The witch skidded her gaze motionlessly over the hunter that stood at the far end of the alley and back to the dark angel, utterly confused and scared beyond her years. Her hands were shaking from how tight she was clutching at her robes, one name continuously repeating in her head.

Taehyung.

Who was Taehyung? Did the dark angel know any of the hunters? And if so, why wasn't he killing him? Dark angels should be able to bring down thousands of huntsmen with their hands alone. Yet the man who was supposed to be proclaimed her savior kept standing there, frozen, and perplexed, as if he'd looked Death straight in the eyes.

"Go on and kill him!" She tried again, coaxing a glare from the stranger.

"I'm not killing him," he said through gritted teeth, hands clenching at his sides. "He won't harm me, I'm sure of it."

"But he is a hunter!" The witch inched closer towards the male, slowly stepping out of her concealment, minding the hunter who still had his gun aimed at them. "He doesn't care about us."

The man simply averted his gaze back to the raider and without paying attention to the warnings she was giving him, he took a step forward, arms spreading in surrender.

The hunter visibly flinched at the sudden change in his actions, but the witch couldn't read the expression on his face due to the reduced light streetlamps permeated.

"Taehyung, it's me," the angel's voice resonated across the street. His movements were gradual and cautious, arms remaining spread at his sides in a clear sign of renounce.

"Don't go there!" The witch hissed, now completely exposed to the hunter's peep-sight, being an easy target.

She hoped this stupid act of vulnerability was a part of the man's plan to execute the hunter. Hell, she was risking her own life to save the angel's ass from getting hit by a bullet. Hunters' weapons were made of special silvern metal that was vital to supernatural creatures. A normal bullet would barely cause a scratch, but the ones enchanted with dark magic were far more lethal.

Despite their own fanatical beliefs and guidelines, humans still used magic to fight the mystic realm. The only difference between the two kins being their way of cooperating. Dark matter was strictly forbidden in any witch's coven, rarely applied and extremely dangerous. Only creatures with the sufficient power to control it could use the outlawed spells and words, such as demons and fallen angels.

Humans, on the other hand, weren't born with magic in their veins. So, they crafted items with similar capabilities. Carving runes in their wrists, imbuing natural poisons on daggers, creating bullets of enhanced metal. All those twisted innovations were used against the witch's kind. They thought of themselves as some paragon of virtue, adhered to their own principles.

And now, after so many years of nonstop hiding and living in the shadows, she was going to die by the hand of a mere human who'd killed hundreds of innocent lives for the sake of 'cleaning the world'.

"Taehyung, I know you don't want to hurt me," the angel sauntered forward, tone brimming with softness and eyes crammed with saturated warmth.

The witch couldn't read the hidden intention of those words. Perhaps, there wasn't one, judging by the sincerity that dripped off the man's tongue.

For a small second, she thought the hunter would drop down his gun and give in. But boy, how wrong she was.

The deafening sound of a fired bullet rang through her ears. The angel sagged to one knee, grasping at his injured thigh, thick blood pouring out of the open wound. His lips were parted as he breathed heavily, groaning painedly and at the same time staring at the raider with a glint of betrayal in his eyes.

"Disgusting," the hunter's lids narrowed to crescents, voice drenched in repugnance. "All of you are so pathetic."

The witch felt how her innards shook with avid anger. She wished to reckon her powers and throw a curse at him for spelling such vile accusations, but the fear of getting shot was nearly consuming. The lonely streetlamp scarcely lightened the narrowed alley, but it was enough to show the clear image of treachery on the angel's flawless face.

Without sparing another glance to either of them, the hunter shoved his gun back in the holster, yelling something from the lines of 'surrender yourself' before running away.

The angel continued to kneel there in the mud, midnight black wings laying at his sides and blood sipping out of his injured leg. He seemed devastated and shattered, the sight utterly painful to look at.

Carefully, the witch walked over him and placed a hand on his slumped shoulder, no longer caring if the hunters would come back to finish off their work. All she wanted was to comfort the male, despite the fact they'd known each other for the course of thirty minutes.

"Are you okay?" The witch eyed him from head to toes, heart bursting out of its seams upon gazing at the inflected wound.

The man remained silent, eyes casted to the hands that rested in his lap, curly raven strands brushing against his cheeks. He looked almost immobile, unmoving, and quiet, shallow breaths escaping past his chapped lips. The witch wondered how he managed to ignore the pain in his knee.

"L-look, I – "She sighed, squeezing the man's shoulder in an attempt to placate him. "Why don't you let me cure this wound and then we can grab a drink, hm?"

Her words barely succeeded to coax a nod out of the male, but it was enough to put a smile on her face.

***

The Attic was a hybrid coffee shop-slash-wine bar hotspot right near Itaewon Station that wrapped around the corner of a building and was only accessible by a spiral staircase to the second-floor balcony that overlooked one of the main roads. Flashier bars and eateries existed that outshone (literally—the lights were phenomenal) The Attic, but the atmosphere allowed amateur musicians to play for free in hopes of gaining listeners at night when it was more of a wine bar setting.

