Chapter Text
The Honmoon was weak. The weakest it had been in decades, centuries perhaps. Jinu could tell easily. And if he noticed, there was no chance in hell the weakened barrier hadn’t caught Gwi-Ma’s attention.
The latest trio of hunters had been a near flop by industry standards. They were nowhere near as successful as the Sunlight Sisters had been before them. A nugu group as modern audiences liked to refer to them as.
Hardly enough to sustain the Honmoon, let alone strengthen it. His kind had taken advantage of that for the last few years. Harvesting souls with an ease that had been foreign to them since the Honmoon had first been created.
Nothing could last forever, though. And the time of affluence would run out soon. There were rumors about a new group debuting from the same company. A new generation of hunters was coming, Jinu was sure. The signs all pointed towards it. It was another trio and one of them was supposedly the daughter of one of the Sunlight Sisters. The hype was already huge for that reason alone.
The time where they could take advantage of the weakened Honmoon was quickly running out. And yet, Gwi-Ma in all his endless wisdom, with all his endless power chose to do nothing. Maybe he didn’t take the threat of a new generation seriously. Maybe he didn’t bother keeping up with the news on the surface, too busy tormenting the damned souls trapped in his realm- Jinu could believe that last theory.
Gwi-Ma's voice certainly hadn’t gotten quieter the last few years. Endlessly whispering, mocking.
Either way, while Gwi-Ma might be content to let this opportunity go to waste, Jinu was not. He saw a chance to sabotage that new group before it could really gain traction. It was time to make another bargain with Gwi-Ma.
400 years after he’d bargained away his soul. He’d gotten the short end of that deal, but Jinu was smarter now then he had been at 24. Centuries in the underworld had assured that much. He’d come out of this new deal better than he had been. As free as someone shackled to the underworld could be. Free of his memories, his regrets, maybe even his shame. Even if the patterns wouldn’t be erased together with the memories, they’d still lose their meaning without the memories of how he got them.
And Jinu had to be rid of them. The shame and regret were slowly driving him crazy. The wound refused to heal, because Gwi-Ma kept picking at the scabs. He delighted in it, which would make it pretty hard to convince him to finally free Jinu of that burden.
The Honmoon was weak. Gwi-Ma was far from desperate. He wouldn’t give in to Jinu’s demands easily, if at all. Jinu had to convince him that he truly had something to gain from what he was offering.
“Are you ready?” It was Abby who asked, tone impatient. In the two years Jinu had known him, Abby had never shown himself to be patient. He acted like someone on a timer, like they didn’t have literal eternity in front of them.
“Sure. If you are,” Jinu said with an indifferent shrug, letting his gaze glide over the four demons he’d chosen to trust with his plans. All of them were as desperate to get rid of a memory as he was, and that was about all he needed to know about them. They had as much to gain from their success as he had, which was the only reason he trusted them. They’d serve themselves, just as Jinu would serve himself. They were useful to each other.
“You’re doing the talking, aren’t you? All we have to do is stand their and look pretty. Easy enough,” Romance answered. His voice was haughty and arrogant. Jinu knew that to be a front, at least. He and Romance were too similar for him not to notice that the younger demon was putting on airs.
“Then let’s go. I heard, Gwi-Ma is in a good mood tonight. We won’t get a better opportunity,” Abby piped up again. He sounded even more impatient than before.
“We’ll back you up once you call,” Mystery confirmed and that was all the sent-off Jinu would get. No calls for good luck. No pleas to be careful. There was no good luck in hell and they certainly weren’t close enough to worry for him.
Hell, unlike many depictions of it, was a cold place. There were no lava pits or rivers of molten fire. Hell was a desolate tundra, a nighttime desert made of ash and desperation. Jinu was constantly freezing, though parts of him always craved for warmth. It might be demonic instincts calling him towards his master. Gwi-Ma, an eternal flame. His demons the moths eternally drawn to him. It didn’t matter, how often he burned them. How many of them he scorched to ashes, they’d still be drawn back, so they may feel something other than cold.
Jinu tended to avoid the temple. Feeling warm simply wasn’t worth Gwi-Ma’s attention. Even that night, he only stepped closer to the temple reluctantly. He could feel the fire already, the way its warmth caressed his skin like a lover. He could also hear Gwi-Ma’s voice growing louder in his head. Insidious whispers that Jinu was usually pretty good at tuning out.
