Time Skip to weekends
8:30pm
Y/N's POV
I drove us back to his apartment after what felt like an endless day of cameras, lights, and fake smiles. The air in the car was heavy with silence—he'd fallen asleep halfway through the ride, sunglasses hiding half his face, like a statue that didn't belong in real life.
When we got there, he didn't say a word. Just walked ahead, swiped his fingerprint on the door scanner, and went straight to the couch. Threw his jacket somewhere. Collapsed like a king returning to his throne.
I took that as my cue to leave.
I turned toward the door.
"Hey, Witch."
I stopped.
Of course.
"Come here. I need to talk to you."
I didn't move right away. Then sighed and walked a few steps back inside, standing with my arms folded.
Y/N:
"What?"
He looked at me with that unreadable face again—half bored, half something else.
Rabin:
"You need to know the rules in my house."
I blinked.
"Rules?"
Rabin:
"Yeah. Rules. If you're gonna be here, might as well learn them."
He sat up slowly, hands steepled, like he was about to deliver commandments.
Rabin:
"First… don't come through the front door. Use the back entrance. Paparazzi's got eyes all over this building."
Y/N:
"That's not suspicious at all," I muttered.
Rabin:
"Second… I need your phone on. 24/7. Doesn't matter if it's 3 AM. If I call, you answer."
I raised an eyebrow. "Do I get a break? Or am I now your emergency hotline?"
Rabin:
He ignored me.
"Third—check for paparazzi before you leave the building. Every time. I don't want photos of my assistant holding garbage or whatever you do when I'm not watching."
Y/N:
"Wow. You're a treasure."
Rabin (dead serious):
"Fourth. Don't speak to the neighbors. Not the old lady on 4th, not the guy with the dog on 3rd. No one. You work for me, not this building."
I stared at him, arms still folded.
Y/N:
"Anything else, your majesty? Want me to breathe only when you allow it?"
He smirked and leaned back, one hand behind his head.
Rabin:
"Fifth… Don't ever go to that room " he pointed at the room across his bedroom
The air shifted.
My eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
He smiled again.
Rabin:
"Some doors are better left closed."
"Uhh… okay," I said, letting out a slow breath. "Got it. Rules. Noted."
I grabbed my bag from the floor, slung it over my shoulder, and turned toward the door again.
Y/N:
"Well, then. I'll leave you to your… throne. Bye. Goodnight."
He didn't say anything at first.
Just watched me, that same unreadable expression on his face.
Then finally—
Rabin (softly):
"Goodnight, Witch."
I didn't respond. Just twisted the doorknob and stepped out, letting the door close gently behind me.
As I walked down the quiet hallway of his luxury apartment building, I finally exhaled. My hand reached into my hoodie pocket, brushing against my phone.
I pulled it out, thumbing the screen open as I walked through the quiet corridor toward the elevator.
Out of habit, I scrolled through my contacts.
And there it was. A new number had been automatically saved.
Rabin Angeles.
Of course he did that himself. Probably while I was out fetching his overpriced cappuccino this morning.
I stared at the name for a second. It looked so… official. Cold. Like a celebrity brand name, not a real person.
I tapped edit.
Backspace.
Devil Boss.
Yeah, that fits better.
I hit save with a smirk tugging at my lips. A tiny rebellion. Childish? Maybe. But after the list of "house rules," I needed a win.
Just as the elevator dinged and opened, I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
When I finally reached my apartment, the hallway light flickered like always—one of those cheap bulbs the landlord never bothered fixing.
I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and flicked on the switch.
Dark. Silent.
And somehow, it felt normal.
No footsteps. No murmurs from the TV. No clinking dishes in the kitchen. Just the low hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the wall clock.
Of course.
My parents were in another state—off chasing work contracts and board meetings.We hadn't lived together properly in years.
And now… my grandma, the only one who used to stay with me here, had left too. Went to stay with her family for "a short while"—which usually meant months.
So, I was alone again.
In this big, cold house.
I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door and kicked off my shoes, dragging my feet toward the living room. Tossed my bag on the couch. Flopped next to it.
Silence.
I pulled my hoodie tighter around me.
There was something about the quiet after being near him—Rabin—that made it louder. The silence. The stillness.
It wasn't comforting.
It was heavy.
I reached for my phone again and stared at the screen.
DEVIL BOSS.
Last online: typing… stopped… typing again…
I rolled my eyes and locked the screen.
"Get out of my head," I muttered into the empty room.
Ding.
The screen lit up in the dim room, casting a faint glow on my face.
DEVIL BOSS:
Come early tomorrow. Check the schedule.
We leave the house at dawn.
Come at 3 AM.
I stared at the message for a good ten seconds, wondering if I had a concussion from today or if he really just said 3 AM.
Y/N (aloud):
"Bro. That's not morning. That's night with bad intentions."
I flopped back on the couch, letting the phone rest on my chest as I groaned into the cushion.
He could've at least said please.
But no, not the Devil Boss.
Still, a job was a job… and this one happened to come with fame, money, and a potential ticket to blackmail if he ever really messed up.
I sat up again, half-dead, and dragged myself to the fridge to grab some water. The apartment felt even lonelier now. I missed my grandma more than I wanted to admit.
