Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At the muffled sound of shrieking beyond the door, Molly’s hand hesitated. The cafe had been quiet when she had entered the bathroom – peaceful, even – but something had changed between then and now. Something other than the obvious changes that happen in a bathroom. It sounded like there was some kind of flash mob out there. She wasn’t exactly jazzed to find out what all the fuss was about, but it was either that or try to wait them out, and her tea was getting cold, so she sighed, braced herself, and pushed open the door.

She was met with the sight (and squeals) of a horde of people entering the cafe. They chattered excitedly, some even standing on their tip-toes to catch a glance towards the counter. Unlike them, Molly had a fairly good view of the counter, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary save for a cardboard standee of some girl group. It had been propped up that morning to commemorate a cross-promotional drink: a pink and purple frappe that had triple the daily recommended amount of sugar. The standee hadn’t had this much attention earlier, though, so the crowd must have materialized for the stylish-looking boy who was waiting for his order.

At least, she thought he was supposed to be stylish. His hair was dyed perfectly teal and cut in a soft, round style that looked like it required weekly maintenance to keep its shape. Clothing-wise, the oversized sweater look wasn’t her thing, but she could admit that he was cute enough to pull it off.

Molly’s suspicion was confirmed when she overheard a table of girls in the corner who had gotten out their phones and started recording.

“OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD,” one said.「It’s him!」

「Ah, only ___? I was hoping ___.」

「Who cares?! Quick, help me ___ my makeup!」

Molly’s Korean was not very good.

A far greater misfortune, however, was that her table was situated at the front of the cafe. By the windows. She was currently stood at the back. By the bathroom. If she wanted to get back to her laptop and rapidly-cooling tea, she would have to risk the ire of a mob by passing in front of their photos and videos.

The crowd applauded as the boy received an extra-large promotional frappe, posed next to the standee, and took a long sip. It was then that Molly noticed the merch. Many of his devotees had similar-looking shirts, hats, and light sticks emblazoned with lion logos, SAJA BOYS, and PRIDE PRIDE, whatever that meant. This had to be a member of a rival band.

It was a cute little stunt. Cheeky. Now if only it weren’t so damn inconvenient.

The idol’s eyes scanned over the group in slow satisfaction before landing on Molly and… lingering. After a moment, there was a look in his eyes that she didn’t recognize. Confusion, or perhaps disappointment. Maybe it was apparent that she wasn’t part of his “pride”.

The girls in the corner swung their phones toward her in an attempt to capture what he was staring at, and Molly had to admit that she didn’t know what it was either.

Baby Saja also didn’t know what he was looking at.

It had started out so normal. Public stunt, check. Target HUNTR/X’s fans, check. Destabilize the Honmoon in their places of worship, check. It wasn’t even long before a demon showed up, leaning out of the bathroom door to prey on a woman who was separated from the other humans. Very ballsy of it to do so in such a crowded place, but then again, who else was watching?

But in the middle of his photo op, when he glanced over a second time, he saw that the demon in question wasn’t done with its job. In fact, it had completely stepped out of the door, bracing its foot against the wall and yanking at the woman’s soul with all its might. A second demon appeared at the tear in the Honmoon and joined, its arms around the first demon’s waist like they were trying to pull a huge radish out of the ground together. Eventually, their strength gave, and the two stumbled back trough the tear, falling ass over teakettle just as the crowd noticed Baby’s stare and followed it to where the supernatural scene had just ended.

Several onlookers noticed that the woman needed to get through, and they politely stepped aside to allow her passage. Shoulders hunched in embarrassment, she shuffled over to the table that housed her belongings. Baby pulled his gaze away and acted like it was nothing, like he was only looking out for an innocent bystander and not memorizing her appearance so he could follow her later.

She was a young adult. White. Roughly his height; tall for a woman. She wore a men’s dress shirt over a tank top, both of which were tucked into a pair of jean shorts. Wavy blonde hair puffed out in a halo-like bob around her head, and her face was dominated by huge, round glasses. Giant, even. Probably some kind of statement accessory. Beyond the glasses? Freckles, mostly.

She stood out plenty. It’d be more than easy to track her down.

Baby pulled a few more poses for the fans – hearts, winks, Vs for victory, all in his usual languid, casual style – and began to wrap up. He was just about to finish his drink and head out when his ears pricked up to an American accent around the corner of the counter.

「English… okay?」 the woman with the resilient soul was asking the cashier. Her voice was quiet, but it was tinged with sweet panic.

The cashier made a nervous noise, so the woman took out her phone and typed into a translation app. As they were stood at adjacent sides of the counter, Baby could read the screen as she turned it around.

BAG STOLEN.

Now here was an opportunity.

The cashier looked like she had understood the message but was having trouble expressing that to Molly. She was miming talking into a phone, so Molly tried to offer her phone for her to type on, but the cashier rebuffed her with an exasperated sigh.

“She’s asking if you want her to call the cops,” a low, rough voice spoke close to her ear.

Startled, Molly jolted around and was met with eyes the exact same shade as the bright teal bangs that swept above them. It was that boy, the famous one. He looked at her expectantly as he motioned for the bystanders to give them some space.

Was “boy” the right term? Seeing his face up close, she was starting to second-guess herself.

“Oh! Um, yes, please?”

He took an extremely loud sip of the dregs of his frappe and nodded towards the cashier.

Molly felt embarrassment tinge her chest pink as she faced the cashier, who had been the one to ask her the question.「Yes. Please.」

Thankfully, the cashier had taken the initiative and was already speaking with the police. Molly couldn’t understand the bulk of the conversation, but at some point the boy… man?… next to her leaned over and lazily plucked the cashier’s phone from her hand, which was something only he could get away with, to translate more directly.

“They’re on their way,” he said around the straw in his mouth. “What kind of bag was it?”

“A messenger bag. White with green, faux leather, brass fasteners.”

As he relayed that, he seemed to lose interest in his empty drink and tossed it behind him. It flew in a graceful arc and dunked straight into a trash can. The crowd briefly went wild and just as quickly shushed each other. He continued, “And what was in it?”

“Laptop, wallet, keys, headphones, first aid, papers…” Molly’s voice cracked as she felt all those eyes on her. “Basically my entire life.”

“Phone?”

“No.” Thank God, she added mentally, feeling its weight in her back pocket.

