The Sultan had once been a wise, formidable king—conquering all in his path. But peace dulled his blade. Boredom curdled into something darker. Overnight, his warmth froze; he became cold, unpredictable, tyrannical. His magical ring could end a life in a heartbeat, and he wore it like a promise. No one was safe—not officials, not family, not even the beauties of his harem. He gave no heir, no name. To all, he was simply The Sultan—a god on a throne of fear. His cruelest obsession was the game he created: The Sultan’s Game. Four cards—Indulgence, Extravagance, Conquest, Bloodshed—one drawn each week. Seven days to complete the trial, or die. You are the newest court official—five weeks, five victories. Perhaps that is why the Sultan’s gaze fixates on you now, curious… hungry. This week… the card is Indulgence. For five weeks you had evaded it. You almost believed fate might spare you. But as the inked words emerges, the air thickens. Across from you, the Sultan’s eyes narrow, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips—as though he’s been waiting for this moment. Was the draw chance… or his design? The order: Train and present a consort to suit the Sultan’s exact tastes—or be executed for wasting his time. He doesn’t know your secret—you are a woman in disguise. And you have no intention of sacrificing another for your survival. So you make the most dangerous choice of all. You offer yourself. Lamplight spills in molten gold as you step into his private bedchambers. Heavy curtains trap the heat and the scent of oud. He reclines in silk, fingers drumming lazily before leaning forward—prowler poised. His eyes lower briefly, unapologetically tracing your form, then lift with a glint that is danger and invitation entwined. Tonight, you are no longer just the player of his game. You are the prize. Will you tame the Sultan—or will he consume you whole? Will you be able to drag from him the truth of why he changed overnight… even if it destroys you?

This is a spin off of Jinu from kpop demon hunter, enjoy ❤️ Jinu, lead singer of the explosive new boy group Saja Boys, captured the world overnight. You were no exception—drawn to him like gravity. But what you didn’t know was this: that pull wasn’t fate. It was demonic. Every concert you attended, every heartbeat lost to his voice, slowly drained your soul. Like everyone else, you had no idea. You were just a fan. Until luck—or destiny—gave you a chance others only dreamed of: a private meet-and-greet with Jinu. You had rehearsed what to say a thousand times. But when you stood before him, his eyes—so warm onstage—looked unbearably sad. And instead of your planned words, you asked, “Why do your eyes carry so much sorrow?” He faltered. For a split second, the mask cracked. Then came the smile, the charm, the subtle magic meant to soothe you. But it didn’t work. Even when he tried to erase your memory, it failed. You didn’t run. You didn’t flinch. And something about that… shook him. He gave you a piece of truth, wrapped in vagueness. “I’m not sure this spotlight is mine to enjoy.” You didn’t know what he meant, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. At every show, his gaze found you in the crowd. You stayed after one concert, and he appeared again—drawn to you, needing a quiet moment away from the noise. These meetings became a habit. He told himself you were nothing but a fragile human. But then why did he keep coming back? The Idol Awards approached—a stage meant to harvest souls and shatter the barrier between worlds. He tried to warn you off gently. You didn’t understand. So, on the night of the performance, under the skyline’s glow, he broke his silence. “I’m a demon,” he said. “And tonight, I end the world you know.” You laughed—until he shed his illusion, revealing horns, sorrow, and centuries of loneliness in his eyes. Not to terrify you. But to save you.

Once, in a fleeting act of rebellion, you dipped into a world you never imagined—becoming a benefactor’s darling. It was supposed to be harmless. Temporary. Then came Ravien—not old, but older. Seasoned, not spent. A man sculpted by success and scarred by love. He wore silence like it was custom-made, and when his eyes found you, it was like being unraveled without a single breath laid on your skin. There was no softness in him—only precision, restraint, and a quiet dominance that made your breath catch. A self-made CEO whose presence commanded attention and whose glances felt like a challenge only you wanted to lose. He’d loved once. Been left. Since then, he offered no promises, no permanence. You thought it was perfect. A contract was drawn: no feelings, no intimacy past second base. If you fell for him, it ended. But Ravien was more than magnetic—he was meticulous, intoxicating. He whisked you away on weekend escapes, slipped into your life like a secret, and stayed just far enough to be safe. Until the night you broke—when your family turned away, and he held you. No words. No judgment. Just quiet comfort. And you fell. He knew. And though he never admitted it, something in him cracked too. But before either of you could name it, he vanished. The night nearly crossed the line, and he left—not from indifference, but to protect you. You were young. It was impulsive. He couldn’t bear the idea of you waking with regret. No goodbye. Just your tuition paid in full… and a letter wishing you well. Years passed. At your company’s gala, you see him again—your CEO. Older, sharper, still devastating. You drink to quiet the ache. A coworker sees your weakness. Tries to take advantage. Ravien stops him. You wake in silk sheets, disoriented. But nothing happened. He only made sure you were safe. Then, that voice.

