(click the highlight for immersion :) )
The streets of Itaewon were alive with color and sound—neon signs flickering in every language, music spilling from open doors, the scent of grilled meat and incense mingling in the air. It was early morning, and the sun was bright in the sky.
Yena walked side by side with the group, Momo safely left behind at the dorms. She had a different disguise this time, a bonnet to cover most of her hair, her signature sunglasses, and casual yet girly clothes, though less flashy this time. She listens as Zoey starts to ramble about this special tonic.
"Why are there so many people today?" Mira curiously observed, looking around the vicinity.
Yena, too, noticed the number of people while walking casually yet carefully with rehearsed poise. Making sure not to look conspicuous.
"Oh! It's right there!" Zoey pointed towards an empty alleyway.
The girls made a beeline for it quickly. Yena, being slower in her step, took a side glance and noticed a small colorful card with a lion logo on the wall. She hadn't had time to read the typography as the girls disappeared from her view. She followed after them in haste, the contents of the card left ignored.
They stopped in front of a small, modern storefront wedged between a tattoo parlor and a fortune teller’s den. The sign above the glass door, along with a poster, the lettering in Hangul.
"HAN Clinic"
"It looks... legit as I expected it," Mira comments.
"Looks... promising, I'll give you that," Yena observes, reading the description on the poster.
"Earthy and herby... smells legit to me," Rumi said, seeing the bright side to this service.
186Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCsljCRv3Pw
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk outside the clinic, painting the pavement in soft gold. Yena leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Mira and Zoey flanked her on either side, both sipping on iced drinks they’d picked up from a nearby café.
“Think she’s okay in there?” Mira asked, glancing at the sliding doors.
“She’s Rumi,” Zoey said, stretching her arms overhead. “She could out-stare a demon into submission.”
Yena smirked. “She probably already interrogated the herbalist.”
Just then, the clinic doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Rumi stepped out, calm as ever, holding a carton box filled with neatly packed juice pouches. The labels were handwritten in Hangul, each one marked with a different phase of the moon.
Zoey perked up. “Ooooh, are those the tonics?”
Rumi nodded. “One per day. No singing until the last one’s gone.”
“Sounds like a detox cleanse,” Mira muttered.
The girls turned to head back toward the Huntrix building, the mood lightening.
Zoey grinned. “Once Rumi gets her voice back, we can finally focus on what’s important again.”
“The fans,” Mira and Yena said in unison.
“Exactly,” Zoey beamed. “They’ve been waiting for us.”
But before they could take another step, Yena’s eyes narrowed. Around the corner, shadows stretched long across the pavement, and four silhouettes emerged. Tall. Confident. Moving in sync.
Mira gasped. “Oh no. Fans?”
Zoey ducked behind Rumi, tugging Mira with her. “Quick, hide! Hoodie up, Rumi, hoodie up!” Rumi sighed but complied, pulling her hood over her head with practiced ease.
“Yena, get behind us!” Mira whispered urgently.
Yena rolled her eyes. “I’m literally in full disguise.”
She gestured to her ensemble—big bonnet, sunglasses, and less flashy clothes. “I look like a sleep-deprived barista. No one’s recognizing me.”
Still, she turned back toward the approaching figures and paused.
They weren’t fans.
They were boys.
Four of them.
Tall, striking, and dressed like they’d just stepped off a runway. Each had a distinct aura; one with silver hair and a lazy smirk, another with sharp eyes and a pastel shirt, the third with soft curls and a dreamy expression, and the last with a piercing gaze that lingered just a second too long.
Mira and Zoey slowly emerged from behind Rumi, eyes wide.
“...Whoa,” Mira breathed.
“Okay, but who let them exist?” Zoey whispered.
Yena looked at them. Then to the boys, then back to her friends. She facepalmed.
“Seriously?” she muttered. “You act like you’ve never seen a handsome guy before. We have tons of male fans.”
“Yeah, but not like that,” Mira said, still staring.
“They’re like... if a perfume ad came to life,” Zoey added.
Rumi, thankfully, remained composed, though Yena noticed her grip on the juice box tighten slightly. Yena was just about to commend Rumi for being the only one with her head on straight when she caught the look on her face.
Focused.
Not on the four boys but on someone behind them. A fifth figure emerged from the alley’s edge.
Short black hair, clean-cut, dressed in a simple white shirt and black jeans. He didn’t walk with the same synchronized swagger as the others. He moved more slowly. Quieter. But there was something about him, something that made the air feel thinner.
Yena’s stomach dropped. “Oh, come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Not you, too.”
Being the more rational one, Yena moved aside to let the boys through since they were in the way. She was glad Mira and Zoey woke up from their daze to move aside as well.
She turned to Rumi just in time to see her collide directly into the dark-haired boy’s chest. The box of juice pouches slipped from her hands, scattering across the pavement like fallen petals.
Rumi stumbled back and hit the ground with a soft thud. Yena winced. Mira gasped. Zoey squeaked.
The boy looked down at Rumi, his expression unreadable. He extended a hand, then paused and pulled it back.
