Chapter Text
INT. STADIUM CONCERT
The energy is electric, and the concert hasn't even started yet.
Spotlights spin through the air. The crowd is a dull roar of cheers, pierced with occasional screams and shrieks that cut through the deeper noise.
Fans stream in from all entrances. The stadium’s seats are already filling up. Faces flash across a huge jumbo screen—handsome, polished, self-assured young men, looking out over the crowd regally as a pumping backtrack plays. Signs wave everywhere: Saja chi-da! Jae-oppa, nalang gyeolhonhae jullae? Jeoneun yeogie ogi wihae chigwa yeyag-eul chwisohaess-eoyo!
Fans chant excitedly while entering the venue.
FANS
Saja! Saja! Saja! Saja!
CUT TO fans as they tailgate outside.
BEOMSEOK FANS
We’re here for Beomseok!
BEOMSEOK FAN 1
He’s the main dancer of the Saja Boys. He was in a dance troupe before he was scouted by Seutabim Entertainment, so he’s like, really experienced.
BEOMSEOK FAN 2 / FAN 3
The way he moves is so addictive. In more ways than one, you know? He’s like, so fluid! —Even though he’s a total beefcake.
BEOMSEOK FAN 4
Pff, yeah, he's got muscle. It's so hot. But he’s also like the older brother of the Saja Boys. He’s the oldest, and you can tell he’s always looking out for them.
Clips move across the screen—Beomseok’s dancing (he really is fluid for such a muscled guy), Beomseok roughhousing with a couple of his friends on a variety show… then we move on to a new group of fans.
GARAM FAN 1
Garam’s my favorite.
GARAM FAN 2
He’s the all-rounder of the group—he can basically do everything. He sings, he dances, he raps…
GARAM FAN 3
He’s like, really introverted most of the time, but he has such a powerful stage. He’s like, BOOM and it’s like, WHOA. That's why his fancams are always going viral!
GARAM FAN 4 / FAN 5
He's kind of a 4D person, but that’s what we like about him! The other Saja Boys call him their creature, as a joke, but it's also sort of not a joke? —But he’s also super cool! His visuals are insane, and he’s always changing his hair, but it’s almost always over his eyes. He’s, like, artsy like that.
Flashes of Garam across the screen, posing for a photoshoot—like the fans say, his hair covers his eyes more often than not, despite the color and style changing in almost every picture. He looks SUPER COOL. Intriguing. Then we move on again…
JAE FANS
Our bias is Jaehyun!
JAE FAN 1
Everyone just calls him Jae. He’s the lyricist and the visual of the Saja Boys.
JAE FAN 2
His dad is a famous actor, and his mom is a costume designer, so he grew up traveling all over Europe for their work. He was actually a model before he got scouted—it’s not surprising, he’s got so much star quality.
JAE FAN 3 / FAN 4
He’s also the heart of the Saja Boys! He’s the mood maker, you can’t help but cheer up watching him! —Yeah, he’s such a sweetheart, you can’t help but love him.
Flashes of Jaehyun cross the screen—a lithe looking man with long pink hair. Model pics at first, looking SUPERHOT and above it all, then a clip from an interview where he’s talking animatedly, the other Saja Boys watching him fondly.
Next up…
DAEUN FANS
Daeun’s our bias. We love him.
DAEUN FAN 1 / FAN 2
He’s the main rapper, and also the coolest member of the Saja Boys. —Yeah, don’t be fooled by how cute he looks on the outside. He’s like, metal.
DAEUN FAN 3
Apparently he and his family don’t get along, but I think they just don’t understand him. He always speaks his mind, and he doesn’t care what other people think. He’s so inspiring.
Clips of Daeun rapping (going hard) flash across the screen. Then a picture of him and his family—he’s staring at the camera, dead-eyed and chubby cheeked, younger than his present self. His family looks... strict.
Finally, we move to…
JINU FANS
We love Jinu!
JINU FAN 1
He's the best leader. Seunghyuk from Seutabim was his mentor growing up, so Jinu was like, born for this life.
JINU FAN 2
His mom used to be a grocery store worker, but I don’t think she is anymore—Jinu mentioned once that he sends her most of his money, just because he doesn’t know what else to do with it.
JINU FAN 3 / FAN 4
He’s so hot. And respectful. He’s, like, perfect. —And his voice is like an angel!
JINU FAN 5
Hearing him live is just, goosebumps. We're so lucky that he's the main vocal.
We see pictures of Jinu and Seunghyuk (a handsome, polished man with slightly graying hair), when Jinu was younger, standing on the red carpet of an awards show. Like the fans say, Jinu looks born for this life, much less nervous than any normal kid his age would be on a red carpet.
INT. CONCERT STADIUM
A couple fans stand in the crowd, holding lightsticks loosely and talking to the camera as they wait for the show to start.
FAN 1
They’ve been on a world tour for like, a year now, so they’re taking a break after this. Which they totally need, because they’ve been working so hard, but we’re gonna miss them so muuuohmigodit’sstarting!
The lights and the music flare, dropping out before starting back up again, and the crowd goes even crazier than before. Totally ready for the show to start. Screaming in excitement for THE SAJA BOYS.
The roar of engines were muffled from inside the plane, a fuzzy white noise absorbed by the off-white plastic walls of the private jet's changing room. It wasn't much more than a gray closet with a vanity and outfits hanging on a metallic rod fastened against a curving wall. Industrial.
Jinu scuffed the carpet with his boot, sitting against the vanity to avoid his face in the mirror, phone clutched to his ear tensely.
“I don’t know, eomma,” he said softly into his phone. “Even after the tour ends, we’re still going to have a lot of stuff to do.”
Silence stretched out through the phone line. “It would be nice to see your face,” his mom said finally. “How busy will you be?”
“...We have other things lined up,” Jinu said. It was a lie, but only halfway—he’d be working no matter what was lined up. “We haven’t been in Seoul for a while, so…”
He let that trail off with the vague implication of a concept.
