THIRD PERSON POV

The underworld trembled.

For a thousand years, the demon king had been sealed, bound by ancient magic too strong for mortal hands to break. Yet, the impossible had happened—his prison stood empty.

A storm of chaos erupted among the lesser demons, whispers of his return rippling through the shadows. The council panicked, fearing his wrath, but no one knew where he had gone.

Meanwhile, Damien stood under the glow of artificial lights, his bare feet pressing into unfamiliar ground. The scent of fresh air and bustling crowds filled his lungs—so different from the cold and dark place of the underground, where he was sealed. A flickering neon sign buzzed above him, casting strange colors across the street.

He had never stood on land before. Not like this.

His crimson eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. Mortals bustled about, oblivious to the predator that had just stepped into their world. The spell that had kept him locked away had vanished—shattered by an unknown force.

Who had freed him?

Before he could dwell on the thought, a hand clamped around his wrist.

A woman.

Small. Fragile. Her fingers were trembling, yet her grip was desperate, almost bruising. Without a word, she yanked him forward, dragging him toward a building with a blinking heart-shaped sign.

Damien tensed, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. She had no idea who she had just seized.

The woman’s pace was frantic, her breath ragged as she shoved a handful of bills at the attendant behind the counter. "O-One room, please." Her voice wavered, but her determination did not.

The key was thrust into her hands, and without hesitation, she pulled him inside.

Damien could have resisted. He could have crushed her wrist and walked away, but curiosity held him still. His gaze swept over her—she was shaking. Not from the cold, but from fear.

She’s terrified, yet she keeps moving forward.

Why?

His lips curled slightly as he allowed himself to be led. The room was dimly lit, the scent of cheap perfume hanging in the air. Before he could speak, she pushed him—actually pushed him—onto the bed.

Damien’s amusement flickered into something darker. This woman was either incredibly foolish or desperate.

As he was about to demand an explanation, she climbed onto him.

He stilled.

Her hands pressed against his face, covering his eyes. The sensation was unfamiliar. Warm. Tentative.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, his voice smooth and low. “What are you up to?”

She stilled. The hands pressed on his face trembling nonstop. “P-Please cooperate with me.”

She wasn’t asking but rather commanding him.

Oh?

Damien’s brows raised. He ‘looked’ at the woman’s direction and the corner of his lips raised. “Cooperate with what? I don’t understand what you are talking about.”

Her breath hitched. "I… I need you."

Damien raised a brow. "Need me?"

She hesitated, her fingers tightening against his skin.

"I… I need your…" She swallowed hard. “…your seed.”

Silence.

Damien blinked beneath her trembling hands.

"My what?"

A flush crept across her cheeks. "P-Please… just don’t push me away." Her voice wavered, but she pressed herself closer, as if wanting him to agree through sheer will alone.

Damien sighed. His patience was wearing thin. "Woman, if you think I’m—"

"I need to lose my virginity," she blurted out, cutting him off. "Tonight."

Another pause.

Damien exhaled through his nose, biting back a chuckle.

How bold.

And yet… her body betrayed her. She was stiff with hesitation, trembling as if she expected rejection or worse.

"You expect me to take you just because you ask?" he mused, voice laced with amusement.

She swallowed. "Yes."

His lips twitched, but something about the situation gnawed at him. Her desperation wasn’t for pleasure—it was for escape.

Interesting.

"I see," he murmured.

His hands moved to hers, prying them gently from his face. As he did, he felt the delicate bones beneath her skin, the tension coiling through her body.

"You don’t want me to see you?" he asked.

She flinched. "I-I'm ugly."

Damien stilled.

Ugly?

For a moment, he was caught off guard. He didn’t need to see her to know that wasn’t true—her scent was intoxicating, her presence was intriguing. But it wasn’t vanity that made her say that.

It was something else.

Something deeper.

The connection made him want to dig deeper and pry open this woman.

His claws retracted, his sharp nails dulling as he made a decision.

"Very well," he murmured, his voice a whisper against her skin. "You asked for this, remember that."

Just as he wants about to kiss her lips, she felt the woman turn her face away making his eyes darkened.

A murderous intent surged from his body but held back. This woman is too weak. He might kill her accidentally out of irritation.

He doesn’t want that. This is the first time he felt warmth after he was unsealed, and he will savor it slowly and bit by bit.

The woman seemed to feel Damien’s aura, she trembled and hurriedly explained while getting something from her pocket. “I-I didn’t mean to… I just want you to use condom… for protection”

Condom?

Protection?

Damien brows furrowed. “I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you.”

“Huh?”

Before the woman could explain further, her body had collapsed onto the bed while Damien was on top of her.

The pack of condoms she was holding had disappeared out of nowhere along with her clothes.

In an instant, the breeze hit her body making her tremble.

“W-Wait… I-”

Her words were interrupted as he directly took her mouth, snaking his tongue and sucking her saliva, eager to get close from the ‘warmth’.

He was like a child who suddenly got his first toy. Eager to explore and play.

But this child is no child. He was a beast in clothing.

“Damien. You better remember my name, little mortal.” He hoarsely whispered in her ears, watching as she moaned from ecstasy.

That night, he didn’t hold back.

He had been sealed for centuries, stripped of sensation, left in endless cold. But with her, warmth bled back into his veins. He let himself indulge, let himself savor the feeling of a mortal beneath him.

By the time dawn approached, she was curled up beside him, her body bearing the marks of their union.

And yet, he barely felt satisfied.

He wants more, but this woman is too weak to bear the ‘desire’ of a demon.

Damien lay beside her, playfully playing with her hair, twirling it around his finger while staring at her sleeping face.

Ugly? You just don’t want me to see how beautiful you are, little mortal.

He had no intentions of lingering in this world, but perhaps… just perhaps… this woman was worth further curiosity.

But when he woke up, the bed was empty.

The scent of her lingered, but she was gone.

Damien sat up, his brows knitting together.

He had expected her to be here. To either regret what she had done or demand something more.

Instead, she had disappeared like a ghost in the night.

His gaze flickered toward the door.

How amusing.

A smirk ghosted across his lips.

"Running away, little mortal?"

He flexed his fingers, crimson eyes gleaming.

"You think you can hide from me?"

He chuckled, low and dark.

Foolish woman.

No matter where you are, I’ll find you no matter what.