flat.

The voice chuckled lowly. “True. But unlike you, I haven’t stayed this long.”

You stiffened. Just those words were enough to hint at his purpose.

So... it was finally time.

You clenched your fists, jaw tightening. “If he sent you to bring me back to that hellhole,” you muttered, “tell Gwi Ma I'd rather die on this rooftop than crawl back to him.”

Your eyes flicked to the side, and there he was—Jinu. Standing there with his hands tucked into the pockets of a black and gray hoodie, his expression unreadable. One eyebrow raised, clearly thrown off by your sudden declaration.

You exhaled through your nose, pushing yourself up to stand, brushing dust from your pants. “Don’t play dumb,” you said, facing him properly now. “You’re here on Gwi Ma’s orders, aren’t you? To take more souls for his pathetic little collection.”

A scoff escaped your lips. “That old fart just doesn’t know when to quit.”

Jinu blinked, visibly stunned—not just by what you said, but by the fact you said it so openly. No fear. No hesitation. As if speaking about the demon king was no different than mocking some washed-up manager.

“You—” he started, then hesitated, eyes narrowing. “You really aren’t scared of him anymore.”

You looked him dead in the eye. “I stopped fearing him the day I tasted freedom.”

You turned slightly, eyes locked on the distant city lights glittering below the rooftop. The cold wind brushed against your face, but it was nothing compared to the bitterness in your voice.

"He's been trying that for years," you muttered. "And look where it got him—still trapped in that rotting world. What makes him think this time will be any different?"

Jinu shifted behind you, about to speak. You didn’t even turn.

"Don't even think for one damn second that I'll help you," you cut in coldly.

Jinu closed his mouth, jaw tightening. Silence hung between you before he finally asked in a quiet voice, "H-How... how have you lived this long?"

You let out a sharp laugh, the sound laced with exhaustion and mockery.

"Like hell I’d tell you."

Then, in a blink, your scythe was unsheathed—its blackened blade gleaming in the moonlight, already hovering near Jinu’s throat. Your eyes narrowed as you stepped closer, weapon steady.

"I should kill you right now," you said lowly. "Save the hunters the trouble."

Jinu's lips twitched into a bitter grin. "A demon... siding with hunters? That’s new."

You pressed the blade closer, enough for him to feel the chill of death breathing down his neck.

"I don’t side with anyone," you said, voice sharp as steel. "I work for myself."

Another step forward. You loomed over him now, gaze burning with centuries of fury and grief.

"I've watched this world rise and fall for hundreds of years. You think I'll let you tear it all down just so my corpse of a father can claw his way out and devour everything that still breathes?"

You shook your head, disgust flickering across your face.

"What did he promise you, huh? Power? Freedom?" Your voice dropped, dangerous now. "You really think he’ll give you what you want?"

You tilted your head slowly, voice venomous with finality.

"You're nothing but a pawn, Jinu. And if you keep playing his game... you'll die like one."

"Your father… is Gwi Ma," he said, voice low—almost afraid to say it aloud.

Your heart skipped. Eyes widened. You stiffened in place, cursing yourself internally for letting the truth slip. But it didn’t matter now. The damage was done. The truth was out.

Jinu's gaze dropped to his trembling hands. As your weapon shimmered and faded into the shadows, his fingers began to glow with a familiar, ominous hue—those same violet markings you had seen too many times before.

"He said... he’d take them away," Jinu whispered, eyes fixated on the marks. "The memories."

You let out a long, tired breath, pressing your fingers against the bridge of your nose.

"And you believed him?" you muttered, the weight of exhaustion and disappointment heavy in your tone.

A silence hung between you, thick with unspoken things. Then, with reluctance weighing every step, you moved closer to him.

Jinu’s brows furrowed in confusion. His body tensed instinctively, unsure of your intentions.

You raised your hands halfway to his face, then paused.

"Can I?" you asked softly, voice quieter now—gentler.

He hesitated, gaze searching yours for a moment before he gave a small nod.

You took it as permission.