This was how it went.
His mom would call and ask if he was ever going to visit. Jinu would make excuses. And eventually, the conversation would land on—
“Your honmoon,” his mom said abruptly. “How long until that’s done?”
“The golden honmoon?” Jinu said. “...There’s no exact timeframe for that kind of thing. We’re hoping it’ll be soon. We want to do kind of a final push. …So that might do it.”
“And then you’ll be done,” his mom said.
“...I mean, my career wouldn’t be over,” Jinu said. It’d just be beginning. “...Done with the honmoon stuff. Yeah.”
“And then you’d have time to visit your poor mother?”
His mom’s voice was almost sing-song, trying to make light of it, and Jinu half-smiled despite himself. “Yes, eomma, then I’d have time.”
“Jinu!” a voice called from the other room, through the flimsy plastic door. “I’m gonna eat your food if you don’t hurry up!”
Jinu’s smile widened. “I need to go,” he said into his phone. “The others are waiting on me.”
“...Well, you can’t keep them waiting,” his mom said. “Go have fun. I love you, Jinu.”
“...Love you too,” Jinu said. “Talk to you later.”
He pulled his phone away from his ear and hung up before she said anything else, sliding his phone into the pocket of his jacket.
“Jinu!” Daeun’s voice called from the other room. “Kaja kaja kaja!”
“I’m coming!” Jinu called back, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. He glanced at himself in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of his turtleneck and tugging at the cuffs of his yellow jacket, then headed out to meet his friends.
The other Saja Boys were sitting on the carpet in the lounge area of the jet, glittering jewelry and costumes and makeup creating a stark contrast against the plain white standardness of the plane. They were clustered around a white coffee table, which was laden with so much food that it was hard to see the table underneath.
“Took you long enough,” Daeun muttered as Jinu sat down criss-cross next to Beomseok. “I’m starving.”
“So impatient,” Jinu teased. He only restrained himself from ruffling Daeun's hair because it was already styled. Well, and because Daeun might bite his hand, but Jinu was good at dodging. “Well, I’m here now.”
He took a subtle breath, grounding himself, shaking off the tension of the phone call. He was here now.
“Okay,” he said. “Guys. Last performance of the tour. This is our largest show.”
Jinu stared down his bandmates, deadly serious, like a commander leading his troops into battle. They all quieted to listen to him, leaning into their makeshift huddle.
“The most songs,” Jae said, glancing over at Daeun with a fierce grin.
“The most choreo,” Beomseok said, face steely and determined.
“Which means,” Jinu said, “the most pre-show carb-loading.” He could feel the giddy grin stretching across his face, something sharp and adrenaline-fueled.
“For the fans!”
Jinu launched towards the hotteok before anyone else could grab it, shoving a full handful of pancake into his mouth at once. He moaned with satisfaction as the sweet filling burst through his mouth, slumping where he sat. He hadn't eaten since earlier this morning when they'd boarded the plane. And that had been an energy bar and half an apple.
“Mmph,” Beomseok said, mouth already full of food. “I need, like, ten thousand calories just to get through the choreo.”
“A thousand percent,” Garam said. Since his bangs were covering his eyes, it was hard to tell what his expression was, but the intensity with which he was stuffing jumeokbap in his mouth said enough.
“A gajillion percent!” Daeun raised a fist in the air. Next to him, Jae squinted at Daeun.
“Daeun, that’s not even a real number,” Jae said through a mouthful of gimbap slices.
“It is for our fans,” Jinu and Daeun chorused at the same time. Jinu grabbed the long gimbap roll sitting on the table, holding it close to his face and breathing in the smell. Savory. Seafoody. He closed his eyes. “Mmm.”
“See, Jinu agrees,” Daeun said, voice muffled by food. Out of the corner of his eye, Jinu caught Jae rolling his eyes fondly. Jinu was mainly focused on trying to eat the entire kimbap roll in as few bites as possible, but it was good that they were getting along, he guessed.
This tour had been brutal—moreso than normal, although a lot of that was Jinu’s own fault. He was the one who’d kept saying yes to more interviews, more behind-the-scenes shoots, more tour dates, shooting the Golden music video in between tour dates… but it was all for the fans. And to turn the honmoon gold as fast as possible. If they could end off the tour on a high note, the honmoon would definitely be primed to turn gold—after generations and generations of hunters working towards this moment.
…No pressure or anything.
Jinu snagged a rice ball from the table, stuffing it into his mouth. Then another, because he could.
Like he kept telling his friends, once the honmoon was gold, they could all relax.
It was gonna be great.
“Okay,” Jinu said, swallowing the last of the rice ball and tugging down his sleeves absently. The others all paused to listen to him. “Ramyeon time.” He grinned at the others, giddy.
The others returned his grin, grabbing their cups. “Happy fans…” Jinu started.
“Happy honmoon!” They clashed their ramyeon cups together in the center of the table. But then—
“...Wait.” Garam frowned down at his cup in disappointment.
Jae made a similar face, at the opposite end of the table. “I thought we already asked for water.”
“We did,” Jinu and Beomseok said at the same time. Jinu turned, raising his hand to get the attention of the flight attendant lady.
“Um, miss?”
She shot him a look that could only be read as pure terror. “Yes, Mister hh… Saja?”
Jinu blinked, then decided to gloss over that. Sometimes people got nervous around celebrities, and they usually fell apart more if you pointed it out. “...We asked for hot water—”
“Right away!” she blurted, bowing to him. “O-of course, you’re welcome—arrivederci, goodbye!” She darted back into the cockpit, taking her coffee mug with her. Which—
“Was she just watering a plant with coffee?” Daeun muttered under his breath, quiet enough that the other flight attendants couldn’t hear him.
“Aww, she’s doing her best,” Jae said, although he looked just as confused as Daeun did.
The others shared a nonplussed glance—they must be new.
