Mr. Demon

Chapter Eight: Nosy Neighbors and Demon Problems

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(Ari – pov)

It started with Mr. Han from three doors down.

Mr. Han is the kind of neighbor who doesn’t just notice things—he catalogs them. The type of person who knows exactly how many leaves fall from the ginkgo tree in front of our hanok every week. He also dislikes demons. Very strongly. Not that I blame him—he yells at stray cats and calls pigeons “terrorists.”

The problem began when he saw Rhex.

It was a Tuesday. I had asked him to accompany me to the market because I needed ingredients for tteokbokki, and apparently, demons are useful for carrying enormous bundles of rice cakes. Rhex wore his usual hoodie over the horns, but the glow from his eyes is not something that can be fully hidden.

Mr. Han spotted him from his balcony. I saw his face turn pale before he bolted down the stairs, slippers slapping the wooden floors.

“What is happening?” I whispered to Rhex as he calmly balanced a sack of rice cakes in one hand.

“I do not know,” he said. His tone was serious, but his tail twitched nervously. “Humans react strangely to my presence sometimes.”

“You think?”

Before I could react, Mr. Han banged on our door.

“Yes?” I said, opening it. Rhex followed behind, bowing politely, which made Mr. Han nearly faint.

“Why… why is there a demon in my neighborhood?” Mr. Han gasped, clutching a broom like it was a weapon.

Rhex smiled carefully. “I am not here to harm anyone. I am… accompanying Ari for market purposes.”

Mr. Han squinted. “Market purposes?”

“Yes. Rice cakes,” I added.

“Rice cakes!” he shrieked. “Demons eat humans for… for… things like rice cakes!”

Rhex’s smile faltered. “I do not. I consume very little human food. I prefer… vegetables.”

A tense silence followed. Mr. Han seemed to reconsider his life choices, staring at Rhex like a pigeon staring at a shiny object it wants but cannot reach. Then he muttered something about “monster regulations” and ran back upstairs, tripping over the last three stairs in spectacular fashion.

I turned to Rhex. “Are you okay?”

“I believe so,” he said. “I did not burn him. That is a success.”

I laughed until my stomach hurt. He frowned. I could tell he did not understand why I found that funny. Humans are strange.

That afternoon, outside pressure did not stop.

A shopkeeper from the rice cake stall sent me a note: “Your demon boyfriend is scaring customers. Maybe keep him at home?”

I showed it to Rhex.

He looked genuinely offended. “I was merely observing transactions. I did not consume customers.”

I put my hand on his arm. “It’s okay. He didn’t mean that.”

We walked down the narrow alleyways to cool off. The lanterns swayed in the breeze. Rain threatened but did not fall. For once, the world felt quiet.

“Do humans always overreact like this?” Rhex asked, still keeping his voice low.

“Yes,” I said. “And no. Depends on the human. Some humans are calm, like me. Others… well… Mr. Han exists.”

He tilted his head. “And what do I do about him?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Just… don’t hurt him?”

“I do not intend to.”

Later, we passed a tea stall, and the vendor whispered, “That demon with you… very dangerous.”

Rhex turned politely. “I assure you, my intentions are harmless. I am… mostly domestic.”

The vendor froze, nodded, and muttered something about ancient curses. I laughed. Rhex didn’t get why.

On the way home, I realized something. Outside pressure isn’t just about fear or prejudice. It’s about us. It tests us. Forces us to stay close, to communicate, to laugh at ridiculous situations, and to remember why we chose each other.

Rhex kept his hand lightly on my back the whole walk. I felt the warmth, the strength, and the absurdity of the entire day.

“You were very brave today,” I said, finally.

“I am only brave when necessary,” he replied. “And protecting you is always necessary.”

I sighed and leaned into him, smiling. “Good. Then keep being brave forever.”

He glanced down at me, faintly blushing under the horns, and muttered, “I intend to.”

And in the chaotic streets of Seoul, among judgmental neighbors, curious shopkeepers, and wandering cats, I realized something important: love is not about the world accepting you. It’s about holding onto each other even when the world does not.