Your palms cupped his face. Slowly, you leaned forward until your forehead rested against his. You closed your eyes. A familiar tingling crept into your hands as your power activated—dark purple mist curling from your skin, winding its way into Jinu's.

He inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away.

You exhaled shakily, then drew back, turning away from him as the mist dissipated.

"There," you said, voice low. "He won’t bother you—for a few hours, at least."

A beat passed. Then:

"Did you just... seal him?" Jinu asked, stunned.

You didn’t turn around.

“Temporarily,” you said, your voice dropping lower, the word hanging in the air like a reluctant farewell.

There was a pause. A beat of silence filled with things you couldn’t bring yourself to say. When you finally spoke again, it was softer—strained, like it hurt to admit.

“…It’s the best I can do right now.”

You didn’t look back.

Your figure melted into the shadows, leaving behind only the echo of your presence and the cold wind brushing across the rooftop.

Jinu stood there, unmoving. His brows furrowed, heart pounding, mind reeling.

a/n: I really need more of him pleaseeeeee

Four Hundred Years Ago

In the dust-covered alleys of the capital, where noblemen never walked and lanterns flickered only on festival nights, Jinu lived a life stripped of comfort and pride. No father. No home. Only his mother's fading warmth and the frail laughter of his younger sister kept him tethered to hope.

His most prized possession—an old, cracked bipa, passed down from a grandfather he never knew. The strings buzzed, and his fingers ached from the cold, but Jinu still played. He sang in the markets, in the gutters, in front of taverns full of drunken men—pleading silently for someone to toss a coin, to hear him, to see him.

But hunger does not wait for dreams.

His mother collapsed one evening with nothing but water in her stomach. His sister cried herself to sleep from the pain of it. Desperation crept into his soul like frostbite.

And then he heard it. A voice—silken and venomous—whispered to him as he sat alone under a half-shattered bridge:

"You desire more, do you not?" "Let me make you heard. Let me make you needed."

"...Who are you?" Jinu whispered, heart hammering.

"I am Gwi Ma. And you are meant for more than this filth."

His voice shattering and reforging like molten metal. And when he awoke, the streets no longer spat him out.

He sang again.

But this time, the crowds stopped. This time, the nobles listened. This time, even the king heard of the boy with the voice that could silence war drums.

And so, Jinu was brought into the palace.

The King—stern, aging, but not yet cold—was taken by him. "Sing for me," he commanded. "Often." And he did.

The palace gave Jinu more than gold. He was granted silk robes. Hot meals. His mother nursed back to health. His sister given a tutor. They lived in a small but gracious home within the inner court walls.

Jinu thought this was it. That he had found peace.

Until the day you entered the throne room.

He remembered the moment with perfect clarity.

He was seated cross-legged beside the King's throne, plucking the bipa with practiced grace. His song—an ancient lullaby his mother used to hum—echoed softly in the high-ceilinged chamber.

Then:

The creak of massive double doors. The scrape of delicate slippers on stone. A rustle of silk robes.

His fingers froze on the strings.

You stepped into the light, flanked by your ladies-in-waiting, your posture poised, your chin held high with the quiet command of someone raised among power and etiquette. The King's daughter—his only heir.

Jinu's fingers froze on the strings.

He didn't need introductions.

He knew you — the King's daughter, the only heir of the throne. The Moon of the Court. The Jewel of Joseon.

You moved with reverence, stepping before your father and bowing deeply. As you rose, your eyes — thoughtful, soft, but unreadable — swept across the room.

And then, they landed on him.

Jinu's breath caught.

Your eyes met his, and in that fleeting moment, the sound of his bipa faded into silence.

The court didn't notice — the strings still hummed beneath his fingertips — but Jinu's world had stopped.

There was something in your gaze. Not just nobility or beauty, though you had both in abundance. It was clarity. As though you could see right through him — past the silks he now wore, past the voice that earned him this false paradise — and into the starving boy who once sang in the streets for scraps.

Your gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than custom allowed, then drifted back to your father with a serene smile.