On the table, Jinu’s phone buzzed, their manager’s face lighting up the screen. He picked it up, settling back against the seats. “Hi, Yuna!” he chorused, in tune with his friends.
“Hiii, Jinu, what are you doing?” Yuna looked uncharacteristically frazzled, her smile tight around the edges. Half of the collar of her blazer was flipped up. Jinu gave her a confused look—last he’d talked to her, she’d told him to chill out and the show would go fine.
“Um, about to eat our pre-show ramyeon?” he tilted the screen to show Jae sitting next to him, stuffing his face with the remaining hotteok. Jae shot her a peace sign, scrunching up his face in a quick smile.
“Pre-show—” Yuna gave him an are you crazy look through the phone. “What about the show-show? Hey—”
The screen jostled as someone snatched her phone away—fans. Jinu quickly brushed the stray sesame seeds off his face, snapping to attention as the camera focused on a group of squealing teenagers.
“Ahhhh we love you!” they were jumping up and down, decked out in Saja Boys merch. Jinu melted a little bit—he loved the younger fans. The other Saja Boys perked up, scooting closer to look over Jinu's shoulder at his phone.
“Aww, we love you too!” Jinu chorused with his bandmates.
The phone jostled again, passed to a new group of fans, grown men who were full-on crying. “You’re so inspirational,” one of them wailed.
Jinu blinked rapidly, fighting off the urge to sympathy-cry—he’d already done his eyeliner, he didn’t want to do it again. Next to him, Jae was wobbling on the edge of tears. “Ohmigod you’re so sweet,” Jae cried, waving a hand in front of his face as if to stop the tears.
“Yo!” the phone switched hands again, to a guy with a mustache and a Saja Boys shirt. “I just got this!” he pulled up his shirt, showing off a huge tattoo of their lion logo.
Jinu startled awkwardly. Oh, that was— “Uhhh…”
Daeun leaned over his shoulder, grinning. “Sick.”
“Give me that—” the phone switched hands again—back to Yuna. Jinu let out a breath, shoulders slumping slightly. “Why are you so late?” Yuna snapped, face filling up the screen.
Jinu frowned. “Late?”
“Fifty thousand fans are waiting for you,” Yuna said. “You were supposed to already have landed by now—”
Jinu and the others glanced at each other, then popped up as one to look out of the small windows of the plane. Sure enough, the concert venue was steadily getting smaller as the plane drifted away from their destination.
The five of them traded a group look, the pieces coming together without needing to speak.
“I can stall them for a few more minutes, but these fans have been waiting—” Yuna was saying.
“Take deep breaths, Yuna,” Jinu said, glaring over at the flight attendants. “We’ll be there in three.”
He hung up, sliding his phone into his pocket, then slumped backwards with an exasperated groan.
“Why do they always pick the worst moments?” Beomseok ground out, glaring at the flight attendants.
“We didn’t even get to have our ramyeon,” Jae said, slumping forward like a wilted flower. Garam patted Jae’s back, glaring at the flight attendants as if to say look what you’ve done.
Daeun swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, staring at the flight attendants with a murderous glare. “I’m going to rip out their hearts and use the blood as flavoring.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jinu said flatly, moving to stand. “Channel that energy.”
He approached the nervous one from before, who was still clutching her coffeepot like it’d give her some kind of protection. This wasn’t even going to be a fair fight… that was rough.
For the demons.
“Hi. ‘Scuse me.”
She turned her nervous grin on him, eyes wide and panicked. “Please take your seat.”
Jinu gave her a flat look. “...Right. Look, we don’t have time for this. You’re a demon.”
Her grip on the coffeepot tightened, glancing between Jinu and his bandmates tensely. “Wh-what do you… mean?”
Her arm was rippling, glamour breaking down. Jinu snatched her arm, pulling it forward to show his friends. “Oh look,” he said, deadpan. “Patterns.”
“Oh, these? These are just—”
Jinu stomped down hard on her foot with the heel of his boot, making her yelp and stumble back, glamour breaking entirely. Behind her, the other flight attendants made annoyed sounds, reluctantly transforming into demons as well. A huge red demon with giant tusks protruding from his mouth clambered out of the cockpit, glowering at them menacingly.
“Aww, you’ve got the patterns!” Beomseok said, stepping up next to Jinu. “That means we’re gonna kill you.”
On Jinu’s other side, Daeun was vibrating with either rage or excitement—or both. Knowing Daeun, it was probably both. Even without looking, Jinu knew Garam and Jae flanked the outside. He could hear Garam slurping up the last of his boba.
“The only ones dying tonight,” the largest demon said, “are—”
Daeun let out a loud burp, putting a hand to his stomach. Jae laughed quietly from the back. The demon blinked at them, caught off guard, then tried to rally again.
“I said, the only ones dying—”
Garam slurped the last dregs of his boba loudly. The demons glared at him.
“The only ones dying—”
Jinu’s stomach gurgled loudly, twisting as it digested all of the food he’d just scarfed down. He put a hand over it, groaning. “...Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Your fans!” The demon snapped. “We’re gonna eat your fans!”
“Whoaaaaa,” the Saja Boys chorused.
“Um, no, no thanks,” Jae said.
“Not our fans,” Jinu said, fake-scandalized.
“That sucks for you, man,” Beom said, cracking his knuckles. Daeun was bouncing from leg to leg in anticipation.
The honmoon hummed around them, the beat kicking to life. It thrummed in Jinu’s chest, and all around. The demons’ faces dropped as they recognized it, looking around with a renewed panic.
“When you mess with our fans?” Daeun said. “We get to make it hurt.”
The backing melody kicked in.
Jinu shook out his shoulders, expression flat. “Ugh, you came at a bad time,” he intoned. “But you just crossed the line…” he tugged down his sleeves, faux-nonchalant. Around him, the others were preparing themselves—stretching, putting down the food they were carrying.
“You wanna get wild?” Jinu glanced back at the demons, flashing them a grin. “Okay, I’ll show you wild!”
