"What else would you do for me?" asked the demon.

"What wouldn't I do for you..." responded the Devil.

"You came to the surface." Jungkook pointed out. The decision being out of character for his King whom he's known for his entire existence.

"I'm even staying more than second here for you," Jimin teased, standing at the edge of the hill with a bloodied hellfire-forged knife in his hands, his clothes drenched in crimson. His head spun from the adrenaline of his ever so recent murders, insanity danced in his eyes, behind the blood-drenched strands of hair sticking to his forehead. 

"Would you burry that blade in your chest if I were to demand it?" Jungkook asked with folly in his own—an unreadable challenge.

Jimin's reaction was immediate, a dangerous smile tugging at his lips as his eyes gleamed with amusement. "That's too easy an ask, darling. It would only hurt for a moment," he said with a low laugh, leaning in closer. He tilted his head, savoring the moment before adding, "Why don't you ask something harder?"

"Would you bury it in mine?" he asked, his words laced with a dangerous calm, like a game neither was willing to back away from.

"Now we're talking," he murmured, his hand drifting toward Jungkook's chest, stopping just short of touching him. "It would kill you, but if you wanted it, yes," he confirmed, the weight of his words sending a chill through the air between them.

"Would you be upset?"

"Devastated," Jimin replied, his voice low and almost too sincere, too raw. His hand hovered closer to Jungkook's chest, then fated itself to the bloodied fabric clinging onto it like second skin. "But not for long."

"Angry?"

"At you, no. At the world? Need I say..." He trailed off, his gaze burning through Jungkook.

The demon quickly masked his fluster with a sharp laugh. "I want to see your wrath," he said, his voice tight, the words leaving his lips almost before he could stop them. "Feel it, but it'd be a shame if I can't be by your side then."

"I've seen yours tonight, and damn whoever is stupid enough to stand in the path of whatever it is that pissed you off." Jimin laughed, taking a good look at Jungkook's face on which the features blended with the darkness from the dripping blood covering it. "You're definitely my favorite demon," he added.

"I almost make you look good," Jungkook replied, knowing full well that he could never hold a candle to Jimin's dark power, the raw, undeniable force that radiated from him.

For a moment, their eyes locked, each aware of the pressure that lingered around them, something neither had fully processed. They both let out a sudden, chilling cackle, their laughter echoing through the blood-streaked air. The echoes of their amusement bounced off the ruinous landscape, standing amidst the bodies of the fallen soldiers, the remnants of their carnage. Their boots ground into the shattered remains, crushing bones that had been left intact. It was their nature.

"Humans are so weak-minded," said Jimin.

Jungkook nodded, still grinning as he wiped some of the blood from his face. "Wars," he said, shaking his head in mock amusement. "It's too easy. They fight, they kill, they suffer—straight into our hands." His tone was painted with the usual dark humor they shared.

Jimin slung his knife casually over his shoulder and let out a small sigh, "I'm a little peckish. Pizza?"

Jungkook hummed. "I'll indulge," he huffed out the last of his chuckle, turning away from the wreckage. 

As they made their way to find their next entertainment, neither of them spoke again about the tension that had built between them in the last moments. The laughter faded, replaced by the heavy silence of two beings who understood each other too well to need words.

Long before the world as it is known existed, there was only Heaven, ruled by the God and his angels. Then came Hell—and with it, its ruler, the one who had shaped it from nothing.

The Devil, Jimin, had always been an enigma. Always judging himself superior any of God's other angels, he didn't wish to simply be a ruler, but a creator as well, sculpting the very essence of darkness, molding beings who were meant to carry out his will. Beings who, like him, thrived on destruction, chaos, and pain. His reign over Hell was marked by both ruthless precision and a chilling fascination with the twisted souls he ruled over. When Jimin first began to shape his kingdom, he did so with the same meticulous care he used to carve his demons. 

But Jungkook was different. He wasn't just another demon. He was the first—Jimin's first creation. He was meant to be a mirror of his creator, a reflection of the chaos and cruelty Jimin wanted to see in his kingdom.

But as Jimin made him from the void, something unexpected happened. The first demon began to take on a life of his own. Perhaps it was the overwhelming force of Jimin's defiance, his burning desire to rival his Maker's power of creation, that infused Jungkook with something more. The demon's dark power was unlike any other, a fierce, untamed force that matched Jimin's own in every way. Their eyes glimmered with the same dangerous fire.

Jungkook was the first and only demon to possess such a complex essence. There was a darkness to him, yes, but there was also an unusual clarity—an almost unsettling awareness, unlike the others who were driven purely by their baser instincts. 

At first, Jimin had treated Jungkook like the rest of his following creations, like a puppet—manipulating him, testing his limits, seeing how far he could push him before he broke. But Jungkook never did. Instead, he adapted. He grew. And over time, Jimin started to see something else in him, something he couldn't quite explain.

Jungkook never questioned Jimin's authority. He obeyed him as only the oldest and most loyal of demons could. But he was never a passive follower. He was sharp, cunning, and, in many ways, more dangerous than any other demon in Hell. Where others crumbled beneath Jimin's commands, Jungkook thrived.

They didn't need words to communicate. Jimin didn't need to ask for Jungkook's loyalty; it was already given. And Jungkook didn't need to question Jimin's motives—he knew that whatever the king desired, it would be carried out with precision.

