Yena’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, her chest heaving as if she’d surfaced from drowning. Her body was stiff, her limbs aching, and the air around her felt wrong—too still, too heavy, too staged. She blinked rapidly, trying to orient herself, but the sheer scale of the space around her made her breath catch.
She was no longer on the streets. She was inside an arena. A massive one.
The architecture was surreal—metallic, sprawling, and impossibly vast. The ceiling arched high above, open to the night sky, and just beyond the far edge of the complex, she knew what it was. Namsan Tower. The structure glowed faintly like a distant warning.
Tens of thousands of people filled the arena. Packed shoulder to shoulder, they stood in eerie silence. Fans. Civilians. Children. Elders. All gathered with vacant expressions, their eyes glazed, their bodies still. No cheering. No movement. No awareness. It was as if their souls had been siphoned out, leaving behind husks dressed in devotion.
Yena’s heart pounded violently.
She pushed herself up, her muscles screaming in protest, and scanned her surroundings. She was on the left-hand side of the stage, tucked within a divided section. From here, she could make out three elevated walkway platforms stretched outward from the main stage, each leading to a circular platform in the center. From that hub, a fourth walkway extended directly to the heart of the stage.
It was a design meant for spectacle. The beginning of the end.
Then the music began. Low. Pulsing. Hypnotic.
It vibrated through the floor, through her bones, through the air itself. The stage screen flickered to life, displaying chaotic graphical shapes—fractals, spirals, bursts of demonic color that twisted unnaturally. They warped and converged until they formed a single image.
The Saja Boys logo.
Yena’s breath caught in her throat. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up—fight-or-flight surging through her veins. She scrambled to her feet, eyes darting across the crowd, searching for any of them. Mira. Zoey, or even Rumi.
Where were they? Are they here?
She scanned the crowd with frantic urgency, her vision blurring with panic. The music grew louder, more invasive, and the logo pulsed in time with the beat. The stage lights began to shift, casting long, unnatural shadows across the walkways.
She attempted to push through mindless people, her breath trembling, her heart racing. She could feel it—something evil, something wrong—rising beneath the surface of this spectacle. The crowd wasn’t cheering because they wanted to. They weren’t watching because they weren’t allowed to look away.
They were trapped. Just like she had been. She had to find the others. She had to stop this. Even if it meant tearing herself apart. Even if it meant facing the very thing that had once worn a human face and whispered promises into her ear. Because if she didn’t, the world wouldn’t survive what came next.
The arena pulsed with unnatural rhythm, the crimson lights casting long, jagged shadows across the walkways. The crowd stood in eerie silence, tens of thousands of bodies packed together like a living wall—breathing, blinking, but vacant. Their eyes were fixed on the stage, their minds unreachable.
Then the music began.
It wasn’t a melody. Low and haunting, the intro echoed like a corrupted church choir—voices layered in dissonant harmony, vibrating with something ancient and wrong. The sound seeped into the bones of the arena, into the marrow of every soul present. It didn’t ask for attention. It demanded it.
Above the stage, the Saja Boys hovered.
Levitating in mid-air, their silhouettes cloaked in flowing black garments that shimmered like smoke. Their faces were tilted downward, obscured beneath their gats, the brims casting shadows that swallowed their features. They looked like mourners at a funeral they orchestrated.
Dies irae Illa Vos solve in Favilla Maledictus Erus In flamas Eternum
The screen behind them flickered violently. The Saja Boys logo dissolved into static, then reformed into a stylized graphic of their name. For a brief moment, the background twisted into demonic patterns—sigils and shapes that pulsed like veins, then vanished as if they’d never been there.
I'll be your idol.
The boys descended. Smoothly. Silently. Their feet touched the stage with no sound, no impact, just flawless footwork.
Abby stepped forward first.
Keeping you in check, keeping you obsessed116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnhMV4PmQMB
Play me on repeat, kkeuteopsi in your head
His face lifted, revealing glowing demon eyes—sharp, inhuman, and mesmerizing. His features were sculpted, beautiful in a way that felt manufactured, hollow. The crowd near him erupted, shrieking and cheering, their minds no longer their own. Their devotion was reflexive, not real.
Anytime it hurts, play another verse.116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡslV2TU56FJ
I can be your sanctuary.
He took center stage, moving with elegance and precision. His voice poured into the arena, smooth and commanding, laced with enchantment. Each note compelled the crowd to react, their bodies swaying, their mouths moving in silent worship.
The verse shifted.
Mystery’s velvet voice took over, rich and haunting. The group began to dance—poised choreography flowing like water, synchronized with the calm beat. Their movements were hypnotic, each gesture calculated to seduce, to dominate, to erase resistance.
Know I'm the only one right now116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfM1CkY6MGK
I will love you more when it all burns down116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaGR9x8yFNd
More than power, more than gold
Yena caught a glimpse of Zoey from afar. Her face serene, her eyes wide, her lips curled into a soft smile. She was absolutely hypnotized by that voice.
