Warnings: dark themes, manipulation, yandere undertones, demon x human, power imbalance.
“Ahh, little one… you came back.” His voice chimed like bells, sweet and hollow. “I was beginning to think you’d run away. Humans do that, you know. They get frightened.”
You swallowed, unsure whether his smile comforted you or made your pulse spike for the wrong reasons. “I’m not frightened.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, golden hair spilling like liquid sunlight over his shoulders. “Then why is your heart beating so fast?”
He was beside you before you could blink — cold fingers brushing your wrist, tracing the frantic flutter beneath your skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but it carried the unmistakable chill of death.
“You’re warm,” he murmured, as if discovering something miraculous. “So warm. I never get tired of it.”
You should have pulled away. You didn’t.
Instead, you whispered, “You asked me to stay.”
“And you listened.” His smile widened, too perfect, too bright. “That makes you special.”
He leaned in, breath ghosting your cheek. It wasn’t warm — it wasn’t anything. Just emptiness brushing against life.
“Tell me,” he said softly, “why do you keep coming back to me? A monster. A demon. Someone who could devour you before you even screamed.”
You met his eyes — swirling, hypnotic, hungry — and answered honestly.
“Because you look at me like I matter.”
For the first time, Douma’s expression faltered. Just a flicker. A crack in the porcelain.
“Ah,” he whispered. “That’s dangerous, you know. Giving meaning to something that was never meant to have it.”
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt stolen from a world he didn’t belong to.
“But… I think I like it.”
His forehead touched yours, cold against warm, life against something that only pretended to be.
“Stay with me a little longer,” he breathed. “Just until your warmth rubs off on me.”
The hallway is quiet when you feel him before you see him — that faint shift in the air, the soft scrape of claws against the wall. Hyun‑su steps out of the shadows, eyes glowing faintly, studying you like he’s trying to read every thought you’re hiding.
He stops just close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.
“Why are you out here alone?” he asks, voice low, almost too calm.
You try to answer, but he’s already leaning in. One clawed hand lifts, slow and deliberate, and he brushes the back of his knuckles along your cheek. The touch is surprisingly gentle — warm, careful, like he’s afraid you might break.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs. “Are you scared of me… or something else?”
He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes flick down to your lips for a split second before returning to your face, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth — the kind of expression he only gets when the monster side is peeking through.
“You should know better,” he whispers, his forehead almost touching yours. “When you look at me like that… it makes the monster in me curious.”
His thumb traces your jaw, slow and deliberate.
“Careful,” he adds softly. “I might start thinking you want me to come closer.”