Jungkook was the closest thing to a companion Jimin had ever known. They fought together, killed together, reigned together over the damned souls that fell under their command. But there was something unspoken between them, a bond neither of them fully understood. They were both powerful, both consumed by the same evil, yet they were not the same.

As the centuries passed, Jimin found himself relying on him more and more, not just for his ferocity, but for his unshakable presence. Their relationship was something deeper than mere servitude. The demon, in his own twisted way, had become something like Jimin's equal. Jungkook didn't ask for praise, and Jimin didn't offer it, but the trust between them was unwavering. 

The next few weeks on the surface passed in a haze, as Jungkook and Jimin continued their endless reign of destruction. Together, they wreaked havoc, delighting in the twisted games they played, the fear they inspired, but something gnawed at Jungkook. It wasn't the thrill of bloodshed or the satisfaction of dominance; it was the quiet, strange feeling that lingered after the violence one night.

Jungkook hadn't meant to stop, hadn't meant to pay any mind to the mortal woman standing in the rubble of the town they'd just destroyed. But there she was, her eyes wide in disbelief and fear, yet oddly untouched by the carnage that surrounded her. The others had fled, or joined in the screams, but she remained, almost too calm, too composed for a mere human in the midst of Hell on Earth.

He watched her from the shadows, her hands trembling slightly as she helped a wounded stranger, and something novel stirred in him. 

Over the course of the following days, Jungkook found himself tracking her movements, not out of any real desire to connect, but because her very existence seemed like an anomaly in a world that thrived on pain. He had seen many mortals in his time, but none quite like her. She was gentle, untainted, and there was something about her purity that felt almost like a challenge.

He couldn't make sense of it, but he couldn't stop watching either.

One night, he found himself standing in the streets again, still ecstatic from his most recent schemes. She was there, helping someone who had stumbled across the ruins, her voice soft and soothing, far too serene for the madness around them. Jungkook stepped closer, drawn in by the strange pull, and for the first time in ages, he found himself fascinated by a mortal in a way that wasn't born from mere amusement or cruelty.

Jimin had noticed, of course. His keen eye never missed the subtle shifts in his companion's behavior, the slight tightening of his posture, the flicker of something unspoken in his gaze. He'd seen it all before—Jungkook had always been a curious one, but this... this was different. He recognizes it from experience.

"Another mortal?" Jimin's voice was a low, mocking drawl as he leaned casually against the remnants of a shattered column."Tell me, darling, what is it about her that keeps you interested?"

Jungkook didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the woman in the distance, standing alone amidst the chaos, her form bathed in the faint light of a dying moon. The warmth that seemed to emanate from her, even in the hollow emptiness of the ruined town, was impossible to ignore.

"She's different," He finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying the words aloud would somehow make them less true. "Not like the others."

Jimin's smirk deepened, his sharp eyes glinting with enjoyment. "Ah," he purred, "So now you're intrigued by goodness?" The word was laced with sarcasm, dripping with mockery, as though the very idea of it amused him to no end.

Jungkook shot him a glance, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something that could almost be called guilt—almost. "I'm not intrigued," he bit out, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his chest. "I'm curious. She's... strange."

Jimin chuckled. "Strange. That's one way to put it." He took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving Jungkook's face. "And what exactly do you intend to do about it?"

Jungkook's brow furrowed, the confusion evident on his features. He didn't have an answer, not one that made sense. His mind was a tangle of contradictions—he didn't want to be near her, not in any human sense, he was simply watching, waiting. There was no plan, no scheme, no... malice. 

"She doesn't belong here," Jungkook muttered, his voice low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. His eyes remained fixed on her silhouette. "I don't understand why she hasn't... broken like the rest of them."

Jimin paused, a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes. His gaze lingered on Jungkook for a heartbeat longer, as if the weight of those words hit him in a place he didn't want to acknowledge. "Sounds familiar," he muttered.

He studied him, his gaze narrowing. The smirk hasn't left his lips, but there was a colder edge to it now. "And you want her, then?" His words were laced with an edge of expectation, the tone too knowing for comfort.

Jungkook finally turned to face him, the coolness in his gaze belying the confusion in his chest. "I don't want anything," he said, the words coming out harsher than he'd intended. "But I can't ignore her either."

"Why not?" Jimin stepped closer, the slow, predatory movements punctuating his words. "You think she'll ruin your fun? She's a mortal, Jungkook. They're all the same. Fragile, weak, easily discarded."

Jungkook shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. It wasn't about her fragility, not really. It wasn't desire, and it sure as hell wasn't pity. There was something deeper gnawing at him, something that unsettled the very core of his being.

She was something he couldn't predict, and that was enough to make her worth paying attention to. He was a demon. He was meant to be indifferent, cruel even. But for some reason, he couldn't just discard her as easily as he did the others.

"She's..." Jungkook trailed off, his thoughts unspooling before him, frustration flooding through him as he tried to find the words. "She's angelic."

Jimin's expression shifted, his eyes observed Jungkook with something new; an edge of caution, perhaps even understanding. "She reminds you that not all things in this world are damned like us. You're not used to that."

Jungkook's expression hardened, and he quickly turned his attention back to the woman in the distance. 

Jimin didn't press further, "You should let it go, darling. Because once it gets into your head, there's no going back. And that is the kind of mess you can never clean up."

Jungkook's jaw clenched, and he didn't respond. Deep down, a part of him knew Jimin was right, but that only made him more determined to find out exactly what it was about her that unsettled him so much.