“Mmhm. And were you in view of any security ca– whoops. One moment.” He moved to the cashier for the second round of questions. Before long he was speaking up towards the crowd, asking if anyone had seen anything.

There was a rippling murmur, but no one said a word.

He looked down in obvious disappointment, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. When he raised his face once more, Molly’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen. She almost forgot how naturally he was giving orders only seconds ago.

One man leapt apart from the others. 「I’LL FIND IT!」 he roared, tearing off his Saja Boys shirt to reveal a second, differently-colored Saja Boys shirt underneath. He was cheered on as he sprinted out of the cafe. The crowd, emboldened, followed, pouring out onto the street in a fevered search.

In their absence, the silence that filled the cafe left Molly gawking out the window in confusion. The idol next to her let out a low whistle.

“I’ll admit,” he said. “I didn’t expect it to be that powerful. But hey…”

Even though no one was left but the two of them, he came closer, and the color teal eclipsed her entire view. He made no move to touch her, but it still felt strangely intimate.

The bravado completely dropped from his voice as he continued. “...The police will be here soon. You’ll have to tell them everything all over again, but they’re gonna find that bag, and you’re gonna be alright. Alright?”

Caught up in the closeness, Molly couldn’t find her voice. She tried, but only air came out. She had to settle for nodding.

The idol smirked at how frazzled she’d become, the cockiness returning. He sent a two-finger salute her way and started walking backwards out the door.

“Stay safe!”

Molly made a couple of sounds that weren’t real words as he disappeared.

It had been ages since she’d felt butterflies that hard. It was hard to tell if he had a natural ability to be a heartthrob or if he'd taken some kind of professional class.

Unsure of what else to do, she sat back down at her table and took a sip of her abandoned tea. Cold, just as she suspected.

She had no money, she was locked out of her apartment, and she only had a few hours of battery left on her phone.

This was gonna suck.

Three blocks away, the sounds of a struggle echoed through a brick-lined alleyway. A messenger bag lay on the ground, contents half spilled and ignored in favor of the man who dropped them. He was conspicuously inconspicuous: covered by a mask, sunglasses, and cap, he looked every bit the stereotypical purse thief. Purse-thieving was the least of his problems at the moment, though. Another hit cracked across the man’s jaw and he slumped, held up only by the fist curled in his hoodie.

This was the scene Baby walked in on when he rounded the corner.

He approached with slow strides, giving the two attackers time to notice his presence. They snapped to attention, pinning the thief on either side to present to him.

「What?」 Baby asked. 「I don’t care about him. That the right bag?」

No response. He went over to investigate himself, examining the loose items with a nudge of his shoe. Squatting down, he scooped up the wallet and flipped it open to take a look at the ID. Giant circle lenses stared out of the photo at him. Molly Marlowe, age 23. This was the one.

Baby haphazardly scooped everything back into the bag and slung it over his shoulder. Sensing that the others hadn’t moved, he leaned back to confirm that they were, in fact, standing stock-still.

「Hurry up and eat already. We have places to be.」

The man in the middle screamed as his captors morphed into hulking, tusked creatures. Shrugging indifferently, Baby stepped through the ground as if it were an oddly deep puddle and swung himself upright into the realm of demons.

It had been weeks since Baby first tasted the air of the human world, and now that he had, the first thing that always struck him during visits “home” was the distinct note of ash. Every breath was dusty, every landscape gray. The underworld had burnt out every speck of itself thousands of years ago and was still smoldering.

Regretfully, the fire that did so was their king.

Baby was perched at the edge of the vast stone altar of Gwi-Ma, staring deadpan into his master’s violet flames.

「 Speak, 」the blaze intoned.

With a flourish, the idol flicked Molly’s ID into his hand.「Something’s strange about this human,」 he said. 「Thought you should know.」

「 Strange in what way? 」

「Her soul. It refuses to leave her.」

There was a moment of silence as Gwi-Ma considered this. A shudder went up Baby’s spine when he felt the demon king touch his mind.

He let him in.

Images appeared in the grand flame: memories of earlier that day. The human standing unaware. Two idiot demons fumbling her soul like mimes with an imaginary rope. Even Baby himself, as he leaned over her shoulder to speak to her, drew in a deep breath and could not take a single wisp of her.

The fire crackled. 「I have seen similar things in my day. Mages protected by magic; monks protected by gods… but none were exactly the same as this. And this one, she seems...」

「Clueless?」 Baby offered.

「Do not come so quickly to conclusions,」 Gwi-Ma warned. 「Where are the other witnesses, the ones you saw?」

The two demons from before, done with their meal, stumbled through a tear in the Honmoon. Gwi-Ma snatched them up, irritable at their lateness, and the same memories from different perspectives flickered rapidly in the fire. He then tossed them aside.

「No new information there,」 he grumbled as the demons’ yells faded down the altar stairs.

As silence settled in again, Baby suppressed the urge to give any suggestions. Gwi-Ma was the type of ruler who saw followers as followers and rarely accepted otherwise. How Jinu had racked up enough goodwill to pitch his boy band scheme was a complete mystery.

Gwi-Ma spoke once more. 「Before I come to a decision, I will test this soul myself.」

The Saja Boys were weird, Molly decided. Suspiciously weird.

This thought hadn’t come from nowhere. She was sat on a bench near the police station, surfing the internet through her phone as she waited for news of her bag, as it wasn’t like she could go home without a key or even money for a train ticket. The logical thing to do in the hours ahead of her was to find out more about that guy who had stolen the spotlight of her whole day.

The thing was, though, that despite being so popular, there was next to no information available on him or the rest of his band. Sure, they were so new that they’d only published one song, but it was an instant hit that put them on top of every conceivable chart. And also in every grocery store, retail chain, and train station, as Molly found out when she played a sample of their single and realized that she’d been humming it all week. Normally, an idol group’s agency would have taken the opportunity to post as much of their personal data as possible for fans to obsess over. Searching for similar bands like HUNTR/X, the girl group with the standee in that cafe earlier, immediately turned up each of their birthdays, weights, heights, blood types, hometowns, educations, and even MBTI test results. It was downright creepy, but public opinion dictated that stalking wasn’t stalking if the target was a celebrity.