Rumi blinked up at him, confused. Yena had seen enough. She stepped forward, crouching beside Rumi and helping her up without a word. The boy didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.
Yena didn’t like it.
She didn’t like any of it.
"Watch yourself," Dark-haired said lowly, with the other boys behind him.
"Umm.. rude," She eyes him before gathering the scattered pouches and handing the box back to Rumi, who was still dazed, her cheeks flushed. Yena leaned in. “You good?”
Rumi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just... clumsy.” Yena didn’t believe her.
As they helped Rumi stand up, and the boys were now far away from earshot, Yena felt it again. That same sensation from the train station the day before. A ripple in the air.
She turned her head slightly and locked eyes with one of the boys, who turned his back to their direction for a short while. The one with long pink hair, his gaze fixed on her. Not in admiration. Not out of curiosity. In recognition.
Yena’s breath caught.
He knew, and worse, he wanted her to know that he knew.
She looked away quickly, her heart pounding. The girls were already walking ahead, chatting nervously, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the encounter. Yena followed, but her mind was elsewhere.
The girls had barely turned the corner when the thump of bass echoed through the alleyway, sharp, rhythmic, and unmistakably amplified.
Yena paused mid-step.
“Is that... music?” Mira asked, tilting her head.
Zoey perked up. “That’s coming from where those guys went.” Rumi narrowed her eyes.
Drawn by the sound, the four of them followed the beat through the winding streets of Itaewon until they reached the main square. The plaza was already filling with people; locals, tourists, influencers with phones raised high. A speaker setup had been wheeled into place, and pink smoke billowed from the center like a stage effect gone rogue.
The music grew louder—bubble gum pop, pulsing with a summer vibe that made the air feel warmer.
And then, figures emerged. The same boys.
Now dressed in sleek, coordinated outfits with summer tones that looked soft. They moved in perfect sync, their choreography fun and fluid, their voices layered in harmonies that shouldn’t have sounded that good live.
The girls exchanged glances.
“Busking?” Zoey guessed.
“Publicity stunt,” Rumi muttered.
But Yena didn’t answer. She stepped closer, eyes fixed on the performance. The crowd erupted in cheers.
She turned to the others. Mira’s arms were crossed, her expression sour. “Seriously? They’re debuting here?”
Zoey scoffed. “They’re stealing our thunder. Who even are they?”
Rumi’s jaw was tight. “No agency would greenlight a debut like this. Not without permits. Not without press.”
Yena didn’t respond because, despite herself—despite everything—she was moving along to the beat.
It was good.
Too good.
She muttered under her breath, “They beat me to a summer anthem...my short respects.”
The melody was infectious, bright, sultry, laced with a hook that clung to the mind like honey. But beneath the surface, there was something else. A frequency she could feel in her bones.
And then she saw it. Just for a moment.
As the boys spun in unison, the plaza lights caught on their skin, and flickers of something unnatural shimmered into view.
Patterns.
Dark, purple waves that pulsed beneath their skin like ink in water, which could mean demon markings.
Yena’s breath hitched. She blinked, and they were gone—hidden again beneath flawless skin and perfect smiles, but she had seen them. They all had.
Mira stepped back. “No way. Demons.”
Zoey’s voice dropped. “Did you see that?”
Rumi whispered lowly, "Incredible. A demon boy band, why?" Her hand clenched around the juice box.
"When I said send someone that doesn't vanish, I didn't mean this.", Yena muttered while staring at the makeshift stage, her stomach twisting.
The music swelled, the choreography tightening into a final, hypnotic sequence. The boys moved like a single entity, fluid, precise, magnetic. As the beat dropped, some of them produced a rose from seemingly nowhere, twirling it between their fingers before tossing it into the crowd.
Screams erupted. Fans surged forward, hands outstretched, desperate to catch a token from the mysterious new idols.
But one rose didn’t fly randomly.
The boy with the long pink hair; his movements slower, more deliberate. Locked eyes with Yena through the haze of people and light.
He smirked. With a flick of his wrist, he sent his rose sailing through the air. It landed with a soft thud at Yena’s feet. The crowd didn’t notice, but the girls did.
Mira’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, he’s good,” she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm and suspicion.
Rumi’s expression grimed. “He’s targeting her. That wasn’t for show.”
Zoey looked between them, then at Yena. “What does he want?”
Yena didn’t answer. She stared at the rose, its petals a deep, unnatural red, almost black at the edges. It lay there like a challenge, a message.
Her heart pounded, but her face remained unreadable. She slipped into her old mask, the one she wore during press conferences and fan scandals.
Without a word, she raised her foot and crushed the rose beneath her heel. The petals crumpled, the stem snapped, and a faint hiss of air escaped as if the flower itself had exhaled. She turned on her heel and walked away, her steps sharp and deliberate.
The girls followed without hesitation. Mira glanced back once, her jaw clenched. “We’ve seen enough already.”
Zoey nodded, her usual brightness dimmed. “Let’s go.”
The crowd roared, but the girls were already gone. Behind them, the performance ended in a burst of pink smoke and applause. And on stage, a pair of eyes watched Yena’s retreating form with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
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and then Add to home screen.