fin.
i won't admit it (i'll keep screaming til i rot)Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the mind.
Cultivating feelings and emotions are not so dissimilar to the flowers Minji tends to. When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower; the same could be said of the energy she harvests from her human of choice. Fostering those connections is often a thankless task, but Minji doesn’t mind.
(She doesn’t mind when it’s Yubin, at least.)
Lee Yubin is full of secrets, an absolute enigma, and Minji drives herself so wholly crazy just trying to decipher everything about her. What horrors hide behind the ex-military woman’s haunted eyes? Why is Bora so protective of her, when a year prior, the older tattoo artist gave no indication of ever knowing whispers of Yubin’s name? For what reason is the friendship between Yubin and Yoohyeon so strained? Minji doesn’t know the answer to these questions, but she desperately wishes she did. The florist simply cannot stand the mysteries that shroud Lee Yubin.
There is more that bugs Minji about Yubin than just the unknowns, however. She isn’t sure if the tattoo artist is simply playing hard to get, or if her distrust of the florist is a much more complex matter.
( “A friend, huh? I’m not sure why you’d want to waste your time with someone like that.”
“Someone like who?”
“Me.” )
The conversation plays over and over in Minji’s head, like a broken record. She’s taken it to be a potentially sensitive topic for the tattoo artist, so the older woman hasn’t brought it up ever since. Yubin doesn’t seem interested in making friends - at least, not with just anyone - and initially, Minji worried that choosing to harvest her energy from the tattoo artist would be a mistake. Her theory has since then been disproved, however, when Yubin showed up at the flower shop just the next day under the guise of concern for a first-time client. Evidently, she hasn’t scared the human off just yet.
Although she likes to bring by a bouquet of carefully-curated flowers to the tattoo parlor every so often, she can’t quite justify making the trip this week, given the fact that the shop is experiencing an overflow of bouquet commissions, from paying customers. The most recent batch of baby’s breath is blossoming beautifully, making up a large portion of her current stock; what with the slew of summer weddings, its popularity is not so difficult to understand. The generalized symbolism attached to the flowers of everlasting love is a nice sentiment, but never one Minji has personally felt towards another person. Her romantic life doesn’t usually last past a few uneventful dates and hook-ups that all too easily turn into one-night stands, neither of which being a sustainable model of forming relationships. If she’s lucky, the energy she out of her partner isn’t as stale as the she receives from them before Minji promptly abandons the unfortunate soul in a random Seoul hotel room.
Her train of thought is suddenly broken by the sound of incessant ringing. Minji delicately sets her watering can aside and carefully plasters a welcoming smile on her face. Recognition flickers across her features as she locks eyes with the new guest in her shop, though it takes a conscious effort to keep her mild disappointment from showing. “Fancy seeing you here, Bora.” Although she’s not displeased with the appearance of her old friend, Minji can’t help but wish it was someone else. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Bora, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be in the mood for exchanging pleasantries. “Minji,” she greets flatly. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” the tattoo artist heaves out an impressive sigh. Despite her younger age, the look in her eyes is that of a tired parent well beyond Minji’s years. “What exactly are your intentions with Yubin? You’re getting awfully close.”
“I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘awfully close’. You weren’t exaggerating when you mentioned she wasn’t a people-person,” the florist muses out loud in response. “My question is, why are you so concerned?” Bora’s pointed look of ‘you’re dodging the question’ causes Minji to sigh. “For your information, I am simply trying to befriend her. Is that such a terrible crime?”
“I know you, Minji. You don’t do friends,” Bora argues, crossing her arms over her chest. “You clearly want something from her. And I’m warning you, if she gets hurt because of you, I will make sure that you regret it. Quit while you’re ahead.”
“You’re her boss, not her mother. I don’t think you’re in any position to be worrying about how a grown adult makes her own decisions.” Annoyance, and perhaps even a little bit of a threat creeps into Minji’s tone, despite her best attempts to mask her emotions. “I respect our friendship, but I will do as I please. Now, if you have no further business to discuss, I’d like to ask that you leave,” she forces a smile. “I am a very busy woman, and these bouquets won’t arrange themselves.”
