Chapter Text
It was particularly cold that day.
The demon sat on the edge of an abandoned building, legs dangling dangerously above the ground. His velvet coat fluttered in the wind, caught in the sharp bite of winter. If the harsh gusts picked up again, perhaps they might blow him away.
He supposed it wouldn’t really matter even if they did. After all, even if he fell, it wasn’t as if he could die.
Not that he was truly living, either.
Damned to the earth for two hundred years, the demon had long since run out of things to find interesting.
Once, he had found amusement in forming contracts with humans. They were entertaining creatures. Fragile, desperate things he enjoyed toying with whenever boredom crept in. In exchange for his power, they would agree to surrender their soul once their goal was fulfilled.
For a demon, the more souls they consumed, the stronger they became—though it wasn’t as if demons truly needed human souls to survive. Some consumed them purely as a means of gaining power, while others sustained themselves by harvesting the souls of other living creatures instead. However, there were hardly any real consequences even if a demon chose not to consume souls at all.
Hence, with an eternity that consisted of no real purpose, demons decided to contract humans to pass time.
As for himself, due to the sheer amount of souls he had consumed, he was ranked quite highly amongst hell—being something akin to royalty amongst the demonkind. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed contracting humans but with time stretching endlessly before him, there was truly nothing better to do than toy with human lives.
Those days, however, were in the past.
After spending about the past twelve decades forming contracts with humans, he had concluded that humans were all the same. They were all greedy creatures that desired power and wealth and eventually, he had lost joy in contracting them. When it was time for them to give up their soul, they’d plead for their lives and express their regret. It was the same thing over and over again. Thus, he decided not to bother forming contracts anymore.
He sighed.
To others, it might seem like being a demon was cool or exciting. However, to him, it was more of a curse if anything.
What little remained of the sunlight peeked through the thick grey clouds above, casting a dull glow over the town below. From his vantage point, the demon watched humans wander the streets of Bukchon, bundled in heavy coats, their breaths fogging the air as they passed one another by.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been perched atop the building as time blurred when there was nothing to count it by. It very well could have been a day or a week at that point, considering the gloomy weather. It was difficult to tell the time but it wasn’t as if he was keeping track anyway. Still, he found comfort in the silence and in the distance the height afforded him.
He inhaled deeply, absentmindedly watching the cold air cooling his naturally hot body. Until…
“Does everything that happens need to have a reason?”
A low voice came from behind him.
The demon hadn’t heard any footsteps, nor had he expected another presence at all. Normally, he would be able to sense people but perhaps the noise was drowned out by the howling wind or he was simply distracted by his own thoughts. Frowning slightly, he scanned his surroundings with his magic, checking if anyone else was in the area. When there was in fact no one, the realization settled quickly: the voice was talking to him.
That alone was surprising enough—That a human, of all creatures, actually wanted to interact with him.
In his experience, there were only two possibilities for this. The first being that the man had actually come to attempt to exorcise him. The other being that the human wanted to contract him.
Either way, he wasn’t about to allow either option to happen.
A quiet laugh slipped past his lips as he kept his gaze forward, refusing to give his attention to the man. “Doesn’t reason equate to meaning?” he replied easily. “If nothing has a reason, then there wouldn’t be any meaning to anything at all.”
When silence followed, he thought that man had decided to leave.
Then, he felt the shift of weight beside him as the human sat down, close enough for their shoulders to nearly brush.
“I don’t understand you,” the human said quietly.
From the corner of his eye, the demon could see the boy staring down at the town just as he had been moments ago. He sensed it too. The subtle inching closer, tentative and hesitant, as if testing the distance between them.
The demon looked the other way, fixing his gaze on the horizon instead, where the sky seemed to swallow the earth whole.
“No one does,” he murmured.
This time, the human didn’t hide the way he stared at him, not in a rude or judgmental way.
The demon noted how the human had only grown more curious. If anything, he was unsettlingly attentive, as if he were studying every minute shift in expression, every barely perceptible movement. They sat in silence, the space between them heavy, leaving the demon quietly confused.
He wasn’t a sociable being by any means, especially so when it came to interaction with humans. Humans were simply too predictable for his liking. Thus, conversations with them had never gotten anywhere. He only ever spoke to them when required during the process of a contractual binding or when he felt the need to.
Yet somehow, this particular human was behaving so strangely that a question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.
“Do you have a name?” he blurted, despite still refusing to meet the human’s gaze.
“Do you?” the human smiled, asking him in return.
The demon blinked.
He hadn’t expected the question to be thrown back at him so quickly, as most humans never usually bothered asking, usually calling him ‘demon’. To him, humans were too egotistical. They are only eager to speak about themselves, desperate to be acknowledged. This one, however, only tilted his head slightly, gaze unwavering, genuinely expecting some kind of answer.
The real issue was that names were… unfamiliar to demons.
“...I asked you first,” the demon pondered before he finally said at last.
A brief silence followed as the human hummed a noise of disapproval.
“If my existence has no meaning,” the human replied slowly, “does my name really matter? After all, a name defines your existence, doesn’t it?”
The demon frowned.
Never in his 120 years of walking on earth had he come across a human that was this… annoying.
Technically, he could have used magic. He could have torn the answer straight from the human’s mind without effort but where was the entertainment in that? This man was clearly different from other humans he had encountered.
He clicked his tongue softly.
“I suppose so,” he said flatly.
When it fell quiet again and some time had passed, the boy continued to sit next to him without saying a word. Eventually the demon finally caved and peeked to his side, stealing a glance at the figure who had since turned his attention to the horizon as well. The boy sat completely still, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold, breath ghosting faintly in the air as the wind tugged at him.
To his own surprise however, the boy was pretty.
No… Beautiful was the more accurate word.
The demon had lived long enough to see countless attractive beings—humans, demons, even angels in the days of him being alive. Beauty had long since lost its novelty. And yet, there was something about this human that felt different and disarming. Even without a functioning heart, the demon felt something stir in his chest, an odd, phantom sensation akin to a heartbeat, thudding where silence had existed for centuries.
It unsettled him.
For the first time in a long, long while that a human had managed to entice him so completely. Since he had begun contracting humans, he had made it a point not to linger on faces, on emotions, or just humans in general. Having attachment to humans was never a good thing. But now, he found himself unable to look away.
He turned fully toward the boy, abandoning any pretense of indifference, quietly drinking in every detail.
