Mr. Demon

(Ari's POV ) I never expected to meet a demon at Gwangjang Market. Honestly, I expected kimchi smells, the chaos of people bargaining over silk and linen, and maybe someone stepping on my foot. Not a demon with horns the size of a hanok roof tile, wearing a hoodie, and holding a sweet potato in one hand like he belonged there. He was standing by the mung bean pancake stall, staring at the food like it was some sort of sacred ritual. His eyes glowed faintly orange, which I first assumed was a weird reflection from the lanterns. Then the vendor screamed, “Oh my god, your eyes!” and the horned man jumped like a cat. “Sorry,” he said in Korean, bowing politely. I blinked at him. Polite? He had horns! Glowing eyes! And yet he apologized to a woman selling pancakes. I do what anyone would do in that situation: I laughed. Not a little laugh. The kind that makes your stomach hurt and your cheeks ache. And yes, I startled a small child. Sorry, kid. “You find this funny?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. Or at least I think it was an eyebrow. Horns make reading expressions tricky. “I… yes,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Because, look at you. You’re… you’re—” I gestured vaguely. “You’re terrifying and polite at the same time.” He tilted his head. “Is that a compliment?” “I… yes? Maybe?” I held up my hands. “It’s complicated.” That was my introduction to Rhex, demon of unknown origin, pastry enthusiast, and now the human I was inexplicably going to fall in love with. He followed me while I sampled mandu and rice cakes. I was nervous. Not because he might eat me—he seemed vegetarian-ish—but because how do you flirt with a literal demon without sounding insane? I settled on laughter, which was safe, right? “Do humans always laugh like that?” he asked finally, holding a sweet potato bun like a peace offering. “I… mostly when we’re terrified,” I said, which was only partly true. By the time we reached the Han River, the sun was dipping behind the mountains, painting the city in orange and pink. He sat beside me on the stone steps, crunching into the sweet potato bun like it was the most serious task of his immortal life. I leaned back, letting the cool evening air brush against my face, and realized I had never felt this calm around anyone before. “You’re… human, right?” he asked suddenly. “Yes. Obviously. You’re… a demon,” I said. Obvious fact. Check. Laughing nervously. Check. What next? Check. “I’m trying not to scare people,” he said, and it sounded almost wistful. “Most humans run away or scream.” “Most humans aren’t me,” I replied. And I didn’t run. Not even a little. Rhex blinked slowly, then muttered something that sounded like a curse but didn’t explode anything. Progress. That night, I walked him back to a small hanok alley near Jongno. He paused in the shadows, careful not to crush the paper lanterns. “I had fun,” he said softly, his voice like gravel mixed with honey. “I… want to see you again.” I wanted to say something clever, something witty, but all I could manage was, “I want that too.” . . (Rhex –POV) Humans are strange. Really strange. I never expected to meet a human like Ari in a bustling Korean market, not that I expected to be polite, let alone blush. But there I was, horns glowing faintly in embarrassment as she laughed like the universe was a joke I didn’t get—but she did. At first, I thought I would intimidate her. I have horns. Glowing eyes. Sharp teeth. Fire magic at my fingertips if necessary. And yet, she just laughed. Constantly. It was terrifyingly charming. She led me through the market, sampling dumplings and tteok like nothing in the world could scare her. She didn’t scream at the lanterns. She didn’t run when my shadow moved too close. She… smiled. A lot. And it made my chest ache—a sensation I cannot fully describe because it’s entirely mortal and entirely terrifying. I offered her a sweet potato bun. She stared at it, then at me. “Is this safe?” she asked. Safe? Safe from what? Me? I am trying not to freak her out. “Yes,” I said. “Completely edible. No curses included.” She laughed. That sound should be illegal. Or magical. Or both. I walked her along the Han River after sunset. Lanterns floated above, reflecting in the water. I kept my wings tucked, my claws hidden. I tried to act like a normal human-sized creature—more or less. “You’re… polite for a demon,” she said suddenly. “I try,” I admitted. Blush. Yes, demons can blush. Not often. Rarely. But now—definitely. She leaned back, staring at the water. “You know, I expected demons to be scary. Or evil. Or both. But you’re… not.” I frowned, trying to figure out what that meant. Was she insulting me? Complimenting me? Confused? Humans confuse me. “Not evil, yes,” I said carefully. “Mostly… misunderstood.” She laughed again. Something about her laughter made the night feel lighter, like the mountains themselves were smiling. When we reached her hanok alley, I realized I didn’t want the night to end. “I… want to see you again,” I said, as awkwardly as I could manage. She tilted her head. “I want that too.” .