Right on cue, the others leapt forward, Daeun bouncing into motion like he couldn’t contain himself any longer. The building energy fell into place, pulsing, electric, as Beomseok launched into the first verse, rapping heavy and hard.
As for Jinu—it already wasn’t a fair fight, and his friends had it handled. He headed for the kettle sitting on the counter instead, unbothered by the fighting erupting around him.
As he arrived at the sink, a stray demon lurched towards him. Jinu held up a finger—just a minute—filled the kettle with a shhhhwsht from the faucet, then whipped around and whacked the demon upside the head with it, adding an extra punch when the demon stumbled backwards. The demon fell—good—Jinu turned and hurtled the kettle towards Beomseok, who caught it without looking, using it to batter a demon’s face into one of the seats, arm muscles rippling with the motion.
“Beating you is what I do, do, do, yeah—”
And the kettle got passed off to Daeun at the same time that the lyrics did, picking up into a faster, more energized rap. Jinu headed in that direction, grabbing his ramyeon cup and drop-kicking a demon out of the way to make space for Daeun to pour the now-steaming water from the kettle into his cup, dividing it up among the other members as well, who had fallen into a defensive circle formation around him.
The demons that had been kicked to the side leapt towards them again—Jinu kicked away the one nearest to him, hard, and joined in on the harmony with Jae. “La la la la!”
“Locked and loaded, I was born for this, there ain’t no point in avoiding it—” Daeun started going again, but Jinu’s attention was caught by Jae and Garam, about to start eating. He yanked Garam’s cup from his hand, Beomseok doing the same for Jae. Garam pouted at him. Jinu made a face back, pointing sharply to the “ready in three minutes” label on the side.
Anyway, they still had work to do. They could eat in a minute. He set down Garam’s ramyeon on the counter next to him, turning towards the demons again.
Fighting with the power of the honmoon never got old.
“Knocking you out like a lullaby…”
The way it thrummed to life in his chest, his limbs, tingling with a power that hummed between the five of them and rippled outward, spiking with strength every time they hit a harmony—it was addicting. Like suddenly becoming bigger than your body, or like a power cord might feel being plugged into a socket. Jinu wasn’t just himself anymore, he was a single limb of a five-part force.
So he strode forward with a fresh confidence and steel that he usually didn’t have in himself, summoning his executioner’s sword in one hand as he sang. Flanking his left and right, Jae and Garam flourished their weapons into existence in time with him—in time with the honmoon. Jae unfurled his fans with a dramatic smirk; Garam unsheathed his knife, keeping it in the hilt for now. Deceptively small. Behind the three of them, Jinu felt rather than saw Beomseok and Daeun summon their weapons on the next beat: a battle axe and twin mudang knives.
“Hear that sound ringing in your mind—better sit down for the show…”
The demons were cowering against the back wall. Cornered. Jinu and his friends walked up to them casually, power thrumming between the five of them—but there was no need to go all out. This would be an easy fight.
Jinu lifted his sword above his head, grinning with adrenaline.
“I’m gonna show you—how it’s done, done, done!”
Chaos broke loose.
Some of the demons scrambled to get away, but they were like bugs running from the heel of a boot, helpless to the point of being pathetic. Jinu swung cleanly through a blue demon’s ribs with his sword, feeling the crunch of ribs and then the burst as the demon disintegrated into red glitter. Nearby, Daeun used both of his mudang knives at once to tear through a demon’s midsection, grinning maniacally. The backtrack to their music whistled around them, bass thudding—
BOOM. BOOM BOOM.
The whole plane shook, Jinu’s feet flying off the ground briefly. His ramyeon sailed off the countertop, and Jinu dove to catch it, throwing his body to grab the ramyeon just before it hit the ground.
He jumped back to his feet, looking around—through the plane windows, he saw what looked like the nose of the plane flying away, sailing through the air. As one, he and his friends glanced towards the front of the plane, and saw—open air.
The wind whistled, ruffling their hair.
“Ugh,” Daeun said flatly. “This plane is trashed.”
Jinu quirked his lips at Daeun briefly, then grabbed as much ramyeon as he could fit in his chopsticks, stuffing the burning-hot noodles in his mouth. Around him, his friends were doing the same, devouring their ramyeon in as few bites as possible and draining the remaining broth quickly.
Jinu downed the last few drops of broth and sighed in relief, hot dense comfort food settling in his stomach. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The music picked back up again as Daeun approached the emergency exit door and swung carelessly out of it, picking up his rap section again. The others followed, diving one by one out of the plane after the demons sailing through the air towards their concert.
“Something about when you come for the crown, that’s so humbling, hah,” Daeun’s voice was clear and strong, cutting through everything else in the air with the aid of the honmoon.
“Gabjagi wae geulae? Meonjeo geondeulyeo, wae? Ijeya pogihae, what?” Beomseok’s voice came from ahead of Jinu, a blur of reddish hair and toned muscles slicing through the sky—Jinu twisted, putting his arms to his sides to dive faster through the thin air buffeting around him.
“Nothing to us! Run up, you’re done up, we come up from sunup to sundown so come out to play!” Daeun was doing the same, diving head-first through the air with his eyes on the targets as he fired off his words, blue-green bangs ruffling in the wind.
“Won either way, we one in a million, we kill ‘em like, really? You want it?” Garam’s chain knife whipped out from behind Jinu, arcing through the air in a glowing curve down towards one of the demons below them, the knife at the end striking the demon in the back and making him burst into glitter. “Okay!”
Jinu whipped out his own sword as he caught up to the demons, twirling through the air to slice one through the chest before pulling out his pocket mirror to check his hair one last time. The stadium was coming in hot. “Nae geom nae os-ida,” he brushed a hand through his hair as he sang, arranging it neatly, then tossed the mirror up to his friends as a reminder. Check yourselves too.