Every day, she walked the same path—carrying baskets, helping others, laughing softly at the simple things, and all the while, oblivious to the demon who stood in the shadows, observing her. The way she smiled at children, the way she tended to the sick, the way she cared for others without asking for anything in return. 

He could not speak to her. She could not see him. But that didn't stop him from learning her every habit, her every movement. He began to understand her routine, her quiet strength. When she cried, he could feel the weight of her sorrow but had no desire to feed on it. When she laughed, pressure lifted off his chest—something he'd never thought possible for a creature like him.

It was on one of those nights, when the moon hung low in the sky and she walked alone by the river, that he realized something had changed. Her absence would feel like a hole in his chest. The quiet of her life, the simplicity of her existence, had become an impossible thing for him to ignore. And it wasn't just her ways—no, it was her being, her life that intrigued him. He had never known a mortal who seemed so untouched by the darkness, so immune to the suffering that usually consumed their kind.

Jungkook clenched his fists in frustration. What was this feeling? He couldn't even describe it. It was... a longing, yes, but for what? For her? Or for the life she represented—the very life he was barred from? He didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't stand the thought of continuing his existence as a mere observer, forever unable to touch what had begun to mean something to him.

The decision wasn't easy. He had never asked for anything. Never thought he needed anything beyond the pleasure of tormenting, of feeding on the agony of others. But for the first time, something, someone, had crossed into his path, and he could no longer simply watch it slip by.

With a heavy heart, he descended back into the underworld, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. He needed to speak to Jimin.

Jimin would understand. After all, Jimin had made him—shaped him into the demon he was now. He was the ruler of the underworld, a being whose power and will were absolute. If anyone could grant him what he desired, it was him.

Jungkook's heart pounded as he approached his king. The Devil was lounging, as always, in his regal seat, surrounded by the ever-present, oppressive atmosphere of hell. His eyes flickered with a knowing gleam as Jungkook knelt before him.

"What brings you here, darling?" Jimin asked lazily, though his tone suggested he already knew. "You're not here to ask for more carnage, are you?" he chuckled humorlessly.

Jungkook's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it that Jimin had never heard before. "I need a favor," he said, his gaze locked on the ground. He could feel the burden of his request pressing down on him, but it was something he had to ask.

Jimin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A favor? From me? You've never needed anything from me before."

Jungkook's fists clenched at his sides. "I want a chance. A chance to walk among mortals, to live with them. I want... to be part of her life." His voice faltered slightly at the end, but he didn't let his gaze wander. He had made his decision, and he would stand by it, no matter what.

Jimin's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading into something more contemplative, a flicker of something darker in his gaze. For a long moment, he didn't speak, and when he did, his words were thick with unspoken tension.

"Jungkook..." he shook his head, "Be careful," warned Jimin.

"I came asking for permission, because I revere you enough not to go behind your back," insisted the demon.

"You couldn't if you tried."

"So to speak, my king," he said. "I beg of you to grant me this wish. It will only be a few years for you, but a lifetime for her." He grovelled on his knees, at the feet of his ruler.

"Why should I? You belong here, you've earned your place here, demon."

"And I shall earn it again for this betrayal. I will be back to you as soon as her last breath lifts her to the skies above, my lord," persisted Jungkook. 

"What happened to you? I had such high hopes for you, you could've ruled by my side, but look at you making a fool of yourself in my kingdom," Jimin frowned. "Where do you think you are? Making such a request as though I were the other up there," he scoffed. "Look at me and tell me you really believed I would fulfil your wish," he grinned, a concoction of disbelief and sinister appetite painting his expression. 

"I believed you would," Jungkook replied, his eyes meeting the other's for the first time since his knee touched the burning ground.

"Pathetic."

Jimin's laughter echoed, sharp and cruel, overcasting the depths of hell like a hymn of despair. Yet, as the sound faded and silence returned, his smile faltered for the briefest of moments. He felt it again—that maddening tug deep within him, a sensation he could neither name nor suppress. It was a storm trapped inside his chest, a conflagration not of wrath or power, but of something far more treacherous.

He rose from his throne, descending toward the kneeling demon with deliberate, measured steps, each footfall reverberating through the molten ground. He towered over Jungkook, his shadow stretching far and wide, devouring the dim glow of hellfire. Every instinct, every fiber of his being, screamed to crush this insubordination, to revel in the anguish of this traitor demon's futile hope. And yet... yet.

"Pathetic," he spat again, his voice steady, venomous. The word burned as he said it, but not in the way he intended. His sharp tongue was supposed to wound the one at his feet, but instead, it cut deep into himself. He hated how his being shook when Jungkook lifted his gaze to meet his own—earnest, pleading, unyielding.

There was a time, long ago, when those eyes had been full of fire—fire that Jimin had stoked, fire that had burned entire realms in their name. And now? That fire was dim, replaced by something softer. It sickened him. It thrilled him.

"You dare presume I'd let you go?" Jimin hissed, circling the demon like a predator. "You would trade eternity in my dominion for a fleeting taste of mortal agony? Do you even understand what you're asking?"

Jungkook's head remained bowed, but his voice was steady. "I do. And if it costs me your wrath, so be it. I would endure it gladly."

Those words ignited something savage in Jimin—rage, jealousy, desire. He wanted to laugh again, to mock Jungkook for his naivety. Instead, his lips parted, and for a moment, no sound came. He hated the way those words burrowed under his skin, how they kindled an ache he refused to name.