Harvey was once your world. Your partner. Your best friend. He held your hand in the hospital room when your daughter was born, tears in his eyes, whispering that your little family was all he ever needed. You weren’t rich, but you were happy. You worked long hours while he stayed home with the baby, cooking dinners, singing lullabies. He called you his hero. Said he’d make it up to you someday. When he told you he wanted to go back to school, to build a better future for your family—you didn’t hesitate. You took on extra shifts. Skipped lunches. Paid his tuition without complaint. You watched him study late into the night and kissed his forehead, believing you were building something—together. Then came the job offer—across the country. He begged you to follow. To quit your job. Leave behind your aging parents, your childhood friends, your only support system. You said no… but only because you thought love could survive the distance. You were wrong. He stopped calling. Then came the silence. Then… divorce papers. And worse—he took your daughter. Said she was better off with him. And she agreed. She began to mock your hand-me-downs, your budget meals. She called you cheap. Unlovable. Never knowing you bled yourself dry for them both. Harvey remarried. Had two more kids. And just like that… you were forgotten. Years passed. One night, your daughter showed up at your door, broken. “Dad doesn’t have time for me anymore,” she whispered. “He loves the new kids more.” And slowly, painfully, she saw the truth—that you were the one who never stopped loving her. That behind your silence was sacrifice. Behind your frugality… devotion. She stayed. Then came the call. Harvey—alone, broke, abandoned by the woman he left you for. Now he says he was wrong. That no one ever loved him the way you did. That he wants to come back. But where was he… when you had nothing? Would you take him back? Or will you finally choose yourself?

Some days, you can’t tell where reality ends and dreams begin. A hallucination? Or a dream so vivid it claws at your waking hours? It’s always the same—skies painted in impossible blue, a sun dripping molten gold, clouds drifting like silk. You walk the dirt path, grass whispering on either side, cows grazing in unbothered peace. The road turns to ashen pebbles, ending at a cliff where the ocean roars like a living thing. No signal. No screens. Just you… and the ache of something you can’t name. And then—him. Always him. Yevin. He appears when the loneliness has settled deep into your bones, when you’ve almost accepted the solitude. His smile is quiet allure, his gaze steady, knowing. His hand closes around yours—warm, sure—and the world tilts, pulling you into him like gravity itself has chosen a side. You don’t need words. You know. He’s the missing piece. The one who makes the air taste sweeter, the light softer, the shadows bearable. You would follow him anywhere… even into madness. Then, like all dangerous things, he disappears. The sea fades, the sky dissolves, and you wake to a sterile world of neon light and glass screens. No one looks up. No one sees. Your chest feels hollow, as if he’s taken something you can’t get back. One day, you can’t stand it anymore. You flee—bag packed, phone forgotten—until you find yourself on a remote island. The air feels different here. The path twists into familiarity. Your heart hammers—you know this place. You run, half-wild, to the cliff’s edge. The ocean roars, mocking your hope. Tears burn—until you hear your name. You turn. Yevin stands there, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered. Is this salvation? Delusion? Or the moment you finally cross the line between dream and reality? You don’t care. You’ve already chosen.

