If Seulgi has ever learned anything in life, it would be two things. One: most ideas Yeri comes up with are surprisingly idiotic, considering her brilliance. Two: Drunk Seulgi never agrees with anything Sober Seulgi thinks, and Yeri’s ideas being idiotic is not an exception.

In fact, Drunk Seulgi loves Yeri’s ideas. Which is exactly how the two of them find themselves in their dorm at two-fifty five in the morning, spilling whiskey all over a wooden board Yeri found in her grandma’s attic last weekend.

A wooden Ouija board, to be precise.

Sober Seulgi told Yeri to burn it down. Drunk Seulgi giggles and snatches it from her hands, eagerly looking it over. “How do we know it works?”

“ if I know,” is her answer as Yeri takes a huge swig straight from the bottle, wincing at the strong burn. “We place our fingers on this small thing and hope for the best.”

“That’s what she said,” Seulgi hiccups. “You ready? We ready?”

Yeri’s enthusiastic nod and the splash of whiskey from the bottle notify her that everyone is more than ready. “Alright,” Seulgi says. “Wait, why are we doing this, again?”

“Cause Halloween, man,” Yeri loudly lets her know, nodding at her own words.

“Oh.” Seulgi thinks for a minute. “True.” She squints at the board. “Is it okay that we spilled whiskey on it?”

Yeri nods.

“Is it okay if I it off?”

Yeri nods again.

So Seulgi does. She drools a little on it, right in the center, but she’s too drunk to care, so she simply wipes it away.

“Hot,” her friend comments with a wide, sloppy grin. “Okay. Gimme those sausages, Kang.”

“Hey!” Seulgi makes two fists, hiding her fingers. “ you. They are not sausages. They are magnificent.”

“As someone who bangs chicks, you’d think you’d learn to appreciate the gift from gods.”

“I’d trade them for a girlfriend,” Seulgi says. “Or Pringles. I’m hungry.”

“Quit dicking around and let’s do this.”

Seulgi doesn’t voice another that’s what she said, but she makes damn sure Yeri gets her train of thought when she waggles her eyebrows at her.

//

All Irene wanted was to come back to her plane of existence and climb in a bathtub. That’s literally all she wanted. She doesn’t even particularly care if there’s going to be water in it. She just likes the concept. Sometimes, humans have the best ideas.

Everything is giving her a headache that day. It’s like the whole universe with every world in it have decided to band together against her. Well. That’s Halloween for her. Despite it becoming a largely commercial holiday, no one cancelled Samhain just because humans decided they wanted to be a Joker once a year.

Vile creature, that man – and she says that as someone who’s viewed as demonic. She’s not actually a demon – that’s common misconception. She’s just an old goddess. Humans know a lot of her names, and none of them can even begin to imagine that she’s the one behind those faces, portrayed grim, evil, and, most offensively, male.

Irene sighs. Her Hades days were certainly the most fun, but the tale’s been twisted so much she’s not sure she enjoys those memories quite in the same way. Oh well. Samhain is almost over. She can finally kick back and relax in a hot tub and maybe open up a bottle of ambrosia she saved for a special occasion. And what could be more special than a night of self-care?

Now, Irene never considered herself particularly lucky. Mostly because Luck and her had a brief affair that did not end well, and she’s been mildly cursed ever since. Nothing she can’t live with, of course – but just a tad inconvenient. She’s certainly learned to cherish small blessings. That’s why, when she feels a tell-tale tug in her gut before being hurled back to a dimension she’s just left, she’s not even surprised. She simply whispers a quick thank you that she hasn’t taken her clothes off yet.

With that, she sighs and lets herself be whisked away back to Earth, wondering with scientific curiosity who could have possibly found out the summoning spell.

///

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

“This seems like a ‘that’s what she said’ moment, but I assure you, she’s never said that.”

Yeri blinks. Reaches for the bottle and pouts when she finds it empty. “Who is she, anyway?”

“ if I know,” Seulgi repeats Yeri’s words from earlier. “And I’m not doing anything wrong. You’re supposed to move this thing,” she gestures to the heart-shaped piece of wood, with a hole in the middle of it that she looks through at Yeri.

“Maybe there’s an instruction or something,” Yeri mutters, grabbing the planchette. Seulgi resists and tugs it back, resulting in Yeri’s forehead colliding with . Hard.