Jinu looked down quickly, his hands trembling slightly as he resumed playing.

He felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest. Longing? Awe? He didn't know. He only knew that from this moment on, he would remember your gaze more vividly than any melody he ever composed.

You huffed, the weight of your wooden sword pressing against your palms as you swung it in a clean arc across the open courtyard. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the stone tiles. Each strike of your blade echoed through the palace grounds with sharp precision.

Across from you stood General Jae-won, his arms calmly folded behind his back. A soft, approving smile played on his lips.

"You've improved, Princess," he said, voice warm with pride.

You rolled your wrist and slashed downward with more force, the movement fluid.

"Have I now?" you asked, glancing at him with a smirk tugging at your lips.

Jae-won chuckled under his breath and nodded. "Indeed. At this rate, I might retire early and let you lead my troops."

You were about to retort when the distant sound of footsteps made you pause. Your attention shifted to the far side of the courtyard. A figure moved along the palace walkway — poised, graceful, and unfamiliar.

A young man in soft robes, his hair tied neatly, a bipa cradled gently in his arms. His stride was unhurried, yet there was a quiet intensity about him that made the world around you still.

He passed by, and for a brief heartbeat, his gaze met yours.

Dark eyes. Steady. Curious. But just as quickly, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the corridor beyond.

You blinked, brows furrowing. "Who was that?" you asked aloud, more to yourself than anyone else.

Jae-won had been watching too. He cleared his throat and turned to you with a faint look of amusement. "That would be Jinu," he said simply.

"Jinu?" you echoed, unfamiliar with the name. "I don't recall anyone by that name before I left for the Eastern etiquette academies."

"He arrived not long after your departure," Jae-won explained. "A musician... of sorts. The king's new favorite."

Your frown deepened. "I was the king's favorite."

That earned a low laugh from the general. "You still are, but His Majesty has many interests. Jinu... he brings something different."

You narrowed your eyes, still staring in the direction the stranger had gone. "What kind of musician draws the king's attention like that?"

Jae-won's expression shifted to something more thoughtful — even a little enchanted.

"His voice," he said quietly. "It's magical, Princess. Some say it's been blessed by the heavens themselves."

You scoffed, but your curiosity was piqued. A musician with the king's favor? A voice like magic?

You were a warrior, a princess of steel and fire.

But suddenly, you wanted to hear him sing.

Later that night, the palace was quiet—too quiet.

You moved with calculated steps, the silk of your robes brushing against stone floors as you slipped past your chamber doors. Every creak of wood and distant voice sent a shiver of caution up your spine. The guards were making their rounds, and the ever-watchful maids lurked like shadows in the halls, quick to report anything out of the ordinary to the king. You, however, had learned their patterns. This wasn't your first midnight escape.

You were the crown jewel of the kingdom—the king's only child. A daughter, yes, but no less an heir. Unlike the sons of kings before you, your claim to the throne had always been a matter of scrutiny. Many whispered that a queen could not rule alone, not in a world dominated by men. Your parents had tried for another child, a son to ease the burden placed on your shoulders. But the stars were not kind.

Each pregnancy after you ended in grief—miscarriages, premature births, and one heart-wrenching stillborn. The palace physician warned that another attempt could take your mother's life. Your father, once a fierce warrior now a softer man in love, refused to risk her again. When his court advised concubines, he refused them all. "One child is enough," he had said. "My daughter will be a great queen one day."

But such love came with weight. You bore it in silence—in your etiquette training, in your endless political tutoring, in your sword drills that left your hands bruised and raw. The pressure of a nation sat on your shoulders before your crown ever would.

And so, when the walls felt too tight and the crown too heavy, you sought air. Solace. Escape.

Your feet led you where they always did on nights like these—to the hidden lake just beyond the palace walls. It was a secret place tucked among the willows and stones, a patch of serenity you'd claimed as your own since childhood. There, you'd sit in silence, letting the moonlight kiss your skin, watching the fish stir beneath the ripples. It was your peace.

