Chapter Text
"Hey, Uncle! Listening to 'What It Sounds Like' again?"
Yoo Saebbyeok looked up from his phone, where Spotify was playing K-pop Demon Hunter's final showdown song, smiling widely at his niece. "Sori. Glad that you came!"
"Of course I'd come." The woman playfully raised a brow. "Gotta make sure you don't skip your therapy sessions. Gods know when you'll decide again that it's gonna be mopping day."
The fifty-three year-old man laughed awkwardly. He, too, remembered those days when his younger, much less okay self had been convinced that nothing would be able to help him. He had been so convinced that nothing would fix the damage he had brought upon himself by entering the K-pop industry as an idol. His brother's daughter Sori, back then barely past her preteen years, had to practically drag thirty-something-him by the collar to a therapy office that she had selected with the help of that dear father hers. Turned out, the therapist was pretty good at his job, and Saebbyeok liked to think that he was past letting himself drown in his despair now.
"Not going to happen, I swear."
"Uh-huh." Sori said with an amused tone, although he could make out some worry in her eyes too. "Then I suppose I can come over and we can gush together about K-pop Demon Hunters, hm? Speaking of which…" Her gaze suddenly turned teasing, "I suppose you already have something to yap about?"
He huffed. "Yeah. The fans. The super unrealistic fans."
The unbelievably healthy fans. The supportive, ship-tolerant fans whose voices were so small in real life that one could nearly think they didn't exist. The somehow-sane fans who somehow weren't engaging in toxic rumor-spreading and scandals and were unbelievably happy to see their idols having a love life.
The fans he and his group (of which he was the only member left) never had.
His niece raised an eyebrow. "… Pretty sure you were gonna gush about Mira, but okay?"
That got him to blink. "… What made you think I was going to talk about her?"
She raised an eyebrow. "The fact that you spent an entire week eating up Mira clips? You singing along whenever it's her turn and you've pretty much never sung along to anyone else?"
The former idol could feel his face heat up in embarrassment. "It's- it's catchy, okay? She has good lines!"
"Sure. And you'd spend an entire afternoon yapping about how a character should've had their backstory delved upon further because they have catchy lines."
"I did the same with Zoey and Bobby - I mean, it's kinda implied that he was an idol before becoming a manager, right? And Rumi's parents too! We know next to nothing about them! You're not gonna tell me I didn't spend a ridiculous amount of time talking about all that!"
"You spent as much time talking about Mira as you spent talking about all the other characters combined."
Gah! Must it be so embarrassing to see your bias discovered like this?!
"Well… minus the Saja Boys…"
And suddenly, he got up from the couch he had been so comfortable in just before that group came up. And this time, unfortunately, it wasn't because of embarrassment.
"I- We're going to be late for my appointment."
It was still one hour until his appointment that took place at an office fifteen minutes of walk away from his flat, but thankfully Sori didn't press any further. Instead, she rose up along with him and accompanied him out of the block, shifting the topic back to Mira and his (very embarrassing) fanboying of her. In an attempt to escape his niece's teasing, he ran ahead at full speed, leaving the woman who had never attempted to run in heels behind. Idol or not, he liked not being out of breath one minute into a sprint, thank you very much.
Unfortunately for him, running ended up being a severe mistake.
He was already halfway through crossing the street, and before anyone asks him the light was green thank you very much, when a truck came in full speed, looking like it was driven by some drunk bastard. And unfortunately for Saebbyeok, it was already too late for him to dodge.
Whatever he had expected to happen in a traffic accident, he would've preferred blacking out on hit to the sudden burst of unbearable pain he felt right now, as the vehicle collided with him. It was nearly enough to have him black out.
Only nearly.
That was how he was now lying on the ground, agony seeping into his very fucking bones, the scenery around him seesawing wildly between normal clear view and a blur of colors. There was noise around him, but it all came out muffled in his ears. Surely because he likely got a concussion.
Also, whatever people said about seeing one's life flash before one's eyes just before death, he certainly wasn't having that. What he got was a thought about his poor niece who was guaranteed to have seen the commotion.