Romance stepped forward for the hard-hitting line in the verse. His voice hit like a blade wrapped in silk, angelic and devastating. He placed his clawed hands together in a dance motion, slow and deliberate, before stretching out his right hand as if grabbing something unseen.
Yeah, you gave me your heart, now I'm here for your soul
Yena froze in place as she caught her breath. His voice pierced through her heart, her soul, her memories. It was the voice that once whispered promises, that once made her believe she mattered to him. It was beautiful and vile.
She turned and saw him. Romance stood in full demon form—gorgeous and grotesque. His features were flawless, his body sculpted, his aura radiant. But his eyes… his eyes were wrong. Too empty yet full of ill intent.
The music shifted again. A swell of anticipation rippled through the arena, as if the air itself were holding its breath. 116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvsF1HHmIZy
Jinu stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, the spotlight narrowing to frame him in a pool of blood-red light. Their black garments flowed like ink across the stage, their silhouettes sharp against the vivid red screen behind them.
He bent backward slightly, his spine arching with unnatural grace. He raised one hand to his face, fingers spread just enough to reveal a single yellow eye—gleaming, calculating, alive with something that didn’t belong to this world.
I'm the only one who'll love your sins
Then, with a slow pivot, he turned to face the sky. His voice rose through the pre-chorus. Sharp and enticing, sending a chill down the spine. The other boys began to circle him, their choreography precise, reverent. One by one, they knelt around him. Arms open.
Feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin.
It wasn’t just beautiful—it was invasive. Each note slithered into the ears of the crowd, wrapping around their minds like silk threads. The people responded instantly, their bodies swaying, their mouths parting in silent awe. Even the air seemed to lean closer, drawn in by the gravity of his voice.
Yena watched from the shadows, her breath shallow. She scoffed softly. The irony was bitter. Two weeks ago, she had returned—hopeful, uncertain, ready to rebuild. And now she stood in the middle of a nightmare, watching the world unravel to the rhythm of a song.
What had Rumi seen in him? Her thoughts drifted to Jinu. What had made her trust him, to work with him?
Unlike Romance, Jinu had always carried something quieter. A flicker of humanity, maybe. A softness buried beneath the performance. Yena had never seen it. But Rumi had. And maybe, for a moment, it had been real. But all good things come to an end.
She swallowed hard, her eyes scanning the crowd again. Rumi… Wherever she was, Yena prayed for a miracle. For a sign. For something to break through the trances and remind her that there was something left worth saving. Of what they were fighting for.
The chorus hit.
Listen 'cause I'm preachin' to the choir116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡChellSuaJT
Can I get the mic a little higher?116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1HE52xpzQV
Gimme your desire116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM3NA1Abyyy
I can be the star you rely on
The Saja Boys moved in perfect unison, their choreography sharp and fluid, each motion a declaration. Jinu’s voice soared, wrapping around the crowd like silk, pulling them deeper into the illusion.
Then Romance stepped forward. His entrance was seamless, his presence magnetic. He walked toward the center, his body moving with elegance and power. His voice—dulcet and angelic—turned sharp as he hit a high note that sliced through the arena like lightning. His clawed hands moved in rhythm, forming a dance motion that felt more like pushing something away.
Nae hwanghorui chwihae, you can't look away116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxxcslPswoS
Don't you know I'm here to save you116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ31pljRkejp
Now we runnin' wild
Yena was sort of impressed in the wrong way. It was beautiful and horrifying at the same time. The lyrics hit her like a blade, each line crafted to wound. She could feel it as every word was aimed at her. Every note was a reminder of what she’d lost, what she’d given, what she’d become.
Jinu returned to the center of the group, his steps slow and deliberate, his posture relaxed but commanding. He delivered the final line with a smirk that curled at the edges, smug and satisfied, as if he’d just sealed a pact no one else could see.
Yeah, I'm all you need, I'ma be your idol
The chorus faded into a lingering echo, like the last breath of something sacred being snuffed out as the boys struck a brief pose—elegant, sharp, rehearsed to perfection.
Then they moved. Jinu, Abby, Romance, and Mystery vanished from the main stage in a blink—teleporting to the extending left and right platforms with seamless grace. Their silhouettes reappeared like apparitions, each one taking position with eerie precision, their garments flowing like smoke.
Baby appeared alone on the circular raised platform.
The beat dropped. Heavy. Menacing. His voice broke through the rhythm like thunder—deep, guttural, and commanding. Each word hit with force, reverberating through the arena like seismic waves. As he rapped, pinkish-purple flames erupted from the sides of the platforms, licking the air with unnatural hunger.
Uh, bichinaneun fame, gyesok oechyeo, I'm your idol116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4QSdd4RCs6
Thank you for the pain 'cause it got me going viral
Yena’s breath caught. The flames weren’t ordinary. They pulsed with something unnatural, something inhumane. With every beat of Baby’s verse, the flames grew—taller, wider, more alive. They began to consume the edges of the walkways, drawing energy inward. The outer flames dimmed, retreating, while the center stage ignited into a towering inferno.