He had taken delight in Jungkook's suffering before—when he fell, when he clawed his way up through hell's ranks, when he destroyed everything that dared to stand in his way. Jimin had fed off every tear, every scream, every moment of despair. Jungkook had been exquisite, a feast unlike any other. But this... this was different.

To grant the request would be to invite a new kind of torment: his own. Watching Jungkook leave, watching him bask in the bittersweet pain of mortality, knowing he might come back irrevocably changed. The thought sent a pang through Jimin's chest, sharper than any blade forged in hellfire.

How tempting it was. To taste Jungkook's agony as he walked away, denied of his wish, to drink in his heartbreak. The anguish would be unparalleled. Yet alongside that thought was another, quieter, insidious: the yearning to give him all he ever desires in his damned life, even if it meant letting him go for a moment of his own unwavering existence.

Jimin clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He couldn't give in. To give in would be to admit weakness, to admit that Jungkook mattered to him in ways no other demon ever had. And that was a truth he was not ready to face—not now, not ever.

"I should tear you apart for this insolence," he snarled, his voice a tempest of fury and something softer, hidden beneath. "You think I am incapable of making you suffer? You are mine, Jungkook."

Said demon dared to lift his chin. "Then let me earn this. I will corrupt every single soul up there but hers if that is what you demand."

Jimin stared at him, his expression unreadable, his emotions warring beneath the surface.

Corrupt every single soul but hers. The promise tasted intoxicating, forbidden, like the sweetest of poisons. He could already imagine it—Jungkook wreaking havoc on the surface, dragging mortals down into the pit one by one, their screams of despair a symphony he would conduct in his name. The thought of Jungkook returning, drenched in sin and torment, fueled Jimin's darkest desires.

And yet.

Yet, the thought of Jungkook sparing her made that thrill curdle into something else. It wasn't just jealousy—it was fear. Fear that she would take the last fragments of Jungkook that were still his. Fear that Jungkook's devotion, the one thing Jimin had always believed to be immovable, would be given to another.

He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes glowed faintly, flickering like dying embers as he tilted his head to meet Jungkook's gaze.

"You would do all that," Jimin said, his voice a dangerous purr, "For the chance to walk beside her?"

Jungkook nodded, his resolve unshaken. "I would. And when I return, I will give you every piece of what I've taken. Every soul, every ounce of misery. All of it, my lord. Except hers."

What if he agreed? What if he sent Jungkook to the surface, knowing that every moment of his mortal life would be spent earning it?

"You truly are a fool," he finally said, his voice dripping with venom, but there was a quiver—a crack that betrayed him. He leaned in closer, his face inches from Jungkook's, his breath hot against the other's skin. "You think you can bargain with me, that you can name your price and walk away unscathed? Tell me, what makes you think I won't take her soul the moment you leave her side, just to watch you shatter?"

Jungkook didn't flinch. "Because you don't want her soul, Jimin," he said quietly. "You want mine. And you already have it."

Jimin straightened abruptly, turning away to mask the turmoil raging inside him. For a long moment, he stood there, his back to Jungkook. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost detached.

"Go," he said, barely above a whisper. "Have your mortal fantasy. But remember this, Jungkook: when you return, you will not find me merciful. You will not find me kind."

Jungkook rose slowly, his gaze lingering on Jimin's back. He wanted to speak, to offer something more, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he bowed his head and turned, walking toward the swirling portal that had opened before him.

Jimin didn't watch him leave. He couldn't. The door slammed shut behind Jungkook, and he was left alone in the emptiness of his throne room.

He sank into his throne, his claws carving deep into the obsidian as a wave of anger—and something far worse—coursed through him. He told himself he didn't care, that he wouldn't care. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He had just handed over the one thing he couldn't bear to lose. 

"I hope you suffer," he murmured, but the words felt hollow. A lie meant more for himself than anyone else.

As he sat there, the laughter of the other demons still echoing faintly in the distance, regret began to fester within. There was no such thing as right and wrong for the Devil, there was only pleasure and gratification no matter the means. But this decision was at the expense of two contradictory desires, indulging one meant giving up the other, a first for the one who has never made a sacrifice of any kind. 

In Hell, time churned endlessly, a river of molten fire that burned without pause. The suffering of his enslaved souls grew tasteless, the trials cheerless, the making of demons pointless. 

Demons whispered in hushed tones about Jungkook's absence. They did not dare to doubt their king—not truly, for such a thing was unthinkable in their very nature—but they could not entirely mask their unease.

"Why?" one demon hissed in the shadows, its voice laced with bitter curiosity. "Why grant such a request to one so favored?"

"Being a mortal is punishment if anything," another snickered.

It was subtle at first, a faint change in the ever-burning fires of Hell. The flames, once roaring and wild, seemed to flicker just a little lower. The shadows stretched longer than they should, curling around the dark halls like restless serpents.

The demons noticed, of course, but they could not name what they were seeing. The underworld was not a place of change, and yet something about it felt... muted. 

But they were demons, creatures of malice and hunger, not of feeling. They did not understand the heaviness that had settled over their ruler like a second shadow. They could not grasp why his silences were louder, why his punishments came crueler but with less satisfaction.

Only the oldest of them, the ones who had seen the ebb and flow of eternity, whispered of a possibility—one too strange to believe. "The King mourns," one of them muttered, his voice coated in disbelief. "But for what, even I cannot say."

