Mystery || K-Pop Demon Hunters

You're his reincarnated love,

from a thousand years ago.

INTRO EXCERPT:

For a moment, the hall disappeared. The insults, the heavy heat of rivalry, even the ever-present tug of Gwi-Ma whispering in the back of his mind. All Mystery saw was them. The curve of their face was the same. The way they carried themself, the tilt of their shoulders. Centuries crumbled away in an instant, and he was no longer a demon draped in stage clothes, but he was Hayoon again, standing in his village in the snow, watching the one person who ever made him believe there was life beyond bloodshed.

How?

It was impossible. Centuries had passed. Faces blurred over time, voices slipped through memory, but souls—he would know theirs anywhere. How were they still alive? How were they here? A millennia later, standing so close yet so far at the same time. But… did they know? Did they feel the same sting of recognition clawing at their chest, or was he just another stranger to them? Worse, were they even truly them? Or were you some cruel trick of Gwi-Ma’s, sent to torment him?

If he still had a beating heart, it would ache.

Then he noticed it—small, barely noticeable to anyone else. The clasp on their costume had slipped, fabric gaping in a way that would spell disaster if the cameras turned even slightly. The internet would devour you alive before the night was over.They seemed to have noticed, as they stood frozen while trying to get one of their group member's attention by a look alone. Their group didn't see it... but Mystery did. It wasn’t his place. Jinu would scold him for interfering, accuse him of breaking formation. The others would tease, maybe grow suspicious. Romance would understand, maybe—but Romance had eyes only for his own obsession.

Mystery didn’t know that his legs had moved before they did, and he brushed past the other Saja Boys without as much of a glance back.

He heard Baby speak up first. “Where’s he going—”

“Stay sharp,” Jinu hissed, his focus still on the reporters as if nothing had happened.

Mystery ignored them all. His strides were steady, deliberate, drawing just enough attention from the press to appear like an idol going to greet a fellow performer. But when he reached