Deal with Him | Lee Heeseung

2-Don't bark, Cerberus

We do not choose our fates. No one has ever heard of the universe asking about our wishes, consulting us as if asking how many teaspoons of sugar should be added to the tea. No one heard of it because there was never something like that.

Destiny has its own rules, written or unwritten, and we’re all puppets to the world puppeteer. And in this very moment, so it’s Evelyn, who is trying to move a stranger out of her house and go on with her night.

It could never be this easy.

"Sir, dude, Jesus or whatever you like to call yourself," she says. "Please, get the hell out of my house!"

A look of disgust on the man’s face at the last name was projected in such a contemptuous way that confusion replaced the determination on Evelyn’s face.

"Don’t you spell that name!" he warned, still holding a repulsed expression on his face.

She wonders what all of his remarks mean. He had made way too many of them, and she started doubting her first theory—his being one of those crazy stalkers. There was much more to it than she could recall in the fifteen minute period of knowing him.

"I am Heeseung," he says, puffing up his chest and holding a high smile. "At least,  for you," he adds.

'Heeseung,’ she repeats the name in her mind, pinning it in the chambers of her brain like precious information.

"Alright," she speaks with venom, "Heeseung." Evelyn continues, somewhat close to bold, "What are you doing here? What could you ever want from me?" Her eyes are narrowed, yet he is showing nothing but excitement.

"And she finally asked it,"—he sighs—"Took you long enough, butterfly."

She obligates herself not to comment on the unrequested nicknames, and, in all that time, Heeseung holds the very same amused look.

"I am here for something that your precious heart wishes the most." He lowers his voice an octave. "Let me get myself clearer, what you truly and undeniably desire."

"Would you speak clearly for once?" Fumed with annoyance, she asked, more as a command rather than a wonder.

He closes up the narrow space between the two of them and grabs her by the shoulders, firmly enough that when she tries to squirm, she is disappointed.

"And you’re such a smart girl"—he exhales in false disappointment—"I thought you would’ve got it by now."

"I am a demon, as you call me," he pauses, letting the information sink in, "although I like to give myself a more pleasing name, the Devil of Desire," he tells her, fixing his eyes on the girl sternly. "It is, after all, my un-heavenly title."

Evelyn’s expression at that precise moment portrayed her looking like she had just been slumped in the abyss and then lifted up right back.

"Is this a sick joke to you?" Her voice holds the usual icy tone.

"See, we can’t do this if you don’t believe me, and, truly, I don’t have time to prove myself. How about you think a little about my arrival and your blue companion?"

She was already thinking about it, but it seemed impossible for his aberration to be true. She knew she wasn’t the best Christian—far from that, for sure—but she didn’t think she would attract a demon out of everything on this planet. Her eyes search the air for logical explanations, but there are none. For the man, there could be, but not for that butterfly coming out of thin air.

"Assuming this is true,"—she lifts her previously cowered head, her mind having tried to work out something rational—"What is the purpose of your sudden visit?"