Face claim: Xiaojun of Wayv(NCT)
TW: mentions of death and blood
Choi Jae-won looked like the kind of man everyone wanted to be.
He was tall, lean, and strikingly handsome. His black hair was always neat, his eyes sharp but warm. He wore expensive suits and had a voice smooth enough to calm even the most nervous client. At just 25 years old, he was already gaining attention at one of the top law firms in Seoul—Park & Kim.
People said he was brilliant. Some said he was lucky. Others just called him perfect.
But no one knew the truth.
It started two years ago when he studied abroad in Japan. He had been excited—new food, new people, a break from South Korea’s pressure. Tokyo was loud, full of lights, but somehow, he still felt a little lonely.
She was soft-spoken with a strange beauty. Her eyes always seemed to see more than they should. Her smile made him forget how different the world felt.
They met at a bookstore, bumped into each other, and ended up talking for hours. After that, they started spending more time together. Lunch, long walks, quiet chats in small cafes.
She said she wasn’t hungry.
He didn’t think anything of it.
They were walking down a quiet street. It was cool, the wind brushing through their jackets. She reached for his hand, but then she stopped. Her body tensed. Her eyes turned red.
Before he could speak, she lunged at him.
He felt her teeth sink into his shoulder. The pain was sharp, shocking. He screamed and stumbled back. Blood soaked through his shirt.
She looked horrified at what she’d done.
And then a piece of steel, from a construction site above, broke loose and crashed down.
It crushed her right in front of him.
When he woke up in the hospital, doctors told him her organs had saved him. Her body was somehow a match. She was declared brain-dead, but her liver and other parts were used in emergency surgery to fix the damage she caused.
They said she saved his life.
But they didn’t know what she really gave him.
Steak made him gag. Chicken made his stomach turn.
He felt weak all the time. Cold, even when it was warm. He thought maybe it was stress or the trauma.
But then the hunger began.
Deep and hollow. It wasn’t in his stomach—it was in his whole body. He could smell people. He could hear hearts beating if they stood close enough. His mouth would water on crowded trains.
One night, unable to take it anymore, he went to a butcher and bought raw meat.
Then he knew something was wrong.
He spent weeks searching online. He found myths and stories, rumors and blogs.
Then he found the word: ghoul.
Unable to eat normal food.
Need human flesh to survive.
Some were wild and hunted. Some were smart and lived in secret.
A weapon born from a special organ only ghouls had. Some looked like tails, some wings, some claws. Each ghoul had their own.
Jae-won’s showed up one night when he passed out from hunger.
It tore out of his back like a flower made of blood and muscle—four long, glowing red tentacles.
He stared at himself in the mirror, shaking.
But he refused to become a killer.
He returned to Seoul and locked himself away. He trained his body, learned to control the kagune. He taught himself to hide the red in his eyes when hunger hit.
And he found someone. A dealer.
A man named Joon-ho who whispered things in alleyways and smiled like he had no soul.
He sold meat—real human meat.
“Don’t ask where it’s from,” Joon-ho said. “Just pay.”
He started rebuilding his life.
He joined a law firm. Smiled. Shook hands. Won cases.
No one suspected a thing.
He became a master at pretending.
He went to company dinners and faked eating. He brought lunch and “forgot” to eat it. He made jokes, acted warm, and kept everyone at just the right distance.
She was kind, with a bubbly laugh and soft eyes. She liked him—he could tell. And maybe, if things were different, he would’ve liked her back.
But he couldn’t risk getting close.
Because every time she brushed his arm, his mind whispered:
His apartment was clean, modern, and cold.
The fridge had bottles of water and a hidden freezer, locked with a digital code. That was where he stored the meat—packages from Joon-ho, always fresh, always wrapped tight.
Sometimes he cooked it, sometimes not.
One evening, as he was walking home, a stranger followed him.
A woman, tall, thin, wearing a black coat.
She caught up to him near a crosswalk.
“You’re careful,” she said softly.
Jae-won turned. “Excuse me?”
She smiled. “I smelled you blocks away.”
She opened her coat slightly. For a moment, he saw it—faint red marks on her neck. A ghoul.
“I’m part of a community,” she said. “We protect each other. You don’t have to be alone.”
No name. Just a red crescent moon.
“I’ve survived alone this long,” he said, voice cool.
“Everyone breaks eventually.”
Jae-won stared at the card for a long time.
He didn’t want to be part of a ghoul world.
He just wanted to live quietly.
One morning, Joon-ho didn’t answer his phone.
Then a text: Laying low. Police sniffing around morgues. No deliveries for a while.
Jae-won felt panic rise in his throat.
He tried to ignore the hunger. Focused harder at work. Stayed later. Smiled more.
But every day, it got worse.
He started hearing heartbeats again. Smelling skin. Feeling the pulse of life in the people around him.
Min-seo offered him coffee one afternoon.
He almost said, Only if it comes with your arm.
He locked himself in his office until the feeling passed.
One night, walking through a quiet street after a long case, he passed an alley.
A man was standing there.
His kagune pressed against his spine.
He clenched his fists, shut his eyes, and ran.
He made it home just in time.
He collapsed in the bathroom, shaking.
He couldn’t hold on much longer.
Two days later, it got worse.
He was walking home again, rain falling around him, when three men stepped out of a parked van.
“Nice suit,” one said, holding a knife.
But the hunger was louder than fear.
The kagune exploded from his back.
The alley filled with screams.
He didn’t kill them—but he came close.
When it was over, they were on the ground, bleeding.
He looked at the blood on his tentacles.
That scared him more than anything.
He went home and stared in the mirror.
His face looked the same.
But his red eyes said otherwise.
He didn’t even feel human.
That night, the meat arrived.
His kagune pulsed as he bit into it, like it was happy.
Afterward, he sat in silence.
He got a promotion at work.
Min-seo gave him a small gift—a new pen.
He smiled and said thank you.
But inside, the hunger never left.
And sometimes, when he walked through the city at night, he saw other ghouls.
Men in suits. Women with glowing eyes.
Jae-won knew this life couldn’t last forever.
One day, someone might catch him.
But until then, he would keep pretending.
Keep fighting the monster inside him.
He would be the perfect lawyer.
Because in a world like this, sometimes pretending was the only way to stay alive.
Even if it meant becoming something you never wanted to be.
Even if it meant wearing a human face over a monster's heart.
