• Ash(POND): "Fell from grace. Landed in love." • Riven(PHUWIN): "Built for battle. Chose tenderness anyway." © TS mushroom PROLOGUE: HELL HR EXIT INTERVIEW Setting: The Infernal Department of Soul Extraction & Eternal Torment (HR Division) Mood: Bureaucratic hellscape meets chaotic resignation letter ⸻ "And you're sure you're resigning from eternal damnation?" Ash(pond) glared at the demon across the desk, who wore a tie made from real screams. "I'm not resigning. I'm taking a break. It's called a sabbatical. Self-care? Heard of it?" The HR demon blinked. "You're a Level Six Incendiary Auditor." "Exactly. I've earned the right to eat ice cream out of a bathtub while crying to K-dramas." "There is no crying in Hell." "Yeah, that's why I'm leaving." He signed the paperwork in his own blood, snapped his fingers, and vanished-leaving behind a scorched chair and a very confused intern

💡 Zach (our Joong-style bubbly himbo), fresh off a mental crash after city life chewed him up and spat him out, joins a small group of friends on an impromptu "healing trip" to a remote mountain area known only through urban legend: Nocturne Ridge. A place supposedly wiped from maps. GPS doesn't work there. Locals say it was swallowed by fog years ago. Some say it still exists, if you take the wrong road on purpose. The group finds it. Or it finds them. It's the kind of place where: • Roads twist back on themselves • You hear things that don't echo right • Time passes sideways ⸻ 👥 The Friend Group: 1. Zach (joong)- himbo, bubbly, recovering mess, emotionally available against his will 2. Nate (pond)- sarcastic best friend, always planning, always anxious 3. Ella - chaotic good energy, into tarot and ghost stuff, probably packed crystals 4. Jay (phuwin)- the skeptic, thinks ghosts are dumb, only came for the hiking 5. Lia - quiet, watches too much true crime, secretly believes in everything ⸻ 🏞️ The Town Setup: • They enter a fog bank at twilight and suddenly... the road ends. Behind them? Nothing but trees. No signal. • A crooked wooden sign: "Welcome to Nocturne Ridge." • There's a half-abandoned town with polite, unnerving locals, a post office that's locked but delivers mail, and a map in the town square that's different every morning. • Their Airbnb? A dusty manor by the lake, still standing despite being "condemned" since 1984. ⸻ 🌕 Suraaz's(Dunk) POV: • He's ancient. Cursed. Immortal. But bored as hell. • The mountain used to worship him. Then they feared him. Now they forget he exists. • His tower - visible only at night - holds the barrier between sanity and something worse. ⸻ Prologue (Suraaz's POV): • He senses new arrivals. The mountain shifts. He reminisces about the last group who entered - they went mad. • He almost welcomes it. But this time... he hesitates. "They're young. Loud. D

🌹🗝️ Dating Is Easy When You're the Only Option A dark romantic comedy of obsession, isolation, and very inconvenient feelings. Joong doesn't believe in love. At least, not the kind that lasts. He's witty, bitter, and perpetually three emotional breakdowns from deleting all his dating apps. So when he jokingly writes in his profile, "Just kidnap me already. I'm tired." he thinks he's being sarcastic. Dunk doesn't do sarcasm. He does plans. Blueprints. Strategies. Eternal, undying devotion. When he matches with Joong, it's not a swipe-it's a promise. One candlelit date and a spiked glass of wine later, Joong wakes up in a secluded villa, tucked in velvet sheets, with his new boyfriend smiling sweetly at him from the doorway. "You said you wanted to stop looking. So I made sure you wouldn't have to." There's no signal. No Wi-Fi. No exit. Only gourmet meals, endless compliments, and a boyfriend who quotes Joong's tweets back to him from memory. As days melt into nights, Joong can't decide what's worse: being trapped by a psycho... or realizing he kind of, maybe, likes it.