Soft, wavy chestnut hair framed his face, strands shifting with each breath. His eyes were large and round, reflecting the dull winter light, warm despite the cold. The worst part of all was his pink, heart-shaped lips that rested in a faint pout. One that seemed almost unconscious, yet painfully endearing.
Cute.
His honey-toned skin that was slowly turning pale, was barely protected from the winter chill, clad in wide-legged pants and a frilly white blouse that looked far too thin for the biting cold. A brown coat hung loosely over his frame, offering little warmth, and even his boots seemed ill-suited for weather like this. It was as if the season itself had overlooked him or perhaps he had simply chosen not to care.
The demon found himself wondering briefly, foolishly, what it would feel like to press his lips to the boy’s, just once, if only to see whether that expression would disappear or deepen.
He attempted to force himself to look away but like a moth to a flame, he was completely drawn in.
This was a human, he reminded himself.
And humans were never meant to linger.
The boy had obviously caught him staring as he turned to meet the demon’s gaze. His eyes widened just slightly, breath hitching as his attention swept over the demon’s features, lingering as though he were committing them to memory.
The boy’s reaction was nothing new to him. He knew he was considered attractive by human standards, even if he himself felt nothing about it. His previous contractors had made a point of telling him so, some even going as far as to claim his beauty was unmatched. His features were sculpted too perfectly, almost unnaturally so. A tall, straight nose with a small freckle by the side. A strong and sharp jawline, framed by strands of lilac-blue hair that shifted with the wind.
His eyes were dark, hollow, and lifeless at first glance. But if one stared long enough, there was a faint ember buried deep within his irises, a quiet flame that refused to be extinguished.
Though he had the option to change his appearance to mask his identity or to simply appear even more attractive, unlike most demons, he hadn’t bothered altering anything. There had never been a need to. He’d always looked enticing enough for humans to approach him of their own accord and no human had ever rejected him.
However, as he was faced with the human’s unabashed staring, the demon found himself at a loss. He didn’t know why but he cared about the opinion of the boy. He hoped that he would think that the demon was attractive. He watched as the boy parted his lips, trying to think of something to say. But the words left his mouth first.
“I’m a demon.”
“And I’m Jisung.”
The boy, or rather Jisung, had answered immediately.
The lack of hesitation made the demon more confused than he already was.
Not only did Jisung not run upon hearing that he was a demon, he had given his actual name. Names were sacred, dangerous things that humans rarely gave freely, especially when a demon asks for it. And yet, the wide-eyed boy spoke his name simply, as if it carried no weight at all.
“Ji-sung…” the demon murmured, testing the sound of it on his tongue.
It fit far too well.
Jisung nodded enthusiastically when his name was spoken, eyes lighting up, evidently pleased. The demon noted it absently how the corners of his lips curved, how warmth bled into his expression.
He decided, then, that maybe he liked the way Jisung looked when he smiled.
“Demons don’t have names in the same way humans do.” The explanation came slower than the rest of his words had, measured and deliberate, as Jisung continued to stare at him with open expectation. The demon wondered if Jisung would finally realize that he was speaking with a demon, or if he was too afraid to run away.
“We have titles, ones used in hell. Or rather, our ‘contractual names,’” he continued slowly, giving Jisung the chance to escape or leave. “Those are used strictly for binding purposes.”
Jisung didn’t look away. In fact, he seemed even more interested, urging him to go on.
“My contractual name is Lucifer. But you’ll find other demons with the same title.”
The reaction was immediate.
A small crease formed between Jisung’s brows as he frowned, lips pressing together in thought. The expression was fleeting, but the demon caught it all the same. He had to restrain himself from reaching out—an unfamiliar urge—to smooth the crease away, to brush his thumb across warm skin until the tension eased.
Was the human… disappointed?
“Ah…” Jisung murmured after a moment. “That won’t do.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes searching the demon’s face. “How about something more… personal?”
This time, it was the demon’s turn to frown.
What a strange request.
Sure, the humans he had worked with before had asked for many absurd things. Some demanded he pretended that he was their relative or asked him to alter his voice. Others made requests so ridiculous they barely warranted a response. But never had a human asked him for a name.
He searched his memories, sifting through the haze of centuries past.
He was certain he’d had one at some point, back when he had still been something else and when names mattered. But time had eroded those memories, leaving behind only fragments that were blurred, indistinct and painful to grasp.
“Uh—sorry,” Jisung started quickly, noticing his silence. “It’s alright if you can’t—”
Then, it clicked.
“Minho.”
The name surfaced without effort, slipping past his lips before he had time to question it.
Jisung blinked. Then his expression softened, lips curving into a smile that felt far too genuine for someone sitting beside a demon on a frozen rooftop.
“Min-ho,” Jisung repeated, mimicking the way he had said Jisung’s name earlier.
The sound of his name spoken in Jisung’s voice sent an involuntary shudder through him. He found, to his own quiet surprise, that he liked the way it sounded. Perhaps he would keep Jisung around a little longer if only to hear him say it again.
Coughing awkwardly, Minho had to look away quickly before he had any more absurd thoughts.
The moment lingered a little too long for his liking. The sound of his name still hung between them, warm and unfamiliar. Minho shifted, boots scraping lightly against the concrete, and turned his attention back to the town below. Jisung continued to stare, and changing the subject suddenly felt necessary.
“So, Jisung,” he said, tone casual, almost lazy, “why are you up here anyway?” His gaze flicked briefly to the boy beside him. “Shouldn’t you be down there with the other humans?”
Jisung hesitated.
“Uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “I’m actually on the run right now.” A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve been falsely accused of murder, and… everyone’s kind of out to get me.”
Minho snorted before he could stop himself.
It was rude—he knew that—but the image simply didn’t fit. Murder? Jisung? He hadn’t known the human for a day but Jisung looked more like he’d apologize to a wall for bumping into it. His amusement only grew when he noticed the faint flush spreading across Jisung’s cheeks as he laughed quietly.
“I really can’t imagine that,” Minho chuckled, glancing at him.
Jisung huffed, embarrassed. “Why are you up here then?” he asked, recovering quickly. “Shouldn’t demons be… blending in with humans and eating corpses or something?”
Minho rolled his eyes.
“We don’t literally eat humans,” he replied flatly. “We eat your souls.” He gestured vaguely toward the town. “And I’m here because I like the view.”
He paused.
