It was dark, yet stars littered the sky. I saw the full moon above us, hovering like a spotlight shining on the stage with its pure white splendor. The rooftop was the stage, and its actors were... us. But for now, there was only me. I didn’t see Kim Suho or Chae Nayun. Perhaps I had arrived too early. Wasn’t it good manners to show up an hour before the meeting?

As the first to arrive, I began to count the stars while I waited. The schedule for the meetup was set for 4 o’clock, but Kim Suho had decided to change the time to 7 o’clock, which I had no complaints about. I found it curious, though. I had been waiting since 6 o’clock, and almost 30 minutes had passed.

I heard the door opening behind me. I dared not look. If it was Chae Nayun, I didn’t want to risk provoking her. After a few more minutes of waiting, another person arrived on the rooftop. I turned around, and the last to arrive was Chae Nayun, barely 5 minutes before our agreed time.

Kim Suho, Chae Nayun, and me.

These three would decide the future. From here, a lot of changes would happen.

“Let’s talk,” I said, eager to dig my figuratively hungry fangs into their trust and consume it raw for my own nourishment. “Will the two of you please hear me out first…” I began.

The two, Chae Nayun and Kim Suho, grew apprehensive at my words. Both of them already had weapons in their hands, which was understandable. It seemed they were looking warily at me, but that wasn’t entirely the case.

I sensed from their gazes—and the space between them—that they were just as wary of each other.

That was how frightful the existence of a Devil could be. I feared that even the regressed Chae Nayun, in her current state, stood no chance against one. Someday, Kim Suho might, but right now, he wasn’t at that level yet.

“Where are your daggers, Hyon Hyung?” Kim Suho addressed me by my full name, his tone steady but laced with skepticism.

“I am weak. There is no use. So… Since none of you want to start, can I?” I replied, feeling the weight of their scrutiny.

Chae Nayun was the first to voice her doubts. “No, we cannot hear anything that you might say. Devils are manipulative creatures capable of lying in a way that makes you think they are speaking the truth."

Yeah, Nayun should know. I recalled her history with the Devil’s Seed, how her big brother had been so convincingly disguised as the original. It had been a deception so deep that it tore at the fabric of their bond. I could see the shadows of that pain lurking behind her wary gaze.

It was the same for Suho, who had witnessed the darkness firsthand in the otherworld of his past life. I didn’t know the full story of Kim Suho, but I sensed he understood what a Devil was capable of, especially without the disguise, considering the ultimate fate of Akatrina.

“Please listen to me... If I cannot convince you with words, then I can forfeit my life!” I declared, my voice steady. It would take this much resolve if I wanted to get through to them. I might be in a pinch, but I saw this as an opportunity. In every crisis, there was a chance for something greater.

I had two very different existences before me—a Transmigrator and a Regressor. The former came from another world and reincarnated here as a new person, while the latter returned to her past from a different time.

I only needed to win over one of them, and the other would have no choice but to comply.

Kim Suho’s brows furrowed, his grip on his weapon loosening just a fraction. “You don’t understand what you’re saying, Hyon Hyung. Sacrificing yourself won’t prove anything.”

“Perhaps not, but it will show you my sincerity. A Devil can’t afford to let anyone see their weaknesses, and I’m laying mine bare before you,” I pressed, my heart pounding in my chest. “If I die here, it means you can trust me. If I truly am a Devil, then I have nothing to gain from this.”

Chae Nayun shifted uneasily, her weapon lowering slightly. “And if this is just another trick?”

“Then you’ll have no reason to worry about me anymore. If I can’t convince you, then my life is meaningless. I’m offering it as a testament to my honesty,” I stated, letting the desperation seep into my voice.

The silence that followed felt heavy, like the weight of the stars pressing down on us. I could see the gears turning in Suho's mind. He hesitated, glancing at Nayun. “How can we trust you?”

“Akatrina,” I muttered, keeping my gaze locked on Suho. “I was there… Knight Eren…” I addressed him by his past life's name, hoping to pull him deeper into my web of half-truths.

I could briefly recall the short story about young Eren, Kim Suho’s past life. It was a time when he was but a budding knight, full of ambition and dreams. This would serve as the core of my lies.

Kim Suho’s eyes trembled, and his grip on his sword continued to tighten. “Who are you?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

He was buying my lie.

I resisted the urge to smile, afraid that he might see through my deception. “I was your fan. I know you... That’s all…” I uttered, pulling out the age-old excuse of being a devoted admirer, which worked wonders. “Also, Prihi is shit…”

The tension in Kim Suho’s expression shifted as confusion receded, replaced by an awkward smile at the insult directed toward his past life’s liege. I caught an inaudible sigh of relief escape his lips.

“Prihi…” he echoed, a hint of nostalgia coloring his tone. “She was… complicated.”

“Exactly,” I replied, emboldened by his momentary lapse in vigilance. “Did you remember betraying her?”