Well, at least she didn't get his uncle committing suicide or rotting away in his apartment or something, unlike whatever had been left of his bandmates' family had to live through. He'd know how that'd feel like, he had been miserable after witnessing his three bros wither away one by one.
And with that single thought, the world faded to black around him.
~~~~~
Saebbyeok came back to consciousness with a head that felt about ready to fucking explode.
… He was alive? Was all that simply a bad dream?
"Ha. Look who's awake." A voice - male, and strangely familiar - scoffed from a distance, as Saebbyeok struggled to gather his bearings with that pounding migraine still grabbing at his head, "Got a good beauty sleep?"
"… What happened?"
"Hm? Still not here yet?" Another male voice - familiar too for some reason - joined in, "You face-planted in the middle of choreography training. Heh, not surprising, considering Jinu's training bootcamp."
… Jinu??? The very fictional demon-that-fell-face-flat-in-love-with-a-hunter dude??? Why were they bringing him up???
That was when Saebbyeok caught sight of his hand.
"Oh, by the way, any idea what's happening with your patterns?"
Purple hand. With light, iridescent rainbow-ish tattoos that ran along unnaturally purple skin like lightning bolts. And claws replacing the entire tip of his fingers.
He tried to pull whatever the hell these things were out of his fingers.
They wouldn't bulge. Added with the very realistic feeling of having his fingers pulled at, it was as if they were real. And the markings weren't smearing at all, no matter what he was doing with his hands.
… They were actually real.
This wasn't special effect from some elaborate prank. These were real claws.
"… Romance? What's up with you today?"
…
He isekai'd. He fucking isekai'd into the world of K-pop Demon Hunters. And he had read way too many isekai works, including fanfictions, to know that chances were that he was permanently stuck here. Especially since he apparently died to get here.
"Oy, Romance! Ugh, he's still not out of it yet!"
And he was stuck in K-pop Demon Hunters' universe. As one of the antagonists. One of the Saja Boys. The one whose face - hell, even the entire appearance in general - beared an uncanny resemblance to his own younger idol self. Stuck in the boy band whose members looked way too much like his former, very dead bandmates. Stuck with a boy band that was like a ghost of those he had considered siblings, and that he knew next to nothing about.
He was stuck with strangers in all-too-familiar faces.
"I-" He attempted to speak, his ears ringing, his control over his lungs loosening at an alarming rate, which was not being helped by his still insistent headache. "I need a moment. Don't mind me, just- continue whatever you were doing."
And with that, he bolted out through the first door he could see, uncaring of where it led him. He just needed it to get him out of this room. Fortunately, the door merely led him to another room, vacant this time.
He slammed the door shut, and slid his back down the wooden surface, still breathing erratically.
Right. Control his breathing. He needed to control his breathing. It felt like there was a damn rock in his diaphragm, but it was nothing new. He had to regain control of his breathing.
Inhale, exhale… In, out… In, out…
In, out…
In, and out…
Saebbyeok didn't know how long he spent on the breathing exercise, without a damned clock or any indicator of time to look at, but it certainly did feel an eternity before he felt in control of his senses again. Like it did every time he went into these anxiety attacks, back in the life that was now all in a past that… well, technically didn't happen, considering that there was no way Yoo Saebbyeok actually existed in what was supposed to be a fictional universe. Some things never change, apparently. Oh and also, apparently demon bodies needed to breathe?
He couldn't suppress his groan, burying his new body's face in clawed hands. Just his fucking luck that he took the place of what could be dumped down as basically his demonic copy in looks. Except his patterns had become similar to Rumi's post-Idol Awards Incident ones.
And Rumi was a Hunter. And Saebbyeok wasn't really all that sure that even without her patterns taking the new Honmoon's colors, it was not normal for demons to have their patterns in such… not-ominous non-purple coloring. Who the hell knew what would happen if Gwi-Ma decided out of the blue to hook him over for whatever reason and then saw the new coloring. Certainly nothing good.