“However…”
Jisung stiffened slightly, the humour fading from his expression as he sensed what Minho was about to propose. The apprehension was subtle, but Minho caught it easily. The way his shoulders tensed and the way his fingers curled into his sleeves uneasily. At this point, humans would usually jump at opportunities like these to either run or persuade him into a contract. After all, desperation made them reckless.
Jisung, however, only looked uncertain.
“Do you want my help finding the real murderer?” Minho questioned.
Jisung fell silent.
Minho could practically see the gears turning in his head, the internal battle playing out across his face. He leaned back on his hands, watching him with detached fascination.
He was sure that Jisung must’ve heard about demon contracts somewhere before. They were taboo, of course, but it didn’t stop people from doing it. In fact, Jisung should feel honoured because Minho didn’t do contracts anymore, but he was willing to make an exception because Jisung was so pretty.
“With my power,” Minho continued, voice smooth, “you could hunt the real murderer down easily. I’ll have access to your memories so we can narrow down the culprit. You could sit back and relax while I take care of the dirty work.” His gaze lingered on Jisung. “Also, no matter how far apart we are, you’ll be able to talk to me telepathically in case you get into trouble. It’s totally foolproof”
After a moment of silence, Jisung let out a nervous laugh.
“That’s… uh… That’s a lot.”
Minho hummed softly.
If he was being honest, Jisung did not have that sharp, burning hunger for revenge most humans carried when they sought him out. His heart seemed weak, and a contract like this would likely do him more harm than good.
Yet, Minho found the idea of binding himself to Jisung’s soul or eating it… difficult to dismiss. Not out of affection, but curiosity. Humans were meant to be fleeting. Temporary. Toys to pass eternity with. And this one, in particular, had already proven to be far more interesting than most.
He was sure that Jisung’s soul would be absolutely divine.
“But…” Jisung hesitated, eyes flicking back to Minho for only a second before darting away again. “You’re a demon.” His voice lowered, cautious now. “What’s the price I’d have to pay for your help?”
Minho didn’t answer immediately, debating his next words. But when he did, his voice was calm.
“Once your name is cleared,” he said evenly, “you’ll pay with your soul.”
Jisung frowned.
Slowly, he stood, stepping away from the ledge they had shared moments ago, trying to understand what Minho meant. For a brief second, Minho thought that was the end of their fateful encounter. That the human was walking away not just from the contract, but from him entirely. He wondered if he should play it off and say that it was a joke, but Jisung stopped.
His back remained turned, shoulders tense as the wind tugged at his coat. When he spoke again, his voice was smaller, barely carried by the air.
“Does that mean… you’ll kill me the moment my goal is fulfilled?” He swallowed. “Why would anyone ever agree to that?”
Minho could only shrug.
What could he even say? That it was because humans chased desire without understanding the cost, trading eternity for fleeting gratification? That most of them didn’t even truly comprehend what a soul was, and that it could buy them power, wealth or revenge?
Was Minho even supposed to care? Because no matter how many souls he took, he’d never felt guilty about it. Why would he? It was how demons grew stronger and how they killed time. It was how the world worked. Normally, he wouldn’t have hesitated or cared about the feelings of other humans but Jisung…
Jisung made him hesitate.
He didn’t understand why Jisung was different yet. But before the boy could take another step away and leave Minho forever, Minho spoke again.
“There is a way out.”
Jisung stiffened.
Minho rose from the ledge, boots hitting the concrete softly as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just short of touching, standing close enough that Jisung would have to feel his presence even without looking at him.
“Within a month from the start of the contract,” Minho continued, voice smooth, persuasive, “if you manage to hunt down another human contracted to a demon, their soul will replace yours.” He tilted his head slightly, watching Jisung’s reaction. “You’ll be freed from the contract.”
Jisung still refused to meet his gaze which made Minho slightly more desperate.
“I’ll help you hunt for someone else,” Minho added quietly before Jisung could get a word out.. “I promise.”
Then, Jisung finally faced him and Minho studied his face.
The boy’s face had gone pale, eyes dulled by exhaustion, expression ashen from the cold and from fear. To which, Minho wondered fleetingly, what kind of situation would have led Jisung to a deserted rooftop near midnight in the dead of winter with nowhere else to go. Jisung’s hands were trembling, fingers tinged purple from hypothermia, and Minho felt an odd pull in his chest at the sight.
He had a strong urge to warm them.
Ridiculous.
And though Jisung seemed more frail and smaller than ever, his gaze lingered. Minho couldn’t help but notice that if Jisung ever leaned in for a kiss—if he ever wanted to—he’d have to look up with his big doe eyes. Maybe even rise onto the tips of his toes, despite not being much shorter than Minho at all.
The thought amused him so much that Minho thought that he was finally losing his mind after isolating himself for decades.
Just maybe, Minho wanted Jisung.
Why? He wasn’t sure. It was not out of love. Not even desire, really. But perhaps because Jisung was interesting and Minho had eternity to fill. That was all it was.
But when Jisung had yet to respond, Minho spoke again.
“Are you afraid?”
Jisung looked up at him then, his eyes tracing Minho’s face as if weighing something unseen.
“Of death?” he echoed. “No.” His gaze lingered for a second longer before he tilted his head. “But you?” A small, breathy laugh slipped past his lips. “Kinda.”
With his magic, Minho secretly felt for the human’s pulse out of habit, attuned to the rhythm beneath skin and bone. Jisung’s heart remained steady. There was no spike in his heart rate nor was there any kind of frantic flutter. He wasn’t lying about being afraid of death.
There were humans who showed no fear toward demons or otherworldly beings, but they were usually arrogant, reckless, or blissfully ignorant. Jisung was none of those things. He was timid and aware. The only thing that made Jisung’s heart rate increase was when Minho looked at him for a little too long which made this even more fascinating.
Minho found it thrilling. Did Jisung take an interest in him too? Or was he genuinely afraid of Minho? He liked to think that he had managed to charm the human with his personality and not with illusions or magic. Just himself.
“Am I really that intimidating?” Minho asked lightly, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I-it’s not that,” Jisung said quickly, shaking his head. “You’re just—um…” His cheeks flushed pink, eyes darting away as if the horizon had suddenly become very interesting.
He took a sharp breath and sputtered quickly, “Y-You just make me really nervous because you… look very distracting.”
Ah.
Understanding settled in instantly.
