Hana didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she woke with a sharp gasp, heart pounding as though she'd been running. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a Seoul dawn creeping through her curtains. For a moment, she lay perfectly still, trying to make sense of the lingering heat on her skin, a pulsing warmth that wasn't fading with the morning cold.
Then she felt it.
A sting, faint but unmistakable, on her left wrist.
She pushed herself upright, breathing unevenly as she pulled back her sleeve.
Her heart froze.
There, etched into her skin like fire given shape, was a small crimson mark. A symbol. A sigil. Delicate, beautiful, and terrifying. It looked like a curling wing wrapped around a drop of light.
Hana's breath trembled. It hadn't been there last night. She would have noticed.
Her fingers hovered over the mark, afraid to touch it, afraid it might burn, afraid it might vanish.
But it didn't.
It pulsed. Gently. Like a heartbeat.
Her heartbeat.
She stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping as she rushed to the mirror. The symbol glowed faintly, alive with something she didn't understand.
"What… what is this?" she whispered to herself.
Her phone buzzed, vibrating against the table. The sudden noise made her flinch. She grabbed it quickly.
Unknown Number.
She swallowed. Her thumb hesitated before she answered.
"Hana."
It wasn't a question. It was a recognition.
Her knees weakened.
It was him.
The voice from the alley. Deep… smooth… impossible to forget.
"Who are you?" she asked, keeping her voice steady even though her hands were shaking.
A beat of silence. Then,
"You need to stay inside today."
Her heart stuttered. "Why?"
"Because the mark has appeared," he said quietly. "And others will sense it."
Others.
The word dropped like a stone in her stomach.
Hana tightened her grip on the phone. "What did you do to me?"
"I saved you." A low exhale, almost like he was speaking through clenched teeth. "And this, this wasn't supposed to happen."
She glanced at her wrist again, the symbol glowing faintly as if reacting to his voice.
"Tell me what this means," she whispered.
But he didn't answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, weighted with something she couldn't understand.
"It means you're connected to me now."
Her breath caught.
Connected.
"How?" she demanded. "Why me?"
"You touched me," he said. "And I… I allowed it."
Allowed it?
What kind of answer was that?
She opened her mouth to argue, but the room suddenly darkened as a cold shadow swept across her wall, moving fast, too fast to be human.
Hana froze.
Something was out there.
"Hana," the voice on the phone sharpened instantly. "Stay where you are. Don't open any windows. I'm coming."
The call ended before she could reply.
Her hands trembled as she backed away from the window. The shadow had felt wrong, like a ripple in the air, like the cold breath of something hunting.
The mark blazed suddenly, and she hissed as heat surged through her arm. She pressed her back against the wall, breathing hard.
"Please stop," she whispered to the mark, as if it could hear her.
To her horror… the pulse slowed. As if responding to her.
A soft knock echoed through her apartment.
Hana's blood ran cold.
Three slow, deliberate knocks.
Her phone slipped from her fingers.
She crept forward, steps soundless on the floor, every breath shallow. The knocking came again, slower this time, almost as if whoever was on the other side was… savoring the sound.
"Hana," a voice whispered through the door.
Not the demon's voice.
This one was raspy and wrong, like broken glass being dragged over stone.
Her hand instinctively lifted to the mark. It flared with heat again, painful, urgent.
Then footsteps. Someone was walking past her window. Slow. Measured.
Something scraped against the glass.
Hana covered her mouth, tears pricking her eyes.
She didn't know how long she stood frozen, waiting, praying, until the presence outside faded, dissolving into the morning.
Within minutes, though it felt like hours, a new sound broke the silence.
A knock. Firm. Familiar.
"Hana," a low voice murmured. "It's me."
Her breath left her in a rush.
She unlocked the door with shaking hands.
When it swung open, the demon, her stranger from the alley, stood there in a black coat, wet from the morning mist. His crimson eyes flicked to her wrist immediately, darkening with something that looked like fear or… anger at himself.
"You shouldn't have touched me that night," he murmured.
She swallowed. "I didn't have a choice."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The air shifted, warmer, charged. He moved closer, and for the first time Hana saw something flicker beneath his calm exterior, panic.
"That mark," he said quietly, "is a demon seal. My seal."
She felt the world tilt.
"Why is it on me?"
"Because you called out to me," he whispered. "And I answered."
His gaze locked with hers, deep and crimson and unbearably intense.
"You're bound to me now, Hana."
Her pulse echoed the mark's glow.
Bound.
Connected.
Her life, no longer her own.