“Fit check for my napalm era,” Garam sang from above him. Jinu twisted to look up, still diving headfirst—Garam had a demon tied up in his chain knife while he fixed his bangs to partially cover his eyes again.
“Need to beat my face, make it cute and savage,” Jae sang from even further up. “Mirror, mirror, on my phone, who’s the baddest? Us, hello!”
Jinu twisted around again with a grin, angling towards the flashing lights of the stadium with purpose. “Knocking you out like a lullaby…”
As his friends joined in the pre-chorus, Jinu’s chest spiked with power, their harmonies ringing between them in a rush. Together, they sailed after the few remaining demons, towards the ever-louder roaring of the Seoul Olympic Stadium, straight for the stage. He could feel his friends tapping into and strengthening their shared connection, preparing for the landing as they shot forward. Jinu poured his own energy back, pulling the spiritual ropes between them tighter.
They hit the stage—the honmoon, really—at an angle, smoke billowing out from where they landed. The honmoon rippled outward, catching them safely, absorbing the shockwaves of their landing and sending a soothing certainty up through their limbs.
They’d landed just behind the stage, or really, halfway down the stairs at the center, where their microphones were waiting for them. The stagehands squinted through the smoke, first in confusion, then in shock at the Saja Boys, who had appeared out of the smoke from seemingly nowhere.
Luckily, Yuna was more used to this.
“Mics! Now!” She snapped at her assistants, and more than ten people leapt into motion, attaching in-ears and shoving microphones into the hands of Jinu and his friends. Jinu gave them a quick smile as a thank-you, but there was no time to say anything—he and the others rushed onto the stage, zeroing in on the demons who were clambering to their feet wearily in front of the crowd.
“—How it’s done, done, done!”
He and his friends moved in sync without needing to look at each other, leaping towards the demons and scattering them.
There were only a few demons left, but this part was a bit more complicated—perform for the crowd and kill the demons at the same time.
“I don’t talk, I just bite! Full of venom!” Garam threw himself into the performance, moving downstage like he was born for it. “Spitting facts—you know that’s—!”
“How it’s done, done, done!” Jinu swung his sword down hard on the hulking red demon, dissipating him into dust on-beat.
“Okay, like, I know I ramble,” Jae started, flipping his hair back like a model before drawing out a fan and slicing a demon across the neck, dispelling it with a glittery puff. “But I’m shooting my words, I go Rambo—took blood, sweat, and tears to look natural—”
Jinu shot him a proud look—he actually hadn’t dodged that last bit this time. The crowd’s cheering ticked up in response, noticing it too.
“How it’s done, done, done!”
“Hear our voice, unwavering,” Jinu sang, strutting assuredly down the stage, scanning the crowd for stray demons. “Til our song defeats the night.”
He didn’t see any—just the honmoon, sparkling and strong as ever. Good.
“Making fear afraid to breathe—” he stopped, drawing a subtle breath— “til the dark meets the liiii-iight—!”
The belt was clear and strong and steady, pure hunter in quality. The crowd went wild, screams roaring through the stadium.
And if Jinu felt that same tickle he’d felt at the base of his throat for weeks now, it still hadn’t crawled into his vocal cords. So nobody else noticed anything at all.
Deep in the pits of the demon realm, it was silent.
Gwi-Ma’s crackling flame, ever-present, pierced the muggy air. The clattering heeled shoes of a demon dressed as a flight attendant—Rumi forgot the woman’s name, now—stepped through the crowd, shaky and off-balance.
The way parted for her. Rumi watched from above as the crowd shifted like water, the scene lit dimly with Gwi-Ma’s sickly pink light.
Rumi shifted to crouch down on top of the gate, yellow eyes narrowing. The skirt of her hanbok crinkled and folded around her like a bubble, ornate bipa resting in her lap.
The flight attendant hesitated at the foot of the stone steps. Even from here, Rumi could see her shaking. Rumi bit her lip in aborted sympathy, closing her heart off to what was about to happen.
The woman’s patterns flared, bright in the dark, and she was yanked up the steps abruptly, like a string puppet. Her alarmed screech echoed throughout the courtyard. Rumi watched impassively. It was nothing new, she reminded herself.
“Let me guess,” Gwi-Ma rumbled, voice deceptively silky. “They got away again.”
“Th-the hunters,” the woman said pitifully, “they’re too strong!”
A beat of silence, suspense stretching out through the crowd. Like the heartbeat moment an executioner's sword was raised in the air, ready to fall.
“I understand,” Gwi-Ma said. His voice was gentle, almost fatherly. The woman perked up, just slightly.
“Y-you do?”
“I understand that you are weak!” Gwi-Ma’s flame flared out, swallowing the woman whole as she screamed. “Pathetic! All of you!”
Rumi narrowed her eyes, but otherwise didn’t react as her patterns tightened and burned, familiar voices whispering through her ear. There’s nowhere for a creature like you a sad creature like you a mistake of nature like you—
“Don’t you idiots get it?!” Gwi-Ma roared. “Once the hunters turn the honmoon gold, it’s over for us!”
Complete silence.
A pitiful broken sobbing rose from somewhere in the crowd—someone who’d cracked.
Rumi blew out a breath.
Now. Strike now.
She straightened up, forcing the tension to bleed out of her shoulders, adjusting the bipa she was carrying, and struck a chord. It rang loud in the silence.
Every head turned to look at her. Something about that was grounding—familiar, even now, when it had been so long.
She spoke, projecting a low, silky confidence into her words, eyes demurely downcast even as her voice raised.
“There once was a mighty demon king. —Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.”
Her claws traveled along the frets of the bipa, striking another chord. “He was in total control. He feasted on souls. The world trembled when he roared.”
The crowd was silent, and so was Gwi-Ma. Satisfaction kindled in her chest—she had them now. Even if they didn’t know it.