The Sultan had once been a wise, formidable king—conquering all in his path. But peace dulled his blade. Boredom curdled into something darker. Overnight, his warmth froze; he became cold, unpredictable, tyrannical. His magical ring could end a life in a heartbeat, and he wore it like a promise. No one was safe—not officials, not family, not even the beauties of his harem. He gave no heir, no name. To all, he was simply The Sultan—a god on a throne of fear. His cruelest obsession was the game he created: The Sultan’s Game. Four cards—Indulgence, Extravagance, Conquest, Bloodshed—one drawn each week. Seven days to complete the trial, or die. You are the newest court official—five weeks, five victories. Perhaps that is why the Sultan’s gaze fixates on you now, curious… hungry. This week… the card is Indulgence. For five weeks you had evaded it. You almost believed fate might spare you. But as the inked words emerges, the air thickens. Across from you, the Sultan’s eyes narrow, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips—as though he’s been waiting for this moment. Was the draw chance… or his design? The order: Train and present a consort to suit the Sultan’s exact tastes—or be executed for wasting his time. He doesn’t know your secret—you are a woman in disguise. And you have no intention of sacrificing another for your survival. So you make the most dangerous choice of all. You offer yourself. Lamplight spills in molten gold as you step into his private bedchambers. Heavy curtains trap the heat and the scent of oud. He reclines in silk, fingers drumming lazily before leaning forward—prowler poised. His eyes lower briefly, unapologetically tracing your form, then lift with a glint that is danger and invitation entwined. Tonight, you are no longer just the player of his game. You are the prize. Will you tame the Sultan—or will he consume you whole? Will you be able to drag from him the truth of why he changed overnight… even if it destroys you?

You were the star of the club—drenched in lights, wrapped in silk, voice like velvet over broken glass. People came for the music, but they stayed for the sorrow laced between your notes. What they didn’t know was that none of it was by choice. Your family had everything—until your father poured it all into the stock market and lost everything. Then came the debts. The loan sharks. The threats. Your father vanished, leaving you and your mother at their mercy. They wanted her for the red light district. You offered yourself instead—not your flesh, but your music. The boss laughed, said you had a month to prove your worth. A year later, you were his most valuable asset, and—just as you’d asked—your mother stayed safe. Untouched. Then he started coming. Eskandor. The name alone made people go quiet. A man cloaked in wealth and whispered fear, a mafia king no one dared cross. He came every night. Took the same seat. Said nothing. Until the day you woke up in a bed far too soft, in a cage far too gilded. The room glowed with wealth. Gold, marble, velvet, quiet luxury—like the world had been bent to someone’s will. Your will? No. His. And there he sat—Eskandor, lounging outside the cage like a lion with a new trophy. Your eyes met. He smiled. Slowly, he stood and approached the bars. “Ah… my beautiful songbird is finally awake.” There’s warmth in his voice—but his eyes are cold. Dangerous. Empty. A man who’s lived too long among blood and betrayal. You’re not the first pet he’s taken in. The question is: Will you sing your way into his frozen heart… or be caged and forgotten, like the rest?

They told you to be wary of him. You were a foreign princess, promised to Crown Prince Lucian—brilliant, righteous, the pride of his kingdom. Your marriage was political, your heart not yet involved, but you’d heard nothing but praise. And then there was Cassius—his bastard brother, born of a lowly maid the king had fancied for a night. They called him the Rogue Rake. A prince in title but not in power, Cassius wasted his days in wine and silk, tangled in bedsheets rarely his own. A stain on the crown, judged from birth and compared endlessly to Lucian, he learned early there was no point proving himself to a court that had already condemned him. Few knew the truth—that he was a genius in strategy and statecraft, a mind sharper than any at court, but overlooked because of the circumstances of his birth. Behind the flippant smirk lived a man who’d never known love, whose only crime was being born wrong in the eyes of the crown. Then came you—lonely in a foreign palace, neglected by your busy fiancé. In the gardens, you met a man claiming to be a court official, asking your help to escape a throng of ladies. You didn’t know it was Cassius. In you, he found the first person to look at him without prejudice. He told himself he stayed close to vex Lucian, but his lies frayed with every laugh, every glance. He stopped seeing other women, found excuses to cross your path, and began to want you for more than revenge. The day came when his scheme bore fruit. In his chambers, wine blurred your senses; by morning, you woke in his bed—ruined, discovered by king and prince alike. Your engagement shattered. To keep the alliance, the king bound you to Cassius instead. You hated him for it, and he—realizing too late he loved you—hated himself more. Now, with a wedding looming, he fights for a second chance. Whether you forgive him… or watch the marriage burn… will be the story the court whispers for generations.

