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"My lord, is it alright for you to be here at this time of night?" the messenger worried, walking beside another man of slightly taller stature.
"Of course it is. I rule Seoul, don't I?" the man merely replied, stopping as he felt rain pelt on his pretty yet barely illuminated skin.
The weak street lamps barely did much against the harsh rain that was coming down on the two, who had just gotten out of a black Lamborghini Diablo.
The messenger yelped and the man merely sighed.
"Of all days," he grumbled.
The messenger brought out a book out of nowhere and muttered an incantation, casting an invisible umbrella or some kind of roof over the two.
The book dissipated into a wisp of red as the two walked down the dark streets. No one was around, which was good, considering the two needed to get to their destination without anyone noticing them.
I wonder what would the press do if they saw the king of hell, and basically all of South Korea, go to a quaint little café?
"This café is open until 11 at night, so we should be alright since no one comes to these streets often . . ." The messenger mumbled, guiding his lord to where the café was with a small parchment in his hands.
The café was deep in some of the streets, which is why they couldn't use the car to get there. So they had to walk.
"I heard it's a prime spot for love, so I'll take my chances," The man hummed, boredly looking around the graffitied walls and the open shop windows with no one attending to them.
They finally reached the place, but looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Of course it was clear; it was 10 pm after all.
The man put on a mask that covered half of his face, though it wasn't necessary since anyone would recognise those eyes of his.
They entered the café, acting as if they had just ran through the rain. The messenger had removed the invisible umbrella from above them so their outift would fit their act.
"I'm sorry if you were already closing!" The messenger said, bowing to the only employees there. "We just needed a place to hang out at for a bit . . ."
"No worries! Get a seat and we'll ask for your orders," chirped a young man with glasses behind the counter. Another young man was cleaning the tables.
The messenger and the man nodded, before they found a cozy nook by the large-ish windows of the café.
A girl that hid by the counter went to them, asking for their orders. "What would you like to have, sirs?"
"I'll just have an americano," the man said, not bothering to lower his mask. "And maybe some chocolate cake."
"And I'll have a cheesecake slice with a hot chocolate!" The messenger said.