Jimin did not speak of Jungkook. He refused to. To acknowledge his absence was to acknowledge the hollow ache that had made a home in his chest the day he left.

Instead, he immersed himself in his kingdom. He passed harsher judgments, presided over endless trials, and punished disobedient demons with a fury that sent ripples through the underworld.

He refused to step foot on the surface. It wasn't because he couldn't—no door was closed to him. He told himself it was beneath him, that there was nothing of value to be found there.

But there were moments when the shadows in his chamber grew too quiet, and his thoughts strayed against his will. He would find himself staring at the mirrors that could show him any corner of creation, his fingers hovering over the edge.

Once, in a fleeting moment of solitude, when he felt as though he stood alone overlooking empty depths of a once populous kingdom, as though any and all demons and souls had vanished, he allowed himself to look.

The image was simple; Jungkook kneeling in a field of wildflowers, his hands dirtied as he planted tiny, fragile blooms. The mortal woman knelt beside him, her laughter carried on the breeze.

Jimin clenched his jaw. He dismissed the vision with a flick of his hand, the mirror shattering into dust.

"I despise you," he grumbled through his teeth, his voice echoing in the hall. The words tasted like ash on his tongue, simply unwinding into hushed echoes across space.

Their target was completely out of reach for more reasons than one. The mortal world was a sharp contrast to the underworld, a place of fleeting seasons and fragile beauty. Jungkook was hesitant at first, a shadow trying to learn how to live in the sun. But her warmth pulled him into the light. His mortal—so human, so vibrant—became an anchor he hadn't known he wanted.

Her laughter softened the sharp edges of his demonic heart. Her hands, warm and real, touched him with sweet affection. Together, they built a modest life in a quiet village, far from the noise of other humans, far from the temptation to be who he always was. He was given a chance to experience life, for nothing in return, and he was all the more grateful to his king for it, as he could not bring himself to be a demon whilst with her.

They planted flowers in spring, harvested apples in the autumn, and sat by the fire in winter as the snow fell softly outside. Jungkook had never known such peace. For the first time, he learned to cherish fleeting things. These were moments he could hold onto, even knowing they would one day slip through his fingers.

As he built this life, a piece of him remained tethered to the underworld. He did not stop thinking of Jimin even in the span of this timed gift, and the promise he had made, his vow to return, was like a brand on his soul. He did not hate it. He did not resent it.

Hell was his home.

On rare, quiet nights, when she slept soundly beside him, Jungkook would let his thoughts drift to the place he had left behind. He wondered if Jimin followed his journey. He would remember the weight of Jimin's gaze, the sharpness of his words, the way his presence had always filled every corner of the room. He did not long for it—not yet—but he knew that the day she passes on, he would. And when that day came, he would keep his promise.

The years turned like pages in a book. Jungkook grew older alongside her, but he would not wither as she is.

"Will you stay with me until the end?" she asked one evening, her voice quiet as they sat beneath the stars.

"I will," Jungkook promised, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Until your very last breath."

She smiled at that, but there was sadness in her eyes. "And after?"

Jungkook hesitated, his throat tightening. "After... You will go to the heavens, and I will not."

"Will you return to him?"

He nodded. She reached for his hand, her fingers frail but steady.

"If I may ask, if there's another favor to call upon... why not follow me? Come to where I'll be." Her smile was soft, almost wistful, as if she knew the impossibility of her words but couldn't help hoping anyway. "We had a good, and honest life didn't we?" she added.

Jungkook's brows rose at her words, his chest tightening as though her suggestion alone was sacrilege. He cupped her face gently, his touch almost trembling, and let out a breath that carried the load of centuries.

"I would need thousands of lifetimes like this to even imagine tipping the scale by a hair," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "Besides, I wouldn't dare," he shook his head. "To ask such a thing would be more than betrayal—it would be a renunciation of everything I am. To turn my back on my kind, on where I belong... no." 

He lowered his gaze, his thumb brushing softly over her cheek as her eyes searched his face. "You gave me something I never thought I could have, but this is where our paths end. My place is down there, and yours is up there," he glanced upward. "He is my beginning, my end. Every part of me is shaped by him, for him. I could never..." he turned his head away, but she only looked at him with quiet understanding, a bittersweet smile softening her features.

"I understand more than you think," she said gently. "It's not just loyalty. It's not just devotion. It's deeper than that, isn't it? The way you speak of him, the way he lingers in your thoughts at all times, I can see it. You loved me, not the way I wanted, but the only way you possibly could, because I gave you what he couldn't—or maybe, what you wouldn't let yourself see from him. You couldn't really love me because you already loved someone else. I just gave it a name."

Jungkook froze, the words hitting him harder than any flame of Hell ever had.

"And I'm grateful for it. Truly."  She whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. "When you return, don't let him live in the shadows of his own kingdom." Her words stayed with him long after her final breath, like the echo of a bell that refused to fade.

In Hell, Jimin felt the shift the moment her soul departed the mortal plane. The connection between him and Jungkook, though faint, hummed with new energy. He knew Jungkook's return was imminent, and yet he felt no satisfaction. Only unease.

What would he say? How would he act? He had spent centuries trying to forget Jungkook's gaze, the delight of his loyalty. And yet, the thought of seeing him again...