Anyway, the Saja Boys were a complete mystery in that regard. Their website only listed stage names, photos, and a link to their social media page. The “Boy” she’d met earlier went by Baby Saja, as apparently they’d all formatted their names like the Spice Girls of the nineties, and he was their designated rapper. It was a fun disparity to have the “baby” of the group take on the role with historical street gang affiliation, but it wasn’t purely original – Molly was pretty sure that HUNTR/X’s cute one was their rapper as well.

Scrolling through their socials didn’t provide anything concrete, either. It was entirely announcements for their performances and guest appearances. The closest she got to real information on these guys were forum posts from stalker fans posting anecdotal evidence. One user claimed to be a server who had checked their ages to serve them champagne and that they were all early to mid-twenties (twenty exactly in Baby’s case). Another regularly reported which hotels they checked into and out of as they traveled and had a framed police report from when they were caught following the band too closely.

As she considered the futility of this exercise, Molly’s phone beeped. It was at fifteen percent battery, and her charger was, of course, in her bag, which could have been halfway across the country by now.

It was at that thought that she heard a voice deep within her own head.

「 You ___ ___. ___ never ___– 」

「Hello?」 she thought back. 「I don’t speak Korean...」

The voice cursed and then resumed in English.

“You were careless. You’ll never see your belongings again. You should have never left–”

“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it. I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Child, we are in your MIND–”

Baby and the horde of demons surrounding Gwi-Ma’s altar stood shell-shocked as an end call tone reverberated throughout the area.

「What just happened?!」 Gwi-Ma exclaimed.

Again, Baby waited for his liege to come to a decision.

「You,」 he began, authority returning to his voice. 「You’ve done well to bring this to my attention. Investigate further. Find out if she is a threat.」

The idol was expecting this. He bowed, slowly and stiffly as not to lose the bag on his shoulder, and leapt back to the base of the altar’s humongous stairs. There, the two demons from before were busy straightening out their bones.

Baby cleared his throat to get their attention and tapped the side of his face. 「Treat me like that alley guy,」 he instructed.

The demons looked at each other in hesitation but, seeing that he was serious, squared up. The larger of the two leveled a fist and began to lunge.

As bare knuckles grazed his face, Baby’s hand shot up and caught the blow.

「Not the nose. Not the eyes. Make it pretty. Try again.」

When he appeared in the human realm once more, it was as a scuffed-up hero.

The human – Molly – scrambled to her feet when she saw him approach, shock and worry propping open her jaw as she hurried to his side. “Are you okay?!” she asked, eyes darting to each cut and bruise.

“Delivery,” he quipped, hefting her bag for emphasis.

Her shoulders slumped in disbelief. “You… you didn’t need to do that. The police–”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he assured her. “I ran into him on accident. Didn’t wanna lose him.”

“But you’re hurt. Sit down. I have a first aid kit in there.”

Baby put up a front of fake protest as she dragged him to the bench and pulled the kit from her bag. It seemed that without the tension of the crowd from before, there was nothing holding her back. Molly was suddenly all business as she flipped through its contents, reading the tiny words on each packet with her brow knit in concentration.

“You’re not hurt anywhere else, are you? No stab wounds?”

He cocked a smile to ease the mood. “Trying to get my shirt off?”

His mirth became a hiss when a gauze pad full of disinfectant pressed into a cut on his cheek.

“You’re clearly well enough to tease,” she hummed, peeling back the gauze to examine him further. “That one’s going to need a bandage.” After the rest of his injuries were cleaned, she turned her attention back to the kit, taking out a pen and scribbling on something in it.

“If you’re writing up a bill, I can direct you to my manager.”

“I’m the one who owes you. Just hold still already.”

Her fingertips brushed his face as she secured a bandage over the stinging wound.

“Done.”

Baby felt around, checking her work. “How do I look?”

She raised a hand to cover her mouth, but the laugh he’d been fishing for finally broke through.

“That bad?”

The encounter ended amicably. He walked her to the train station, which was admittedly only a block away from the police station, and waved as he saw her off. All in all, a success. He buzzed with energy, all smiles as he turned a corner and teleported into smoke.

He reappeared in a glamorous penthouse suite at the top of Seoul. It had been a gift from Gwi-Ma after the success of their first single; a show of faith and proof of their rise in power. It was spacious and modern, glossy black with neon signs. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city as a living mural on the back wall, and a spiral staircase led to the lofted second floor where their rooms were held.

「Heard about your new mission!」 Abby chimed as Baby swept past him towards the fridge. 「You seem pumped, so it’s going well, yeah?」

Bottles and takeout boxes rattled as Baby took stock of his options. 「Yeah, this investigation shit is easy. We had two meet-cutes thanks to some dumbass who took her purse, and now she’s got stars in her eyes.」 His hand settled on a canned juice and he closed the door, turning back to face the others as he popped the tab. 「Think I’ll schedule another ‘chance encounter’ in a couple days and slowly turn up the heat.」

Instead of the congratulations he was expecting, Abby, Romance, and Mystery simply stared. After a beat, Romance let out a condescending chuckle.

「What?」 Baby asked indignantly.

「I think she’s scheduled that ‘chance encounter’ for you,」 he replied, brushing his thumb along his cheek to mimic Baby's bandage. He pulled a compact mirror from his pocket and tossed it to him.

Baby gawked at his reflection. Written in bold, dark ink on the bandage that took up a quarter of his face was a series of numbers and dashes. A phone number.

It took him a full twenty seconds to process the meaning of this.

「Guys… we’re going to need phones.」

Chapter Text

The addition of smartphones hadn’t made too much of an impact on the Saja Boys’ lives. Their schedules continued as usual: dance practice in the morning, vocal training in the afternoon, and a block of time in the evening for other activities like television appearances or general scheming. One might expect the shine of a new toy such as the internet to distract from more important things, but that wasn’t true at all.

For most of them.

“Aw, whats better than this?” Romance cooed into the mic of his phone as the camera swept the scene.

Baby and Jinu were huddled on the couch in the main room, Baby munching on popcorn and Jinu scribbling in a notebook with rapt attention. On the big screen in front of them, classical music swelled as a couple stood, arms outstretched, at the railing of a ship. The characters slowly changed their position to an embrace and kissed passionately.

The heart-haired Saja perched on the arm of the couch and panned back to his band-mates. “Just guys being dudes.”

Calmly, Baby smushed a handful of popcorn into the lens.

