ZOEY
Look, I love dancing.
But after five hours of full-throttle choreo, even Beyoncé's ghost would be like,
"Girl, put your ass down!"
I yanked off my soaked crop top and stared at myself in the mirror like I was giving a TED Talk on how to survive being fabulous and exhausted.
I've always believed that mirrors are rude.
Not because they lie—that would actually be polite. But because they tell you the truth when you're not ready for it.
Take now, for instance.
I'm panting in front of one at the NovaMuse practice room, a halo of sweat dripping down my temple, eyeliner smudged to another timeline, and my hair clinging to my face like it's auditioning for a shampoo commercial gone wrong. The music cut. The lights buzzed overhead.
"Dasi (Again)," I muttered to myself, chest heaving.
Rumi would yell at me to stop. Mira would throw a towel at my face and call me insane. And Bobby would probably cry in a corner about overworking idols. But they're not here. Which makes this my moment.
One more run-through. Just one more. For the clean cut. The extra sharp glide. The beat drop that'll make the crowd scream.
The track rewinded.
I stepped into place.
Three. Two. One—
"Bam," I mouthed, hitting the intro move with a precision that's half muscle memory, half obsession.
When the final beat hit, I held my pose a second longer than needed, chest rising and falling. Then I exhaled, shoulders dropping.
"That's it. I'm officially retiring and becoming a bubble tea barista," I told my reflection.
"Tell the girls I loved them."
Except I knew I wouldn't retire. Not when the real work was just starting.
I toweled off and grabbed my water, checking the clock. 11:47 PM.
Late. But perfect.
I slipped out of my dance shoes and into my usual "nobody-look-at-me" gear: black hoodie, black cargo pants, black cap, black mask, black sunglasses.
I peeled off my cropped top and leggings and changed into what Rumi lovingly called my "incognito K-pop ninja" look. Most people would think I was just another exhausted idol avoiding paparazzi.
They weren't wrong. But also... not entirely right.
"Note to self," I muttered, "Never schedule back-to-back dance sessions and demon hunting. You're not Batman. You're Zoey Kang. You have weak ankles and zero chill."
Okay, fine, I'm a little dramatic. But in my defense, being an idol-slash-secret-exorcist does things to your sleep schedule and your serotonin levels.
My sneakers squeaked faintly as I left the studio. Lights flickered out behind me.
The guards nodded as I passed the side exit. They didn't ask questions. I didn't give answers.
The streets of Seoul were glittering under the streetlights, traffic buzzing, neon signs flashing like chaotic K-pop confetti.
No one knew that behind those TikTok trends and bubble tea cafés, things crept out from shadows. I wanted nahh, I needed some fresh air and peace. And so I headed towards a place I knew, would calm my soul.
The alley near Han River had become my place.
A narrow, empty path tucked away behind an old book café and a ramen shop that always smelled like burnt oil.
Back in my trainee days, I'd sneak here to write songs when the dorm felt suffocating. Scribble lyrics into my notebook with trembling fingers. Whisper melodies into the night, hoping they'd carry far enough for someone to hear.
There was something peaceful about the wind, the rustling trees, and the occasional honk from a boat nearby. My favorite verses had been born here, under flickering streetlamps and starless skies.
Tonight, I just needed quiet.
Spoiler: I didn't get.
As I walked deeper into the alley, a noise scraped against the stillness. Guttural. Wet. Bone against bone. My body stilled. That sound wasn't from a stray cat or a trash bin falling.
Then, I heard it.
A growl.
No. I knew that sound too well.
I sprinted toward the sound like the idiot I am.
I slowed my steps, heartbeat picking up. My senses sharpened like they always did when something was off. And trust me—this was off.
I crept forward, careful not to make a sound.
And that's when I saw them.
A group of demons—big ones. Hulking shadows with glowing patterns across their skin, like molten lava carved into flesh. Definitely not the usual low-level creepers I was used to. Nope, these guys were leveled-up nightmares straight out of some forbidden underworld cookbook.
They were surrounding someone.
A guy.
But...why was he so familiar?
Messy hair, bruised knuckles, tall and an intense glare like he was fighting for more than just survival. His movements were quick, precise, like he'd done this before. He actually managed to take out two of them. Impressive.
His posture screamed:
"I'm fighting for my life and I didn't even have dinner yet."