For a moment, Bora hesitates, as if she’s going to stand her ground in a display of all-too-familiar, and just as annoying stubbornness, but the smaller woman’s posture deflates in resignation. “Fine. But I hope you’re ready to accept the consequences of your actions if things go south,” she warns. Just as soon as she had appeared, Bora vanishes with the same brevity. Within moments, the tattoo artist disappears from view of the flower shop’s windows.
For several seconds, Minji finds herself staring at the door, eyes lingering on where her friend stood in her shop. The silence unnerves her, so she turns on the radio sitting crookedly atop the front desk. Minji returns to tending to her stock of flowers, while the swing of instrumental jazz gently fills the air.
Bora’s warning rings in the deepest recesses of her mind, but the florist finds it rather easy to ignore while she works. Her friendship with Bora is not going to stop her from seeking out Yubin tonight, or tomorrow, or any day after that. She is not one to give up her new energy source easily, much less for something as trivial as human emotion. As her phone lights up with a new text, a smile curls on her lips.
[ Lee Yubin, 16:08 ]
you’re still coming over for dinner, right?
Minji doesn't need to open her eyes and perceive the darkness blanketing the surrounding area to know that it's some ungodly hour of the morning, but her eyes snap open, regardless. The smack of limbs against her own and a pitiful whimper tell her beyond enough to gauge the situation at hand - her heart sinks at the sight of Yubin, wrestling with imaginary demons beside her.
Dates don’t usually end up with Minji in her partner’s bed, not unless there’s some expectation of or something equally important to cultivating a deeper relationship. Bora would certainly kill her if she knew that Yubin’s mystery visitor was their next-door neighbor with a complicated history, and she doesn’t quite know what possessed her to agree with the notion of sleeping in the tattoo artist’s bed when their relationship is just barely scratching the surface; but alas, it nonetheless happens. Minji likes her beauty sleep - especially detests rude awakenings, and doesn't hesitate to snap at those who dare disturb her slumber - but it's different with Yubin.
(Of course it's different with Yubin.)
An unsettling feeling of negativity wells up from deep inside of her, and she near instantaneously understands. Yubin must be having another nightmare, if her scarce mumbling and erratic movements are any indication.
In a way, Minji hates seeing her like this.
Of course it's upsetting to watch someone's trauma unfold before your eyes, but the real reason she detests it is because of the energy it generates, energy that Minji unintentionally feasts on. Emotions are more potent than most people realize. Happiness, longing, even feelings of lust are incredibly appetizing for a succubus. But she automatically feeds on the less desirable emotions, too - sorrow, fear, hatred. They leave an especially bitter taste in ; almost strong enough to trigger her gag reflex, yet all she really tastes is a build-up of bile in . She absolutely detests it, though that doesn't stop the succubus within her from feeding, nonetheless.
(Some nights, she wonders if the made-up demons Yubin fends off in her dreams could be her instead. Perhaps they aren't figments of her imagination, but rather the real demon sleeping in her bed right beside her.)
Minji thinks she's going to be sick.
The florist shoves the bile back down , knowing that she is hardly in any position to be complaining when Yubin so clearly is suffering in her sleep, and instead works out a plan to wake the tattoo artist. She suspects most of her concern is just pity for the ex-military woman - how could you not pity someone haunted by ghosts of the past? - but Minji decides it doesn’t matter in the moment, gently touching Yubin’s shoulder. If she has to feed on any more of the tattoo artist’s negative energy, Minji might actually throw up.
"Yubin?" Minji tries in a soft voice, tone barely above a whisper. She's plenty aware that being too rough with her motions will only make the situation worse for Yubin, so she doesn't do much else besides lightly push against her upper arm. "Yubin, wake up."
Even for as gentle as Minji tries to be, her efforts are seemingly all for naught, because Yubin still reacts based on her instincts. The woman jolts upwards, and nearly knocks the florist's lights out with her fist, if not for Minji jerking her head to the side. "W-whoa! Hey, it's just me," she placates while flashing open palms at the tattoo artist. "I-I'm not trying to hurt you."
Yubin’s shoulders, and her entire body posture, altogether deflate. Minji isn’t sure if it’s out of relief, or exhaustion - either way, the florist can’t help another poorly-suppressed swell of pity in her chest for the younger woman. However unlikely a response of positivity would be, Minji feels obligated to ask, regardless. “Do you want to talk about it?”