DUNK wakes up in a strange, dystopian-futuristic society where gender isn't binary, it's a spectrum based on biology, instinct, and pheromones. And guess what? He's not just any Alpha-he's a top-tier Alpha, a rare genetic class nicknamed Prime Alphas. His pheromones? Unbearably strong. To everyone else, Dunk's natural scent is like a biohazard warning. Other Alphas flinch away. Betas get nauseous. Omegas panic. No one can be in a closed room with him without scent suppressants. It's like standing near a wildfire-you feel the heat, the danger, the dominance. People fear him. Bonding with anyone? Forget it. Even doctors can't run tests without fainting. So he lives on chemical & mechanical suppressants. But here's the punchline: Despite being built like the final boss of Alpha genetics, Dunk can't tolerate anyone else's scent either. Every pheromone triggers headaches, nausea, sensory overload. He's a walking contradiction-too powerful to connect, too sensitive to feel. Until Joong.

Some people study for grades. Some people study for glory. And some people study you. - The university gates are older than him, older than most cities, and Joong thinks they look like something out of a dream. Gold-lettered. Grand. Intimidating. He's thirty minutes early, wearing the sunshine-yellow sweater his sister insisted was his "lucky charm" for first impressions. There's a little sweat under his collar. A lot of hope clinging to his chest. New job. New campus. A chance to do something that matters. He rehearses his introduction under his breath as he walks through the corridor. "Good morning, I'm Professor Joong-no, too stiff-Hi, I'm Joong, and I'll be your-ugh, too casual-" His thoughts are interrupted by the sight of students walking past, bright-eyed, laughing, full of potential. And then one student-him. A flash of crisp uniform. Black hair that shines too clean under the light. A stride too precise to be accidental. He's talking to someone, nodding politely, smiling just enough to seem approachable-but there's a wall behind that face. A polished, perfect wall. Joong doesn't know his name yet. Not officially. But he knows this: That boy is the kind people write scholarship recommendations for before they even graduate. The kind that carries the university's reputation on his shoulders and makes it look like silk. "That's Dunk," someone whispers beside him. "Student Council President. Top of the class. Literally the best we have."

World A: Eldraeth Home of Dunk & Phuwin - ancient realm of supernatural royalty. • Dunk = Crown Prince (vampire-wolf-magic hybrid, brooding, deadly, calm chaos) • Phuwin = Second Prince (more volatile, cocky but loyal, blade-in-a-smile type) Both have outlived centuries. Haven't found their soulmates. If they don't? They descend into The Unhinging (rabid state, destruction of realms type). - World B: Earth - Bangkok, Modern Day Joong & Pond - fraternal twin mafia princes (what a SLAY). • Joong = The brains. Controls weapons syndicates, wears suits like sin, cold eyes but secretly wants peace. • Pond = The wild card. Smiles while gutting someone (in self-defense, maybe?). Charms everyone. Runs underground gambling + cybercrime arms. They're disgustingly rich, untouchable, and deeply lonely in a very "we'll never be loved for who we are" way.

They weren't meant to touch. Not now. Not ever. Not after centuries of tradition soaked in blood and silence. Not after entire generations were raised with the same bitter commandment: "Do not speak to them. Do not look at them. Do not acknowledge them." And yet, here they were. Standing on opposite sides of the Hall of Concord-The Gathering--an ironic name for a place built to pretend ancient enemies could breathe the same air without baring their fangs or claws. There were vampires and werewolves under one roof tonight. And no one liked it. But everyone tolerated it. Because power demands civility. At least in public. Dunk Boonprasert had arrived first. He always did. Graceful, predatory, wearing shadows like silk. His pale skin gleamed under the low-hung chandeliers, his smile cut sharp as the fangs he barely bothered to hide. He was elegance sharpened into danger. He knew it. He used it. And he didn't look once toward the far end of the room. Because he didn't need to. Joong Aydin entered later. Silent. Stoic. Shoulders squared like a fortress built of restraint. The tailored black suit he wore was severe, clean, spotless-like everything about him. His tan skin and muscle-lined frame were the exact opposite of Dunk's aristocratic allure. He didn't glide. He stalked. And he also didn't look. Because that would imply acknowledgment. And acknowledging Dunk would be a betrayal. Of history. Of family. Of instinct. The room shifted when the two of them were in it-everyone felt it. Like a cold draft through cracked stone. No one said it out loud. But no one ever tried to make them shake hands, either. Because everyone knew. Boonpraserts and Aydins don't speak. Don't bow. Don't blink. There is no alliance. There is only avoidance. That is the rule. That has always been the rule. Until tonight.