A slow smirk curved Minho’s lips. He appreciated the way that Jisung was painfully expressive. He was honest in a way most humans weren’t, especially when they were afraid. It made Minho want to prod him further, just to see how much more he’d give away.
He leaned in deliberately, closing the space between them until Jisung’s attention snapped back to him.
“What was that, Sungie?” Minho murmured, leaning his face as close to Jisung’s till their noses were almost touching. “Couldn’t quite hear you. Mind repeating that?”
“I—I—”
“I’m teasing you,” Minho chuckled, straightening again before the human could short-circuit completely. On the other hand, Jisung had to cough his embarrassment away.
The silence that followed stretched longer this time. Eventually, Jisung exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the situation finally caught up to him.
“How can I trust you?” he asked quietly.
Minho watched him closely.
Now that was the real question.
To Minho, logically it made sense for Jisung to trust him. Once a contract was set in stone, Minho’s soul would be tied to Jisung’s. As long as they remained bound, betrayal would be impossible. Demons could twist words, exploit loopholes, but the soul did not lie. If Minho promised to stay, then he would. There would be no escape from it.
Still, Minho understood Jisung’s hesitation.
To humans, demons were infamous for their cunning ways, tempting humans with honeyed words, luring them into contracts that only ever benefited one side. And if Jisung knew just how high Minho ranked in hell, knew exactly what kind of demon sat before him, his caution would likely deepen into fear.
Yet Jisung wasn’t like other humans, and that was precisely the problem.
Jisung was clueless and naive. He probably had a very kind heart and wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was genuinely evil. He was easy to corrupt and he would probably trust Minho in a heartbeat even if Minho were somehow Satan himself. If another demon contracted Jisung, the demon would most likely exploit him and reap his soul without sparing any second thought.
Minho was the only one who could protect Jisung and thus, Jisung should trust him.
Minho wouldn’t let Jisung die till he had his fill. He wouldn’t allow another human to touch him, even if Jisung asked otherwise. If another demon dared to claim or lay their claws on him, Minho would tear them apart. And if Satan himself attempted to pry Jisung away before Minho was satisfied, before Minho decided to let go, he would gladly set hell ablaze just to keep the human.
He would wage a war to keep Jisung safe. But he couldn’t say any of that out loud because he would seem insane.
That, and he didn’t like Jisung.
This was only an amusement. Or curiosity. Just a way to pass the time.
So he left it to fate.
“I’ll be by your side at all times,” Minho said finally, his tone more serious than before. He turned his gaze away, fixing it on the horizon as if the town below held the answer. “With our souls connected, you’ll always know where I am and you can always summon me back to your side.” A pause. “There will be no way for me to betray you, nor do I want to.”
Somehow, the words felt heavier than he expected. He had never bothered making the effort of explaining himself to other humans before so he felt somewhat vulnerable as it was new to him too.
As if Jisung had heard every unspoken thought and doubt Minho had, the human reached out. His hands, small and chilled from the winter air, closed around Minho’s. The contrast was immediate. Minho inhaled sharply, surprised by the contact as Jisung closed his eyes.
“If I agree…” His voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “Will you promise to tell me more about yourself?” He swallowed. “Will you promise not to leave?”
For a fleeting, absurd moment, it sounded like a marriage proposal.
Minho’s chest tightened.
In all his centuries as a demon, no one had ever spoken to him with such raw sincerity. The way Jisung’s lips quivered slightly as he spoke, his cold hands gripping Minho’s tightly, and trusting. This fragile human whom he had barely met and had nothing to offer besides his soul, was asking for a demon to stay by his side.
Though Jisung barely radiated any heat from how cold his body was, his words carried warmth that seemed like it could melt the winter cold. Minho wasn’t a fool, he knew warmth like that was never meant for demons like him. For someone who had taken countless lives and committed sins like it was something as simple as drinking water to survive, no one should show him any form of kindness.
Yet, Minho responded without hesitation. He took Jisung’s cold hands between his own, rubbing gentle warmth into numb fingers, restoring them to its original sunkissed tone. Once they were at a comfortable temperature, his hands rose to cradle Jisung’s face, thumb brushing softly along his jaw as he tilted it upward, forcing Jisung to open his eyes to meet his gaze.
Something dangerous settled behind Minho’s eyes.
“I promise to be with you forever.”
Even Minho didn’t know whether that promise was a lie or a curse. He wasn’t sure he could keep Jisung around forever, but he would certainly give everything to Jisung if he asked for it.
An unfamiliar emotion flickered across Jisung’s face, something fleeting and unreadable, before it melted into a grin as he wrapped his hands around Minho’s wrists.
“Okay,” Jisung huffed out, breath shaky but sincere, his face still cradled between Minho’s hands.
The blush returned almost instantly, blooming across Jisung’s puffed cheeks, resembling a ripe peach. Minho noticed it immediately, of course.
He couldn’t resist the urge to poke them gently.
Jisung startled, letting out a soft whine of protest, and Minho felt something twist pleasantly in his chest. He had never heard such a delightful sound emitted from a human or any creature before and he needed to hear it again. On a whim, he dragged his fingers lightly along Jisung’s jaw and scratched beneath his chin, slow and experimental, as one might do with a cat.
Jisung made a small noise, something dangerously close to a squeak and Minho’s brain short-circuited.
Sure, he had watched humans for centuries: Studied them, learned every quirk, every tell, every weakness. He knew how they flinched, how they lied, how they begged. He knew every single sound and reaction a human could possibly make. And yet, with Jisung, it was like learning something new all over again.
When Jisung pouted again, Minho laughed and patted his head, deciding to stop teasing the human for now.
“…So,” Jisung said after a moment, clearly flustered, interrupting Minho’s train of thought, “how are we supposed to seal the contract or whatever?”
Minho leaned back slightly, finally withdrawing his hand reluctantly, and he considered the question.
Traditionally, demons were summoned. Circles, blood, sigils carved into stone. A human called, and a demon answered. The bond would then be formed through ritual, intention, and through blood spilled willingly in a pentagram.
But Jisung hadn’t summoned him; Minho was simply there.
There were lots of instances where the demon would seek after humans to contract instead. However, the ritual involved physical contact. The human and demon would exchange energy either through the sharing of blood or through physical intimacy.
