Demon and Stalker (2)
Deep into the night. The bedroom door creaked open.
"Aigoo... What’s all this racket in the middle of the night?"
What emerged was an elderly grandmother. Thud, crash, boom—heavy objects tumbling. Shrieks piercing the air. Had someone gotten drunk? Even with her somewhat hard-of-hearing ears, the noise was too much to sleep through.
The grandmother shuffled toward the front door in her slippers.
Bzzz. Click.
Rubbing her sleepy eyes, she peered down the hallway.
"Hm?"
The corridor was dead silent, like a graveyard. Only the chill dawn air brushed her nose.
"Just my imagination, then..."
Muttering to herself, she started to close the door but paused, suddenly realizing something. The hallway was dark. Looking up at the ceiling, she saw the lightbulb was burned out.
Tsking her tongue, the grandmother shut the door.
"Aigoo, the hallway light's out. Gotta tell the management office tomorrow..."
Click-clack. The corridor fell silent once more.
Near the apartment complex. A black van was parked in front of a quiet park.
Black clothes. Black hat. Black mask dangling from his chin. The man in the driver's seat stared at his phone, stifling a yawn.
'Wonder if it's done by now.'
No word yet. They were supposed to check in within five minutes of going inside. But it had already been over twenty.
'Well, no reason to bother with check-ins every five minutes.'
"Yawwwn...!"
Unable to hold it back, the man stretched his mouth wide.
'Using six A-rank hunters for something like this? Even if it's big bro's orders, isn't that overkill?'
That was the man's true feeling.
Donghyeon. Jeonghyeon's son, whom guild members called "young master." Officially B-rank, but honestly, his skills were nothing special. No daily training, just drugs and women. A spoiled thug riding on his lucky high rank and his father's notoriety.
That was the guild's view of the young master. His lackeys were the same—petty trash through and through. Always bossing around or ignoring guild members, banking on their backing.
'Meeting the wrong person was just par for the course. Life ruined, check.'
With that history, the man felt zero pity that Donghyeon had been killed. That was how bad his antics had been.
The man glanced up at the apartment. He could see the darkened hallway.
'Hasn't gone in yet? Or went in and forgot to check?'
Then—
Slam. The passenger door flew open.
Of course. The leader must be back.
"What, forgot to check in?"
He pocketed his phone and looked toward the passenger seat.
But—
"...?"
A strange woman sat in the passenger seat. White hair. Horns. Red eyes. Lips curved in a slight smirk.
"Hi?"
Whoosh!
The man's fist shot out immediately. The best response in that moment.
Tap.
But it was blocked. By her pristine white index and middle fingers.
"...!"
His eyes widened. No give at all. It felt like the momentum behind his punch had simply evaporated.
His mind raced.
'What the hell? Why is the target here? Where are the others? Did we cross paths?'
Suppressing the rising anxiety creeping up his back, he glared at Dahong.
"...How are you here?"
Instead of answering, Dahong grinned and tossed something to him.
Thud.
He caught it reflexively.
"Here, take it back."
"...?"
A hairy lump. The part in his hand was bumpy and uneven. He slowly flipped it over.
It was the leader. Minus everything below the neck.
"Gah—!"
The man tumbled backward. His back slammed against the door.
Click! The door popped open.
"Aaaargh!!"
He rolled out of the driver's seat onto the park pavement.
Roll roll. The leader's unblinking head bounced across the asphalt.
Dahong leaned over from the passenger seat, looking down at him.
"Oops. Gotta be more careful."
Her expression was genuinely concerned for him. The man scrambled up. He wobbled, unsteady, but drew his weapon first.
Shing. The blade hidden against his thigh unfolded.
"You crazy bitch...! Get lost!"
His hand trembled as he aimed it. Someone who could casually behead an A-rank hunter wasn't normal. From the clean cut—one swing, no resistance. Not a scratch or speck of dust on her body. Overwhelming superiority.
'Damn, a villain?'
They dabbled in dirty work too, but not like this. Beheading someone and acting this nonchalant? She was utterly insane.
At his reaction, Dahong sighed, bored.
"I've seen trash like you a million times. They're everywhere."
"What're you talking about! ...Gasp."
"You didn't come here on your own, right? Someone sent you."
Back when Dahong was making a name for herself in hell. Demons came crawling every day. Mostly underlings of great demons intrigued by her power. She sent them all back with just their heads.
"...Huff... huff..."
The man rolled his eyes instead of answering. What could he say to boost his survival odds? If this was a test, spilling info would make him worthless. The psycho would deem him useless then.
