Seoul, 2:14 A.M. – The Broadcast Center Rooftop
The afterparty was still raging two floors below, all champagne and falseness.
But Jiwon didn't do afterparties.
He stood on the rooftop in silence, suit jacket undone, shirt sleeves rolled, city lights blazing beneath him like a second sky. The wind cut sharp and clean.
He wasn't sure why he'd come up here.
Until he heard the door open behind him.
Footsteps. Light. Measured. Too quiet to be a manager.Too quiet to be human.
"You came," Yul said.
Jiwon didn't turn around. "Was that supposed to be a question?"
"No," Yul replied. "It was a confession."
That finally made Jiwon turn.
And there he was — Seo Yul, SOL, demon or not — looking like a myth in human skin. His makeup was mostly gone now, eyes shadowed, lips dry from the cold.
But his presence still burned.
Jiwon reached into his pocket, pulled out the small silver in-ear monitor charm—the one that had buzzed with a demonic whisper during the performance—and held it out.
"Explain this," he said.
Yul didn't flinch. "It wasn't meant to hurt you."
"Doesn't mean it didn't."
Yul took a step closer. "I wanted to see if you'd feel it. If you'd remember."
"Remember what?"
Yul's eyes glinted gold. "What it feels like to be seen."
Jiwon's jaw clenched.
"You really don't fear death, do you?"
Yul shrugged. "Death and I are old friends. I've worn its face."
"Don't play coy. I know what you are now."
"Then you know why I'm dangerous."
"I already knew that," Jiwon said coldly. "I watched the scan myself. You're not just Sangwi. You're Halban. Golden-blood."
Yul's lips curled into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"They still use that word? I thought it was retired with the Inquisition."
"I should kill you right now."
"You won't."
"Try me."
Yul stepped closer, until they were nearly chest to chest.
The rooftop wind whipped around them, fluttering open Yul's coat. Beneath it, the edges of a mark—a demonic brand—were just visible, glowing faintly against his collarbone.
Jiwon's hand went to the blade at his hip—disguised as part of his belt buckle.
Yul's hand twitched toward his own chest—where something ancient and sharp was sealed under glamour.
For a moment, the entire city paused.
But neither moved.
"Why?" Jiwon finally asked. "Why be an idol?"
Yul blinked at him. "You of all people should understand."
"I'm not like you."
"No. But you're not human either—not anymore. Not with blood like that."
Something flickered in Jiwon's expression.
Yul saw it.
"Let me guess," Yul said quietly. "You were raised in silence. Taught to kill before you kissed. Taught that love makes you slow, mercy makes you weak."
"I'm not here for therapy." Jiwon said.
"No," Yul whispered. "You're here because part of you wants to understand me. Even though every bone in your body says you shouldn't."
Jiwon's voice dropped. "If I let myself understand you, I won't be able to kill you."
Yul tilted his head, smile softening.
"That's the point."
For a second too long, they stood like that. Closer than enemies. Too close for rivals.
And then — Yul raised a hand.
Not to strike.
Just…slowly. Carefully. Toward Jiwon's cheek.
Jiwon didn't move. Not away. Not forward.
Yul stopped inches short.
His voice was low, intimate. "You know what I feed on, don't you?"
Jiwon said nothing.
Yul's breath brushed his ear.
"Emotion. Obsession. Want."
And then he stepped back.
Just enough.
A test. A promise. A warning.
"You're not ready to kill me," Yul said gently. "And I'm not ready to let you."
He turned away.
Jiwon let him.
But as the door clicked shut, Jiwon realized something terrifying:
He hadn't been afraid.He'd been curious.And worse—he'd wanted him to stay.