“No, that’s not what happened,” Kim Suho said, his brow furrowing in concentration as he overthought the scenario. His mind was clearly spinning, connecting scattered dots, trying to decipher the pieces of this odd puzzle. I could see it on his face—the inevitable conclusion was dawning on him. He was starting to suspect that I, too, was a Transmigrator. The thought was almost laughable. How many Transmigrators could there possibly be?

“Are you an orphan from the temple? No, maybe a knight?” Suho’s questions came in rapid-fire as if he were trying to make sense of it all before the moment slipped away.

Meanwhile, Chae Nayun, standing beside him, looked utterly lost. “Akatrina? Orphan? Temple? What the hell are you talking about, Suho?” Her confusion was palpable. She had no frame of reference for any of this. To her, these words were just nonsensical jargon thrown into the mix.

But Suho wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He and I were locked in a different world—a world built from his memories of Akatrina, and from my lies and manipulations.

In this world, Kim Suho had a family, people he never mentioned in the novel: a father and mother who lived quietly in some rural province, far removed from the events that shaped him into the person he is today.

Stolen story; please report.

However, in Akatrina, he had a vastly different life.

Our gazes met, and at that moment, I knew we were testing each other, searching for the cracks in our respective truths. His eyes were sharp, analyzing every word, every twitch of my expression. He was trying to figure me out—who I really was.

“I trust you,” Suho finally declared, his voice steady.

That was all I needed. I nodded, pretending gratitude for his response. It was easier for him to conclude it this way. To him, people who Transmigrated carried over certain aspects of their past selves—physical traits, skills, and even memories. He assumed I knew his past life because I had recognized his face from that time.

This was the flaw in his thinking, though—Transmigrators often saw things in patterns. He couldn’t fathom that I might just know more than I should for other reasons. In his mind, there was no way I could be a Devil. After all, even Devils couldn’t tamper with Transmigrated souls.

The truth was, I wasn’t even close to being a Devil. I lacked the power, the wealth, the influence that a Devil would crave. My potential was minimal, my existence insignificant to those higher beings. Suho couldn’t help but see it too—my specs were laughable at best. There was nothing about me that screamed danger, just a deeper knowledge than anyone should have at this point in time.

And yet, here we were, bound together by suspicion and trust, all because of one word—‘Devil.’ It had sparked this confrontation, pulling us into this strange dance of deception and misdirection. I had played my part well, and now I had Suho’s trust.

But the real game was just beginning.

“Thank you, Suho…” I said, trying to ease the tension, though the storm was far from over. “We should talk about this some other time.” My attention then shifted to Chae Nayun, whose guarded expression betrayed more than words ever could. “Chae Nayun-ssi… Will you kindly explain yourself? How do you know about the existence of Devils? If Suho’s vouching for me, who’s vouching for you?”

Kim Suho’s grip on his sword tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced warily at her, ready for any sudden movement. The rooftop seemed to shrink under the weight of the atmosphere. The stars above had dimmed, or maybe it was just the feeling of unease making them seem so distant.

Chae Nayun hesitated, caught off guard by the question. I could see her mind working, searching for a way out, and in the end, she settled on a half-truth—enough to protect her secret but still believable. “Devil’s Seed,” she said, her voice quieter, almost like a confession. “My brother… is afflicted with the Devil’s Seed. After incubation, a Devil will be born. My brother will become a Devil…”

The weight of those words hung heavy in the air. I watched her, recognizing the pain etched into every line of her face. She wasn’t just lying; she was inflicting damage on herself to protect her real secret—her Regression. She could have used that to justify her knowledge of Devils, but instead, she chose to let this painful truth about her brother tear at her.

Kim Suho’s stance faltered. His sword lowered, and his eyes softened with sympathy. “Nayun…” His voice was gentle, filled with concern, as if he wanted to reach out to her, but she refused to let him. “I’m sorry,” Suho said, his voice barely above a whisper, but Chae Nayun shook her head, shutting him out.

“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you,” she said, her voice hardening as she looked between us, “but you have my trust, Suho.” Her smile was bitter, a fragile attempt at keeping her composure. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and made her way toward the rooftop door, her back to us. “The only person who can vouch for me is myself, so either take it or leave it.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving just me and Suho in the now eerily quiet night. The stars were still there, but they felt farther away than ever before.

I am a liar, a deceiver, a trickster. I was probably going to hell for this… but I guessed I was the Loki of this story. Standing there, alone with Kim Suho under the vast night sky, the weight of my own deception pressed on my shoulders, yet a part of me reveled in it.

Hopefully, the drama would end here… but deep down, I knew I carried more drama within me than I could handle.

“Heh~ this is awkward,” Suho said, scratching the back of his head. The nervous gesture was endearing, making him look more like the boyish hero I knew him to be. His unease only fueled the satisfaction growing in me.