🔥 PROLOGUE - "Before the Fall" Joong had never needed a bodyguard this close before. He had a team-faceless men in suits who lingered outside his university gates, rode in cars that tailed discreetly, whispered into hidden mics about routes and rendezvous and security zones. But this was different. This wasn't just proximity. This was permanence. The new bodyguard stood by the grand windows of Joong's penthouse suite, staring out at the skyline like it was a threat. His shoulders were square, broad, coiled like he could spring at any moment. He hadn't smiled once since stepping in. His name was Dunk Natachai. Special Forces background. Silent. Sharp. Unflinching. And terrifyingly beautiful. Joong sipped his orange juice at the breakfast table, eyes flicking upward from behind the rim of his glass. Watching. Studying. The angle of Dunk's jaw. The way his black shirt strained against muscled arms. The glint of the earpiece catching morning light. Unreachable. Untouchable. Joong couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "This is going to be fun," he whispered to himself, heart already too warm for his own good. He didn't know it then, but someday- That same man would bleed for him. Kill for him. Come for him like hellfire through steel and smoke. And Joong would fall in love with the fire that saved him.

He was cold-blooded. Until Joong made him burn. Joong Archen was just a tired corporate drone, working himself into apathy in a world that never stopped demanding. A late-night spa appointment, a dark road, and a very rude truck later... he wakes up in another world. One with talking beasts, primal tribes, and a brutal rule: female-smelling beings are rare and precious-and always claimed. Dunk is a legendary black serpent beastman. Penta-marked. Untouchable. Dangerous. He stopped searching for a mate decades ago, too bored, too lethal, too feared to be loved. But then Joong appears-smelling like a female, moving like a man, confusing everything Dunk thought he knew. Dunk wants to protect him. Dunk wants to keep him. Dunk wants to mate. And Joong? He just wants answers-and maybe, dangerously, wants Dunk right back. In a world where women rule and men fight for attention, Joong and Dunk's bond is anything but ordinary. It's ancient. It's forbidden. It's one touch away from consuming them both. ✨ Transmigration. Beastmen. Tail-wrapped cuddles. A serpent who falls hard. And a man who learns being claimed might mean being loved.

Two cousins. Two brothers. Four apartments. Zero boundaries. And one unspoken game: Pretend you don't know you're being watched. Joong and Pond live on the 9th floor of an apartment building, sharing noodles, drama, and a deep mutual fear of initiating conversation with hot strangers. That is-until they both fall hopelessly in lust/love with two breathtaking strangers in the park. They never spoke. Never approached. Just stared. Ached. Yearned. And then-the stalking began. But here's the twist... Joong and Pond know. They know about the shadows in the hallway. The soft clicks of a camera from across the street. The anonymous notes. The emails "from the gas company" that say "You looked good in red today." Only-they like it. And they'll never, ever let Dunk and Phuwin know. Joong (smiling sweetly as he opens his blinds): "I wonder if he's watching again." Pond (deadpan, sipping iced coffee): "He has a folder named 'Joong Smiling JPEGs.' Of course he's watching." Phuwin (in his room, eyes glued to his laptop): "Why does he always drop things when he walks past the window? It's unnatural." Dunk (without looking up): "It's bait. Don't take it." Pause. Phuwin: "I want to be caught." From apartment windows to late-night grocery runs, a delicious psychological cat-and-mouse game unfolds-where both sides think they have the upper hand. And where attraction simmers beneath every forced coincidence, every accidental touch, every withheld confession. Because sometimes, the only thing hotter than being watched... ...is knowing you're being watched-and giving them a damn good show.