CHAPTER 85: FANSERVICE

"Didn’t you say you disliked attention?"

"From today, I love public attention. I love all mankind. I pity the ones who stray away from the right path, and I worry about the ones who are victims of the evil world. I need to give them whatever I can."

"...."

Yoon Seoyul finally managed to park the car inside the restricted perimeter, though not without difficulty. The caution tape marking the danger zone was the only barrier separating Cheon Areum from the overwhelming tide of fans. Police officers stood shoulder to shoulder along the tape, trying to contain the surfing through the cracks crowd. Even reporters were pushed back as die-hard fans trampled over them—some climbing over barricades and parkouring past obstacles, desperate to get within arm’s reach of Cheon Areum and Yoon Seoyul.

"YOON SEOYUL!!"

"YOON SEOYUL!"

Though the crowd was mostly flooded with Yoon Seoyul’s fans, their voices deafening as they screamed his name at the top of their lungs, the chaos felt oddly focused. Police officers glanced over their shoulders in hesitation, uncertain why the duo had come so close to the crowd—but no one dared stop an S+ Class hunter, and especially not Yoon Seoyul, who was infamous for not listening to anyone.

Beside him, Cheon Areum shook out his hair with a flick of his head, gathering the loose strands into a ponytail. As his fingers twisted the tie around it, a quiet shimmer of darkness radiated from his back. Inky black butterflies emerged, fluttering like delicate extensions of his ominous energy—his signature energy leaking out in beautiful, haunting form.

Everyone’s eyes were immediately drawn to them—those black butterflies fluttering like shadows against the pale sky. Fingers rose, and voices echoed through the crowd as people pointed upward, stunned by the contrast. The snow had stopped falling hours ago, but mounds of white still rested along the sidewalks, gleaming faintly under the soft daylight. Against that peaceful winter backdrop, the butterflies—dark, graceful, and unnatural—stood out like ink on silk, their wings fluttering effortlessly above the dense population below.

But the attention quickly funneled to the true source of the butterflies. Cheon Areum’s delicate features and snow-white skin stole the breath from every onlooker. As he lifted his gaze to the crowd, his rare lavender eyes twinkled beneath long, dark gray lashes. His neckline and ears glinted with serene luxury—purple gemstones and fine silver chains adorning him like royalty. One by one, the voices in the crowd fell silent, dazed by the sheer beauty that stood before them.

Noticing that every eye in the crowd was fixed on him, Cheon Areum formed the shape of an apple between his hands—his movements slow, almost innocent. Lifting the invisible fruit to his lips, he took a small bite of it in the air. In that moment, the shape between his fingers subtly shifted, the apple morphing into a heart.

The people closest to the front instinctively covered their gaping mouths, phones raised to capture the moment. A heavy, awed silence blanketed the scene as Cheon Areum finished his act. And then—like a dam breaking—the crowd erupted into a frenzy of incoherent screams, the silence shattering into wild adoration.

Just as Cheon Areum was about to form a second heart, Yoon Seoyul stepped in, gripping his shoulders firmly and positioning himself in front of him. His tall frame cast a shadow over Cheon Areum as he stared down in stunned disbelief, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and exasperation.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? This is called fanservice. It’s supplementary, so step aside. I need to do the cheek heart next."

Cheon Areum peeked out from behind Yoon Seoyul’s tall frame, lifting the half-formed heart to his cheek with a soft, gentle smile. The dainty gesture, paired with his refined expression, sent another wave of excitement through the crowd. A thunderous roar erupted as the chant shifted—his name echoing louder than ever, rising above even the die-hard fans of Yoon Seoyul.

"CHEON AREUM! CHEON AREUM!!"

Eager to stir the crowd even further, Cheon Areum scanned the perimeter with playful intent as he pinpointed the cameras aimed at him and raised his hand, blowing kisses directly at the lenses ecstatically. But just as another kiss was about to be sent into the commotion, Yoon Seoyul’s hand shot out—snatching Cheon Areum’s wrist mid-motion, cutting the performance short.

"Don’t give them kisses."

Confused, Cheon Areum looked up at Yoon Seoyul, his lips still parted as he blinked repeatedly. But then he saw the unmistakable furrow in his brows. It wasn’t just irritation. His dark eyes brimmed with umbrage. He was truly upset—not the cold, detached kind of upset, but the sort that burned quietly, inwardly.

"You can have the kisses then."

Cheon Areum muttered faintly, his voice barely audible over the pounding excitement around them, before rising onto the tips of his boots. Slipping his arms around Yoon Seoyul’s neck, he drew in close and brushed a feather-light kiss against his lips—full of affection and fleeting, yet enough to send a tremor through the air between them. As their figures remained entwined, a dozen black butterflies danced above their heads like an omen or blessing, catching the rays of the wan sky. The crowd exploded—applause multiplying, then proliferating—until it felt as though the entire district had stirred awake from the uproar.

Yoon Seoyul gazed into Cheon Areum’s eyes, the noise of the world dissolving into stillness as neither dared to blink, as though time itself had paused for them. Their breaths mingled—warm, unhurried—drawn together by an invisible thread. Cheon Areum’s lashes drifted closed, yielding to the tenderness of the moment, just as Yoon Seoyul leaned in—his lips hovering, quivering with restrained longing—before finally melting into the kiss with a hushed, intentional yearning, completely hiding Cheon Areum, presenting the back view of his back.

"Yoon Seoyul! Turn around!"

"Turn around!"

"Turn around!"

The crowd repeated with growing excitement, their voices rising in waves as dozens of phones were lifted into the air—each one desperate to capture the intimate moment on video.