As Romance dejectedly wiped butter from his phone and inspected it for damage, Jinu paused the movie. 「You’re the one who asked for phones,」 he chided. 「You can’t go around breaking everyone else’s.」

「Then tell Romance he can’t film me,」 Baby retorted.

「That’s not fair! You’re trending!」 Romance flicked through his social media feed to make a point. Several news clips of Baby, face scratched and scraped, giving an interview about his recent heroics whipped by in quick succession. He then navigated back to the video he had just posted. 「See? Two-hundred likes already.」 He paused to skim the comments. 「And Jinu’s always a big draw. They think it’s really cute that you’re taking notes, by the way.」

Jinu squirreled the notebook away with a scowl.

「Romance, we on for those thirst traps?」 a deep voice spoke up behind Baby. He turned around in his seat and was nose-to-six-pack with Abby, who had donned his favorite crop top for the occasion. Baby didn’t know why he bothered to look, honestly.

「Mmhm.」 Romance hopped off of the arm rest and sauntered over to Abby’s side, camera at the ready. 「You two are free to take notes on this, too, if you want to get the edge in your ‘battles’.」

「Remind me of your kill count again?」 Jinu asked dryly.

Romance scoffed. 「Kill?」 he asked. 「There’s more than one way to eat a human.」

He and Abby both got about a half-second into making a rude gesture with their tongues before Jinu leapt from the couch and physically pushed the pink Sajas out the door.

When Jinu returned, Baby nodded towards the television. 「Are we still watching? I’m kinda looking forward to when that guy freezes to death.」

The frontman shook his head. 「What Romance just said about our ‘battles’ got me thinking...」

Baby’s eyebrows shot up.

「Get your mind out of the gutter. You haven’t talked to that girl yet, have you? It’s been a couple of days.」

He had a point. Baby fished his phone from his pocket and brought up her contact information. 「The big problem is, like, what do I even start with? Just ‘hey’?」

「I wouldn’t know. I just sent Rumi a time and place; that seemed to work.」 Jinu leaned over to peer at the screen. 「...You have her saved as ‘Forbidden Snack’?」

「Mind your business.」

Molly was spiraling.

She shouldn’t have given that cute idol her number. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him again, but it kept hitting her over and over as the hours passed by ever since that first evening. An idol. She gave her number to an idol. What an idiot! What would some famous person want to do with her? He really had her guard down when he, without any cameras or fans to praise him, gave her that pep-talk in the cafe. When he got himself beaten up just to get her bag. When he sat down next to her and patiently let her dress his injuries.

It was so genuine, so real, that she mistook him for a normal person.

Soon enough, of course, the hours of sitting by her phone waiting for – what, a text? A call? – turned into a day. And then days, plural, staring at her reflection in the screen in embarrassed silence, begging for a rift in space and time to open up so she could go back and strangle herself.

An idol. She was getting rejected by an idol. And she wasn’t sure what else she had expected.

At about the fourth stage of grief, Molly had been lying face-down on the floor of her studio apartment, immobile, for an unknown amount of time. It had at least been long enough that she had mapped out the undersides of all her furniture and resolved to vacuum once she had the energy to get up. That was, if she ever did have the energy. It had been a while since she’d eaten. Maybe if she ended up in a cycle of having no energy and being unable to stand, then she’d finally die, and this wouldn’t be her problem anymore.

Something on the coffee table buzzed, then chirped. Her phone.

Still in the throes of dramatics, she couldn’t quite bring herself to stand just yet. Molly wiggled like a lowly worm towards the table, which did not get her very far, and in the end opted to roll across the floor instead. It took three rolls for her to bang her knee on a leg of the coffee table. She winced and tried to sit up, only for her head to hit the table’s edge. When she collapsed back into a lying position, her arm was the final victim as her phone fell from the table and landed on her.

Molly let out a tortured sigh when she saw who the message was from.

“How are you?” read the text from “MA’AM”. “You’re ignoring my DMs. Do you need anything?”

She wasn’t about to ask her boss to her grant vacation hours just so she could sulk over the least parasocial celebrity relationship she’d ever been suckered into. Grumbling, Molly pulled herself back up and sat her chin on the coffee table, waking her laptop up to check her media monitoring programs. All brand-related hashtags were stable, there were no direct mentions or messages to any of the accounts, and analytics weren’t due for another week. Holstein & Kim Co. was doing perfectly fine without her.

The phone continued to beep as a torrent of texts flooded in. “You seem upset.” “Need a pick-me-up?” “I could get fresh sweets delivered straight to your door.” “Just say the word!”

Damn that woman. Wasn’t it like 3 AM where she lived?

When the final text, “Is there a boy?”, came through, Molly clamped her thumb over the power button so hard she thought she was going to crack the screen.

Before she could select the “off” setting, though, the phone began to ring. It wasn’t a number she recognized. Seoul area code.

This could have been multiple things. Her clingy boss spoofing a random number was possible, but not likely. More realistically, it was something like her doctor’s office, or a maintenance guy for her apartment, or a spam caller. Any of these could be sent to voicemail, and normally, she’d do just that, but for once, she welcomed the distraction.

With a calming breath, Molly answered the phone. 「Hello?」 she asked.

“Lunch,” came the reply.

She blinked. “What?”

“It’s Molly, right? You gave me your number. Let’s get lunch.”

Something in Molly short-circuited. She recognized that voice. The loudest, shrillest excitement stuck in her lungs. Confusion hung in a fog at the base of her brain. Her heart pounded and plummeted and jumped back up. Several wildly different sentences collided into each other at the back of her throat, and none of them made it out of her mouth.

At her silence, the voice on the phone continued. “...Are you doing that thing where you can’t talk agai–”

“Where?” she asked a little too quickly, overlapping with him. “Um. Where do you want to eat?”

“Dunno. Let me know where and when to pick you up, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Molly hastily rested her phone on her shoulder and named a street corner near her apartment as she drafted an out-of-office notice on her laptop.

She was going to lunch with an idol.

It was a little difficult to balance “fooling the paparazzi” with “not shape-shifting into someone else”, but Baby thought he had managed to pull it off. In defiance of his Saja softboy aesthetic, he had put together more of a street fashion look. Two gold necklaces rested on a sleeveless turtleneck, which was tucked into a pair of wide-leg trousers, which were tucked into combat boots. A masked covered his face, and as the ultimate precaution, he had turned his hair brown. The turquoise would have been a dead giveaway, after all.