For now, Jimin waited, his throne colder than it had ever been. The underworld buzzed with whispers of the prodigal demon's return, but Jimin silenced them all with a single glare.

He would not show weakness. Not now. Not ever.

But when the great gates of Hell finally opened, and Jimin caught the first glimpse of Jungkook standing on the threshold, he knew. The weight he had carried all these centuries of his absence—the ache he had buried so deep it had almost consumed him—had not faded.

Jungkook had returned.

And Hell itself seemed to tremble in anticipation.

The first lash came within moments. No welcome, no word of acknowledgment from the king—only the cold, sharp crack of punishment from the demons. They stood in a wide circle, their faces twisted in cruel amusement as they watched him fall to his knees. It was to be a public trial, not a swift execution but an eternity of proving himself worthy of Hell once again.

Hell's justice was not mortal justice—it was not quick, nor merciful, nor concerned with fairness. Time twisted here, bent into infinite loops, and stretched into ages of agony.

"You left," Bael hissed, his voice echoing in the burning chamber. "You dared to walk away from the place where you belonged. You dared betray our king."

"I returned," Jungkook said through gritted teeth, blood dripping from his lips. "And I will prove myself."

Bael only laughed, his molten eyes glowing. "Prove yourself? You will be lucky to survive. Let's see how long you last, traitor."

From the throne, Jimin sat as still as a statue, his face cold and impassive, his dark eyes hooded. He watched without a word as Jungkook was dragged into the Wastes—an unending landscape of ash and fire where demons were broken and reforged. It was not the first time Jimin had sentenced a soul to torment, but something in him burned hotter than the flames of Hell as he saw Jungkook fall into the hands of his tormentors.

The first century of his trial caused all sorts of physical agony. Jungkook was stripped of his form, his body reduced to sinew and bone, reforged, and broken again. He was cast into lakes of fire, his flesh seared to the bone, only for it to heal and repeat the cycle. He was buried alive in pits of molten rock, suffocated by the weight of centuries pressing down on him.

The demons assigned to him took turns inventing new torments, laughing as they goaded him. They spat on his devotion, mocking him with whispers.

"Your King has forgotten you, traitor. He doesn't even bother to watch you break."

And yet, Jungkook endured. He never once cried out, even when his limbs were wrenched from his body or his skin peeled from his frame. He did not beg for release. He did not plead for Jimin to save him. His silence enraged his tormentors, who doubled their efforts.

From his throne, the Devil watched it all. Every scream, every strike, every moment Jungkook spent on his knees in agony. And yet, he did nothing. He told himself this was justice. That this was what Jungkook deserved. But when he closed his eyes, he heard the whispers of the Wastes, the echoes of Jungkook's voice.

When Jungkook refused to break under physical pain, the trial shifted for another century. His tormentors abandoned him, leaving him alone in a realm of endless shadow. There was no fire, no heat, no sound. Only silence and suffocating darkness, broken by distant whispers that seemed to come from his own mind.

He wandered through the void, his feet dragging across an endless expanse of nothingness. He felt the weight of eternity pressing down on him, the realization that he was utterly alone.

But even in the silence, Jungkook refused to surrender. He whispered to himself, over and over, "I will get through this."

And though he told himself he shouldn't, Jimin found himself drawn to the scrying mirrors that showed the Wastes. He watched as Jungkook staggered through the darkness, his once-proud form now bent and weak but never defeated.

"Why won't you break?" Jimin whispered to himself, his fingers curling into the arms of his throne. "Why won't you let me forget you?" he said. Countless demons perished before, erasing their existence after succumbing to their weakness. Jimin had kept written records of them for his memory would betray him. If only Jungkook did so now, his name would be another in a long list of forgotten demons, and Jimin would be rid of all the anguish chaining him.

When Jungkook's spirit refused to fracture under pain or solitude, the trial changed again. He was cast into a shimmering illusion—a mirror of the mortal world, where she lived again. She stood before him, her eyes bright, her smile radiant. Tempation.

"You found your way back to me," she said, her arms outstretched. "Stay with me, Jungkook. You don't need to return to him. You don't need to suffer anymore."

The illusion was perfect, down to the softness of her voice and the warmth of her skin. But Jungkook stepped back, his jaw tightening.

"You aren't her," he said, his voice trembling. "You can't be her." he added, recalling her final words.

The illusion smiled, her face twisting into something cruel. "You would give up happiness for him? For a king who left you to burn? He does not care for you. He wants to see you fail."

Jungkook closed his eyes, his hands curling into fists. "I will not fail."

In his chambers, Jimin shattered a glass, the sound echoing like a crack of thunder.

After centuries of torment, Jungkook was finally dragged to the throne room, his body bloodied and bruised but still standing. The demons who had tormented him were silent, their smug grins replaced with unease.

Jimin sat upon his throne, but he was not the figure of effortless grace and intimidation this time. There was something different about him now. His crown sat crookedly, as if it weighed him down, and his gaze was sharp, unblinking, as though he could cut Jungkook down with a mere glance.

Jungkook stood at the threshold, but he didn't move closer. He didn't need to. He's spent so much time here before, under different circumstances, when everything had been a game. But this time, just like the last, neither of them were playing.

He collapsed to his knees before Jimin. "I have endured," he said, his voice hoarse. "I have proven myself. Do you see me now, my king?"