If it were the first few decades of Minho’s life as a demon, he probably would still have enjoyed having casual sex with humans to bind contracts. It was a fun and easy method that both demons and humans could enjoy as opposed to blood contracts. But even that got boring for him and eventually, Minho avoided humans altogether.
But with Jisung…
“Um—” Jisung quietly spoke, fingers nervously worrying at a loose thread on his coat. “Do I have to cut my wrist and offer you my blood or something?”
Minho’s hands moved before he could stop himself.
They slid from Jisung’s jaw to the small of his waist, fingers curling possessively as he pulled him closer. Jisung let out a surprised squeak as he stumbled forward, practically falling into Minho’s arms.
Jisung’s entire body was freezing still.
Minho felt it immediately. The chill seeping through the thin layers of fabric did very little to shield him from the winter air. However, demons, born of hellfire, ran warm by nature. They were a perfect match. Not to mention, Jisung fit against him far too easily, smaller body instinctively leaning into the heat.
Minho smirked as Jisung froze, eyes wide.
“No,” Minho said softly, combing Jisung’s hair.
Then, he dipped his head just enough for their foreheads to almost touch.
“Kiss me”, Minho breathed.
“...Excuse me?”
Minho hummed, amusement flickering across his face. “Would you rather we drink each other’s blood?” he asked, one brow arching.
“N-no! But—”
“Then kissing is the easiest way,” Minho cut in lightly, clearly enjoying this far too much. “No blood, no mess. Otherwise, I won’t be able to bind myself to you.”
Jisung sputtered, words tangling in his throat as he stared up at Minho, eyes searching desperately for any sign that this was a joke.
There was none.
Minho was serious.
With physical intimacy, it typically required two bodies to be joined together in a way that was far more explicit. However, Jisung seemed far too innocent and would probably explode from embarrassment. Thus, Minho knew better than to even suggest them.
Truthfully, Minho didn’t even know if kissing would suffice. But if it didn’t work… at least he got to know what kissing Jisung felt like.
His hands tightened on Jisung’s waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them, hips pressed together, escape rendered impossible. Jisung stiffened, breath hitching, his hands resting on Minho’s chest while Minho grinned down at him with unhidden satisfaction. The way Jisung pouted unconsciously, the way his waist fit perfectly beneath Minho’s fingers was testing his patience.
From this angle, Jisung looked especially tiny. He resembled a bug. Like something Minho could cup in his hands and keep.
“Sungie~” Minho drawled, leaning in just enough to whisper into his ear. “Do you not want to kiss me?”
Jisung finally tilted his head up, though his gaze still refused to settle, darting anywhere but Minho’s eyes. His cheeks were burning red now, breath uneven as he swallowed hard.
“I—I’ve never…” He squeezed his eyes shut, words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s my first kiss, so I—”
A surge of possessiveness instantly festered within Minho.
He shouldn’t be this happy knowing that Jisung was untouched. Unmarked. That no one else had ever claimed his lips, ever made him flustered like this. That he was the first and possibly the last person who would ever get to kiss him. The thought settled heavily in his chest, curling into something dark and pleased.
Jisung will be his.
Minho slowly loosened his grip on Jisung’s waist, forcing himself to move with care. He reached instead for Jisung’s hands, gently guiding them into his own, fingers warm and steady as they laced together.
Jisung froze.
Not in fear, Minho could tell, but in sheer overwhelm. His breath came shallow, chest rising and falling against Minho’s as he stood there, caught between wanting and hesitation. His fingers twitched in Minho’s grasp, uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, with himself.
Minho noticed everything, and he thought it was rather endearing. The way Jisung’s lips parted slightly, as though he might speak and then thought better of it. The faint tremor running through him, not entirely from the cold. The way his shoulders were drawn tight, but his feet hadn’t moved, not even an inch, despite every opportunity to step back. Minho loosened his grip just enough to give Jisung space.
It would’ve been easy to close the distance. To tilt Jisung’s chin up, to claim what he’d already decided was his. The demon felt the pull of it deep in his bones, that possessive urge curling tighter with every second that passed. But this wasn’t about control. He wanted Jisung’s trust.
He lowered his voice, letting the teasing edge fall away entirely.
“Jisung.”
His name sounded heavier and intentional.
“…Yeah?” Jisung answered, barely audible, eyes finally lifting. Wide, dark, and impossibly earnest.
Minho searched his face, reading him the way he read contracts and lies. There was fear there, yes. But also curiosity. Want, unrefined and unguarded. If he wanted Jisung to trust him, he would have to let Jisung come to him instead.
His thumbs brushed lightly over Jisung’s knuckles, grounding, steady and warm.
“Do you want this?”
Jisung moved before Minho could say another word.
Cold hands cupped Minho’s face, hesitant for only a fraction of a second, before Jisung surged forward and pressed their mouths together. The kiss was unpracticed, messy, and driven by instinct rather than skill. But the moment their lips touched, Minho felt like he had somehow died and been reborn again.
The reaction of their soul’s intertwining was akin to a volcano.
Heat exploded through Minho, and energy spilled free from him like lava breaking through stone, rushing unrestrained into Jisung’s waiting body. It poured through their connection, bright and searing, threading itself through veins and breath and bone. Jisung’s soul reacted immediately, and it curled toward Minho’s, reaching, intertwining as though it had always known where it belonged.
The sensation burned, but it wasn’t in agony. It was dangerous, like two chemicals that no one had ever thought to mix. Yet Jisung had jumped right in, despite the risk and how he knew next to nothing about Minho. Jisung shuddered against him as the heat flooded in, his body instinctively pressing closer, seeking more even as it struggled to process the intensity.
Minho’s senses sharpened violently as taste hit him first.
The taste of soft and sweet vanilla lingered on Jisung’s lips, the faint residue of lip balm already melting away under the heat of the kiss. Beneath it was something richer, indulgent like cheesecake with the slightest trace of strawberry. It was so very human and decadent. Kissing him was intoxicating in a way no offering, no ritual, no blood contract had ever been.
So Minho kissed him back like a man starved. There was hunger in it, raw and unfiltered, but his touch remained careful, almost reverent. He deepened the kiss slowly, coaxing rather than taking. With his tongue, he wanted to learn the shape of Jisung’s mouth as if committing it to memory. Somehow, even the taste of Jisung’s spit was simply divine. His grip tightened at Jisung’s waist, fingers digging in just enough to ground him, to keep him steady as the magic continued to flow.