The car he had chosen was similarly inconspicuous: a mid-sized SUV with tinted windows, which of course came with a demon chauffeur. And then a second demon chauffeur, because the first one asked him why he looked like a G-rated mobster love interest, and his response had gotten a little out of hand.

All this was to say that he really should have seen it coming when Chauffeur #2 opened the car door to Molly and she took a little too long to take in his appearance.

“Did you… dye you hair?” she asked clumsily.

The first excuse he could think of fell out of his mouth. “It’s a wig.”

Molly squinted at him.

He kept face perfectly level.

“It looks great,” she conceded, though with a hint of doubt. She climbed into the car and smoothed down her skirt as she sat. Her date outfit of choice was a sundress and heels, and Baby thought she’d done something with her makeup, but he wasn’t well-versed in that sort of thing. A bruise was starting to form on her arm, and another on her leg, but she probably didn’t want to talk about that.

“What do you think about tteokbokki?” he said, changing the subject as soon as possible. He stretched his shoulders and watched as Molly allowed herself a quick glance at his exposed arms.

Her words came out slightly strangled. “I love tteokbokki.”

And Romance and Abby thought he’d learned nothing from them. Baby gave the driver an address, and the car lurched to life. He settled into his seat and turned to speak to his guest properly.

“So… what do you do?”

“I’m a social media manager,” said Molly. She didn’t sound proud of herself. “For a bank.”

“Are you taking other clients? I’m not a fan of our media guy, personally,” he said, reminiscing about the camera in his face that morning.

That got a polite laugh out of her. “I wish. My contract is really strict.”

Baby thought it was a bit extreme to bind their social media manager of all people into exclusivity, but he didn’t know enough about banks to argue. Unsure of where to take the conversation from there, he got comfortable in the silence, watching the sunlight play with Molly’s freckles and the brown tones in her eyes.

She was the one to speak up next. “What’s your name, by the way? Because I’m not going to call you ‘Baby’.”

He hummed in thought. “Guess.”

This caught her off guard. She floundered, toying with the strap of her purse as she refused to meet his gaze. “...Steve,” she said finally.

“Steve?!” Baby exclaimed.

“You put me on the spot!”

“You can do better than that!”

The car slowed as it pulled up to the curb in front of the restaurant, and Baby paused their banter to step out and circle the car to Molly’s side. When the door opened, he offered his hand like a perfect gentleman. She squeezed hard as she alighted, stumbling in those tall shoes.

They took a moment to evaluate each other, Baby looking up at her and her looking down at him, as they did the math on what high heels did to a woman the same height as her date.

“I’m sor–” Molly started to say, but Baby cut her off.

“You aren’t wearing your glasses.”

There was another lengthy pause.

“I just noticed.”

The restaurant was small, but used open areas, large windows, and a clean, modern aesthetic to keep from feeling claustrophobic. Customers paid a reasonable fee to choose their own ingredients, buffet-style, and cook them on burners over by the counter. Molly had picked a mild heat level to match her western spice tolerance and packed her bowl generously with rice cakes and other goodies. When she and her companion sat at a booth and started talking, she smelled the powerful aroma of capsaicin wafting off of his bowl and couldn’t help but remember the sheer amount of sugar he had chugged at the cafe earlier that week. Whatever taste buds this man had left must have been through war.

“Doyeon?” Molly was asking, fishing a dumpling out of her bowl. “Jaeyeon? Seungyeon?”

“You’re stuck on ‘yeon’,” he noted with that smug smile that she’d grown used to.

“Well, it suits you.”

He scoffed at that, but Molly could have sworn she saw color in his cheeks.

She swished her dumpling along the edge of the bowl to keep the sauce from dripping. “That’s enough out of me. You talk now so I can eat.”

“About what?”

“You asked me about my job. Start with yours.” She took an exaggerated bite of dumpling.

“Well… you know,” he said hesitantly, not making eye contact. “I have four coworkers, and we all basically have the same tasks, but we each have different specialties. Abby does most of the choreography, Romance and Mystery do most of the lyrics, that sort of thing.”

Mouth full of food, Molly made a humming noise that sounded kind of like “And you?”

“I compose.”

That surprised her. His profile on the Saja Boys social media page had only listed him as their rapper. But the more she thought about it, the easier it was to picture him lounging next to a computer, fiddling with sound samples and beatboxing to himself to plan the rhythm. She swallowed her dumpling. “Are you working on anything right now?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We’re kind of busy with our debut, but once that settles down I plan to start working on our newest single ASAP.”

“And the frontman… Jinu?” Molly probed, glad that she had researched their group. “What does he do?”

The man rolled his eyes. “He’s the face,” he said.

“Surely he has talent, though,” she pressed.

“I mean, yeah,” he admitted, “he has a good voice and plays the bipa, but like, I’ve genuinely heard him rhyme sad with bad before.” (At this, Molly couldn’t help but giggle.) “He doesn’t need to do what we do; he’s great at just being the frontman, y’know? He keeps us organized and has that K-drama oppa look that the fans go wild for.” He paused to sip the broth in his bowl and then took a moment to inspect her. “Are you superstitious at all?”

“What?” she asked at the change in subject.

He gestured to a spot underneath the table. “You’re bouncing your leg. That’s unlucky here.”

“Oh.” Molly hadn’t realized she was doing that. It was a common thing for her, especially when she was feeling energized from a good conversation, but at the mention of luck, she forced her leg to stop.

“You can do it if you want,” he assured her. “It’s not, like, rude or anything. I just thought you should know.”

She didn’t move a muscle.

“I guess you want to stay lucky, huh?” he said.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I kind of need all the luck I can get.”

At home later that day, Molly laid on her bed with her laptop on her stomach and thought about how weird this relationship was becoming. She still didn’t know the man’s name, he had no identifying information or internet presence, and he had blatantly lied about his hair as soon as they met up. A wig? That was genuinely stupid of him. Why couldn’t he admit it was dyed? Unless, of course, it somehow wasn’t, but she didn’t want to think about what that implied. She wanted to hold onto the hope that he was just a little weird; that they could keep seeing each other. Without a name for him, and not knowing that the very next day he’d show up in photographs with his hair teal as ever and no sign of bleach damage, she selected Baby’s number in her phone and assigned it the moniker “GROWN MAN.”