As expected, the younger woman vigorously shakes her head, remaining nonverbal. With a barely audible sigh, she gently pats the mattress in order to coax Yubin back to a more comfortable position. Much to her relief, the waves of negativity noticeably dwindle with each soothing motion of Minji’s fingers delicately carding through the tattoo artist’s dark locks. The haunted look in Yubin’s eyes lingers in the forefront of Minji’s mind, even long after the human finally manages to fall asleep once more. Minji keeps her gaze trained on the wall, unable to bring herself to let sleep claim her.
For the rest of the early morning, she ponders the stubbornness of the human emotions brewing in her head, confused and even a little concerned of where they’d come from in the first place.
Is there something wrong with me?
“Surprise!” A cheery voice greets, one that Minji recognizes as her own blood, Kim Yoohyeon. On any other day, she would be ecstatic to see her sister, she might welcome it even - but not today. Today is supposed to be more precious alone time with Yubin.
(She might even venture to call it a date, though she’s unsure if Yubin would approve of that.)
Yoohyeon is many things to Minji. A lovely sister, on occasions even a friend to confide in, someone that she shares many secrets with. She loves Yoohyeon with all her heart (although many would dispute the fact of succubi having human hearts, but she digresses).
Right now, though, Yoohyeon is a wrecking ball of unpredictability, and Minji needs her to leave before she accidentally damages Minji’s friendship with Yubin, which is about as structurally sound as a fractured teapot of porcelain. The last thing Minji needs is for the younger succubus to ruin that for her.
“Hyeon, isn’t that the girl from high school? The one you were leading on?” Minji feels herself pale at the second, less familiar voice. “What was her name again… Soobin? Yujin?”
If Yoohyeon was the only one that had shown up unannounced, Minji would be a little annoyed, but that would at least be manageable in terms of damage control. No, the trouble ultimately stems from Yoohyeon's romantic partner of choice. (One that she doesn't quite approve of, but Minji digresses.)
“It’s…Yubin,” Yoohyeon corrects, having the decency to look exasperated as she fixes her girlfriend with a stare of metaphorical daggers. The message is clear; ‘please shut up’. “Her name is Yubin.”
Minji has incredibly mixed feelings in regards to Han Dong, one of the few humans that is fully aware of their shared hereditary secret. In many ways, Dong is very much a middle child - younger than Minji, older than Yoohyeon, and yet she manages to squeeze herself into their unruly dynamic, like epoxy glue pooled in the cracks of ill-fitting puzzle pieces. Annoying, but not too annoying. Han Dong is not terribly helpful, but at the same time is far from useless to either sister. She's aware that there are very few humans in the world who are not only conscientious of the presence of succubi, but also openly volunteer their own emotions and energy for feeding purposes - although, her very niche purpose as Yoohyeon's girlfriend has somewhat caused Dong's ego to expand beyond the realm of tolerable, and it pisses Minji off to no end.
“You led her on?” Minji can’t help the utter incredulity in her tone. “You’ve been friends with her for almost two decades and you led her on?”
“I-I didn’t- what?! We weren’t even a thing!”
She wants nothing but to slam the door in Dong’s face and pull Yoohyeon aside, but she can’t exactly do that with Yubin present. She has to at least pretend like she’s a well-behaved person in the face of unprecedented conflict, so Minji forces a smile and lowers her voice. “Yoohyeon, would you care to explain what you’re doing here?” Her eyes briefly flicker in Yubin’s direction, before they settle back on her younger sister. In a half-whisper, half-hissed message, she adds, “As lovely as it is to see you again, you are interrupting my date.”
“Date?!” Yoohyeon’s parroting of the word especially grates on Minji’s ears with how loud it is, loud enough that Yubin glances between the two of them suspiciously. The older succubus offers her an apologetic smile, which almost immediately drops from her face once she turns back to Yoohyeon. “Yes, I am supposed to be alone with her. Now I’d like to politely ask that you both leave before your human further demoralizes mine.”
“But-”
“Now,” the succubus replies firmly, the edge of an inhuman growl creeping into her tone. An unsettling glow of crimson to her usually kind irises thankfully conveys the thinly-veiled warning that finally makes Yoohyeon understand. “There’s plenty of things to do with your girlfriend around Seoul, and I’m positive that most of them aren’t supposed to include your sister. Or your ex, apparently.”