His fingers slid into Minho’s hair, threading through blue locks, tugging instinctively, desperately as he melted further into Minho’s embrace. From a demon’s perspective, it might have looked violent, like Minho was draining him. But with the way Jisung made small, breathless sounds, high-pitched and unguarded as he clutched at Minho as though afraid of falling, they seemed nothing more than two people who were deeply in love.
Jisung’s smaller, colder body softened against Minho’s heat, the contrast stark and undeniable. Where Minho burned, Jisung thawed. It was kind of ironic that a demon was providing a human with warmth. The chill in his skin faded inch by inch as Minho’s warmth seeped into him, wrapping around him, sinking deep beneath the thin layers of clothing that did nothing to protect him from the cold or from Minho.
As Minho licked the insides of Jisung’s mouth once more, he could feel the way Jisung’s body slowly adjusted, the way his shivers eased, the way his breath steadied as the heat stopped being something to endure and became something to lean into. The magical energy softened, no longer a violent eruption but a steady, molten flow binding them together.
Minho slowed then, pressing one last lingering kiss to Jisung’s lips, which were still warm and glowing with residual heat.
The contract sealed itself in that moment.
White-hot and permanent.
When their lips finally parted, the air between them still shimmered like glitter and residual magic. There was an unmistakable truth that nothing between them would ever be the same again.
That was when Minho felt a phantom sensation of something wet against his cheek.
The feeling startled him enough that he pulled back instinctively, just a fraction, his brows knitting together as he registered the warmth clinging to his skin. His gaze dropped, and there it was. Tears, fresh and unguarded, welling at the corners of Jisung’s eyes before spilling over, tracking silently down flushed cheeks.
Minho’s chest tightened uncomfortably.
Why was he crying?
A dozen thoughts tore through his mind at once. Did the transfer hurt? Had the magic burned too much, seared too deeply? Had Minho miscalculated his strength? Misjudged what a human body could withstand?
Or worse.
Did Jisung regret it?
The thought hit him with something dangerously close to panic. He gently placed a kiss on Jisung’s forehead, pulling Jisung closer into his arms. His hand rose almost of its own accord, thumb brushing carefully beneath Jisung’s eye, wiping away a tear as though afraid it might shatter him if he touched too roughly.
“Hey…” Minho murmured, his voice softer than he intended. “What’s wrong?”
Jisung inhaled shakily, lips trembling as he tried and failed to steady himself.
“I’m s-sorry,” he said, voice breaking around the edges. “It’s just… you’re so warm, and I—” He faltered, breath hitching as another tear slipped free. “I haven’t held anyone in a long time.”
The words landed heavier than any accusation ever could.
Minho paused.
Then he felt it again. The strange, unfamiliar pull in his chest that wasn’t exactly pain or fear. Just something… hollow. Something that ached. He could finally understand the source of Jisung’s pain. Or perhaps the lack thereof of any kind of emotion in his soul.
Relief washed through him first, sharp and immediate, that Jisung didn’t regret it. That he wasn’t afraid, and he hadn’t been hurt by the contract or the kiss or Minho himself.
But the relief didn’t stay for long.
It was followed by something darker, heavier. Quiet and pervasive sadness creeping deep in Minho’s phantom heart. He hated how quickly it took root, how easily a few broken words from a human could unsettle him like this.
Touch-starved was the phrase that echoed in his mind.
Minho swallowed, fingers still cradling Jisung’s face as though letting go might make him fall apart. As a result of their bond, Minho could really feel it now. Not just see the tears or hear the tremor in Jisung’s voice, but sense the loneliness clinging to him like a second skin. The ache of being unseen and unheld, being tossed aside.
Being unwanted.
The bond continued to thrum quietly between them, alive and responsive. Through it, emotions bled through more clearly than Minho was prepared for. Jisung’s hurt pressed against him, though it was not overwhelming; it was persistent like a bruise he hadn’t known was there until someone touched it.
But demons weren’t meant to feel anything. To demons, emotions were unnecessary things. They were muted echoes turned down so low they were easy to ignore. Sometimes they didn’t exist in demons at all as eternity demanded it. Caring too deeply only led to rot. Minho knew this.
Yet, seeing Jisung cry reminded him of the pain he once felt a long time ago.
Minho exhaled slowly, forcing his grip to soften as he drew Jisung back against him, one hand settling between his shoulder blades, firm and steady. Protective. As if his body knew what to do even if his mind didn’t. He hadn’t felt this vividly with his other human contractors before but he decided to push that thought aside.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Minho said quietly, the words leaving him before he fully understood why he needed to say them. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Jisung felt impossibly small like this, curled into his warmth, fingers still clutching weakly at Minho’s clothes as though afraid the heat might disappear if he let go. Minho’s chest tightened again at the sight, something possessive stirring low in his gut.
No one should look this relieved just to be held.
Minho didn’t understand these feelings. He didn’t know what to call them, didn’t know why they burned so sharply when they’d been dormant for so long.
But one thing was painfully clear.
He didn’t want Jisung to hurt.
And whatever this strange, fragile connection had awakened inside him, whatever emotions had been dragged to the surface along with his magic he would guard Jisung from ever feeling this alone again. Even if he didn’t yet understand why.
Jisung wiped at his tears quickly, almost as if embarrassed by them, the back of his sleeve brushing clumsily across his cheeks. His nose was still a little pink, eyes glassy from crying, but there was a softness to his expression now. Something calmer and steadier.
He sniffled once, then looked up at Minho.
“Did… did it work?” Jisung asked, voice small, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.
For a brief moment, Minho simply stared at him.
Right. He had almost forgotten about the contract.
The reason they had even kissed in the first place.
“If I say no,” Minho said slowly, a hint of mischief creeping back into his voice, “will you kiss me again?”
Jisung immediately turned into a spluttering mess.
“W-what—no—I mean—” His eyes widened, blinking rapidly as his brain visibly struggled to catch up, words tripping over each other before they could even form properly. His cheeks flushed all over again, deeper this time, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.
Minho couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m kidding,” Minho said, still amused, though his gaze lingered on Jisung a second longer than necessary. “It worked. My mark is already on you.”
His eyes flickered briefly to Jisung’s neck, where the contract had settled. It was unseen to most, but unmistakable to him.
“Anyways—”
“I would.”
Jisung’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Minho blinked.
For a second, he didn’t quite process it. Until,
Oh.