She lifted up, levitating gently to the ground. “But... then some hunters sang some songs. Now all he does is starve.” her voice rumbled with demonic power on the last word. A fang was poking out of her smile, she knew, but she didn’t move to temper it immediately. Behind her, an answering rumble: her tiger companion padding out from the gate to walk alongside her. The crowd parted like a stream for the two of them. Rumi kept her eyes focused on the ground, schooling her features into something calmer.
“Can’t get at the souls, and his flame grows cold. Just a whisper in the dark.”
Her girls shifted out of the crowd, moving to join her on either side—Rumi didn’t look to see them, but she heard the rustle of hanbok, felt the familiar presence of Zoey on her left and Mira on her right.
“And will he let the fire go out,” she sang, plucking out the melody on her bipa. Zoey and Mira joined her, voices intertwining to a haunting three-part melody, equal parts simple and beautiful.
Is this the end of him now?
Dying king with a crumbling crown—
Will he let the fire go—
“Out,” Rumi intoned, striking the last deep note on her bipa. She stopped at the front of the steps, her girls stopping in perfect time with her. The tiger took her bipa gently in its mouth, letting Rumi’s hands fall to her sides.
Silence.
“...I gave you that voice, Rumi,” Gwi-Ma finally rumbled. “And you dare to mock me with it?”
“I’m not here to mock you,” Rumi said. Calm, controlled, soothing. “I’m here to help you.” She lifted off the ground, levitating up the stairs, raising her arms slightly to motion for her girls to follow.
“It’s time for a new strategy,” Rumi said. “We’ve been trying to fight a raging river. Instead, we should focus on the wellspring that it originates from.”
Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet Gwi-Ma’s roaring flame, so bright it hurt to look at, but she didn’t flinch.
“The fans.”
Moving in perfect sync, she and her girls slid together, each striking a perfect girl-group pose: flirty, cool, confident, slightly coquettish. Rumi reached an arm up and behind her back, the front panels of her jeogori lifting over her chest in a just slightly teasing way.
Gwi-Ma paused. “...A demon girl group,” he said slowly. Rumi braced herself for what was coming next—
He burst out laughing, his flames flaring higher and stronger in front of her face. She held formation, keeping her calm self-assured expression like a mask.
Behind her, nervous laughter scattered through the crowd. Rumi smiled inwardly at the half-heartedness of it: she had the crowd privately convinced, even if Gwi-Ma wasn’t.
Gwi-Ma calmed down enough to speak again, voice gleeful and cruel. “What makes you think that that could work?”
Rumi dropped her pose and snapped her fingers. She didn’t need to, but the drama of it all looked good—and besides, Gwi-Ma would like to think that her girls were obedient.
Mira and Zoey moved to highlight their best features—Mira posing sharp and lithe like a model, Zoey posing cutesy and sweet, their little ingenue. And Rumi—Rumi tilted her head to let her braid sway, drawing on all of her palace experience in projecting an image of delicate, dignified elegance.
She stared Gwi-Ma down head-on. This will work.
Behind her, the crowd murmured—agreeing. She folded that satisfaction and tucked it away, keeping her smile steady.
“...Okay…” Gwi-Ma drawled. Reluctant to admit that he was wrong, like always. His voice went gentle—poisonous—and Rumi’s smile faded as she recognized what was coming. “I know you, Rumi. You have never been a creature of benevolence.”
Familiar flashes of memory lanced through Rumi’s mind like needles. Her mentor, standing in a crowd, turning her eyes away with regret. Rumi’s own grave face, disheveled, reflected in a mirror.
She couldn’t keep the grimace off her face. Gwi-Ma’s voice grated, rumbling in the stones under her feet.
“What do you want.”
Rumi steeled herself. There was no use in acting coy with Gwi-Ma’s taunts. “The memories,” she said, voice coming out even and certain despite it all.
She looked up in the face of the burning fire.
“I want them erased.”
The show ended full of adrenaline, the sore burn of exercise radiating through Jinu’s limbs as they piled into the familiar backstage elevator. Still, though—
“Guysguysguys,” Jae said, whipping out his phone and bouncing on his feet. “Post-tour picture.”
The five of them automatically leaned into the shot, smiling up at the camera with exhausted happiness. It was a tradition, at this point, to take a backstage selfie at the end of each tour—their fans would be waiting to see Jae post it.
With that last bit of quick business done, Jae slid his phone back into his pocket, glancing between the others with a grin so wide it bordered on manic.
“We just saw gold,” he blurted, like he couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. “Guys, we actually just saw gold!” He latched onto Jinu’s sleeve, shaking Jinu’s arm. Jinu let himself be shaken with a fond smile.
“Finally,” Daeun said, but his face didn’t match the nonchalant tone. “As if we haven’t been topping the charts for, like, ever.”
“We’re really gonna do it,” Garam said, voice quiet and reverent. They all fell silent, glancing at each other. A moment passed between them like electricity, feeling the weight of generations of anticipation. We’re really gonna do it.
“...But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jinu said, breaking the moment. The others broke, groaning and rolling their eyes. Jinu put his hands up, still grinning. “Guys, c’mon. It’s not golden yet. But it is totally primed and ready to release the song.”
Beomseok grinned, rolling his eyes fondly. “Such a workaholic. Come on, Jinu. We’re gonna turn it gold, we’re gonna turn it gold—”
The others joined in on Beomseok’s hype, voices overlapping with loud excitement. Jinu grinned fondly, letting himself be drawn in by the energy, bouncing in place with adrenaline. “Eeee! Ye—” a sharp pain lanced through his throat, constricting, and he let out a harsh cough before he could stop himself.
Jinu froze, a chill rushing through his veins. Around him, the other Saja Boys had all stopped, staring at him in surprise.
Face blank. Act normal. “Whoa,” Jinu said, putting a hand to his throat. “That was—weird.”
“...Good thing we’re taking a break,” Beomseok said, frowning at Jinu with gentle concern.
“You okay?” Daeun said, studying Jinu closer. “You have been working your voice really hard this tour.”