But tonight, peace was not alone.

You slowed as you reached the final bend of the narrow path, your slippers landing silently on the dew-damp earth. You stepped carefully from rock to rock across the stream, aiming for the familiar curve of the shore where you always sat—and then you froze.

Someone was already there.

A lone figure stood at the water's edge, tall and still, as though part of the night itself. The moonlight reflected off his silhouette, illuminating long dark hair and broad shoulders. He didn't belong to the palace guard—his stance was too relaxed, his presence too... wild.

Your heart thudded in your chest. A civilian?

Panic swept over you. If he turned around, if he saw your face—if word reached your father that his daughter had wandered alone in the dead of night—

You turned on your heel swiftly, aiming to disappear before the stranger noticed. But luck betrayed you.

Snap.

A twig cracked under your foot like thunder in the silence.

You froze in place, breath caught, lowering your head and turning slightly away to shield your identity. Your back remained toward him, posture rigid.

You didn't dare breathe.

The sound of fabric shifting came next, soft footsteps turning your way. The voice that followed was calm, smooth—almost amused.

"I wasn't expecting company tonight."

It was a man's voice. Warm. Young. Not startled, not suspicious... curious.

You didn't answer.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" he asked again, softer this time. "I've seen your footprints by the water."

Your shoulders stiffened.

You heard the faint rustle of grass beneath someone's footfall.

Your body tensed instinctively.

He stepped forward—just one pace—but it was enough to close the distance.

You exhaled, a long sigh of resignation slipping past your lips. There was no point in keeping your back to him anymore. You slowly raised your arms in mock surrender and turned to face the stranger—only to freeze the moment your eyes met his.

"...Bipa," you blurted out—the first word that shot through your panicked mind.

A beat of silence passed.

"...Excuse me?" the man replied, tilting his head slightly. His voice was calm, but confused. You wanted to crawl into the earth.

You mentally face-palmed so hard it echoed in your skull. Of course. Out of all things to say...

You were physically trained for battle, swift with the blade, fierce with your hands—but mentally? You had the memory span of a goldfish.

"Your Highness?" he added, this time his voice gentle, curious. "Are you alright?"

Your lips parted. "You..."

You hesitated as your gaze took in the contours of his face, now clearer in the moonlight. His features were familiar, sharp yet graceful—beautiful in the kind of way that left you disarmed.

You slowly lowered your hands.

"The guy with the... bipa," you finally said, squinting as if the memory would sharpen if you stared hard enough.

He blinked. Then, with a hint of amused patience, he corrected you.

"Jinu."

"Right..." you muttered, voice trailing off in awkward defeat. "Jinu."

He smiled softly—just a twitch of his lips, but it was enough to make your ears burn.

"I see you come here often, Your Highness," Jinu said with a small, curious smile, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face.

You rolled your eyes and waved him off with a sigh. "Just Y/N," you corrected, your voice soft but firm. "We're not in the palace right now."

Jinu tilted his head, amused, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. "No, we're not," he agreed easily, his tone light, like he was testing the boundaries of a secret.

You turned your head slightly, catching a distant view of the glowing lanterns lining the palace rooftops. They flickered like stars in the distance, unreachable yet always watching. A breath hitched in your throat.

"Don't..." you started, your voice catching in the cold night air as you clenched your fists at your sides. "Don't tell my father."

Jinu raised a brow, pretending to consider your request. "That you've been sneaking out?" he asked, teasing laced in his voice.

You scoffed quietly. "It's called getting fresh air."

He chuckled, stepping aside to make way for you. "A royal taking midnight strolls like a runaway? Scandalous."

You brushed past him, clutching your arms tightly to your chest as a chill swept across the lakeside. The moon's reflection shimmered on the water like silver silk, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched, awkward but not uncomfortable.

Then, Jinu's voice broke through the quiet as he made his way towards you. "You always come here alone?"

You nodded slowly, your gaze still on the moonlit sky. "It's nice to get away from time to time..." you murmured, your voice soft.