Then one of the demons slammed him from behind. Hard. He dropped to his knees, blood dripping down the side of his face.
Poor baby.
And that's when I stopped watching.
Before the demon could strike again, a sharp whistle cut through the air—and then its wrist hit the ground with a disgusting splat.
I love my baby daggers! They never miss a shot.
All heads turned.
Including his.
I stepped out from the shadows, hoodie drawn low, face hidden. My heart raced, but my stance didn't waver.
A smirk left my face instantaneously.
Game ON!
Three demons rushed toward me. Cute.
I twisted into a roundhouse kick, caught the first one square in the chest, flipped mid-air, and landed with a swipe of my blade through the second's throat. The third swung at me—but I ducked, slammed my elbow into its jaw, and tossed it into the dumpster like yesterday's leftovers.
But just when I thought I had control, one more came from the side and nailed me across the ribs.
"Oof—rude!" I hissed, the hit sending me flying backward.
Except I didn't hit the ground.
Arms caught me. Strong ones.
My sunglasses slipped off, and for the first time I saw his face up close.
Holy Cow! What was this guy doing here?
He looked at me like I had just moonwalked out of a Marvel movie.
"You okay?" he asked.
There was a weird… warmth in his voice.
And of course he was kind of... stupidly handsome?
He blinked at me. His eyes staring into the depths of my soul.
Nope, definitely not a scene out of a rom-com kdrama.
"Choppy Bangs." He smiled at me.
Oh! That is it!
It's HIM!
"What?" I protested in disbelief.
But we had no time for staring contests or small talk. The rest of the demons charged, and he set me down gently.
I leaped in, spinning mid-air, and kicking it square in the jaw like I was auditioning for Street Fighter: K-pop Edition.
The demon stumbled.
We fought like we'd done it a hundred times. Smooth. Unspoken rhythm. I was genuinely surprised. Not many people could match my pace—let alone a random, bleeding stranger in a hoodie.
Once the last demon disintegrated into ash, the alley fell silent again.
tilted my head. "You're literally the one bleeding."
I pulled out my emergency handkerchief—yes, I'm that prepared—and tried to dab at the gash on his forehead.
"OW!" he gasped before I could even touch the wound.
"Oh please," I sighed. "You fought like a badass who's been trained for it all life, don't ruin it with whining now."
He laughed softly.
Like he hadn't laughed in a long time. "We make a good team Choppy Bangs. Coming to that—who are y—"
He never finished.
Because by then, my fingers had already traced the charm on my bracelet. A warm, electric pulse lit up the air. His eyes widened for a second. Then the light hit.
He blinked. Once.
And collapsed into my arms.
"Hey, w-wait! No-!"
I caught him with a sigh. "Ugh, seriously? Why did he have to be this tall?!"
Grumbling under my breath, I dragged him toward the nearby closed convenience store. The door was jammed, so I gave it a not-so-gentle kick, then guided him onto the couch inside.
He looked peaceful now. Like none of it ever happened.
Which was kind of the point. A small smile spread across his face, unlike the earlier one.
This one was different, it was real.
What a big baby.
I stared at him for a minute longer than necessary. I slapped myself to come back to reality.
Who was he?
To make my inevitable curiosity worse,
I knew him. Yet I didn't really know him.
Normal people didn't fight demons like that. And there was something… off about his energy. Strong. Raw. Eyes that hid their own mysterious past.
Still, the spell would hold. He wouldn't remember a thing when he woke up.
I turned toward the exit, my hoodie drawn back up. His words flashed through my mind,
'We make a good team Choppy Bangs. Coming to that—who are y—'
My fingers brushed the doorframe before I whispered over my shoulder—
"Let's just say I'm your savior."
And then I slipped into the night, back into the girl the world thought they knew.
The next day- HUNTR/X Dorm
BANG. BANG. BANG!
"ZOEY! I swear if you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I'm summoning a level-five hex on your eyebrows!"
More pounding. Louder. Threatening. Definitely Rumi's "I've-had-one-coffee-and-Zoey's-already-testing-me" vibe.
I groaned from beneath my blanket cocoon, my voice muffled against a pillow.
"Ugh, you're going to break the door Rumi!"
I cracked the door open with more force than necessary.
Rumi stood there, dressed like she was about to do a Vogue cover shoot and an exorcism in the same hour. Behind her, Mira leaned against the wall, arms crossed, sipping her green smoothie of passive-aggressiveness.
