Mr. Demon

Chapter five: Living With a Demon Is Exhausting (But Cute)

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(Ari's–POV

Sometimes I forget that Rhex is a demon.

Not in a scary, “my life is in danger” way. More like… in the middle of cooking breakfast, I glance up, and there he is, staring at me with glowing eyes, claws hovering over the stove like he’s afraid the eggs might fight back.

I have to remind myself: horns. Fire. Immortal. Potential for accidental destruction.

But then he smiles, small and awkward, and I melt.

This morning was particularly exhausting. I had told him, very clearly, that pancakes are delicate. Very delicate. Yet here he was, trying to use fire magic to “improve efficiency.” Efficiency, he claimed, would make the pancakes cook faster. What it actually did was turn one into a small charcoal disk and the other into a bubbling, slightly suspicious mound.

“You know,” I said, leaning against the counter with my arms crossed, “humans usually don’t like it when pancakes try to eat them back.”

He blinked. “They… do not?”

“No,” I said. “It’s generally frowned upon.”

He frowned, looking genuinely troubled. I could almost see little thought clouds above his head. “I am learning,” he muttered.

And he really is. Slowly. Very slowly. Learning to cook without burning down the kitchen is just one of the many things I’ve been training him in since we met. Others include: using cutlery without tearing the table, speaking softly on public transport, and—most difficult—learning human sarcasm.

I think he understands sarcasm now. But only about half the time. Sometimes he corrects my tone instead.

We ate breakfast with quiet laughter. He keeps insisting that sweet potato buns are the perfect human-demon compromise for dessert. I can’t argue with that. They are delicious. And slightly terrifying when he eats them too fast, his fangs puncturing the dough.

Later, we went for a walk along the Han River. I love these walks. The air smells of rain and wet stone and cherry blossoms if the season is right. It feels ordinary. Human. Safe. And then I remember: he’s a demon, following me through narrow alleys, careful not to scorch anyone, occasionally tripping over his own wings. Suddenly, safe feels a little less ordinary.

“Why do you always worry so much?” I asked him once, as he kept checking that no stray cats got too close to him.

“I am a demon,” he said solemnly. “It is in my nature to anticipate disaster.”

“Even if the disaster is a cat?”

“Yes.”

I laughed until my stomach hurt. He looked offended, but it was the kind of offended where you also want to hug him and never let go.

And that is my life now.

Humans warn each other about online dating disasters. “He’s a keeper,” people say, meaning he won’t ghost you, cheat, or forget your birthday. I’ve dated humans. I’ve had disasters. And now? My disaster is glowing, horned, occasionally clumsy, and constantly trying to interpret my emotions like an instruction manual.

The funny thing is… it works. Somehow, it works.

He makes an effort to understand me. He notices when I am quiet or upset. He asks if I want tea or coffee, even though I clearly need both. He stays up when I can’t sleep and simply holds the space for me, even though he doesn’t sleep in the same way humans do.

And sometimes, when the world is quiet and we sit by the river with his legs dangling over the edge, he looks at me and says, “I will protect you.”

Not with fire. Not with strength. Just… presence. Awareness. Care.

I lean against him, smelling faint cinnamon and smoke and something only he carries. “I know,” I whisper.

There are moments when I almost forget he is a demon. Almost.

And then he tries to help me cross a puddle by levitating me an inch above the ground. A human inch. Which is far too high and makes me scream. And suddenly, the horns and claws are very real. Very present. Very dangerous.

But I still love him.

I think… I really, really love him.

Because he tries. Because he learns. Because he is constant in a world that is otherwise unpredictable. And also, because he makes me laugh so much that my stomach hurts.

And honestly? Even if he did accidentally burn down the kitchen or set off some magical alarm, I would still choose him. Every time.

Even when he makes pancakes that could double as weapons.

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