“She’s not my-” Yoohyeon’s protest abruptly comes to a halt when Minji’s glare intensifies. Like a dog with its tail between its legs, the younger succubus relents, stepping back towards the entrance of the flower shop. “Fine. Have fun with your…date.”
Minji watches her sister disappear with Dong in tow, although her eyes stay trained on their receding figures until she’s certain they’re both at least fifty feet from the front door of the flower shop. A long sigh parts from her lungs, and for a moment, Minji forgets of the mostly silent presence that is Lee Yubin.
“What was that about?” The tattoo artist comments, dispelling the tension that once occupied the aromatic air of the flower shop. Dong’s high school revelation must still be lingering in Yubin’s mind, given the slightest quiver to the human’s voice, but Minji chooses not to address it. Yubin is trying her hardest to limit the reach and expression of her feelings towards Yoohyeon’s evident betrayal (do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? Minji doesn’t think so. That's what makes the betrayal hurt so much), but that doesn’t mean that the succubus can’t taste the bitter emotion. It’s a secondary sensation, like the smell of burning casserole wafting through every doorway of her childhood home.
“I’m not quite sure, frankly,” Minji offers a shrug, outputting a nonchalant expression as she wracks her brain for a suitable excuse. “I wasn’t expecting them to drop by, but…” Suddenly, a metaphorical light bulb goes off in her head. “Oh, right. Yoohyeon was asking about things to do in the area, since she’s somewhat unfamiliar with Seoul. I told her she should take her girlfriend on a date downtown.”
“Oh.” Yubin seems to accept the explanation, albeit Minji can’t help but notice the younger woman’s expression turn crestfallen, if only for a moment, before she masks it with a neutral countenance. The corners of Minji’s lips turn downwards in a vague frown, unsure why the look of longing bothers her so much, however quickly it passes. “Makes sense, I guess.” There’s a touch of bitterness to Yubin’s tone. Though she desperately wishes to satisfy her curiosity, Minji doesn’t press the tattoo artist for details. (She has to keep some of the mystery to uncover on her own, Minji rationalizes.)
“Anyways, sorry to keep you waiting. Here are the flowers you asked for,” the florist clears , dressing her expression up with as genuine a smile she can muster. She presents a bouquet to the tattoo artist. “Pink carnations,” she offers, before Yubin can properly ask about the flowers.
“These are…your favorite, right?” The tattoo artist ventures, if a bit hesitantly, as if afraid of being wrong in her assumption. “Y-you said they were… that time I came to your shop when- yeah…”
“I’m surprised you remembered that,” Minji comments. Her smile feels a little less manufactured, and more like a natural reaction at the small anecdote. “Do you remember what they mean?”
Yubin pauses, as if deep in thought. Then:
“I won’t forget you.”
Minji’s smile widens a little more.
“Are you rich?”
The question certainly isn’t one that Minji expects. For a moment, the pain of the inked implement against her thigh burns with a pain she’s doubly unprepared for. She masks her wince with a confused look. “What?”
Yubin shrugs, lifting the wooden tool to once again dip it in the well of black liquid beside the chair. “I don’t know. I just figured your flower sales wouldn’t be enough to cover the costs of your tattoos, for how often you’re in here.” Another pause of silence. “So, what is it? Side hustle? Trust fund baby? Family friend discount from Bora-unnie?”
(Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants. Minji supposes, in that sense, she is some form of rich, although it probably isn’t an answer that will exactly satisfy Yubin’s curiosity.)
By that point, Minji has had enough time to recover from the question out of left field. “None of the above,” she chuckles out loud. “I don’t know why you’d be surprised with how much business I get from the flower shop. We’re quite popular with many crowds, I’ll have you know.”
Yubin, Minji has noticed, becomes the most inquisitive when deeply immersed in her work. The succubus finds herself telling her artist all sorts of things about herself, even things she’s never voiced to her own sister - aside from the most important of secrets, of course. Yubin certainly doesn’t need to know that she’s unwittingly become an energy source for the florist.