“…Sorry,” Minho said, tilting his head slightly, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Could you say that a little louder? I didn’t quite hear you.”
Jisung narrowed his eyes at him, clearly seeing right through it this time.
Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to Minho’s cheek. It was gone almost as soon as it happened.
Minho stilled.
Jisung pulled back just as quickly, looking far too pleased with himself. Minho exhaled slowly, something unreadable flickering across his expression. He really hadn’t expected such a sweet gesture from Jisung and couldn’t help the way that his ears turned red. He laughed to himself quietly.
Perhaps Jisung was the real demon after all.
With only the moon and stars as their witness, their contract was sealed.
However, neither of them knew how their fates had already been decided a long time ago.
-x-
With the night get colder, Minho had suggested that they headed somewhere safe.
Minho would’ve brought Jisung back to his own lodging as he had a large fancy home to himself, but Jisung had to pick up several things from his own home first. Minho was surprised that Jisung even had some kind of accommodation considering his circumstances.
By then, the skies were a deep indigo and littered with stars. The noisy chatter of the town had dissipated and only the sound of nature remained. After Jisung had kissed him on the cheek, Minho hadn’t let go of Jisung’s hand. Though Minho could easily use his magic to warm Jisung up without touching him, he decided that it felt better holding Jisung’s hand. Besides, with the way Jisung was gripping onto him, it seemed like Jisung didn’t want him to let go either.
Jisung spent the entirety of the walk home rambling on about random things. A cat leaving an acorn on his bed one time, how he used to sing and write songs for fun, and how he liked stargazing. Minho found that while all these seemingly useless pieces of information were things he normally wouldn’t notice or care to share, he loved listening to Jisung talk about anything.
Somehow, Jisung had a unique ability to make even the most mundane things sound like it was some kind of grand adventure.
In contrast, Minho’s life was boring, to say the least. After so many decades, anyone would be tired of looking at the same scenery, no matter how beautiful it was. The same skies, the same town, the same experiences over and over again. Which is also why he, like most demons, had grown to be apathetic in nature. Even while contracting different humans, none of the humans ever cared to tell him about such things. Though it was not that Minho would have listened even if they did, anyway.
However, with Jisung, it made Minho interested in humanity once more.
Perhaps if Jisung were with him, he would someday be able to think of starry skies as ‘beautiful’ once more. Or maybe, he would finally be able to understand why Jisung thought sunsets were romantic. Maybe he would stop wondering if it were odd of him to have thoughts like these even as a demon.
“…and then I realized I left my keys inside, which was so stupid because I literally checked before I left, but I guess I didn’t check properly—and then—”
Jisung suddenly stopped. The silence that followed felt almost unnatural after the stream of words. He rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders hunching slightly as he glanced away.
“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I kept rambling. I know I talk a lot…” Jisung apologized sheepishly, his voice bringing Minho back to reality.
Minho’s eyes softened.
“Don’t worry. I like listening to you.”
The words seemed to catch him off guard, settling in slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. A faint flush crept back up his neck, dusting his cheeks pink again. He let out a small, awkward laugh, eyes darting away as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve.
“O-oh,” he said, almost under his breath.
Minho didn’t say anything else. He simply nodded and urged Jisung to go on while his attention remained fixed on Jisung in a way that didn’t demand anything in return. Jisung shifted slightly, glancing at him once, then quickly looking away again.
“…Anyway,” he started again, voice a little softer this time, a little more careful. “I was saying—uh—about the keys…”
With the help of Minho’s ability to mask their presence, they were able to get to Jisung’s hideout without much trouble.
Jisung’s home resembled a cabin. It was situated in a place between the dense trees, muting the already dim light, modest and unassuming. Wooden panels, slightly worn with age, and a small porch at the front. It was barely more than a single-storey structure, but it stood sturdy, hidden just enough to avoid unwanted attention.
Inside, the space was simple. A small living area with a worn couch, a low coffee table, and a fireplace that looked like it had been used often. A narrow hallway led to what he assumed was the bedroom and bathroom. There was a quiet warmth to the place, though it was far from luxurious. It looked rather homely and lived-in.
“For a wanted man,” Minho mused, stepping further inside as his eyes swept across the room, “your hideout looks better than I expected.”
Truthfully, he had imagined something far worse. A cramped corner or a place that reeked of desperation and neglect. But this was almost comfortable.
Jisung scratched the back of his neck, shifting his weight slightly as if unsure how to respond. “My friend Changbin helped me find this place,” he explained. “After I got evicted from my old home.” He hesitated, gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “And… I guess no one would think to look for me here since… well.” A small pause. “It's in a forest.”
Minho hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t continue further.
Instead, he drifted toward the kitchen, drawn more by curiosity than necessity. The space was small, barely separated from the living area, but functional enough. He opened a few cabinets, scanning their contents, which had dried goods, a few containers, nothing particularly fresh. The food seemed barely enough for Jisung to get by.
“Are you hungry?” Minho asked casually, already considering what he could make with what little was available. “I can make us something.”
Silence followed.
“…You,” Jisung said slowly, disbelief clear in his voice, “a demon… can cook?”
Minho let out a quiet laugh, glancing back at him over his shoulder. “It’s a hobby I picked up over the years.”
Jisung blinked, clearly trying to reconcile that image in his head.
There was no real reason for demons to cook. They didn’t require human food to survive, nor did they rely on sustenance the way humans did. But to Minho, cooking had never been about survival. It was something else.
An art form, perhaps.
One of the few things he had chosen to learn without relying on power. Measuring, cutting, and balancing flavours required attention, patience and control. There was a quiet satisfaction in creating something tangible with his own hands, something that didn’t come from magic or manipulation. Over the years, he had picked up many such distractions. Languages. Instruments. Painting. Even dancing.
But there was something about being able to cook that felt domestic. It made him feel less like a demon and more… normal.
“Ah—I mean—” Jisung’s voice pulled him back. He gestured vaguely toward the back of the cabin. “I grow some herbs and vegetables outside. Just small things.” His tone dipped again, a little sheepish. “Meat’s kind of hard to get though. It’s expensive… I could try hunting in the forest but—uh.” He gave a small, awkward smile. “I’m not very good at it.”
Minho closed the cabinet door softly, the quiet click echoing faintly in the room.
“It’s fine,” he said easily, as if the limitations didn’t concern him in the slightest.
He turned then, facing Jisung fully.