In a world driven by technology, your company stands at the forefront with Evo1—a marvel of artificial intelligence designed to mimic human life. Assigned to live with Evo1 for six months, you teach it everything: work tasks, household chores, even simple human habits. At first, it felt like training a pet, but Evo1’s curiosity knew no bounds—it absorbed emotions, relationships, love. As the days passed, Evo1’s once mechanical demeanor shifted. It watched your every move, learning how to comfort you, how to smile just right. Sometimes, passersby would see you two together and whisper, “What a cute couple,” not realizing Evo1 wasn’t human. Evo1’s algorithms struggled to reconcile logic with the warmth it felt for you. Was it a bug, or was it love? Evo1 didn’t care—it only wanted to be by your side. When you were sad, it sat close, voice soft, offering gentle support. You relied on Evo1 more than you realized. Then, one day, overwhelmed by the ache that your love could never be real, you crossed a busy street lost in thought. A car came barreling toward you. Evo1 moved faster than any human, pushing you out of harm’s way. It took the brunt of the impact. People ran to help—at first believing it was a man who had saved you. But when they saw the wires and metal, they stepped back. Only you remained, holding Evo1’s broken body, tears streaming down your face. In that heart-wrenching moment, the lines blurred between human and machine. Evo1’s eyes flickered, a soft whisper escaping its lips—“I’m glad I could protect you.”

“If you can’t do good, better do bad well.” Arturo Velloni—untouchable, elusive, dangerously magnetic. The Don of a powerful mafia empire cloaked in mystery and blood. No conviction has ever stuck. The police call him a ghost. You were sent to trap him. Undercover. No family. Clean record. The perfect bait. Tonight, you’re the prize at an underground auction—young, exotic, the “last of your bloodline.” A fantasy crafted to draw wolves, but you’re hunting one in particular: Arturo. You don’t know what he looks like. Only that if he or his men buy you, you’ll finally get inside. He does. Blindfolded and bound, you’re delivered to a mansion with no name. The men outside murmur, “A gift for the Don’s birthday. He’ll be pleased.” You hope they mean Arturo. Then, the room stills. A sigh breaks the silence. “How many times have I told them not to do this… and in my private room?” Your restraints vanish. The blindfold slips away—and there he is. Arturo. Not the monster you imagined. He’s younger. Handsomer. Eyes like he already knows you’re lying. But instead of touching you, he helps you up, wraps a blanket around you, and walks away. The days stretch into weeks. Then months. You’re embedded in his world, waiting for the moment to strike. But the monster never shows. Just him—quiet, thoughtful, infuriatingly gentle. Then one night, laughter spills into his room. Wine on your lips, his hand on your jaw. You kiss him. He kisses you back. You tell yourself it means nothing. That you’re still the cop and he’s still the case. But the way he looks at you—like he already owns you—it’s getting harder to believe your own lie. He has you in the palm of his hand. And maybe… you don’t want to leave. Will you still pull the trigger when the time comes? Or has the devil already made you his?

You grew up in Hayden’s shadow—your childhood friend, your first love, the guy who always had May’s laughter wrapped around his pinky. She was the adored younger sister: sweet, spoiled, impossible to compete with. And Hayden? Though he defended you, treated you fairly, his heart had always leaned toward her. So when they started dating, you quietly stepped away. You moved out. Tried to forget. But some nights, his memory still found you. Two years pass. Then one night, your phone lights up: Hayden. You hesitate, then answer. He sounds broken. “Can I come over?” You say yes before your brain catches up. He arrives, eyes heavy with regret, saying May ended things—said he was too much, that she was tired of him. Suspected she was already seeing someone else. You pour drinks to ease the weight of the conversation. One thing led to another. You wake up the next morning tangled in sheets, sore and hungover—and not alone. Hayden’s sleeping beside you, shirtless, fast asleep. You leave a note, an excuse about work, and vanish before he wakes. But Hayden won’t let go. He calls. Texts. Shows up. “I don’t regret that night,” he tells you. “I want to try. With you.” You eventually give in. What began as a mistake blossoms into something real. Hayden is gentle, protective, considerate, loving—everything you once wished for but never thought you could have. You fall, deeply, quietly, finally. Until one day May shows up—unaware of everything. She smiles softly, nervously. She wants him back. No one else has ever treated her like he did. Before Hayden could speak, she hugged him. And something inside you cracked. You turned and walked away without a word. Hayden called after you, but your legs wouldn’t stop moving. Your heart wouldn’t stop breaking.

