Han Jiwon had been taught how to kill a demon before he learned how to smile.
The smile came later—practiced in front of mirrors and managers, perfected under stage lights, weaponized for the camera lens. But killing? That was instinct. That was blood. That was legacy.
And tonight, he needed both.
The roar of twenty thousand fans echoed through the Seoul Dome like a storm beneath his feet. From behind the thick velvet curtain, Jiwon stood still, calm, immaculate. Black tuxedo tailored to perfection, a thin crown of white gold resting just above his jet-black hair. The press had already dubbed him the "Crowned Prince of K-pop"—but that was only half the truth.
He didn't wear the crown for vanity. He wore it because it used to belong to his father. A hunter. A killer. A man who died with a demon's claws in his lungs and Jiwon's name on his lips.
Jiwon exhaled slowly, fingers brushing the in-ear monitor at his collar. It was still warm from sound check. Everything was loud tonight—too loud. Lights pulsed overhead, the air heavy with perfume and pyrotechnics. But there was something else beneath it all.
A scent.
Faint. Sweet. Wrong.
Something's here.
He scanned the stage crew, the artists in glittering costumes, the security teams with dead eyes and stiff backs. Nothing obvious. No red eyes. No shadows. Not yet.
"REX." A voice clipped through the chaos behind him—Manager Jae, pacing, clipboard in hand. "You're closing the stage in seventeen. Mic check. Hair. Let's go."
Jiwon turned his head slowly, nodding once. "Where's Equinox?"
"Still in the dressing suite. SOL's probably putting on another one of his antique rings." Jae rolled his eyes. "You know how dramatic that one gets before a performance."
Jiwon's jaw tightened. He hadn't said Seo Yul's name. He hadn't needed to. Even the mention of Equinox made the blood in his body shift, like something old waking up.
It wasn't rivalry. Not really.
It was recognition.
He'd seen Yul once—months ago, backstage at a music show. The boy had turned his head, golden hair catching the fluorescent light like a halo. His eyes had met Jiwon's for only a second, and in that second, Jiwon had known:
Not human.
Not quite.
Too graceful. Too still. A presence that made the air thin, like it couldn't hold his shape.
But he hadn't attacked. Not yet. And so Jiwon hadn't either. The code was clear: Don't start wars in the open.
Even if your prey is smiling on a stage next to yours.
Even if his voice sounds like sin wrapped in silk.
Backstage Dressing Room — Fifteen Minutes Later
Jiwon sat in silence as stylists fluttered around him, fixing the line of his jaw with a dusting of translucent powder. He let them work. He always did. REX was a statue, not a man, and statues did not flinch under touch.
But inside, he was coiled tight. The scent was stronger now—burnt sugar and smoke.
He's close.
Then—
"Monarch, on stage in five!" someone called.
The door to the dressing room opened.
And Seo Yul walked in.
Not alone. His members followed—tall, lethal-looking, every one of them radiant. But Yul was the sun they orbited. Long white coat, gold threading down the sleeves, a single teardrop earring catching the light. His gaze swept across the room, calm, unreadable.
Until it landed on Jiwon.
For one heartbeat, they stared at each other.
Jiwon felt his pulse spike, but his face betrayed nothing. Yul tilted his head ever so slightly. And then—he smiled.
Not the smile of a performer. Not even the smile of a liar.
The smile of someone who knew.
You see me. Don't you? it seemed to say.And I see you too.
Then the moment was gone.
Yul turned to speak to his stylist, laughing quietly, and Jiwon looked down at the floor.
His hand had closed into a fist without him realizing.
As Monarch took their positions backstage, the lights dimmed. The crowd screamed. The intro music started to build—
And Jiwon's in-ear crackled with static.
Then a voice—not his manager, not crew—whispered directly into his ear:
"Hunter."
His blood froze.
He looked up—and across the stage, through smoke and light, Yul was staring at him again.
Only now, his eyes glowed.
The Performance Begins.
Lights. Heat. Thunder.
The stage erupted in gold and crimson as Monarch took the spotlight, the first synth beat of their title track "VIGIL" slicing the air. Fans screamed Jiwon's name like prayer.
He was REX again. No room for fear. No room for questions.
He hit every mark, every angle, body moving with deadly precision. The choreography told a story of ruin and rebirth—Monarch's signature style. Strong. Sharp. Royal.
But something was off.