“I just think it’s strange how much you’re booking at the studio, I suppose. Even our wealthier clients don’t come in as often as you do, Minji-unnie.” Another sting of the pointed tip carving lines in her skin. “There’s also the matter of you refusing to book with Bora-unnie. Even when I’m not tattooing, you exclusively spend a large portion of your time with me. So, what’s really going on?”
Minji is usually the one deciphering people of interest around her; dissecting, building up and breaking down any human of her choice. To be put under the microscope - a taste of her own medicine, as Yoohyeon might say - is an unsettling experience, to say in the least. She prefers to keep her own mystery and charm while she scrutinizes every last detail about her target, and Minji certainly doesn’t like being beaten at her own game. Secrets are dark things. They don’t exist in the light. They glow faintly in forgotten corners, in mysterious mind-nooks, in lost memory maps. Secrets are the shadows of the soul - and it would be an understatement to say that she wasn’t ready to bare her soul to a human of all people. The florist fixes Yubin with one of her trademark enigmatic smiles once she properly composes herself. “I already told you when we first met, Yubin. Surely you remember that?”
“Last I checked, friends are supposed to congregate outside of work hours.”
“It isn’t my fault you work yourself into the ground, Yubin.”
Yubin sighs, setting her implement down and turning to fully face Minji. “Look. I’m not going to stop you from throwing money at me, and I get that you want to be friends. But you’re going about it in a really weird way, and borderline stalking me is not going to make me like you more.”
Stalking? Have I been…stalking her? Minji’s brow furrows, frown returning to her countenance at the thought. “That…was not my intention. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” She holds eye contact with the tattoo artist for several moments more, until Yubin breaks away. “Would you prefer it if I stopped coming by?”
“I-I didn’t say that,” Yubin mumbles, cheeks notably dusted a light shade of peach. Though she doesn’t openly admit it, it’s one of Minji’s favorite expressions on the younger woman. All the boyish charm in the world simply can’t match the satisfaction of a flustered Lee Yubin. “Just… maybe do it less. It’s bad enough that Bora-unnie thinks I’m secretly dating you.”
Minji raises a brow at this. “Would that be so bad?”
The only response she receives is the wooden tool, soaked in ink, cutting deeper into her skin than is probably necessary.
Does she have feelings for Yubin?
The question bounces around inside her skull like a constant stream of echolocation that never quite seems to end. It’s a distracting thought that manages to bleed into just about every task Minji sets out to complete during the remainder of the week.
Feelings, unlike the flowers Minji keeps for company, are a complicated affair for just about every succubus on the planet. Demons such as herself are little good for much else besides drawing out misplaced emotions of lust and affection from their victims and devouring them like a starved animal. Minji isn’t sure succubi are even capable of developing feelings of their own, much less for their main source of energy. (Then again, Yoohyeon claims the love she harbors for Dong is completely authentic, so maybe the theory isn’t too terribly far-fetched.)
White lily. Baby’s breath. Red rose.
For all the flora she cultivates and bestows with symbolism of love, Minji can’t claim to feel even slightly qualified to know or understand the true meanings behind her own products. Minji envies people that know love - that have someone who takes them as they are. She’s never fallen in love with anyone - fallen in lust, maybe - but her experience with innocent romance is few and far between. In several ways, she supposes that makes her quite the hypocrite.
Yubin is a perfect blend of tenderness and rough around the edges. Her diminutive figure is equal parts endearing and concerning; clinically, Yubin has more imperfections than she can physically count, but it also adds to her overall charm. The human is conventionally attractive in all the right ways, and Minji doesn’t hate the idea of pursuing a deeper connection with her.
But does she have feelings for Yubin?
The sudden splash of cold liquid against her fingers lets Minji know she’s moments away from drowning her precious flowers, so she sets down the watering pail before her mental debate can potentially damage the fresh batch of blossoming carnations with its negligence.
She both gladly welcomes and wholly detests the way Yubin so effortlessly occupies her mind at all times. Minji is not an absentminded person by nature; it is the presence of Lee Yubin within her mind that makes the succubus seemingly unaware of everything else. Just being able to get on friendly terms with the tattoo artist has been nothing short of a herculean effort, but even then she’s never obsessed over getting close with a human like she has with Yubin.
You’re going about it in a really weird way, and borderline stalking me is not going to make me like you more.