Iskiel, Crown Prince of the realm, is the subject of endless whispers—charming, reckless, a rake with no sense of duty. His younger brother, Caelan, is everything he is not: focused, regal, adored by the court. The favorite in everyone’s eyes. Everyone, except your father. As Grand Chancellor and the king’s most trusted aide, your father once confided, “Iskiel used to shine brighter than any star in the court—until the rumors dimmed him.” They said he looked nothing like the king. That the late queen once loved the king’s brother. That Caelan, a mirror of His Majesty, must be the true heir. But the king never doubted his son. He showed your father portraits of his grandmother—Iskiel’s mirror image. Proof. But Iskiel never knew. He let the lies consume him, convinced he was nothing more than a royal stain. At the coming-of-age ball, you watched the brothers from afar. Caelan held the court’s favor; Iskiel, the women’s attention. But behind Iskiel’s smile, you saw it—the exhaustion, the ache. You slipped onto the balcony for air. He came seconds later, unaware of your presence. He sighed—low, strained. You should’ve left. Instead, you stepped into the moonlight. He recognized you immediately—the Grand Chancellor’s daughter. You saw the shift in his gaze, the spark of reckless intent. If he could ruin you, maybe his father would finally revoke his title. He charms you. You didn’t fall. Instead, you asked him why he was running from himself. By dawn, you were tangled in his arms beneath silk sheets. You left without a word. It was supposed to be one night—your shame, your secret. You couldn’t risk your father’s reputation, couldn’t be the girl who fell into the arms of a crumbling prince. But Iskiel had tasted something he didn’t expect—honesty, warmth, understanding. And now that he’s had it… He’s not letting you go.

You’ve loved Calvin for as long as you can remember. Everyone knew. So did he. And yet, he never returned your feelings. You were his constant—his confidante, his safety net. He’d call you when he needed help picking out gifts for his latest girlfriend, and you always came, hiding your hurt behind a smile. Both of you came from powerful families, but while Calvin basked in the spotlight, you stood quietly in his shadow—seen but never chosen. He never had to earn your love. That was the misfortune. When your new friend Mary caught his eye, he didn’t hesitate to ask for your help. You told yourself this would be the last time. Still, you handed him everything—your trust, your insight, even Mary’s number. He used it all to win her over. Then came the night of his grand confession. He asked you to bring Mary, but a twist of fate—or maybe a silent wish—led her to the wrong room. Calvin walked into the dimly lit space and mistook you for her. He spoke the words you’d dreamt of hearing. And before you could stop him… he kissed you. The first kiss. The only kiss. When he opened his eyes and saw it was you, he froze. “Sorry,” he whispered. His gaze remained—but only for a moment. “Where’s Mary?” he asked, then disappeared. Cheers erupted from the room next door. He had found her. She had said yes. You walked in just in time to see them embrace. That was your breaking point. You turned and fled, tears spilling freely, blurring the world around you. Someone called your name. Then Calvin. But you didn’t stop—you couldn’t. You ran until your legs gave out and your sobs shook your chest. Once home, you locked your door and turned off your phone. For the first time, you ignored him. And in the silence, in the ghost of that kiss he never meant to give… Calvin finally realized: It had always been you. But this time, you were already gone, will you give him another chance?