He needed to conceal this. Fortunately for him, he seemed to have inherited the original Romance's mastery of demon magic too, for the glamour came easily to him, ominous-looking red-purple-ish smoke cloaking his markings briefly before settling in like adhesive bands. Not the best sensation in the world, but it was either that or that flaming mouth discovered that there was something weird with him.
Also, was it supposed to be this quiet in his ears? Gwi-Ma whispered in the ears of everyone, right?
"How did you do that?"
Oh and apparently he had inherited his body's instincts, too, because next thing he knew, he was up and standing, his claws tense in front of him, his limbs firmly in a defensive stance his mind couldn't recognize because he certainly wasn't a martial art practitioner. Perhaps an overreaction for such a quiet voice, but it might be reasonable in the Demon Realm indeed.
And then he saw and properly processed the figure standing there quietly looming in the corner, and he had to try his best dismissing the thought of his world's Miyeon as he slowly, hesitantly spoke up, "… Mystery? What are you doing there?"
The guy (in full demonic glory, with those big-ass tusks and all, which thankfully made it a bit easier to separate him from Saebbyeok's dead bandmate) had the gall to ignore that question, in favor of repeating his own. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?" The former human snapped, tense at the prospect of Gwi-Ma finding out things from the pastel-haired demon's perspective.
"That." The large-teethed demon gestured at him with a hand, "Calming down. Snapping your mind back here. How did you do that?"
… Oh. "You mean the breathing exercise?" At the guy's head-tilting, Saebbyeok slowly let his stance fall, though he remained tense. "Copying the regular way of breathing helps in recentering oneself. And it recalibrates the body a bit, too, apparently, but the main thing I registered is that it helps with panic attacks."
Mystery nodded, his expression unreadable due to his hair covering half of his face and his fangs making it difficult for lips motions.
"… Oookay." The transmigrator inched towards the door, eyes not leaving the demon in the room. "Now, if I'm intruding then I'm sorry, Imma go join the others. Jinu and his crazy idea of K-pop and all."
And with that, he swung the door open, turned around and swiftly slammed the thing shut behind him again, this time making sure he was doing that in a more elegant manner than the previous time. 'Your faults and fears must never be seen' was horrendous as an advice, but this was the universe of K-pop Demon Hunters where he himself was a demon, so until the aftermath of the Idol Awards - that brought with it its own uncertainties, between - he was going to ignore the fact that this bad working ethic had led him to his existing issues in the first place, and apply it to his current life.
And then he was met with three pairs of predatory yellow eyes.
Fuck his life.
"… Wassup."
The fourth Saja Boy member of the day, Jinu, merely raised a brow at the awkward greeting and then ignored it in favor of holding up a bag. "Do you still need an ice bag, then?"
"… Is the ice poisonous?"
"Fortunately for you, no. I wouldn't jeopardize our plan."
At least there was that.
Saebbyeok held out a hand, and the black-haired demon took that as clue to toss the bag towards him all the way from the opposite corner of what looked to be the living room. Jinu then proceeded to march towards a guitar the supposed-to-be-romantic of the group hadn't noticed was there (didn't the guy have a bipa, though?), as the latter ripped the ice pack open at the top. If he hadn't been convinced of his newfound claws being the real deal before, he certainly was now.
The transmigrator quickly plopped one of the (very deformed) ice cubes into his mouth, and then ignored the two other band members' perplexed stare (and just about ignored them entirely in general. Their demonic features helped dissociating them from the choreographer and rapper among Saebbyeok's own bandmates, but not by much) and said, "Thanks. So, what's next?"
Once again, the band leader raised an eyebrow. "Next is you and company resting while I continue brainstorming for the Idol Awards, unless Abby wants to help me with choreography ideas. We can't have you pass out again three minutes into rehearsal, that'd be bad in the long run."
That got Saebbyeok to raise an eyebrow of his own, but he refrained from any comment. If he was to be Romance, he theoretically should already know what this whole shtick was supposed to mean. Who knew what could happen if the group learned that he wasn't actually Romance, and he'd prefer not to know, it was guaranteed to be problematic.
But there was a question he could ask indeed.
"And uhh… how long left until we present your idea to Gwi-Ma again?"
"Three months."
Bloody fuck.