They told him nothing new, nothing he didn’t already know to be true. The voice called him selfish, a coward. Jinu didn’t react. He’d long since been resigned to these truths.
The temple grounds, as per usual weren’t empty. Dozens of lesser demons populated the spaces around the pyre. The reveled in the warmth their God provided, singing him soft praises in husky, broken voices as they kowtowed and bowed.
Jinu turned his nose up at the display. Senseless subservience wasn’t his style. These demons had nothing to gain from their display. They simply prostrated themselves because they revered their God. Jinu was no stranger to subservience, but to him it had always a purpose. He had bowed to King Seonjo because it was costumery for a court musician. He would have been executed otherwise.
Jinu had hated it every day of his life. The way his birth caste simply had decided his social standing. He hated bowing to beings less cunning, less resourceful for the sole reason that they held all the power. Jinu never bowed because he meant it, but because it was a necessary tool for his survival.
Likewise, Jinu couldn’t bring himself to more than slightly lower his head before the brilliant magenta flame that had been his master for more than 400 years. The heat so close to him bordered on unpleasant. It stung on his skin and made his eyes water. Still, a twisted part of him longed to step closer. Jinu hated that part too.
He was standing very close to Gwi-Ma. There was no way the demon king hadn’t noticed his presence by now, yet he remained unacknowledged for what felt like a small eternity. For no other reason than that the king liked to remind him of his place. Like Jinu wasn’t well aware of it.
“Jinu. What an unusual visitor,” Gwi-Ma’s voice was lazy, almost mocking. It crackled like a flame in his ears. The voices in his head grew both louder and less clear. A slow chant more than the usual whispers.
“What brings you here?” he asked and Jinu could feel how Gwi-Ma’s focus switched solely to him. It made his patterns burn in sync with his heartbeat. He didn’t need to look down to know that they were glowing eerily.
“I came with a proposal. To bargain,” he answered, voice strong and sure. Even as he wanted nothing more than to teleport away.
Gwi-Ma laughed, both the manifestation before him and the echoes in his head. A discordant symphony that had him grinding his teeth with suppressed hatred. “Bargain? You’ve already given me everything you were ever worth. Soul, body, mind. It’s all mine. You have nothing to bargain with.”
“I came up with a plan to destroy the Honmoon. The whole of the human world should be enough of a bargaining chip for you, hmm?” Jinu challenged. He finally raised his gaze, pupils contracting into thin slits from how bright the flame was. His eyes watered both because they were unused to so much light and because of the heat.
“The human world? You should know better than to haggle something you have no way of giving,” Gwi-Ma answered, and Jinu could feel his interest waning, his focus expanding beyond Jinu again.
“Like I said, I have a plan to destroy the Honmoon,” Jinu blurted. Feeling desperate to regain all of Gwi-Ma’s attention, he added: “Just imagine the feast you could have.”
Jinu was glade that his voice still came out steady and sure. He couldn’t show his weakness and desperation. It was a sure way to lose Gwi-Ma’s interest.
“The Honmoon is weak as it is. There’s no need to destroy a barrier that fragile,” Gwi-Ma shut him down half-heartedly.
Stop. Who are you to argue with your God. You’re nothing. Gwi-Ma’s voice in his head warned. Jinu ignored it, his heart beating out of his chest as he raised his voice again.
“You think the hunters aren’t aware of that. They won’t stand by idly. Their next generation is almost ready to debut,” Jinu argued.
“There’s no reason to think that they will be any more successful than the current generation,” Gwi-Ma dismissed again.
Jinu involuntarily raised his voice. A hint of anger snuck into it. “And what if they are. Do you really want to be on the backfoot again? Starving? Feeding of scraps? That can’t be pleasant.”
Gwi-Ma chuckled, the sound was short and aborted in a way a human tongue would never be able to achieve, but the voice in his head laughed on even as Gwi-Ma stopped. “You tell me how unpleasant it is. Between the two of us you’re the expert on starvation, aren’t you?”
And, oh did Jinu remember. With unnatural clarity granted by Gwi-Ma. The memories had never faded with time. Not the ones he wanted to forget, at least. Everything else had become indistinct and blurry in the way memories that were centuries old ought to.
Gwi-Ma liked pulling painful memories up from time to time, letting Jinu relive the worst moments in his life just to feel his reactions. It was mainly the image of his mother and sister as the palace doors closed on their pleading faces. The last time he’d ever seen them.
That day, it was the echoes of starvation Gwi-Ma sent his way.