Jinu hummed in response. He was now standing behind you, not too close, but close enough for his presence to feel warm. The both of you watched in silence as the clouds drifted across the face of the moon, casting fleeting shadows across the grass.

"You snitch me out, and I swear I'll break that bipa of yours—" you joked, stepping forward with a teasing tone.

But your foot landed wrong.

The soft soil beneath had turned slick from the earlier rain, and before you could catch yourself, your balance gave way. A startled gasp escaped your lips as the world seemed to tilt.

And then— Strong fingers curled around your wrist in a firm, instinctive grip.

Your body jolted, but you didn't hit the ground. Instead, you found yourself caught, leaning into Jinu's chest as he held you with one arm wrapped around your waist, the other still grasping your wrist.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

You could feel his breath brush against your ear, warm and steady. His heartbeat thudded just a bit too fast, matching your own. The world had gone still again—except for the racing pulse between the two of you.

"...You good?" Jinu asked, voice low, but there was something different in his tone now. Softer. Less teasing.

You tilted your head up slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Thanks for catching me..."

He didn't let go. Not right away.

Instead, his gaze lingered on you longer than it should have, his dark eyes searching your face like he was trying to memorize it under the moonlight.

"You should be more careful," he muttered, but it sounded more like a confession than a scolding.

Your fingers brushed against his chest as you steadied yourself, and for a moment, neither of you moved to pull away.

"...I'm starting to think you like saving me," you whispered.

His lips curved, just barely. "Maybe," he said, almost too quietly. "Maybe I do."

The first time had been an accident.

But now... it was almost tradition.

Midnight after midnight, you'd sneak away from your chamber under the watch of sleeping guards, your steps light and practiced as you made your way to the hidden lake beyond the palace walls. And always—without fail—he would be there, waiting beneath the moonlight with his bipa resting against his lap, his gentle smile like a secret only you were allowed to see.

Jinu.

The court musician. Your father's prized performer. A boy once plucked from the streets and gifted a place in the palace because of a voice that could tame demons and move spirits.

He should have remained just that—your father's favorite.

But you ruined that boundary long ago.

You formed something with Jinu that words could not contain. A sacred bond built in glances and moments stolen between royal walls. No one knew. No one could.

Each time you passed him in the palace halls, your pinky would subtly hook with his. At the banquets, when all eyes were elsewhere, your gaze would find his. And when he sang by the lake, you'd sit by his side, laying your head on his shoulder, listening as each strum of his bipa lulled you into a peace no one else could offer.

You had brought him to your chambers before. But tonight felt different.

The silk sheets clung to your bare skin, warm from the heat between your bodies. Jinu lay in front of you, face soft with exhaustion and love, your fingers threading through his damp hair. His lips trailed kisses along your neck, slow and reverent, as he moved inside you.

Your breath hitched. A quiet moan escaped your lips before you could hold it back.

It was wrong—every bit of this. He was your father's musician. A servant in your world. And yet...

Yet your heart didn't care for titles.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath uneven, arms tightening around you. His final thrust left him trembling against you, his skin pressed to yours like he didn't want to ever let go.

You swallowed hard, throat dry from the sounds you had made earlier, still too breathless to speak.

Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him.

"I love you,"

The words left his lips like a prayer. Fragile. Honest. Final.

You blinked, heart still racing, your hand still in his hair.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling—barely audible beneath the weight of fate.

Even if the world would never let it last.

And it didn’t.

The sound of chains echoed louder than your heartbeat. Jinu turned one last time, just in time to see you thrashing in General Jae-Won’s merciless grip. His arms locked around you like iron, holding you back as if you were the one who committed a crime.

“Father, please!!” you cried out, your voice raw, cracking. Your nails dug into the general’s sleeves, desperately trying to free yourself—but it was no use. He wouldn’t let go.

You could barely see through the tears, but Jinu could still see you. He always did.

“LET HIM GO!” you screamed again, your voice echoing through the royal courtyard like thunder.