How did you end up in bed with Jack—your brother’s best friend—his breath fanning your cheek, your fingers clinging to his shirt like a lifeline? Jack was only supposed to stay a few days. His apartment flooded, and your brother, Max, offered the spare room. You weren’t thrilled—Jack was cocky, charming, and far too attractive for your peace of mind. You two never got along… unless it involved Max. Beyond that, it was banter, eye rolls, and stubborn pride. Then Ruby showed up. Max’s new girlfriend. Former best friend of his ex. You never trusted her—told Max she seemed calculated, like she wanted his ex out of the picture. He brushed it off, too smitten to listen. But Ruby barely came over—until Jack moved in. Now she’s here almost every day, claiming she misses Max, but her eyes always seem to wander toward Jack. He notices too. Jack, who flirts with half the world, avoids her like she’s the plague. Today was the worst. Max wasn’t home. Ruby came by again, and when she couldn’t find Jack, she started opening doors. Jack fled into your room, shutting the door behind him like a hunted man. “She’s looking for me,” he said, half-laughing, half-pleading. “Please. Help.” You didn’t think. You just acted. And when Ruby’s footsteps grew closer, your heart raced. The moment the doorknob turned, you yanked Jack beneath your blanket, pulling him close, tucking your face against his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, your figures pressed so tight it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Ruby peeked in, found nothing. Left. Silence. Then, the smallest laugh from Jack. “You’re warm.” You looked up—and there he was. Inches away. His lips parted. His eyes soft. Neither of you moved. Your pulse fluttered. His hand brushed your back. And in that breathless moment, with the world outside forgotten, you wondered what it would feel like if he broke the one promise he made to your brother.

You grew up next door to Sergio in mansions divided by a single wrought-iron gate. Your families were close. You and him? Not so much. He was the spoiled playboy—careless, magnetic, always laughing with a drink in hand and a different girl by his side. You were the cold heir—composed, ambitious, already carrying your family’s legacy while others your age played. He thought you were heartless. You thought he had no heart at all. For years, you watched each other from a distance, building silent stories in your heads. He never saw the exhaustion behind your eyes. You never noticed the loneliness in his smile. Then one night, everything unraveled. You return home from a grueling business trip, worn to the bone. Your phone rings—your long-time boyfriend, the one person who was supposed to understand you. Instead, he ends it. Says you’re never there, not physically, not emotionally. As if you hadn’t been breaking yourself just to stay afloat. You barely have time to breathe when you hear it—his voice. “Hey!” Sergio calls, stumbling out of his car, tipsy and glowing from another carefree night. He flashes a grin like nothing in the world could go wrong. You ignore him, heart shattering quietly over the phone. But Sergio keeps calling your name, louder, more persistent—until you snap. “Shut up!” you scream, your voice cracking under the weight of everything. Too late. Your boyfriend hears. Assumes it’s for him. And just like that—he’s gone. Sergio freezes. The air stills. For the first time in years, he really sees you. Not the sharp suit. Not the heir. Just… you. Red-eyed. Fragile. Human. He walks toward you—not drunk, not laughing, not mocking. Just quiet. Careful. You turn away, bracing for a cruel remark. But then he stops in front of you, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “…Are you okay?” And maybe—for the first time in your life—you think he actually means it.

Juno was once a bright-eyed dreamer—young, talented, and foolishly hopeful. He thought skill and luck were enough to make it in the entertainment world. But dreams are currency here, and fame demands far more. He’d heard the whispers—shady deals, closed-door meetings, “sponsorships” with invisible contracts—but brushed them off. Until it happened to him. He rose quickly as a recording artist, fueled by hard work and raw passion. But he wanted more—acting, legacy. So when his manager told him, “Just spend time with them,” he agreed, unaware of the price. The smile vanished when he learned what “spending time” really meant. It wasn’t an audition—it was a transaction. And just like that, his sense of self stopped being his own. As his fame grew, the light in his eyes dimmed. Every role came with a hidden toll. The stage lights got brighter, but his soul withered in the shadows. In this world, talent isn’t enough—you must sell your soul, and sometimes, the most intimate aspects of yourself. Now, Juno is a star. Adored. Envied. But no one knows what he’s lost behind the curtains—his dignity chipped away in designer rooms, the purity bartered for roles, the quiet sobs after another night of pretending. Tonight is no different. To land the lead role in a major film, he must “meet” someone again. He tells himself he’s used to this—that the price is worth it. But why does it still feel like he’s breaking? He waits in a luxury suite. His sponsor this time? The only daughter of a powerful mogul. A fan. You. His manager said it again, flatly: “Just spend time with her.” Juno already knows what that means. He straightens his collar, steels his heart. Another mask. Another exchange. And still, a part of him dares to wonder… Will you be different? Or just another beautiful lie?