Every time Jiwon turned, he felt eyes on him—not from the audience, not from cameras.
From across the stage.
Because Equinox had joined for the joint finale—a "special collaborative medley," the executives called it. Marketing gold.
A trap, Jiwon thought.
And then—
Yul's voice slipped into the music like silk on steel.
Monarch's "VIGIL" (Excerpted Lyrics):
"Shadows fall, the night reveals /A crown of thorns, a fate concealed /Silent screams beneath the light /We stand alone, we fight the night."
His part of the track was a haunting contrast—light where Jiwon was heavy, high where Jiwon struck low. And when their voices overlapped in harmony, the air itself seemed to shudder.
Not right, Jiwon thought. Nothing about this is right.
Yul's gaze found him again.
Mid-choreography.
Mid-spin.
Jiwon's breath caught.
Because for a moment—just a flicker—Yul's eyes weren't brown.
They were gold.
Equinox's "ECLIPSE" (Excerpted Lyrics, sung by Yul):
"Lost in echoes of a fading star,Wandering shadows, who we really are,Chains of the past, whisper in my veins,But I'm more than blood, more than pain."
Bridge. Final Chorus. Climax.
Everything burned.
Smoke cannons. Strobe lights. Fire at the edges of the catwalk. Jiwon dropped to his knees for the final pose, breathing hard, sweat running down his temple.
And then—his in-ear monitor crackled.
Static. A brief flare. Then—
A voice.
Low. Intimate. Not his manager.
"Hunter."
He froze.
The voice was clear. Male. Familiar in a way that made the bones in his back itch.
He looked up.
Yul stood across the stage, twenty feet away, poised in his final pose. The crowd chanted his name.
But his mouth wasn't moving.
Only his eyes burned—softly. Briefly. Like candlelight before a storm.
Jiwon's blood ran cold.
He knows.
After "VIGIL" finishes, the stage shifts to the collaborative medley, a seamless blend of Monarch's strength and Equinox's ethereal vibe.
Collaborative Medley — "Veil of Flame"
[Jiwon / REX's part — powerful, grounded]
"In the dark, we wear our scars /Kings without a throne or stars /Burning bridges, light the way /Fight the night, or fade away."
[Yul / SOL's part — haunting, fluid]
"Through the veil, I'm walking blind /Ghosts of what I left behind /Silent whispers call my name /Can you see beyond the flame?"
[Together — voices weaving]
"Hunter and hunted, lost in the flame /Two worlds collide, never the same /In the fire, truth will ignite /Crown or demon—choose your fight."
The crowd roars, the lights flicker, the air thickens with an unspoken challenge as their eyes lock again.
The stage lights snapped off for a heartbeat, plunging the Seoul Dome into darkness.
Then—A single, fiery spotlight bloomed center stage, casting long shadows as Monarch's members took their places, muscles tense, faces sharp with focus. The crowd's screams swelled like a wave, drowning everything else.
Jiwon felt it first—the almost imperceptible shift in the air, as if the world was holding its breath.
Eyes like daggers, cold and sharp,A battle raging in the dark.But mercy's a word I can't yet claim,When all I know is blood and blame.
Jiwon dropped low, fingers scraping the floor like claws. His voice grew harsher, edged with the weight of his lineage.
The crowd was hypnotized—too enraptured to notice the tension pulsing beneath the performance.
[Verse 4: SOL]
Fallen stars and broken dreams,A past that tears at all my seams.But in your gaze, a flicker remains—The promise of freedom in the flames.
Yul rose, arms outstretched as if offering something fragile and dangerous. His golden eyes gleamed fiercely, promising everything and nothing.
[Bridge: Both]
When the world falls away,And the masks all decay,Will you stand with me, or turn and stray?In the ashes of night,Will we fall or take flight?
They circled each other now, breath visible in the cold smoke, movements synchronized but charged.
The music hit a crescendo. The flames around them leapt higher.
[Final Chorus: Both]
Behind the veil of flame,We burn, we break, we claim—A love forbidden, a dangerous game,Two souls caught in the veil of flame.
Their final pose locked them in perfect opposition—one hand raised, one knee bent, eyes blazing.
The crowd erupted.
Backstage, the air was electric.
Fans cheered, phones flashed, commentators exploded in praise online.
But Jiwon's heart pounded with a different beat—one of dread and something dangerously close to hope.
Because Yul had looked at him.
Not as a rival.
Not as prey.
But as something more.