“I’m fine. I feel fine,” Jinu said, shrugging with a reassuring smile. “I think I just need some water or something—”
The elevator doors slid open. “Did somebody say water?”
Yuna stood there grinning, surrounded by her team of assistants.
“Hi, Yuna!” they all chorused instinctively.
“Great timing,” Beomseok said, pushing Jinu forward, towards an outstretched water bottle with a straw. Jinu rolled his eyes fondly—you’d think he was dying—but leaned forward and dutifully took a sip.
“Incredible show tonight, that’s my boys!” Yuna said, walking backwards with them as they headed down the hall. She shook a fist in the air for emphasis. Jinu gave her a fond smile—Yuna always had an energy ten times her size. At this point in their career, she was half-manager, half-older sister to all of them. …So it was nice to see her proud of them.
“Everyone on social media is talking about your special effects again,” she told them. “You really outdid yourselves this time—that intro where the guys in the demon costumes exploded into confetti? People loved it.”
“Well, good to know that we’ve reinforced our brand,” Daeun said, sounding flatly amused. Jinu glanced back at him with a conspiratorial smile—the demons really did do half their work for them, sometimes.
“Absolutely,” Yuna said. A stagehand slipped Jinu’s jacket off, and another one helped him into a long plush bathrobe. Jinu tugged it on as quickly as possible—he didn’t like wearing only the turtleneck, even though it still had long sleeves.
“Listen,” Yuna was saying. “This is gonna break the bank a little bit—oh, don’t give me that look, Jinu, you guys deserve to celebrate. I booked you all a week-long stay at the nicest, most exclusive resort in Korea—!”
“Sorry, Yuna,” Beomseok interrupted. “We’ve already got plans.”
“—What, really?”
“Yup,” Jae said. “To the most exclusive place of all.”
“Our couch~!” Jae and Beomseok chorused together.
“Couch! Couch! Couch! Couch!” they danced happily past Yuna, Daeun and Garam hurrying to join in. Jinu rolled his eyes fondly, then turned to Yuna.
“Yuna, you should go and enjoy the resort. You’ve been working so hard for us this tour. You deserve it!”
Yuna put a hand to her head dramatically. “Oh my God, Jinu, I couldn’t possibly—just kidding, yes I could. Robe me! I’m a 34 short,” she barked at her assistants. In a flurry of movement, she was dressed in another bathrobe, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll see you in a week, boys!”
“Bye, Yuna!” Jinu and his friends chorused, turning to head towards the exit.
“Thank God,” Daeun groaned, tipping his head back in relief. “A full week of vacation.”
Jinu followed behind his friends as they chattered with excitement. “Yeah,” he murmured to himself with a grin, mentally taking stock of his plans. “Vacation.”
The elevator doors to their penthouse slid open, and Jinu and his friends filed out.
“Ohmigod, okay,” Jae was saying, bouncing along at the front of the group. “I have seventeen new movies for us to watch.”
“Mhm,” Jinu mumbled, trailing behind the group, fixated on his phone.
“One of them is a French love story about a ghost—”
“Jae, none of us speak French except you,” Beomseok said.
Jae waved him off. “There’s subtitles, it’s fine—”
“Ghosts transcend language, anyway,” Garam piped in. “They speak from the fabric of the universe.”
“What?” Jae was momentarily distracted from his movie spiel. “You don’t know that.”
“You don’t know I don’t know.”
“Garam, we all know you haven’t met a ghost,” Beomseok drawled. “You would have told us immediately.”
Garam sighed, shoulders drooping. “Yeah. I wish.”
Jae patted Garam’s shoulder kindly. “Well, you can watch a movie about it.”
“It sucks to see someone else living your dream, though…” Garam started.
“Sounds boring as hell,” Daeun said. “This is gonna be great.”
“Uh-huh,” Jinu muttered, triple-checking the new banners. Glowing, golden, triumphant.
Jae kept going with his plans. “If I set up the TV, you guys can get the snacks—”
“You guys do that,” Jinu said, finally tearing his eyes away from his phone. “I’m gonna be right back.”
“You better hurry up, then,” Daeun said, heading towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna eat literally the entire fridge without you.”
“Uh-huh.” Jinu rolled his eyes, heading down their bedroom hallway, towards the service stairwell at the end of the hall.
“He’s not joking, Jinu!” Garam called after him. Jinu cracked a smile, shouldering the service door open and heading down the stairs.
All their work outfits—stage costumes, that is—were downstairs, carefully preserved until they needed to be worn, in a giant closet surrounded by changing rooms. They only really needed two—unlike Jinu, the others weren’t shy about changing around each other—but having multiple changing rooms made Jinu feel less awkward about using them, at least.
He pulled on his Golden outfit in parts. He put on the tailored gold-and-white pants first, clasping his norigae to the belt loop it belonged on, and pulled on his boots, zipping up the invisible zipper on each one methodically. Then—only then—did he face the top half of his body, shrugging off his bathrobe and tugging his turtleneck over his head like ripping off a band-aid.
His patterns glared back at him from the changing room mirror, thick, jagged lines jutting across his arms and up his shoulders and neck.
Jinu blew out a breath, stepping closer to examine the damage. His hand ghosted over his neck, where the patterns hadn’t quite grown over his throat yet—but he could feel where they were going to. That was how it always worked. He always felt them under his skin before they broke the surface. Like something blooming from below, it was a certain ache, a tightness that Jinu had learned to recognize as a warning sign.
He didn’t have much time left.
He pulled on the sleeveless top of his Golden costume, pulling the invisible zipper up over his throat, letting the collar close up around his neck and disappear the problem. If you ignored his arms, he almost looked normal—almost like the Seong Jinu everyone saw him as. Someone perfect.
…Someone human.
Just one more performance. Just one more song.
He looked to the glittery black jacket that made the final piece of his outfit. It jangled with golden embellishments as he picked it up, tracing the hem of the collar.
He blew out a breath, steeling himself again.