Jinu might not technically be able to starve to death anymore, but his body still seemed perfectly capable of simulating the feeling if Gwi-Ma so desired.
The onslaught of dizziness was unexpected and sudden and had him sinking to his knees as all strength left his legs. Jinu suddenly felt shaky and weak. He knew what he felt wasn’t real. It didn’t matter. The sensation barely lasted five seconds and then it was gone like it had never been there.
What stayed was Gwi-Ma’s amusement. He was pleased with Jinu’s humiliation, and Jinu had never hated him more.
“Fine, let me indulge you,” Gwi-Ma drawled. He was treating Jinu like a child begging for one more lullaby before bed. It was just another way to humiliate him. This was entertainment for Gwi-Ma, he wasn’t taking Jinu seriously at all. “Say, you have truly found a way to destroy the Honmoon. What is it you want in exchange for going through with that plan?”
Jinu righted himself, rising to feet that were still slightly trembling. His eyes drilled right into the center of the infernal flame, defiant. “The memories. I want them erased.”
Gwi-Ma laughed, loud and boisterous. A few of the demons on the steps below them joined in a little nervously. “400 years and you’re still hung up on that? You’re pathetic, Jinu. But fine. That’s easy enough for me to do.”
Jinu narrowed his eyes in suspicion. That was almost too easy. “Not just mine, either,” he added, slightly wary and raised his left arm. His little group of demons appeared in perfect sync with the snap of his fingers. Their forms settled into something more solid than the mist they had appeared from half a step behind Jinu and they bowed their heads with that same amount of unnatural synchronization.
“We want the same thing,” Abby spoke up without waiting for Gwi-Ma to acknowledge them.
“Now, why should I do that. It’s Jinu’s plan,” Gwi-Ma pointed out. An attempt to sow discord maybe. Gwi-Ma was trying to figure out what to do with their group. Jinu wasn’t having any of it.
“I need them for its success,” he answered, before Gwi-Ma’s words could take root in the others’ minds. Jinu knew the demon king. He knew his voice in their head had to be warning them of how he’d inevitably betray them. There was nothing he could do to stop his mind games.
“You know, you still haven’t explained exactly what you are planning to do, Jinu,” Gwi-Ma said.
“Destroy the Honmoon,” Baby deadpanned and Jinu had to suppress a chuckle. It wouldn’t do to openly mock Gwi-Ma. Their situation was too precarious for that. And Baby might as well have poured tree sap over Gwi-Ma with how quickly the flames rose with his ire.
“Don’t you dare, mock me. How are you planning to destroy it?”
“Should have just led with that…,” Baby whispered, defiant, but thankfully too quiet for Gwi-Ma to hear over the crackling of his own flames.
“By going after the fans,” Jinu smoothly inserted himself back into the conversation. He threw Baby a warning look over his shoulder, which the younger demon just countered with an unbothered look. No respect for his elders, seriously. “The current generation of hunters is flopping. The next generation has yet to debut. It’s the perfect time to steal their potential audience. All before they have established themselves.”
Predictably, Gwi-Ma laughed. “A demon… boyband? That’s never gonna work.”
Jinu felt desperate. He needed that chance. He needed those memories gone. “A girlgroup is what’s powering the Honmoon. Why shouldn’t a boygroup be able to destroy it?” he argued. “Let us try. You have nothing to lose. Only to gain.”
The silence that entered the demon realm then wasn’t absolute. It was disrupted by the crackling of fire and the whispers in Jinu’s head, but it certainly was enough to nearly drive him mad. Gwi-Ma was thinking, contemplating, turning something over in his mind. And the wait for him to come to a decision felt way longer than it probably was.
Behind him, Abby started fidgeting. Jinu suppressed the urge to step on his foot. Baby sounded like he was suppressing something else- namely a yawn- behind them.
“Fine. Try. Either you succeed and I’ll have an unprecedented feast. Or you fail, and I have the entertainment of watching the hunters rip you apart limb by limb.”
Relief wasn’t something Jinu was familiar with anymore. He hadn’t felt it in 400 years, but the reactions of his body were familiar. The way all strength seemed to leave his legs and he almost sunk to his knees before Gwi-Ma again. It felt like weakness, like humiliation. Yet, he didn’t hate it.
“You’ll erase our memories once we’ve destroyed the Honmoon?” Mystery was the first to find his voice again. It sounded hoarse. Maybe with his own brand of relief.
“Of course. It’s a bargain.”