“!” Seulgi exclaims when a droplet of blood falls onto the board from her now-split lip. “Yeri, what the ?”

Her friend only shrugs apologetically. Not even apologetically. In fact, she doesn’t even shrug. “You’re doing it wrong,” she says.

“I do everything right,” Seulgi argues, taking the planchette back. “Sit and watch. And prepare for an I told you so.”

////

Irene blinks when the spinning finally stops and she’s rematerialized in what appears to be a room in a college dormitory. That alone surprises her more than anything that’s happened today. Surely, a college student couldn’t have known all the steps necessary to complete a ritual.

“…prepare for an I told you so,” she catches and turns in the direction of the voice, squinting.

Huh, Korean. Things are taking an interesting turn. She was expecting a bunch of men unsatisfied with life and recent feminist movement. Not two drunk college girls.

She comes closer to get a better look at them, and no, she’s definitely not prepared for what she sees. And what she sees is an angel. An actual angel with a bloody lip and unfocused gaze and a strong alcoholic smell. An angel with blonde tresses and baby brown eyes.

Irene can’t stop herself from letting out the smallest, softest gasp.

She’s immensely grateful for her ability to be invisible.

She’s frozen in place, eyes taking in every inch of the girl’s body when that same voice – and oh, what a voice it is! – addresses the room, husky and low. “Is anyone here with us?”

Irene takes a deep breath, rubs her suddenly cold hands, and hesitantly steps forward, placing her own fingers on the wooden planchette and shakily dragging it to the word “yes”.

/////

“Yeri!” Seulgi yelps, jumping from the board. “Yeri, I did it!”

Yeri, however, does not share her enthusiasm. “Yeah,” she says blankly. “I saw you move it.”

“No, see, see,” with fast slurred speech and disheveled hair, Seulgi more closely resembles a maniac than a bright daughter of two respected surgeons. “I didn’t – Yeri,” she gasps, happy she finally gets a good reason to pause for a dramatic effect. “I didn’t move it,” she finishes in a loud whisper.

Yeri stares at her. And stares. And stares some more before she starts to chuckle, slowly at first. Soon, it escalated into a continuous giggling. “Sure, Seulgi,” she manages to say. “I believe you.”

“But I’m telling the truth!” Seulgi gets suddenly upset. Why doesn’t Yeri believe her?

“And I’m marrying Eric tomorrow. Get real, Kang.” The planchette hits Yeri’s forehead as soon as she’s finished talking.

“See!”

Seulgi’s triumphant yell pales in contrast with Yeri’s terrified scream.

//////

That is very, very loud. Irene does not like loud.

Unless Seulgi likes loud. Then she loves loud.

Right now, however, it’s starting to become a little extreme. So she sighs and waves her hand, silencing the girl whose name is Yeri. She has to admit – watching her try to scream silently is mildly amusing.

But then it scares Seulgi, too. “Who’s here? Who’s doing this?”

She sighs again. Then, she makes her voice audible so that Seulgi can hear her. “You have nothing to fear. My name is Irene. I will give your friend her voice back, but only if she promises not to scream.”

After Yeri’s rigorous nodding, Irene waves her hand again, and the girl coughs, eyes wide and expression sober. “Who – who are you?!”

“Oh,” Irene says, because she hasn’t really thought things this far. “I have many names and positions. I believe you know me as the devil, but I promise you, I’m vastly different from that portrayal.”

Yeri blinks. “Did she just say she’s Satan?”

“I think so,” Seulgi whispers back, and Irene freezes again, watching the way she presses her lips together. How is she so beautiful?

“Does Satan really expect me to believe she’s, what, nice?”

“Well, yes,” Irene speaks up. “That would be a polite thing to do.”

“Oh hell no,” Yeri says. “I don’t play with demons,” she announces, despite the fact that it’s exactly what she’s been doing for the past half an hour. “If you’re nice, tell us how to get rid of you.”

Now it’s Irene’s turn to blink. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she says apologetically. Then her eyes widen with realization. “Oh! You meant get me to leave this room?”

“Yeah. Exactly. How do we do that?”

“Oh, you – you don’t. I can come and go as I please now. That’s the whole point of the summoning spell.”