The witch and her savior sat in the corner by the window, getting drunk on cheap wine and whiskey. The Attic was the perfect spot to release the stress and spend a relatively good time with someone. But they weren't here to have sexy chit-chats and seduce random customers who were far too lost in the pleasant sense of dizziness alcohol brought with itself.

No. They were here to discuss the deadly events that occurred that night.

"So," the witch started after putting daintily her glass of wine back on its previous position. "Are you ready to tell me what happened back in the alley?"

The man subtly flinched at her question. He brought his third glass of whiskey to his lips and swallowed down the liquid in one go without scrunching his nose in disgust or gagging at the awful taste that the alcohol had.

"What do you want to know?" He slurred, hushed, a rumble to his voice presumably due to the liquor.

The room reeked of it, the whiskey that he swirled in his crystal glass.

"Everything," she chipped up, shifting in her seat as if uncomfortable. "About you, the hunter and your relations with him."

The man snorted, glaring at her with bloody-shot eyes. "Are you some type of an investigator?" He inquired rather rudely with an overt hint of annoyance.

The witch straightened her back, long neck craning to the side. "My coven requires me to report you." She stated.

"Why?" He peered over his empty glass, somewhat begrudged in his stance and mannerism. "Did I do anything wrong?"

"Your existence is a threat to us." She pointed her index finger at the table, the sharp end of her rounded nail making a rattling sound. "A living dark angel roaming our lands! This is scandalous!"

"And?" The male flared black, leaning across the table, and his muscles were flexing, deep and deadly; his face, clouded by his dark strands of hair, was secured at tenebrous, with his prepossessing teeth jutting out, barking out his words. "Are you going to eliminate me now that you know I'm alive?"

The witch gulped, throat bobbing. She didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of a bar full of mortals, especially after witnessing the man chugging down three glasses of burning whiskey. It was probably the alcohol that was making him so irritated and gloomy, having in mind the emotional breakdown he'd to go through.

"I don't know yet," she chose her words carefully, trying to ease the tension building up in the air as she let go of the subject. "But one thing is sure – the hunters won't leave you alone. Hell, I don't even know how you've managed to survive this long. First the war and now this..." she exhaled, head shaking.

The man's eyes rolled, "The hunters can suck it off, for all I care."

The witch's patience was flimsy. She was accustomed to hearing other creatures like vampires and werewolves speak low of the hunters. After all they were much stronger than an average healing witch whose powers couldn't be of use to her in a real combat. Only those who hadn't faced a competent hunter, though, were naïve enough to underestimate their abilities.

"Of course, you'll say that" she rested her aching back against the chair post, scoffing. "If it weren't for me to treat your wound, you would've bled to death."

"That was different," he amended.

"The hunter could've killed you." The witch contended.

"I knew what I was doing."

"Sure, you did," she wrapped her slender fingers around the throat of the glass and brought it to her mouth to sip on the cheap wine. After taking a few large gulps, she placed it back down. "Speaking of hunters, are you related to the one who shot you?"

The male hesitated a bit before answering the question, his eyes averted to the other side of the bar where a small stage was set up along with musical equipment and few scrappy chairs for the audience. "We have some degree of...rapport." He trailed off.

"Lovely," the witch murmured under her nose, quite disappointed by the lack of response she received.

Silence fell above them, thickening the layers of tension in the atmosphere. After a moment of contemplating, the man looked back at her and rested his gaze on her face for the short amount of two seconds before vacating the seat.

"Well, if that's everything you had for saying," he winced upon raising on his feet, the sharp pain in his knee coursing all over his body. Though, the witch did her best to seal the wound, it still wasn't enough for it to be cured completely. "I shall take my leave."

Her pupils bulged and she quickly trotted after him, "you can't just leave like that – "she stammered. "I have to bring you to my coven first."

"Sounds like something I won't like," he smiled briefly at her before taking the way downstairs.

"The magic realm should be warned of your existence." She argued back, following him down the bar and out the empty street.

The chilly air hit her in the face, causing the witch to coddle her arms around her delicate frame as she continued to chase the man.

"And what if I don't want them to know I'm alive?" He took an abrupt turn, nearly making her stumble over him.

"This goes against the rules." The witch explained after returning her balance, the liquid that flew in her blood making the process of standing a little arduous.

Just like humans, they had rules and guidelines of their own that should be followed strictly and unconditionally. By hiding the man's identity, she risked her own reputation as a coven witch.

"Ah, the rules," he clicked his tongue. Now that they'd left the bar, he seemed much sober and energetic than ever before. "They're none of my concern."

Right after saying that, the angel rotated and picked up his pace down the hollow alleys of Seoul city.

"Can I at least have your name?" The witch yelled, but the words fell on deaf ears because her savior was gone.

♧hello, darlings! How's the story going so far? Are you interested? Please, leave your comments and votes🥰♧