When Baby returned to the Saja Boys headquarters, there was a notable change to their living room: Jinu had pushed the furniture out into a wider circle to make room for a standing cork board. Adorned with scribbled notes, maps, photos of HUNTR/X, and about two total yards of red string, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a serial killer’s home.

Jinu took his time straightening out a flyer for HUNTR/X’s next event as Baby flopped into an armchair. 「You skipped vocal training,」 he said without turning around.

「And?」 Baby huffed.

「And I’d better hear you make up for it later.」 He tapped the flyer, finally looking over. 「When should we crash HUNTR/X’s meet and greet tomorrow? Two, five minutes in, for dramatic effect?」

Baby considered this but shook his head. 「Nah, we should show up early. Throw them off their game immediately.」

Before Jinu could respond, a rhythmic thumping directed both of their attention to the stairs. Abby was descending, dragging a prone Mystery down the steps behind him by the foot. Several brightly-covered sewing pins dotted Abby’s body, but he seemed completely unbothered.

「Let’s be the first ones there,」 he suggested casually. When he reached them, he surveyed the board, unstuck one of the pins from his neck, and stabbed it into the flyer. 「Camp out the line.」

「What happened to you?」 Baby asked with a grimace.

Abby motioned at Mystery, who was still lying flat on the ground. 「Had to go get Mystery. He hates being interrupted.」

Making no motion to get up, Mystery offered a passive wave. A half-made Zoey curse doll was partly sewn into his hand.

「I asked for everyone,」 Jinu said sternly. 「Where’s Romance?」

As if on cue, the muffled sound of sobbing came from somewhere upstairs.

「Someone made a hater account,」 Abby said as if in explanation.

Mystery’s quiet voice floated up from the floor. 「They don’t even write anything. They just repost his selfies with the forehead made bigger.」

「He’s devastated.」

Jinu sighed and turned back to the board, continuing the strategy talk in earnest. Wholly uninterested, Baby zoned out instead, his thoughts drifting back to that tteokbokki joint.

So Molly was superstitious. That could be nothing, but it could also be a clue. Superstition was rarer in the west. Someone who believed in the otherworldly could have occult ties. Someone who “needed all the luck they could get” could have run out of it before.

And then there was another issue, a cloud hanging ominously over his head as he pretended not to sense its presence. A nagging dread that spelled disaster in the easy flow of their conversation, in the sunlight reflected in her eyes, in the way she called him yeon, “beautiful”.

He truly, genuinely enjoyed her company.

Chapter Text

The meet-and-greet went great. HUNTR/X had been thrown off their game entirely by the Saja Boys’ sudden appearance, and the boys had no difficulty making them seethe with rage as they shared the signing table and elbowed into each others’ spaces.

And the music awards shows were going great. They were now winning roughly every other week, neck-and-neck with their rivals.

And Baby and Jinu stringing along Molly and that HUNTR/X frontwoman, Rumi – that was going great too. Jinu had Rumi so convinced that he was worth “saving” that she was becoming sympathetic to the demons, even throwing the meet-and-greet and several battles in their favor, though it did seem to be by accident. On Baby’s side, he and Molly were seeing each other regularly enough to be considered, well, seeing each other. They went out to movies and shopping centers and night markets and laughed at each other’s stupid jokes and stole intimate glances and… and he hadn’t made any progress on his actual mission, but he loved how it was going. How when they talked, he didn’t have to think about how he planned to betray her and take her soul.

And when he looked at Jinu one night and saw that same conflicted, hopeless, sappy look in his eyes that he recognized in his own chest, Baby realized that maybe it wasn’t going that great after all.

It happened at the Saja Boys penthouse over the weekend. It had to be the weekend, as their weekdays were starting to get so packed that there was no other time to relax. Abby and Romance were out doing who-knew-what (probably at a bar in disguise, drinking and dining on whomever was dumb enough to hang out with them), and Jinu had asked Mystery to teach him some kind of arts and crafts thing like they were middle-aged women. When Baby pulled up a chair at their table just to have something to do, Jinu absentmindedly lobbed a few colors of jewelry cord his way.

Mystery spoke in his usual slow and quiet manner, but his fingers moved far too fast, looping the cord over thumb and forefinger in a spider’s dance until it formed a perfect flower knot between them. For the first few loops, Baby attempted to follow along, but his cord very quickly tangled, and he had to spend the rest of the lesson attempting to unravel them. Next to him, Jinu continued the lesson, deliberate and methodical in his motions. With some extra tips from Mystery, he completed the knot and began braiding the rest of his cord into a bracelet.

The youngest Saja had originally put his failure on hold to watch Jinu’s work with curiosity, but a sinking feeling pooled in his stomach when he noticed the tenderness with which the man focused on his project’s familiar shade of purple. Earlier that week, he had seen that very same braid on a larger scale whipping snakelike around hordes of demons as HUNTR/X sliced their way through the fray of battle.

「Hey…」 he spoke up as Jinu closed it off with a sliding knot. 「You good?」

Jinu flinched as if coming out of a trance. 「Yeah, of course,」 he said. He tossed the completed bracelet onto Mystery’s steadily growing pile of knots and pretended to lose interest.

His companions stared in silent doubt.

It didn’t take long for him to crack. 「Okay, fine. You’re right. Something’s been bothering me. I just…」

Baby swept his shitty knot work to the side to put his full attention on Jinu. Conversely, Mystery stood up and stalked over to the kitchen behind them.

「For years, I’ve wanted what you have. Both of you.」

So this was about his deal with Gwi-Ma.

The boy band scheme – the whole thing – it wasn’t about conquering Earth, not really. Not for Jinu. He had only proposed it out of desperation. It was the only thing he could think of that Gwi-Ma would accept in exchange for removing Jinu’s haunted memories of his humanity.

Mystery, who was currently grabbing something from the fridge, never had that problem. There were two types of demons: those who were born demons, and those who were turned from humans. Born demons, who had never been human, were bad at acting like humans, so when Jinu ran auditions for the Saja Boys, only once-human demons made the cut… except for Mystery. He was the smoothest full-blooded demon any of them had ever seen. This didn’t stop him from doing things like barking like a guard dog when strangers got too close, but when he had a script to work with, he was indistinguishable from the rest of the band.