It’s bad enough that Bora-unnie thinks I’m secretly dating you.
There must be something wrong with Minji. Yubin rots every nook and cranny of her brain without so much as lifting a finger, in a way that a human couldn’t, shouldn’t. The smart move would be to find someone else to fixate on, with decidedly less intensity and stalkerish behavior. The hunt isn’t supposed to control her to such an extreme degree, but it does.
Minji knows it’s too late to turn back. Her sights have been set on Lee Yubin.
(Perhaps they always were from the very beginning.)
The sleek, modernist exterior design of 9 Degrees Tattoo Studio looms in front of her, as if goading her into stepping inside. (Not that Minji needs much incentive to do so.)
True to Yubin’s initial request, Minji has cut down on spontaneous visits to the artist’s workplace. The succubus is certain that no normal person would keep a detailed account of how many visits she should allow herself in the span of a week, nor a dedicated list of bouquets she’s given the younger woman (complete with flower language), but Minji can’t bring herself to really care anymore. She’s probably the furthest thing from normal in recent memory, anyways.
She doesn’t bother with attempting to hide her flowers of choice as she pushes the glass doors open, not that Yubin would take notice of them right away. The tattoo artist tends to have a special sort of tunnel vision, as far as her work is concerned. As expected, Yubin’s head is buried in a messy stack of tracing paper, hunched over the workstation while she creates new flash for future sessions.
“Yubin,” Minji calls out in a sing-song voice, gently clearing as she slows to a stop in front of the ex-military woman. “Miss me?”
“M-Minji-unnie?” The surprised look on Yubin’s countenance never fails to amuse the succubus. It’s a reaction she’s come to expect over the last month or so of impromptu flower deliveries. “How long have you-”
“Not long. I just got here,” the florist interjects with a light chuckle. Cute as ever. “I missed you. It’s been a while.”
The way that Yubin’s face lights up at the comment is not lost on Minji, and it takes a conscious effort to mask her own surprise at the novel expression. That’s certainly new… “You…missed me?” The little smile quirking on Yubin’s lips tastes like homemade macarons, fresh out of the oven. Minji has certainly missed the taste of the human’s more positive emotions. “Really?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” Minji can’t help her own slight pout, sensing no real harm in playing along with the narrative. “I’m sure you can already guess what, but I brought you a gift.” She holds up the fresh bouquet in her hands for Yubin to take, who does, albeit somewhat apprehensively.
“At the rate you give me flowers, I won’t have any space to sleep.”
“Well, there’s always my place if you would prefer that instead,” she quips with a mischievous grin. The comment draws a noticeable blush from the human, but Minji neglects teasing in favor of naming the arrangement in Yubin’s hands. “Red salvias. I picked them yesterday.”
Yubin carefully overturns the bouquet in her hand, as if to examine the petals closer up. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me the meaning?”
“Come now, Yubin. Surely you know how this works by now,” a vixen-esque giggle, “I’ll tell you the next time we meet.”
It’s been a long while since Minji properly fed. The succubus likes to time her feasts for when the positive emotions are ripe for the taking, and now is certainly no exception - perhaps a touch risky in a semi-public space, but her hunger leaves little room for rational thought. She inhales deeply, taking a few steps closer into Yubin’s personal space. Breathing out slowly, she lifts a finger to the edge of Yubin’s jaw, slightly tilting the artist’s head upwards to maintain an almost hypnotic bout of eye contact. “Unless, of course… you don’t want Bora thinking we’re an item?”
As if in a trance, Yubin slowly nods her head. “I don’t care what Bora thinks.”
“Good.” The smile on Minji’s face borders more on sinister, paired with the faint luminescence of her vaguely blood-hued eyes, which makes for a decidedly malevolent combination - straight out of a horror movie, one might argue - but Yubin’s energy is delightfully too tasty for her to bother with stopping. “You seem tired… Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off?” Minji feigns concern, as Yubin slightly sways from side to side with her eyelids beginning to droop. “Here, let me help you.”
Yubin nods thoughtlessly. All previous reservations about their ambiguous relationship leaves her now-vacant mind, allowing the florist to guide her upstairs with little to no resistance.
(The devil does not need to work at all when people are so willing to do her dirty work for her.)
Minji her lips in giddy anticipation.
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