Y/N (softly):
"Guess I'll sleep for like… what? Two hours?"
I glanced at the clock. 10:42 PM.
I had four hours to sleep. Two to actually fall asleep. Zero motivation.
Still, I sighed, headed to my bedroom, and tossed the phone on the bedside table.
Tomorrow, I meet the devil at dawn.
I shot up in bed, gasping.
My chest rose and fell like I'd just escaped drowning. Sweat clung to my back, my hair plastered to my forehead. My shirt stuck to me like I'd run a marathon through a storm.
Again.
The room was dim. The only light came from the streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the wall.
I looked at the clock.
2:08 AM.
Almost time.
But I couldn't move.
Not yet.
I wiped my face with trembling hands, still hearing the echoes of that dream—the same one. The one that kept coming back.
Y/N (whispering):
"Again… againnn… againnnn!"
I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms.
Why…
Why do I only remember his face?
Blurry. Like a camera out of focus.
But still — I know. I know it's him.
Those eyes, cold and unreadable.
That crooked, fake smile.
And someone—some voice—in the dream whispered his name like it was cursed.
"Rabin."
So… it's him, right?
I'm not imagining this.
I'm not crazy.
Am I?
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to steady my breathing. The air felt thick. My skin was still damp from the dream, and my sheets clung to me like vines trying to pull me back down.
It's him.
I'm right.
It has to be him.
But why… why did he feel more like a shadow than a person?
I snapped out of my thoughts, shaking my head hard like it would erase the dream.
"No time for drama," I mumbled, dragging myself out of bed.
I threw open my closet and grabbed a duffle bag from under the bed. My hands moved on autopilot—packing the essentials. Toothbrush. Charger. Hair tie. Light makeup. Extra hoodie. Power bank. Headphones. Emergency chocolate.
Today, we were driving far—out of the city, into the beach somewhere. A location shoot for a music video .. We'd be staying two nights, three days. Away from the city lights. Away from people.
The thought of being alone with him again, far from any backup, made my chest tighten a little.
But I shoved that feeling down.
Professional. Unbothered. Assistant mode ON.
I zipped the bag shut and glanced at the time.
2:36 AM.
Perfect. Just enough time to throw cold water on my face and look like I didn't just fight demons in my sleep.
As I brushed past the window, I paused for a second.
The street outside was silent.
But I could've sworn… someone was standing under the streetlamp earlier.
Now there was nothing.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and grabbed my bag.
"Nope. Not today, Satan. I've got a Devil Boss to deal with."
I locked the door behind me and headed out into the night.
I took a taxi today.
Couldn't risk walking alone in the deep night — not after that nightmare. Not with whatever that feeling was still clinging to my skin.
The driver barely spoke. Just a quiet nod when I gave the address.
By the time I arrived at Rabin's apartment complex, the world was still asleep. Not a single car passed. Just the sound of distant wind brushing against the buildings.
I clutched my bag and made my way around the building. As instructed — no front door.
Just the backdoor.
It felt like sneaking into a stranger's life.
I tapped in the code he sent me. The door clicked open with a soft hum.
The room was cold.
Not just from the AC — this cold felt… heavier. Like the kind you feel in your bones. I stepped inside, the soft sound of my shoes echoing against the marble floor.
No lights were on, just a faint blue glow from a hallway lamp. His apartment was modern, minimal — but somehow, it felt empty. Like no one had lived in it for years. Like a showroom made to look like someone existed here.
I hugged my arms across my chest and whispered into the dimness, "Devil Boss?"
Silence.
I wasn't sure if I was hoping he'd answer… or hoping he wouldn't.
Then—
A soft creak.
Followed by slow footsteps.
Deliberate.
Getting closer.
My heartbeat quickened.
I stood completely still.
And then—
"You're early," his voice finally came, deep and slow
I turned toward the sound.
There he was. Shirtless. Hair still wet from a shower. Barefoot.
Completely unfazed by the cold.
Rabin.
Looking like he walked out of a photoshoot.
But something about his eyes… they looked like they never slept.
I gulped.
Unknowingly.
I swear I didn't mean to. It just—he came out like that , just like from a movie scene, water dripping from his hair, abs looking like they had their own lighting director, and—
Focus.
But it was too late.
He caught me.
Rabin (smirking):
"Miss… are you drooling seeing my packs?"
I blinked hard and immediately turned my head to look anywhere but at him.
Y/N:
"No?! I—I was just wondering why you walk around like you live alone—wait you do live alone, so never mind—ugh."
He chuckled, low and amused. Like he enjoyed watching me malfunction.
Rabin:
"It's okay, witch. I'm used to admiration this early in the morning."
He passed by me slowly, his bare shoulder brushing mine—on purpose.
The scent of mint and something dark—like musk and mystery—lingered in the air behind him.
I rolled my eyes and mumbled under my breath, "Narcissist."
Rabin (without turning around):
"Heard that."
I froze.
How the hell—
He disappeared into the kitchen and poured himself a black coffee like it was a ritual.
Rabin:
"Go pack my things We're leaving in twenty. Car's downstairs. And don't take too long admiring my house—or me."
Y/N:
"Trust me, I've seen scarier things… like your attitude."
He smirked again, sipping his coffee with eyes on me like I was a puzzle he hadn't solved yet.