Uh, yeah, natji anneun fever, makin' you a believer116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZs31WkC1NH
Nareul wae neon jonjaehaneun idol?
Then she realized it a little too late. Gwi-Ma.
He was here. Physically manifested in the mortal world. The master of shame. The king of demons.
His form was colossal, shifting between shadow and flame, his presence suffocating. The air around him bent and warped, reality itself recoiling from his existence. Yena’s blood ran cold. She had heard the stories, the warnings, the tales whispered in hushed tones passed on hunter by hunter who once had been in her shoes and now have passed on.
But nothing had prepared her for this. He was real, and he was watching.
Baby’s rap ended with a final, guttural line, and the flames roared in response, casting the arena in a hellish glow. Yena stumbled backward, her breath ragged, her heart pounding. She needed to run. She needed to escape.
But before she could move, two demons appeared. Ugly. Twisted. Grinning.
Their skin was mottled and cracked, their eyes glowing with cruel delight. They grabbed her arms with clawed hands, their grip bruising. She screamed, but it was drowned out by the loud music. She struggled and kicked, but they were stronger. They dragged her toward the nearest raised platform, the one where Romance now stood.
Mystery’s voice took over the next lines of the verse, smooth and haunting. His line was a direct mockery of the hunters—subtle, veiled, but unmistakable. Yena heard it. It was a challenge. A taunt. A reminder that they were losing.
Don't let it show, keep it all inside116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTr8T3RTLmT
The pain and the shame, keep it outta sight
Then Romance ended the verse with a line that sliced through her defenses, his voice laced with seduction and cruelty. It was a reminder of her shame. He was right in front of her. Him.
Your obsession feeds our connection116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv7Hnj4DAsG
I sungan give me all your attention
The bridge has immediately shifted the tone. All five boys sang in monotone harmony, their voices blending into a single, hypnotic chant. They moved along the platforms, interacting with the crowd below—pseudo reaching out, mouthing the lyrics, feeding the trance.
Living in your mind now116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8827f1a1Ao
Too late 'cause you're mine now
Romance crouched at the edge of the platform. His eyes locked onto Yena's. The demons holding her had brought her forward as if on command. He reached down, his clawed hand brushing her face with a tenderness that didn’t belong to him. His touch was cold, electric, invasive. His eyes glinted with something hidden—something only she could see.
A warning. A sign to surrender. A choice.
She felt herself slipping—mind, soul, breath—into the seductive current of the performance. The charm was too strong, the selfish love too sweet. It wrapped around her like velvet chains, whispering that surrender would feel like peace. Her limbs grew heavy, her thoughts slow, her resistance a fading echo.
She tried to fight. But the warmth of her spiritual energy had dimmed to a flicker, and her heart—once defiant—now beat in rhythm with the song.
I will make you free116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhMXmJxTmS6
When you're all part of me
Romance’s grin stretched wide, too wide, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. He vanished, teleporting back to the main stage in a burst of purple smoke. Yena collapsed to her knees, breathless, hollow.
(Listen 'cause I'm) Preaching to the choir
The Saja Boys reappeared in formation, levitating mid-air like dark gods. Behind them, Gwi-Ma’s fiery presence roared—his form towering, shifting, alive with hunger. The flames twisted and surged, casting monstrous shadows across the arena. The crowd below raised their hands, reaching for the boys like worshippers at the altar of their own destruction.
Jinu hit the highest note. Can I get the mic a little higher?!
It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even mortal. The sound tore through the air like a scream from another realm, vibrating through the bones of every listener. The fans began to move—slow, synchronized, mindless. They walked toward the stage, arms outstretched, eyes glazed, tempted to touch the fire.
Gimme your desire116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYC1tgvFZwS
Watch me set your world on fire
The demons holding Yena tightened their grip, dragging her forward. She was to be the first. The first to dive. The first to burn. Her feet scraped against the ground, her body limp, her soul screaming in silence. The flames ahead pulsed with hunger, and Gwi-ma’s presence loomed larger, feeding off the devotion of the crowd.
Nae hwanghorui chwihae, you can't look away116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjbSxTlv6ii
No one is coming to save you116Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC3u6FIj1Zo
Now we runnin' wild
Jinu ended the song with a flourish. The boys raised their clawed right hands to the air, a final gesture of dominance.
You're down on your knees, I'ma be your idol
But before they could strike, before Gwi-Ma could begin his feast.
A haunting melody rang out. Angelic but deadly. It cut through the arena like moonlight through smoke, a melody so pure it made the atmosphere come to a halt. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was undeniable. It echoes with the wind that bounces off the wide field of metal.
The Saja Boys opened their eyes. Their victorious, smug expressions broke into confusion.
Jinu’s head snapped toward the far end of the arena, his expression shifting from bewildered to recognition. His bright yellow eyes narrowed, searching for the source. He knew that voice too well. Meanwhile, the demons holding Yena froze. Their claws loosened. Their heads tilted in confusion, questioning the sudden inconvenience. They were this close to sacrificing the hunter.
ns216.73.216.86da2
and then Add to home screen.