Up close, Minho could tell that the kiss was still on Jisung’s mind. The faint redness around his eyes, the lingering warmth on his cheeks, and the way his posture hadn’t fully relaxed yet. It almost made Minho want to kiss him again.
“You should take a shower,” Minho eventually said, his gaze flicking over him briefly before settling. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Jisung opened his mouth as if to protest, then he hesitated.
Whatever argument he had seemed to dissolve before it could fully form, and instead, he simply nodded.
“Okay.”
While Jisung was in the shower, the sound of running water filling the small cabin, Minho slipped out quietly.
The night air was colder than before, the forest still and watchful. He closed his eyes briefly, extending his senses outward, magic threading through the trees, brushing past leaves, soil, and living things until it found what it was looking for. The strong and heavy heartbeat of a wild boar.
Minho moved quickly. With his powers, the hunt was effortless and clean. By the time he returned, the carcass slung over his shoulder, there was no trace left behind in the forest. Once he was back in the cabin, he set to work immediately.
With what little Jisung had in his kitchen, some vegetables, herbs, a few basic seasonings, and a bit of magic to ease the preparation, Minho worked efficiently. The meat was cleaned and portioned, the stew left to simmer over the fire, filling the space with a rich, savoury aroma that spread through every corner of the cabin.
By the time Jisung stepped out, hair still slightly damp, the entire place smelled delightful.
Jisung paused in the doorway, blinking.
“…Whoa.”
The scent alone seemed to guide him, feet carrying him toward the living area where Minho had already set the table. It was simple, but neatly arranged. Jisung didn’t waste any time as he took his seat eagerly while Minho filled his bowl generously.
With the first bite, his expression lit up instantly.
“Mmh—this is really good,” he mumbled, already reaching for more. “No, wait—this is the best meal I’ve ever had.”
He barely paused to swallow before continuing, words spilling out as usual.
“Are you sure you’re a demon? Because you might actually be, like… an angel of food or something.”
“Or something,” Minho echoed with a quiet chuckle.
Jisung had managed to get a bit of sauce on the corner of his lips.
Without thinking, Minho reached out, thumb brushing lightly against Jisung’s skin as he wiped it away. The motion lingered just a second too long before he brought his thumb to his own lips, tasting it absentmindedly.
Jisung seemed to notice, based on how pink his cheeks had turned. But he did not comment as he continued to stuff his cheeks with more meat.
Dinner passed easily after that.
Jisung talked because of course he did. Between bites, about small things, random thoughts, anything that came to mind. Minho listened, occasionally responding, but he was mostly staring at how adorable Jisung looked with his puffed-out cheeks as he talked.
When they were done, Minho cleared the table without much fuss. Jisung, on the other hand, had already settled onto the couch, curled up with a small journal in hand. He scribbled quietly, occasionally pausing as if thinking, before continuing again. Once Minho finished cleaning, he moved to join him.
“Um…” Jisung started, glancing up from his journal. “If you don’t mind, we could share the bed. Or… I can take the couch.”
Minho let out a soft snort.
“Demons don’t need sleep.”
Jisung blinked.
“Oh… right.” He looked down again, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the page. “Alright…”
After a moment of awkward silence, Minho decided that it was probably time for Jisung to turn in for the night. It was way past midnight and Jisung certainly needed the rest if they were going to investigate anything tomorrow. He carefully pulled Jisung’s journal from his hands and led him into the bedroom.
Gently, he pulled the blanket apart and fluffed the pillows before tucking Jisung into bed. Once he decided that Jisung seemed comfortable enough, Minho turned to leave.
“Night, Jisung.”
“Um… Minho?” Jisung’s voice was quieter now. Before he could take more than a step, he felt a gentle tug at his wrist. “Will you… stay by my side until I fall asleep?”
Minho glanced back. Jisung looked smaller sitting there, uncertain, but hopeful. Who was he to say no? He took Jisung’s hands into his own as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Of course,” Minho said softly, sliding into the space next to him.
Jisung relaxed almost instantly. When Jisung was snug and curled up in Minho’s chest, the demon carefully threaded his fingers through Jisung’s hair with one hand before intertwining his other hand together with Jisung’s.
“Thank you”, Jisung murmured.
After Jisung drifted to sleep, Minho lingered a little while longer. All while holding Jisung’s hand. The human looked so fragile, and yet, it was beautiful in some kind of way.
Humans were somewhat like flowers. They were nice to look at and yet, once they were picked, they easily crumbled and fell apart. But if all humans were flowers, then the man before him was the prettiest of the bunch. Or perhaps, he would be the demon’s personal favourite, a cosmos flower.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had come across a cosmos. Or someone as pretty as a cosmos, for that matter. The last time he had seen one was… he didn’t know. But surely a few hundred years had passed since then. His memories were constantly a blur so he really couldn’t tell.
Though, seeing this human had sparked something within him.
Whatever feeling it was, he wasn’t sure. But it couldn’t be love or affection. He knew that no human would ever be foolish enough to ever love a demon. A demon would never be able to truly fall in love with a human either because of the nature of their being. But Minho did enjoy some good company.
Jisung was nothing more than a pretty little thing that Minho wanted to collect.
For now, he just wanted Jisung to be his new human companion. He would eventually die one day anyway, and that was a problem for Minho to deal with when the time came.
The real issue he should be thinking about was the actual culprit of the murder Jisung had been framed for.
After Jisung’s soul was bound to his own, he was able to peek into Jisung’s mind. After scanning through some of Jisung’s memories, he had some kind of heightened intuition of the possible suspects and the situation itself. He mentally went through a list of people in his mind that could possibly be connected to the real murderer and found several potential leads.
Jisung was someone who was very trusting of strangers. That unfortunately, made him awfully naive as well. His first clue was probably going to be a church somewhere on the other side of the town. Based on Jisung’s memories, it seemed that Jisung had gone to the church about a week ago to seek some kind of help, only for him to witness a strange scene before running away.
Of course, Minho had heard of that church before. Rumours were saying that the priest had a guardian angel who would punish the guilty. That people would vanish after they had refused to confess their sins. To Minho, it sounded a lot more like a demon posing as an angel. It wasn’t uncommon for demons to trick priests into contracts.
He supposed investigating the church would be a good start. For now, he decided to conserve his energy and simply enjoy the company of his human while he could still afford to indulge in this temporary happiness.
Tomorrow would be another day.