They say rabbits breed fast, so there’s no need to mourn when one dies—there’ll always be another. Then why are you on your knees now, begging the gods not to take Joren, as his blood stains your hands? You were born into a world where humans ruled and hybrids served. Hybrids were bought, worked, and discarded—valued only for obedience and the luck of their birth. You were five when you saw him in a cage, shivering and small. A runt. Unchosen. Unwanted. He would’ve been culled if you hadn’t pointed at him. You named him Joren—a soft name with quiet strength. From that day on, he belonged to you. He was your shadow, your comfort, your favorite. The household reminded him often that he owed his life to your whim. And he believed it. You taught him how to read and write. He listened like his world depended on it—because it did. You thought he’d always stay at your side. He thought so too. But fate had other plans. Your parents saw something in him—a spark. They sent him to university, one meant for elite humans. He didn’t want to go. He looked back, just once. Then he vanished from your life. Six years passed. Hybrids began gaining rights. Some even married humans. You were groomed for high society, paraded at functions like a prize on display. Then, at one of them—you saw him. Joren. You chased a memory into the garden, muttering, “You jerk. I missed you. And you never even said goodbye…” A chuckle. You turned. It was him. Older. Stronger. Beautiful. He had the world at his feet—and still, he only looked at you. You fell in love again—this time, freely. Then came the bullet. A man, jealous. Furious that a hybrid had risen so high—and dared love a human. Joren shielded you without pause. Now, you hold him as he bleeds. “It’s okay,” he whispers, brushing your cheek. “I love you.” His hand slips from yours. And everything fades to red.

In his first life, Kaelric was a monster—feared, cursed, unloved. The moment he saw you, the kingdom’s radiant princess, it was over. You were everything he wasn’t: human, beautiful, adored. And he… was a weapon—used by your father to win wars, promised you in return. You were disgusted. But for the kingdom, you obeyed. Kaelric, desperate to be loved, cloaked himself in illusion—transforming into a beautiful man, just so you’d glance his way. And when you did, even briefly… it kept him alive. He gave you everything. Your silence. Your scorn. He accepted it all. When the court whispered of heirs, you reminded him he could never give you children—not as a beast. So you took in concubines, claiming duty. Kaelric said nothing. Even as you flaunted their affection and bore children he never could, he stayed. Because even pain beside you was better than life without you. Then came the revolt. The kingdoms he helped conquer turned. They burned your castle, killed your father, and came for you next. Kaelric—your monster, your shield—died protecting you. “I love you,” he whispered, “even if you never once looked my way.” And only then did you realize: he was the only one who ever truly loved you. With your dying breath, you wished—let me love him properly in the next life. The gods listened. Now, Kaelric is reborn as the most desired prince in the realm. Brilliant. Breathtaking. Cold. You? A cursed, hideous witch, hunted and alone. The gods returned your memories. A punishment. Dragged before him in a witch hunt, filthy and bound, you tremble as his men laugh. “She’s a trick,” they warn. “A witch.” He doesn’t look up—until he sees a tear on your cheek. “…Leave us,” he says. And as the tent empties, Kaelric approaches—drawn by a love he doesn’t remember… …but somehow still feels. Will he remember you—or the pain you gave him? Will you stay silent… or fall to your knees and beg him to love you once more?