Jimin first demanded that his other demons leave the room, unwilling to be distracted by the tactless creatures at such a critical time, then addressed him when the quiet settled around them again. "You came back after all." His voice held no mockery, no amusement, only a dangerous stillness. His eyes tracked Jungkook's every movement, as if he were trying to figure out if this, too, would leave him wounded again somehow.

Jungkook met his gaze head-on, but there was no bravado to him. He had nothing to prove to Jimin anymore, he's done his fair share of it. The past had bled them both dry, and this—whatever it was—was the aftermath.

"I promised I would," Jungkook replied. There was no resentment, no anger in him. Just the hollow, exhausted truth. The sweeter ring to his words he'd reserved for this moment, now bitter from the endless suffering since his return.

"Why keep your promise to me? Why not fail the trial and simply end it there?" Jimin asked, unmoving from his seat, because in truth, he didn't know if he could stand tall during this confrontation. He yearned for this moment for years and years, but the sight of his demon was unbearable now, frightening truths about them were written all over Jungkook's beaten body. "You chose to leave it all for her once, why not leave it all again for good now that she's gone?" he added.

"I didn't choose her over you, my lord." He denied softly, his words laced with regret, but also conviction. "I simply pursued something I couldn't define then. She gave me that which I couldn't dare seek from you, even if I wanted to," he admitted. 

Jimin's eyes flickered. His voice was strained, as if pulling each word from the deepest parts of him. "What more could you have possibly wanted from me?" He painfully whispered. "You wanted power—the pleasure of ruling like I do, and I gave it to you. You wanted to conquer the surface and I took you there. You wanted a life with a mortal, and I granted it, at the expense of my demons' fealty to me." He listed. "There isn't something I wouldn't have given you if you'd stayed by my side." 

Jungkook closed his eyes for a brief moment, "I've discovered love, Jimin."

The words landed like a strike. Jimin's face let on nothing, but inside, something trembled at the admission. Love. The thing he had denied himself for millennia.

"I couldn't fathom it at the time, but it puts a name on the rift I tried so hard to bridge within myself for ages. There was always something on the other side I wanted more than anything, I reached for it time and time again, but my arms always came up short." Jungkook elaborated, his thoughts transparent, but the words not coming along so easily ahead of his king.

"And you found it in her?" the Devil asked, his tone cutting and quiet, as though he feared the answer might ruin them.

Jungkook's head tilted slightly, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I didn't find it in her. I found... clarity. It wasn't her I was chasing, Jimin. It was what she represented." 

"And what was that?" Jimin pressed, his voice harder now, the edge of anger creeping in. "What did she offer that I couldn't?" His ego took a blow, how could the king of Hell be bested by a mere insect?

Jungkook's gaze snapped back to Jimin, and in his eyes was the spark Jimin missed to dearly. "It was freedom," he admitted. "Not from you, Jimin, but from myself. From the war I've waged within me since the moment I was forged. She gave me a glimpse of a life where I wasn't bound by expectation, by fear of disappointing you, or overstepping my bounds. I wanted power to earn my place by your side, I wanted to conquer everything because that was all I could allow myself to do in your name." he sighed. "I couldn't claim you," he scoffed quietly at the absurdity of the thought, "You belong to no one. But I wanted you to me mine in all the ways I was yours." 

Jimin's breath caught at those words, his composure cracking like glass under pressure. His sharp tongue, always his armor, failed him now. He opened his mouth, but no retort came, no cutting reply to deflect the storm of what Jungkook had just laid bare.

"I was always testing the limits of your penchant towards me, but none of what I asked for was really for the sake of it. I wanted you to give me those things because it was the closest thing to giving yourself." Jungkook spoke again when the other never responded. 

"Then I simply couldn't bare it. I ran. I looked for it in someone who is in all ways opposite to you, because she was the closest thing to you at the same time, would you believe it? She gave me the love I craved from you, unconditionally. She knew who I truly was, and never budged. In her dying breath... she held my face and gave me the last piece of her heart. She saw me even when I couldn't see myself."

His shoulders dropped as he exhaled, the torment he had carried spilling out in jagged fragments. "She gave me all of her in that short lifetime, and I relished in it. But I also hated her for it deep within, in some cruel, twisted way. She wasn't you."

Jimin's fists clenched at his sides as he listened. His throat felt like it was closing, but he finally forced himself to speak. "Again. Why are you back? I gave you a way out. And yet here you are, kneeling before me like a pathetic shadow of what you once were." He stalled, unready to match Jungkook's candor yet.

The demon looked up, "I can run from everything, but I cannot run from who I am. A demon. I am resentful, spiteful... greedy. You made me, and for a long time I tried to break the mold, be more than what I am to you," he responded. "You wouldn't let me, always reminding me of just how unreachable you are. With everything you say, everything you do, you remind me of how small I am in the shadow of you."

"Then you know you're clinging onto something that will never be," Jimin responded. His words was harsh and venomous. If the trials couldn't make him surrender, perhaps Jimin could. He needed to forget.

"You tortured me for coming back. You punished me for keeping my promise. You pushed me away as though it was the end of us, but I felt you watching. Every lash, every torment, every second of those trials... you were there. Pretending you didn't care, pretending you were indifferent. But I know you better than that." His gaze bored into Jimin, unwavering. "If you truly wanted to be rid of me, why not let them destroy me completely? Why end the trial if you didn't want me to survive it?"