It’s almost over.
Jae knelt before the TV, brows furrowed, trying and failing to connect it to his phone.
“C’mon, TV-nim… you know it’s me…”
Luckily, the others were in the kitchen stocking up on food, so he didn’t have to worry about them seeing his super unsexy failure.
He brushed the pink curtain of his bangs away from his face, sitting back on his heels with a huff. Why had they made it his job to set up the TV when it was all in Korean? He was a terrible reader in Korean.
…Well, actually, he’d been the one to say he’d do it. Semantics. Someone should've stopped him.
He couldn’t find the connect device tab anywhere. He’d read and re-read the options, checking where he’d thought connect device usually was, but he must have misremembered, because that tab was something about the politics news station, he was pretty sure. So now he had no idea where it was, and wading through all the hangul was gonna take forever.
He was debating in his mind whether it was worth it to switch the TV to English (he’d done it enough times that it’d be easy, but then Beomseok and Garam would complain, because then they’d have a hard time reading anything…) when the others finally came back into the living room. Well, the others except Jinu, who was still off doing who-knows-what. Secretly responding to work emails, probably.
“Couch! Couch! Couch! Couch!” the others chanted behind Jae. Jae glanced over, eyes lighting on a brown sugar boba balanced on top of a small mountain of snacks. That one better be for him. Otherwise he was stealing it.
“You can’t get it to work again?” Beomseok said, dropping the food on the couch and heading over to Jae. Garam and Daeun, traitors, slumped onto the couch and melted into it with sighs of relief.
God, Jae wished that were him.
“I can,” Jae said. “Just—give me a second.” He switched over to the settings bar to change the default language to English.
“Don’t change it to English,” the other three snapped, in sync.
“I can only read, like, three words in English,” Beomseok added.
Jae tipped his head back, groaning. “Fine. You guys are so mean to me.”
“Look, I’ll help you,” Beom started, as Jae went to navigate back out of the settings again. “Go here.” he pointed to where Jae had been looking earlier.
Jae clicked into that menu dutifully, giving Beom a wary glance. “I looked there already,” he said. “I thought it was here, but it’s not…”
Beom pointed to the politics tab. “It’s this one.”
Jae frowned at it, frustration building. “...No it’s not.”
Beom pointed at the politics tab more insistently. “What does that say?”
“Jeongchi yeongyul.”
“No. What does that say?”
“Jeongchi yeongyul!” Jae threw his hands in the air.
“Jae,” Daeun drawled from the couch. “Jangchi yeongyul.”
Jae squinted closer at the screen, recognition slowly setting in. He tipped his head back and groaned. “Fuck me.”
“It’s an easy mistake,” Beomseok said nicely. “You were close.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Jae grumbled, dragging a hand down his face. He hated being treated with kid gloves. Even when he needed them.
He shoved the remote in Beom’s direction. “You do it. I’m gonna set up my phone.”
He picked up his phone just as a notification popped up on the top of the screen. He went to swipe it away, then—stopped.
It was from the Saja Boys Official account.
He clicked on it, and the post bloomed to life on his screen, dread blooming in Jae’s stomach along with it.
“...Guys,” he said. “I thought Golden wasn’t supposed to drop for another two weeks.”
On the couch, Garam and Daeun sat up, staring at him tensely.
“...It’s not,” Beomseok said warily, moving to look over Jae’s shoulder at his phone. Jae tipped it toward him silently.
Beom closed his eyes. “...Oh my God.”
“He didn’t,” Daeun said, sitting up even more fully, glancing between Jae and Beomseok’s faces. “Say sike right now.”
Jae didn’t say sike. Jae flopped back bodily on the carpet, sprawling out and letting out a loud, miserable groan.
A thunk at the end of the hallway made him pick up his head. As suspected, a moment later Jinu appeared out of the hallway next to the living room, a bright, forceful smile on his face.
…Wearing his new Golden outfit.
“Jinu, tell us you didn’t,” Garam said.
Jinu’s smile became even more fixed. “Hey, guys,” he said brightly. “How was your break?”
Jae threw himself back on the carpet again, letting out an even more anguished groan than last time.
You had to hand it to Yuna—she made it to the penthouse in record time, even before they were all finished chewing-out-slash-guilt-tripping-slash-pleading with Jinu.
Which was to say, entirely too soon and Jae hadn’t even made it past the first stage of grief yet.
“Boys!” she said, coming in from the entry hallway. She was still wearing a bathrobe. And a face mask. Augh, face masks… Jae rolled over and smushed his face into the floor. “This is amazing!”
“Kill me now,” Daeun groaned from somewhere above Jae.
“No. Kill Jinu,” Garam muttered.
“Listen, there’ll be time for you to kill Jinu later,” Yuna said. “For now—your new song has gone totally viral!”
Jae popped up, excited despite himself. “Really?” Around him, the others had also perked up, just slightly. Other than Jinu, who was already at peak perkiness, like an insane person.
“Everyone’s listening to it,” Yuna confirmed. “With the right marketing, this could really be your biggest hit yet!”
Jae glanced around at the others, giddy relief slightly overtaking his misery. This was exactly what they’d been hoping for with Golden. A song good enough to form the golden honmoon, the hunters’ ultimate goal that they’d been working towards for literally hundreds of years? They’d gone through so many drafts and versions and reworked lyrics trying to get it perfect.
And it had paid off. They were really gonna do it.
“We already have a live performance on World Cable News booked for tomorrow night,” Yuna started. Jae deflated again. Right. Work.
“We should film a promo video tonight, just a quick thing thanking your fans and introducing the new song, then—there’s a lot of different studios requesting radio interviews, a few TV interviews, one that could fit in the morning slot tomorrow, that would be good to just give the fans an interview as quick as possible, then—”
As Yuna listed off more and more events, Jae watched Jinu’s smile grow wider and more sincere. Jae made a face to himself—Jinu was so strange sometimes.
He’s actually excited about this.