I smiled, masking my inner joy. Kim Suho, the sharpest sword in this world, was now within my grasp. I might not be able to wield him however I pleased, but knowing he was there, a powerful ally by my side, gave me a sense of security I hadn’t felt since arriving in this world of swords and magic. The relief was almost intoxicating.

“You don’t have to be awkward, Savior-nim,” I greeted him, using the same respectful address I had at the train station. My voice held a calmness that belied the chaos in my mind. Kim Suho was more than just a weapon—he was a path to survival.

But I wanted more than just his temporary trust. I wanted something permanent, something that would bind me to him. A connection that would ensure my survival, no matter what.

Without a moment's hesitation, I approached him with a sense of urgency, dropping to my knees with a loud thud. I bent forward, forehead pressing hard against the cold rooftop, my body bowing in a full kowtow. “I BEG OF YOU! PLEASE ACCEPT ME AS YOUR DISCIPLE, SIR!” I cried out, my voice trembling with feigned desperation. My forehead pressed flat against the concrete, and my back bent as low as it could go. I was pulling every dramatic string I had left in me, and deep down, I hated myself for it—but I couldn’t stop.

“Uuhm…” Suho shifted, clearly taken aback by my sudden display. His feet shuffled as he took a step back, unsure of what to do with this strange request.

I slammed my forehead against the ground again, ignoring the sharp sting of pain as my skin bruised. Blood wasn’t flowing like it would in some dramatic anime, but I felt the skin splitting, the slight warmth of red smearing the pavement. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make a point. The pain was real, and so was my desperation.

“PLEASE TEACH ME!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the quiet night. “THERE MUST BE A REASON WHY I AM HERE! I WANT TO FIGHT, SO TEACH ME!”

I was laying it all bare. There was no point in hiding it anymore. I wanted to live, and the only way I saw that happening was by learning from someone like Kim Suho, someone strong enough to stand against the chaos of this world. He was my chance, my lifeline, and I wasn’t going to let him slip away.

The rooftop fell silent again, the only sound was the pounding of my heart in my ears. Suho didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, his mind likely racing with uncertainty.

“I…” Suho hesitated, his voice wavering slightly. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to teach anyone. I’m not…” He trailed off, clearly overwhelmed by my intense display. But I could see the conflict in his eyes, the sympathy that was starting to erode his caution.

In this life, I couldn’t rely on anyone else’s strength but my own. That was why I needed this, why I was willing to debase myself like this. Kim Suho was strong now, but he would grow even stronger in the future. If I could just cling to him, and learn from him… maybe I stood a chance in this world.

“Please…” I whispered, feeling the sting of my own desperation. “I need this.”

I knew I was pushing him to the edge, but I had to. This was my last gamble.

Suho lightly sheathed his sword, the sound of the metal sliding back into place sharp in the heavy silence. His gaze lingered on me, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes. I could feel something shift between us—something breaking before it even had a chance to form.

“While I trust what you said,” Suho began slowly, his voice carrying a weariness I hadn’t expected, “I can’t trust you as a person.” His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. “Maybe it’s nostalgia stopping me from doing the logical thing. I confess to my naivety, but… I don’t want to take a life so needlessly.”

What? My mind reeled, his words echoing in my head, but I couldn’t speak.

He continued, his tone steadier, but tinged with a deep sorrow. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you among Prihi’s cohort, but maybe you’ve been hiding behind the scenes all along. Maybe…” His voice faltered for a second before he pressed on. “Maybe you were the one who summoned the Devil back in Akatrina. Maybe you were just a devil in disguise. Maybe I am wrong.”

Each word felt like a blow, the accusations stinging even though I knew they weren’t true. Yet I couldn’t defend myself, not when I’d already buried myself beneath layers of deceit.

“For all of my ignorance,” he continued, his expression darkening, “I might be letting go of a Devil worshipper.” He closed his eyes briefly, as though grappling with his own memories. “This conversation… it’s dredged up a lot of bad memories for me. Because of this… I resent you, Hyon Hyung.”

The sadness in his voice struck me harder than his suspicion. Suho wasn’t angry—he was hurt. He didn’t trust me, and I could see the weight of his past bearing down on him, clouding his judgment. Yet, despite everything, I knew he still wanted to believe in people. That was who Suho was.

“That’s why I’ll be watching you closely from now on,” he said, the sadness in his tone deepening. “I’m sorry, Hyon Hyung… but my answer to your sincere begging for my guidance is a resounding no.”

My heart sank. I had gambled everything—my pride, my dignity—in the hope that Suho would take me in, but all I’d managed to do was remind him of the darkness he’d been trying to escape from. My desperation had pushed him away instead of drawing him closer.

The rooftop felt colder, and emptier, as Suho’s words settled between us. I had failed.

I may have escaped Chae Nayun’s wrath, but at what cost?