Watching him scramble for words, Dahong shrugged.
"Don't look so scared. I'll let you live."
"...?"
He eyed her suspiciously.
"Need someone to deliver a message, right?"
She nodded at the head rolling on the ground.
"... ."
"Deliver it nicely? Got it?"
He swallowed hard and nodded.
"Alright, I'm off. Oh, and there won't be a next time."
With that, Dahong actually got out and walked away casually.
"... ."
Even after she vanished into the dark, the man stayed vigilant, nerves on edge. Waiting for a backstab. Only after a long while did he exhale and collapse to the ground. Legs like jelly, sweat pouring like rain.
"Fuck... What the hell did that crazy bastard touch."
Thinking he'd survived by the skin of his teeth, curses spilled out.
Sunlight streamed in the morning.
Beep-beep-beep—beep-beep-beep—
The alarm jolted Seha awake. It blared from the bedside table. Groggily patting above his head, he realized he was on the floor.
"...Nngh."
Seha staggered up and silenced the alarm. The bed was empty. Scratching his belly, he stepped out of the room. A faint coffee aroma tickled his nose.
Dahong sat at the table in a white dress shirt, reading the newspaper. Wonder where she got that.
"You’re up early..."
"Yeah, sleep well?"
"Yesss... ...Huh?"
Passing behind her, Seha noticed something off. White dress shirt? He whipped around.
Dahong was wearing his shirt instead of her suit. And nothing below.
Her massive chest strained the buttons, screaming for mercy.
"Waaahkmuuuaagh!?"
Seha let out an incoherent yell. Dahong scowled.
"What’s with the noise first thing? Doing calisthenics?"
"Who does calisthenics like this! Th-that-that! That’s my shirt!"
Dahong replied nonchalantly.
"Borrowed it. Suits are uncomfortable for sleeping."
"You could’ve asked...! Wh-why no pants?!"
"Suit pants."
She recrossed her legs. A glimpse of the hidden space below made Seha slap his hands over his eyes.
"You could’ve at least put on shorts...!!"
"It’s fine. This covers enough."
"I’m not fine!?"
Seha shrieked. Then he spotted the empty hanger from last night.
"Ah! And that was the one I ironed yesterday! Was gonna wear it..."
Dahong pouted.
"Jeez, such a whiner. Fine, I'll give it back since I'm so gracious."
"Waaah, w-wait...!"
As Dahong started unbuttoning, Seha bolted back to his room.
Dahong chuckled watching him go. Pfheheh. Always fun to tease. Who knew becoming a woman would let her enjoy sights like this. Boredom wouldn't be an issue for a while.
A moment later.
"Here."
Seha emerged from the room, pouting as he took the shirt. Clearly annoyed at being teased.
"Dahong, do you enjoy messing with me?"
"Yeah. A ton."
"... ."
Seha crossed his arms and stared up at her squarely.
"Dahong."
"Yeah."
"I'm serious now."
"Okay."
"I'm a summoner. You're my summoned beast."
"Right."
"So basically, I'm the master, yeah?"
"Hmm."
"Shouldn't you listen to your master?"
Dahong sipped her coffee and eyed him.
"Want me to call you 'Master'? Kinda pervy."
"N-not that...! I mean respect me more! Like this!"
"Hmmm."
She rubbed her chin, humming.
"But."
"Yes."
"What can you do?"
"...Pardon?"
"Can you unsummon me?"
"... ."
He couldn't.
"Force commands on me?"
"... ."
No clue how.
Dahong shrugged.
"Can't, huh."
Seha's mouth opened, then shut.
"...That's."
"That's?"
"... ."
Nothing to say.
Dahong propped her chin, gazing at him.
"Anyway! You need to respect me more!"
With that, Seha spun and stormed back to his room.
Fuming, he slammed the door and started putting on the shirt. But as he slid his arm in—
"... ."
It was warm. She'd just worn it, after all. But.
A faint scent reached his nose. Unfamiliar yet somehow nostalgic.
'...? Didn't change fabric softener.'
Seha lifted the shirt to his nose. A subtle fragrance.
"?"
Tilting his head, he sniffed the sleeve—
"Hey."
"!!!"
Seha whipped around. Red eyes stared at him. Dahong grinned.
"Total perv."
Whoosh! Seha realized what the scent was.
"N-no! Dahong! It's not—misunderstanding!"
He bolted out, slamming the door.
"Kyaa~ Perv!"
Seha chased the dodging Dahong, desperately explaining. But she just giggled every time.
For the first time in ages, Seha wished he could die.