Seulgi and Yeri look at each other, eyes wide. “The what now?!”

///////

So turns out that while Luck and Irene are not exactly pals, Fate definitely favors her. Through a series of events that they can’t exactly deem either fortunate or unfortunate just yet, Seulgi and Yeri manage to accidentally summon one of the most powerful beings known to man. And that being just happens to fall head over heels for Seulgi.

Yeri finds it weird. Seulgi finds it sweet. And Fate – well, Fate doesn’t find it impossible.

“Irene, dear,” she mumbles around a thin cigarette while Irene broods all over her realm, having just come back from Earth after yet another night with Seulgi, full of talking and laughing and soft unspoken confessions on both ends. “Just take some time off and spend a life with that girl. She’ll join you after it’s over anyway. What’s seventy years to you? A blink of an eye. Besides, have you forgotten how fun it is to grow old?”

So Irene sighs, fishes the best outfit she has out of her memory, and goes back to earth wearing her corporeal form and a pale blue oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up. She faintly recalls Seulgi liking that.

In hindsight, waiting for Seulgi in her room might not have been her best idea, but can she be blamed, really? She got used to it. She just kinda forgot she wasn’t visible all previous times she’s been there.

Seulgi walks through her door a moment later, eyes on her phone. “Irene, I’m home!” she calls out, not looking up as she kicks her shoes off. “You here? Ire- Jesus ing Christ!”

Irene never particularly liked the man, but the profanity still makes her wince. “Hello, Seulgi.”

“Holy ,” Seulgi exhales, pressing a hand to her chest and bending to retrieve her phone that fell out of her grip when she jumped in fright upon finding a stranger sitting on her bed. “Who are you? Damn it, Yeri. I told her to always let me kno- wait a minute.” She stops, blinking. “I know that voice.”

Irene feels her lips stretch in a smile. It’s an incredible feeling. “Hello, Seulgi.” She repeats, rising to her feet and offering her a giant bouquet she retrieves from thin air.

“Oh God,” Seulgi whispers, rapidly blinking sudden tears away. “Irene. Oh my God.”

“Well, technically, yes,” Irene says, “but we can skip the formalities.”

Seulgi’s warm, solid body slams into hers next, and she huffs in surprise, falling down on Seulgi’s bed with the girl on top of her, clinging to her. “Irene,” Seulgi sobs. “You’re here. It’s you. You’re here.” 

“Yes,” she confirms. “I’m here. It’s me.”

Seulgi’s lips on hers feel better than anything she’s ever experienced, and she’s been around for a little longer than eternity. “I can’t believe I’m holding you in my arms,” Seulgi whispers when they part, breathing ragged. “You’re so real. So warm, too. Is that – is that how you really look like?”

“Yes,” she gives another affirmative. “I’m not wearing someone’s body. We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” Seulgi chuckles. “I’m just checking.”

She trails a finger down Irene’s cheek, slow and tender. Irene sees the unspoken question in her eyes. She answers with no hesitation. “I’m here to stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Then that means you’re stuck with me forever.”

Irene laughs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Although I do believe it’s the other way around. Seulgi, I…” she swallows, and Seulgi smoothes her thumb over the skin of where it bobs. “If you ever decide to end our – this, I’ll understand. But I’m afraid I’m a little different.”

“Irene,” Seulgi coos, shushing her. She’s still roaming her hands all over her body, and it’s way less ual than it sounds. She’s simply feeling Irene. And Irene’s completely okay with that. “When I said forever, I knew who I was talking to you. It’s not just a word anymore.” She leans in, pressing another kiss to Irene’s lips. “For us, it’s a reality.”

Irene’s heart soars when she says ‘for us.’ It jumps and stops and restarts, beating so fast she’s afraid it’ll jump out of her chest.

“A reality,” she whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

“And I like your face.” Seulgi squints. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

“I’ve exited for millions of years, Seulgi,” Irene reminds her. “I do not have an opinion on beauty, because it is as made up as it is subjective.”

“A concept can’t be made up and subjective at the same time.”

“Let me correct myself, then. I used to think it was made up.” Her smile grows. “Then I met you.”

“You’re so getting lucky tonight, I hope you know that.” Soft lips capture hers, and Irene gloats.

on this, Luck.