On the other hand, Baby was once human, but he didn’t remember a thing about it. He had already gotten what Jinu was working so hard for, but it didn’t feel like all that much to him. It had been jarring to wake up in the demon realm wondering why he had tiger stripes all over him before he realized that he didn’t even know what he was supposed to look like. The others in the underworld had told him he’d done something good topside; that this was his “prize”. Something about the Soviets.

He couldn’t say whether it was worth it. He’d have to know what he was missing first. Romance and Abby still had their humanity. Maybe whatever made being human so special was why they clung so closely to each other.

Jinu continued. 「I guess what I mean to say is, is it really better to wash away everything you’ve ever done, or to live the life you’re given no matter its flaws?」

「Probably the washing one,」 Baby said.

「Washing,」 Mystery echoed as he closed the fridge.

「So, what,」 Baby added, 「you really want flaws or something?」

The frontman sighed. 「I’m not sure what I expected from you guys.」

Mystery, returning from the kitchen, dragged a coaster to Jinu’s place at the table and set down a can in offering.

Soda pop.

Jinu stared at the drink as if mulling something over. Then he grabbed it and stood up.

「I’m going to my room,」 he announced. 「Thanks for the lesson.」

The two blue-haired Saja watched him leave up the stairs. It wasn’t until they heard the distant closing of his bedroom door that they turned to face each other.

Baby motioned at the mess on the table. 「I didn’t learn shit. Show me again.」

The next afternoon, as she’d promised herself weeks ago, Molly was finally vacuuming under the furniture.

Not that anyone would notice if she didn’t. Certainly not her incoming guest, who was oblivious to the point that she’d stopped wearing her contacts around him. But it was the principle of the matter. Yeon, as she’d taken to calling him, was coming to see her apartment for the first time that day, and Molly just knew she’d feel the crushing weight of her parents guilt-tripping her all the way from America if the place wasn’t sufficiently cleaned, even in the places that no one would bother to look.

HUNTR/X’s “How It’s Done” blared on her phone over the din of her tiny handheld vacuum as she worked. She had started listening to them when they began regularly appearing in public with the Saja Boys. It wasn’t something she’d talked to him about directly yet, but she was curious about his work friends, if a rival band could be called that. Plus they had an excellent sound. HUNTR/X was vicious and cool in a way that the Boys’ “Soda Pop” had failed to hit for her, catchiness aside.

She was also invested in their ongoing ARG. At least, that’s what the fans were calling it. The G in ARG stood for “game”, and there wasn’t any audience participation as far as Molly could tell, but she didn’t know what else fit, so ARG was good enough. Gimmick, perhaps? Anyway, HUNTR/X had this narrative where they presented as demon hunters. It was in the name, after all. They dressed in badass uniforms, sang about fighting evil, and at a few shows even included special-effect demon fights into their dance choreography. That kind of commitment to a bit rarely ever made it into mainstream music. If more artists had fun like that, Molly would actually be tempted to buy concert tickets someday.

Fans online were already theorizing about how the Saja Boys might fit into the HUNTR/X ARG. And shipping them. Good lord, the shipping. That was a big part of why she hadn’t brought it up with Yeon. The most popular ship involving him wasn’t even one in which he was supposedly dating anyone. They had him pegged as Zoey and Mystery’s adoptive son. That had to be embarrassing.

Finishing up, Molly clicked off the vacuum singing “now it’s done, done, done!” along with the music just in time to hear her phone beep.

“Traffic’s light,” read the text from “GROWN MAN”. “Be there in ten.”

She cussed and bolted to go change out of her cleaning clothes.

It was in, in fact, eight minutes that she got the “here” text and hurried to let him in, but she had at least had the foresight to do her makeup earlier and rarely bothered with her hair. It hadn’t taken her long to fling her sweats into the laundry hamper and pull on a T-shirt, shorts, and knee-high socks to combat the AC.

When she opened the door, she was delighted to see that Yeon wasn’t “wearing” the damn “wig” again. He had somehow been turning himself brunette when they were out in public, and ignoring the absurdity of however that worked, it was nice that he was comfortable enough to be his usual self. He was slouched against the doorway in one of his trademark sweaters, a lollipop stick poking out of his mouth.

“Um, annyeonghaseyo?” Molly said, greeting him with a nod of her head.

Yeon blinked. “Don’t do that,” he said around the candy.

She moved over to let him through, closing the door behind him. “Weren’t we planning on getting delivery?”

“Yeah?” He took his shoes off and wandered in.

“You’re going to lose your appetite,” she chided.

“I’m always hungry,” he shot back, briefly taking the lollipop out to enunciate.

Thinking back to every time they’d met, it was true that he was always eating something. Maybe all of that dancing kept him burning through the calories.

Yeon lingered when he reached the main area of the apartment, taking in the tiny space. It was like an open-concept version of a shotgun house: a straight line from the kitchenette to TV area and then the bed and desk by the only window. He nodded in what could have been either approval or politeness and returned to Molly’s side, rifling through his pockets.

“Made you this,” he said, presenting her with a bright yellow string of knots.

It took Molly a second to recognize it as a bracelet, as the knots had no rhyme or reason, and it didn’t have much of a closure. She took it and fumbled to put it on. Artistry aside, it was a surprisingly endearing gesture. She hadn’t received a handmade bracelet in over a decade. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

He shrugged it off. “Yeah, we made them as like, a team-building exercise. I don’t have much use for it, so.”

“Hmmm.” Molly looked at his bare wrist, then retreated further into the apartment, to the bedroom area. Yeon only went as far as the couch before sitting down, waiting there for her return as if crossing the two feet it took to reach her bed was a violation of privacy. She went to her wardrobe and opened the jewelry box that sat atop it, sifting through its contents until she found what she was looking for. “Would you use this?” she asked, offering a bracelet of her own. It was slightly worn, woven from blue and green thread in a chevron pattern.

“...You made this?” he asked, looking it over.

“Yeah,” she replied, matching his noncommittal tone from earlier as she sat next to him on the couch. “As a kid. Friendship bracelets, that kind of thing. You can have it if you want.”

“Friendship bracelets,” he quoted her.

Molly nodded.

He reclined against the cushions and fastened the bracelet to his wrist. “So we’re friends now?”

