Deal with Him | Lee Heeseung

2-Don't bark, Cerberus

He smiles, content with her accepting his answer, although only partially, and takes off his hands from her shoulders. In a literal snap of fingers, they are set on her lavender couch.

The trip from the kitchen to the far right side of her living room leaves little doubt of his telling the truth to Evelyn.

She widens her eyes for a brief second but recollects herself before he can notice, staring right at the man who she now knows as Heeseung. She wonders how this name could be attributed to a demon, as he claims he is.

With a hand on the couch’s armrest, the boy (or not a boy) digs his black nails into his chin, supporting his tilted head as he observes Evelyn with a great deal of attention.

"I did like you better when you were on the floor"—his exclamation disappointed
—"but this will do too."

Standing himself straight on the couch, he gazes at her and receives an acidic look directed right back at him. Her distrust of him is obvious, her fear faded
—the only reason for feeling it was the shock—and her lips pursed into an irritated streak.

"The purpose of my visit," he starts, repeating her words, "is actually the purpose of my existence: to fulfil others’ deepest desires. But, you cute butterfly, I will find my desires accomplished as much as you will." He winks mischievously.

Evelyn endures another wave of disarray and takes in another deep, agonising breath.

He seems to ignore her reaction, continuing his monologue, "Do you know what your adorable little wish is?" He waves his arms and, with a rush of wind coming from nowhere, the forgotten presence of the butterfly reclaims its importance.

His question was rhetorical, for he opened his mouth to answer it on his very own, "It is adorable indeed."

"All that your heart wants is a romantic connection, a meaningful and true romantic connection," he says, pinching her delicate nose with his fingers, gaining a gasp and retreat.

Evelyn is quick to protest, with a clear look of disbelief and denial, and something more that is curiosity, "You really are a creep," she scowls, "I don't know how on earth you do all these tricks, but I will politely ask you to leave my house one last time."Her hand crawls to her dress's pockets, searching eagerly for her phone to make the call.

But the hard material doesn’t touch her tips of fingers. Instead of the small device, she touches nothing, a deep ocean of nothing.

Panic and anger collide inside her heart, and she clenches her fists, anticipating what was to come. The phone is between his white fingers, rotating it playfully in the air.

"Oh, my apologies!" He hoists the phone above his head. "You must be looking for this," he concludes, bringing it up to her nose, almost ragging her, his smile losing its friendly tone.

Just as her fingers brush the metal, he pulls away, and with that, she steps on his foot, pressing aggressively on his loafers.

‘Screw him,' her voice echoes through her head.

But life didn’t screw him while he was not letting out even a single low whimper of pain or discomfort, it didn’t screw him while he was standing there amused as if going to a comedy piece at the theatre, and it didn’t screw him while he put her in the trance once again with a bored motion of hand.

"As endearing as you are," his words are fragmented as he gets up and looks her down before resuming, "It is our time to talk about serious business now."

He pets her hair, and she tries to move, in vain, for her body is yet another time stuck. Pouting, he goes on, "But we will have enough time for you to delight me with your acts of rebellion." Finishing off his sentence, he fills the air with a chuckle and a shake of the head.