Romance Saja.

The crowd screamed as the Saja Boys took the stage, five silhouettes bathed in flashing lights, hearts pounding across the city in sync with every move. But you didn’t look at the whole group.

Your eyes found him.

Romance.

The softest smile, the smoothest voice, the warmest eyes. The one who sang like love itself was alive and reaching for you. He wore his name like silk, and no one suspected the truth underneath it.

Except you.

You weren’t just another fan. You were sent here. Embedded. Watching.

Because beneath the perfect harmonies and choreographed sweetness, the Saja Boys were demons, charming, dangerous, feeding off emotion and soul fragments with every sold-out show.

And Romance? He was the worst kind. The kind that made you want to fall.

After the concert, you slipped through backstage shadows, ignoring warnings to leave. And when you turned the corner…

There he was.

Leaning against the wall, wiping sweat from his brow, eyes flicking up the second you stepped into view.

“I saw you watching me,” he said, voice soft but amused.

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer, gaze lingering on your lips, then your eyes. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

He smiled. “Like you’re not sure whether to kiss me… or kill me.”

You stiffened. His smile only deepened.

“Let me make it easy for you,” he whispered, “I don’t mind either.”