Rumi squinted at my face. "Why do you look like you haven't slept since the 1300s?"
"Because I got back at three freaking A.M., thanks for asking," I mumbled, yawning like a howler monkey. "And by the way? You're welcome. I stopped a demon from turning a guy into minced Seoul citizen last night."
Both of them froze.
Mira blinked. "You went on a hunt alone?!"
My feet flopped against the floor, hoodie half-zipped, hair tied in a lopsided bun that screamed, she fought demons and dreams both last night. I stumbled into the hall and collapsed onto the couch like a tragic drama lead in her flop era.
Rumi was already glaring at me with murder in her eyes. Mira, with her signature look: Concern™ and Disappointment™ blended into a perfect "we love you but you're a menace" expression.
"And didn't answer your texts?!" Rumi followed.
"Okay—first of all," I said, "He was already getting jumped when I got there. I was like—Hi! Surprise, demon scum! It's ya girl, Miss Obliviate 2025."
Rumi sat down, eyes wide with concern. "Wait. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
"Please," I scoffed. "I'm Zoey. I eat mid-tier demons for breakfast. Like—literally. That one tried to scratch me and ended up confused, speechless, and vaporized."
Mira gave me a look. You know the one. The "I'm proud of you but also you need therapy" kind.
"But!" I continued, throwing my arms up dramatically. "That's not even the craziest part. There was this guy—random civilian—and he actually fought back. Like, legit combat. No powers. No aura. Just fists and fury. And, damn, he was—"
"Don't you dare say hot," Mira warned, pointing a glitter-covered nail at me.
"—not just hot but freakishly hella HOT!" I said anyway, grinning.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
Rumi stared. "Wait… you didn't leave him with memories, right?"
I gasped. "What do you take me for?! Of course I erased them! A clean mind-wipe. Homeboy probably woke up thinking he dreamed of a hoodie-wearing K-pop angel sent to save his life."
We all laughed—me, because I'm hilarious. Them, because they were both horrified and impressed.
Mira shook her head. "Well, you'd better get your act together because today's important."
My smile faltered. "…Important how?"
Both of them paused. Then Rumi's jaw dropped.
"YOU FORGOT?!"
"NO—No no no," I said quickly, scrambling upright. "I totally remember that today is very… crucial… for… music and reasons and… something, something very special-COMEBACK!!"
Their expressions screamed we need to reboot her brain.
Right then, our phones buzzed in sync with that notification tone.
I didn't even have to open mine. I already knew.
Rumi read it aloud.
[NovaMuse Alert – Comeback Stage Confirmed: Music Bank in 3 Days]
And there it was—the golden list. Scrolling, scanning, scanning—
Lineup:
Soloists –
SOMI
ChungHa
BIBI
B.I
Crush
Lee Youngji
Peakboy
Girl Groups –
ILLIT
HUNTR/X
IZNA
BabyMonster
Kiss of Life
IVE
BadVillain
KATSEYE
Loossemble.
Boy Groups:
ZeroBaseOne
Boy Next Door
Enhypen
TomorrowXTogether
RIIZE
TWS
KickFlip
NCT Wish, and…
Saja Boys.
Three syllables. One shared glance. All hell broke loose.
"Of course they're performing too," Rumi muttered with narrowed eyes.
"They think they can just waltz in and steal spotlight?" Mira said.
I smirked, flipping my hair. "Well… let's give them a warm welcome then."
The three of us locked eyes and shared a grin. Our comeback wasn't just another stage. It was war. We didn't come to play. We came to dominate, dance, and destroy charts.
"Let's go crush rehearsals," Mira said, grabbing her mic case.
Rumi nodded. "Time to paint Seoul neon with our comeback."
I stood, stretched, and smiled sweetly. "And maybe—just maybe—bump into a certain mystery man again."
They rolled their eyes.
I sauntered back to my room, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. My phone lit up in my hand.
I opened the profile of the Saja Boys.
And there he was.
His face on my screen. Same sharp eyes. Same snarky scowl I saw just before I erased everything.
I zoomed in on his picture. No aura. No demonic trace. Not human either. He was something else.
Something hidden.
My eyes narrowed, and I smiled. Not the bubbly Zoey smile.
The other one.
The one I only wore when I hunted shadows.
"Meet you soon… Abby."