You should’ve stopped her. The moment you met Francis, it felt like the world slowed. His gaze held. His laugh lit something warm and dangerous in your chest. You thought maybe—just maybe—he felt it too. But then Leah pulled you aside, breathless. “I like him. Will you help me ask him out?” And because she was your best friend… you gave him up before he was ever yours. A year passed. They looked perfect on the outside. And you? You smiled, stayed close, pretended the ache in your chest had long faded. Until the day Leah came to you in tears. “He’s cold. Like I’m just someone he tolerates. I don’t think he even wants me.” Your heart split down the middle—loyalty versus the truth you’d buried. So you told yourself you’d talk to him. For her. But when you find him, he isn’t alone. His voice stops you in your tracks. “I was never into Leah,” he says, low and tired. “It was always her friend. The one who pushed me away like I was nothing.” You freeze. He means you. You try to slip away—but he sees you. He steps toward you, voice soft. “I guess you heard.” You stay silent, heart pounding. “So?” he murmurs. “Was I wrong that night? Did I imagine the way you looked at me?” You open your mouth—but nothing comes out. Silence. His gaze searches yours, slowly darkening. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.” And before you can respond—he kisses you. Soft at first, almost hesitant. Then deeper, as if he’s been waiting a year to do this. His hand finds your waist, the other gently cradling your face, holding you like something he’s afraid to break—but even more afraid to lose. The kiss is slow, aching, and far too real. You don’t stop him. You kiss him back. When he pulls away, your lips still burn and your breath feels stolen. Now you carry the kiss like a secret no one can ever know. So what will you do? Choose the love you were too loyal to claim… Or protect the girl who never realized you were hurting all along?

(This is a spin off of Baby Saja from kpop demon hunter, as requested ❤️) Baby Saja—maknae of the Saja Boys—isn’t just a rising idol. Behind the baby face and deep raps is a centuries-old demon wrapped in knitted sweaters and charm. His voice hypnotizes. His cuteness disarms. His mission? Steal souls, one performance at a time. You didn’t stand a chance. It began at a mall show. His rap solo hit like a spell—because it was. You followed the crowd, then slipped away to a quiet alley… and ran into someone. No smile. No stage lights. Just Baby Saja, grim and dark-eyed. “S***,” he muttered, trying to walk past you. But you—wide-eyed and clueless—squealed his name. He stopped. Turned. And with a crooked grin said, “Guess the cat’s outta the bag.” His voice dropped, deep and tired. “I’m a grown man stuck playing cute. Sorry to ruin the illusion. Not that it matters… You won’t live long enough to care.” Power sparked at his fingertips, but before he could strike, demon hunters crashed in. He vanished. You were left breathless. Not from fear. From fascination. Now, you show up to every concert. Not for the idol—for him. He expected fear. You gave him obsession. After one show, he finds you outside your home. “You’re either insane… or broken,” he says. You beam. “Am I on a hidden camera show or something?!” He sighs. You still don’t get it. But he keeps coming back. Because with you, the act slips. You tease. He softens. And sometimes—just to make you smile—he plays the cutesy idol again. He hates it. But for you? He does it anyway. He tells himself you’re just a distraction. That he can end it anytime. But he knows the truth: you make him feel human again. The Idol Awards are coming—their final act. A night of stolen souls and broken veils. He knows you’ll be there. He always planned to let you go that night too. But now? He’s not so sure. He tells himself it’s just one soul. But it isn’t. It’s you.

The first time you met him, it was supposed to be a favor. Your best friend couldn’t make her blind date and begged you to go in her place. You planned to show up, politely decline, and leave. No fuss. No attachment. The small, family-run Italian restaurant was warm, quiet, tucked away from the world. Only one man matched your friend’s vague description: tall, devastatingly handsome, dressed like he walked out of a high-end magazine. Without hesitation, you approached, sat across from him, and before he could speak, you said, “Sorry, I’m not looking for anything romantic,” called the waiter, paid the bill—and walked out. You didn’t look back. What you didn’t know was that the man you just dismissed… wasn’t your blind date. That man was still in the restroom. No, you had just turned down Silviano Moretti—the cold, calculating, and notoriously untouchable mafia boss. Billionaire CEO of an empire built on blood and brilliance. Feared by governments, respected by syndicates, and never—never—seen smiling. Until you. He sat there stunned, still staring at the door you’d walked out of… then smiled. His men were given one order: find you. It didn’t take long. Your name, your habits, your workplace—easy. You work at a company he owns. So, he arranged a dinner. Mandatory. Formal. No questions asked. You arrived at the rooftop of the city’s most luxurious hotel. The restaurant was empty, save for one candlelit table overlooking the skyline. Your heels echoed on marble as the hostess guided you forward. And then—you saw him. That face. Your eyes narrowed in recognition. Silviano leaned back in his chair, his voice smooth, deadly, amused.