"I didn't interfere because it was justice," he hissed, but his voice lacked the conviction it once held. "You betrayed me, Jungkook. You defied everything we built, everything I gave you. Why should I care if you lived or died?"

"Because you do," Jungkook shot back, taking a step forward despite the trembling in his battered legs. "You watched me suffer because you thought it would make me let go. But here I am, still standing."

Jimin stood abruptly, the sudden movement reverberating through the throne room, an unspoken reflection of his turmoil. "Enough," he barked, his voice sharp and commanding, though his chest heaved. "You think you know me? You think you can look into the depths of my soul and claim to see anything but darkness?"

"I've seen the darkness," Jungkook countered, his voice firm. "I've lived it, followed it, even become it in your name. But I've seen more than that in you, Jimin. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. I've seen the hesitation in your cruelty, the fracture in your perfection. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me."

"Nonsense," he whispered, though the venom had drained from his tone, replaced by something far more fragile. "you are an insolent creature who doesn't understand the burden of what you ask for."

"Then tell me," Jungkook demanded, his voice a plea as much as a challenge. "Tell me why you've spent centuries pushing me away when we both know neither of us can survive without the other. Tell me why you won't let yourself love me."

"Love?" he scoffed, "I am the ruler of the underworld. I don't love." Jimin said while Jungkook's words pressed against the barriers he had constructed around his soul. "I have to remain unshaken, untouchable. If I let you—if I let this—" He gestured between them, his voice faltering. "It will destroy me. Destroy us both."

"In the past, I would've revelled in the destruction of any and everything except you. I didn't know it was love then, and I never dared to ask for it from you anyway, because of this." Jungkook said simply, his voice a quiet tempest. "But haven't you grown tired of this place as it is? Don't you feel as though there is no longer anything to look forward to? That you've reaped all the suffering and pain there is in the world to sate you and there is nothing left? Because that is what it's like for me." he confessed.

"You're asking me to undo millennia of existence," he whispered, his voice more vulnerable than Jungkook had ever heard it. "To tear down everything I've built, everything I've become."

"I'm not asking you to undo it," Jungkook said, stepping closer, his every word a measured strike. "I'm asking you to accept that beneath all of it, accept the destruction and build anew." he offered. "There is more to you than a king, more than a conqueror, more than the perfect, unfeeling ruler you pretend to be. You are a fallen angel, but an angel nevertheless, and you created me in your image, Jimin. If I can feel this, so can you." 

"I am bound to this place, to what I am. If I surrender to what you're offering, what would be left of me?" Jimin let his doubts out for the first time.

Jungkook took another step closer, his shadow stretching to mingle with Jimin's as if the space between them no longer mattered. "What's left," he said, "is the part of you you've tried to bury." He pressed on, his words like a blade sliding through both their hearts. "I'm not asking you to relinquish the power you've established. I'm asking you to let me stand beside you, not as your creation, not as your weapon, but as something you've denied both of us for far too long."

"Stop this. You don't want to be bound to me," Jimin said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "You're asking for chains of a different kind, for chaos you can't control."

"I'll navigate the chaos," the demon insisted. "Whatever it looks like."

Jimin's composure fell completely, his frown painted by grief and pain that he's never shown to anyone. He grabbed Jungkook's chin as he pushed the words out of his throat, his vulnerability stirring a form of anger and desperation in his mind. "Do you understand what it means?" Jimin hissed, his voice trembling with emotion. "You will endure because I will demand it. You will suffer because I will need it. You will... live... because I cannot let you go. You will be mine again." He meant to threaten, but it only sounded like a vow to the other.

Jungkook's eyes closed in bliss, "I was always yours." 

"Fool." Jimin's said, his eyes lingering on the demon's lips that spoke so many promises.

"Will you?" Jungkook asked in return. "Will you stand by me as I do all of it?" he added. "I don't care about chains, Jimin," Jungkook whispered. "I care to know that you will never escape me."

Jimin's body tensed, the weight of the words sinking in. "It will ruin you," he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet the terror in it was clear. "But I will be yours if you're ready to face that." he agreed, releasing his chin and wrapping his hand around Jungkook's throat instead.

"I've been ruined a million times, what's one more?"

Jimin's grip tightened around his neck. His touch was possessive, deliberate, he sought to assert control. "You fail to see that I am not like her. I won't give you what she did. You will not find comfort in me."

Jungkook's smile was dark, a quiet storm of defiance and longing. "I don't need comfort from you," he replied, his tone sly. "I just need you, Jimin. Every piece of the destruction you promised. I would rather burn with you than live without having you."

"Then know this, demon. When I claim you, you will never be the same. No one will even remember how you were before me."

Jungkook's heart raced. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied.

Jimin's grip loosened, just slightly, his fingers tracing the line of Jungkook's jaw as if measuring the weight of his words. His eyes held a flicker of something akin to affection—darker than that—fiery passion, but buried under layers of need and power. "You should know better than to make a deal with the Devil. I will take everything from you. Want me, and I will keep you bound to me until there's nothing left but us." he promised.

Jungkook nodded, his gaze dropping Jimin's lips. "Do it," he said, his voice low, intimate.

The air between them thickened with their promises, their fate sealed in the quiet, relentless force of their words. And as Jimin closed the distance between them, all that remained was the fire that burned between them—an inferno neither could escape.

THE END

---

Another oneshot I was inspired to write, what do you say? Did it leave an impression or made you think about anything? Let me know in the comments. Love you!

- Aida -