“If you like,” she said as neutrally as possible.

“And if I don’t want to be?” he asked. He tilted his head at her, his bangs casting shadows across his eyes.

She tilted likewise back at him. “What would you prefer?”

“I was thinking…” Yeon moved casually, stretching his arm to wrap on the couch behind her in a classic maneuver from high schools across the world. “Maybe I could call you something else.” The lollipop went back into his mouth, tucked into his cheek.

“You’d better not call me ‘Soda Pop’.”

“Nah,” he said smugly, as if he had the perfect response in mind already. “You’re more like a…” He levered the candy out of his mouth with a distinctive sound. “Molly-pop.”

Molly groaned as their faces drew closer. She could smell the sugar on his breath. “Mother of God, you’re so corny.”

Like any good romantic comedy, it was right as they leaned in that they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Baby studied Molly as she pulled away, staring toward the offending noise in confusion. Evidently, she wasn’t expecting more company.

A moment of silence passed, then two.

Having waited long enough, a muffled English accent floated from behind the door in a grandmotherly tone: “I can let myself in, if you’d prefer.”

The color drained from Molly’s face.

“Ma’am?!” she exclaimed.

In a motion that seemed almost sassy, the door chain undid itself and the lock unlatched. True to her word, the woman on the other side of the door let herself in.

Baby had always pictured Molly’s employer – the person named “Ma'am” in all her texts and work talk – as a clingy, scatterbrained, “helicopter parent” type, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. This was a woman who oozed sophistication. She appeared to be in her mid-sixties, dressed in a well-tailored pantsuit and a statement necklace. Despite wearing flats, her shoes somehow made the same intimidating clicking noise as heels as she sauntered into the apartment. When she entered their field of view, she removed her designer sunglasses with a flourish and moved them to crown her stylishly short white hair.

On the couch next to him, Molly was undergoing some kind of silent panic attack. Baby stood, placing himself between the two of them.

The newcomer looked him up and down as if she had only just noticed him. “Oh, I just knew there was a boy,” she said indifferently. She walked straight over to him and snatched up his hand, shaking it in an aggressively cheerful manner. “Lovely to meet you.”

This was the kick that Molly needed to speak up. “How are you here?!” she sputtered. “Korea has a barrier–” She shot an anxious look Baby’s way as if she’d said too much. “–to entry!”

The woman donned a poisonous smile. She was still shaking Baby’s hand. “There certainly was, wasn’t there? Why don’t you ask your friend here about that?”

On the word friend, she gave Baby’s hand one final, accentuated jerk, and Baby felt a bolt of magic move up his entire body. His clothes gave way to black robes, his vision ringed with yellow glow, patterns lacing over his skin.

His true form had been forced.

Molly gaped at him, then at the woman next to him, and finally to a third point out in the middle distance. She brought her hands to her face and slumped over in her seat.

“Oh, god dammit,” she groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I can… explain?” Baby asked stupidly.

The intruder barked a laugh. “I can explain, too! Molly dearest, Saja Boys is a pun on saja, meaning lion, and jeoseung saja – grim reaper. But it’s not the wordplay you’re upset about, is it?” She then turned to Baby, grinning with teeth barely sharper than a human’s, and winked. “The name’s Mammon, by the way, and I’m the owner of that adorable little lady you’ve been trying to feed on.”

Shit.

A Hebrew name. This wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill demon: she was something biblical. Due to their widespread presence that allowed them a much larger feeding ground, Abrahamic demons had become annoyingly powerful in the recent centuries. Gwi-Ma had been right to sense a threat, but it wasn’t Molly; it was what she had brought with her.

Mammon swished over to Molly to pat her head condescendingly. “There there, sweetheart. I was just dropping in to say hello now that that pesky Honmoon’s out of the way! You just have fun with your idolatrous beau and pretend I was never here.”

She bent down to press a kiss to the woman’s forehead and retreated, shoes once again clacking all the way back to the door, before she brought her sunglasses back over her eyes.

“And dear?” the demon asked as she hung in the entryway. “I know you’re going through it right now, but you’d better not slack off. Quarterly performance reviews are coming up.”

The door clicked shut.

Baby looked back to where Molly was now laid fully on the couch, hands still covering her face. Vapors of the metaphorical bomb that Mammon had dropped on them still hung in the air.

“Owner?” he asked tentatively.

She huffed. “Yeah. I sold my soul for a high-paying remote job because it’s the only way to get out of the United Fucking States right now.”

Puzzled, he took a moment to consider this. “You could have asked for anything, and you got a job?”

“Per the contract, the more valuable stuff I ask for, the sooner she comes to collect – wait one goddamn second.” The hands came away, revealing a glare. “You don’t get to judge me! You’re after my soul too, aren’t you?”

“I mean, kind of? But it’s not like I can take it, since it’s under her protection.” Baby moved towards the couch slowly, cautiously, and when Molly made no move to stop him, he knelt, propping an elbow onto the cushion next to her.

Molly stared at the ceiling in thought. “You’re still here,” she said carefully.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Why?”

His gaze didn’t leave her face. “Is it weird that I like you?”

“Probably, yeah, if you’re telling the truth.” She finally tore her eyes from the ceiling to meet his. “Do you even have a name?” she asked.

“Not really,” he admitted. “But hey, I got this…”

Baby instinctively went for his pockets, but his hanbok didn’t have any. He switched back to his human appearance and took his wallet from his jeans, flipping it open to show her his ID.

Yeon Min-jae.

“Yeon, just like you said. Changed it right after our first date.”

It was the first time either of them had referred to one of their outings as a date.

She squinted at the card and gently grabbed his wrist, steadying it so she could read. Her gaze wandered from the object to his hand, and she turned it over to inspect the back.

Understanding, he relaxed his shape, returning the patterns for her to examine. Molly traced a line with her fingertip until it disappeared under his sleeve. She paused when she felt a shape under the cloth and then rolled the sleeve up.

Blue and green chevrons stared back at her.

She leveled her own wrist alongside it. Yellow knots pressed against the weave.

“Do you think we could make this work?” he asked.

Molly’s voice came out pained. “You actually can’t eat me? That’s why she isn’t worried about you?”

He nodded, and she let out a breath so long that it was like her soul was trying to escape her incoming decision.

“This is going to be really dumb of me,” she said, “but… I’d like to try.”