Your father stood unmoved at the top of the palace steps, adorned in royal robes, his crown catching the sunlight like a blade. His expression was colder than winter steel, his eyes locked with Jinu’s—not as a boy who had grown up beside his daughter, but as something less than human now.

As something cursed.

Jinu’s gaze dropped slowly to his trembling hands. The marks were spreading—dark, curling demonic patterns twisting up his arms, glowing faintly with a cruel hunger. They climbed past his wrists, slithering over his skin like vines. Reaching for his throat. His face.

He remembered the laughter that used to fill these palace walls.

The scent of incense during evening prayers.

Your smile.

The warmth of your pinky finger brushing against his under the palace hallways.

He had forgotten how it felt to be anything other than damned.

Gwi-ma.

You screamed again—your voice nothing short of devastation—and he flinched at the sound. But the guards didn’t stop. They dragged him forward, one step at a time, toward exile. Toward darkness.

Still, he turned his head.

Just once more.

His eyes found yours.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, mouth open in a silent sob. Everything in you was breaking—your heart, your voice, your soul. And yet, there it was.

Love. Guilt. And last...

Betrayal.

Because even though you loved him—more than anything in this cursed world—you weren’t enough to stop this.

Not this time.

And he knew…

Neither was he

Four hundred years.

It had been four centuries since the last time he saw you—not like this.

Back then, your arms were open and warm. Back then, your smile reached your eyes. Back then, he could pretend he wasn’t what he was. Neither of you were enemies.

Neither was he.

But now… now you stood before him again—on a quiet rooftop at the edge of the city, bathed in neon light and moonshine. The wind tousled your hair, but you were as steady as ever. Same face. Same voice. But not the same heart.

This time, your arms weren’t open.

This time, they held a sword. Pointed at his chest.

Your stance was firm, your blade unwavering, its silver glint reflecting the city behind you. You weren’t just someone from his past anymore.

You were a K-pop idol now... and worse— A demon hunter.

His enemy.

Jinu's lips parted slightly, breath catching in his throat as recognition lit up his eyes, soft and conflicted. Slowly, carefully, he raised his hands in surrender, stepping into the glow of a nearby billboard.

His voice came out low. Almost broken.

“...Y/N…”

The sound of your name from his lips made your heart skip, if only for a second—but you didn’t let it show.

You pressed the blade closer to his chest, the tip grazing fabric.

“I don’t have time for your games, demon,” you said, your voice sharp. “Whatever I was before… that’s gone now.”

You took a step forward.

So did he.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t fight.

His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to find the version of you that used to laugh under cherry blossom trees.

“Maybe it’s gone for you,” Jinu murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But not for me.”

The wind stirred, lifting a few strands of your hair. You felt it—like the ghost of a memory brushing against your skin. A fragment of laughter. A night under moon light. His hand reaching for yours.

You blinked it away.

“I said don’t test me,” you warned, though your hand trembled ever so slightly against the hilt.

“I’m not,” he said gently. “I’m just... remembering.”

His gaze softened, no longer sharp like a warrior's—but tender, human.

“You once told me I made the stars feel closer,” he said. “That when we danced, it felt like the world paused.”

Your throat tightened.

That memory wasn’t his to bring up. Not now. Not after everything.

But Jinu didn’t move.

He just stood there, bare-chested and vulnerable before your blade, eyes never leaving yours.

“I don’t care what they turned you into,” he said. “If even a piece of you remembers... then I’ll wait.”

You hesitated.

Just long enough for the blade to lower—only an inch. But it was enough.

He noticed.

And he smiled, just a little. The kind of smile that hurt more than any wound.

You turned sharply before he could say another word, retreating into the shadows without looking back.

But deep in your chest, where old feelings had long been buried…

...something stirred.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

➤ part2

a/n: This is actually my first time posting a oneshot on tmblr so I'm really lost lol but I actually like posting some stuff I do now here so there might be a lot of random ideas I made being post here lol, but if you like some angst type of fanfics to read I got you <3