c002

Kim Hani hates coffee.

Hates the smell of it, hates the look of it, and most of all, hates the sound that the coffee grinder emits—the insufferable GRRR GRRR GRRR that only ceases when the beans have been pulverized to the dark dust that resembles dirt. It smells like dirt, too—bitter and rich, with that distinct odor of mulch.

You see, then, how unfortunate it is that Kim Hani works in a café.

The Creature Café can be found just a few blocks away from Weapons, War Armor, and Other Wants. The small red-brick building is lodged between a fried chicken restaurant and a bustling noodle shop, and much like the weapons shop, is invisible to the mortal eye. Round wooden tables fill the tiny café to the brim and are occupied by creatures who slurp at their steaming coffees and teas with all the enthusiasm that one can summon on a Monday morning—which is not a lot.

Not a lot at all.

Kim Hani stands morosely behind the counter underneath the chalkboard menu, plugging her ears against the GRRR GRRR GRRR and steadfastly ignoring Nam Somi, her coworker, who is urging her to unplug her ears.

"It looks bad," the young gumiho insists, tugging on the folds of Hani's light brown apron. "You won't be able to hear the customers' orders when they come up, and then Boss will find out, and then you'll be fired, and then I'll have to work here all alone serving the creepy grim reapers…"

Of course, Hani doesn't hear any of this. She only hears a muted roaring against the fingers that are plugging her ears, and a high-pitched whining that belongs to Somi. It is only when that muted roaring finally falls to a complete silence that Hani lets her hands drop to her sides. She casts Somi a glance. "Were you saying something?"

"Never mind." Somi scowls and stomps off, her black curls bouncing as she retreats to the coffee grinder to collect the disgusting bean dust. "Aish," Hani hears Somi mutter behind her back. "One lives for one thousand four hundred and fifty-two years and forgets their manners."

Hani snorts. She is actually much older than one thousand four hundred and fifty-two, but she likes to keep her true age…secret, for various reasons. A small smile plays on her lips as she leans against the counter and observes the café.

There are only a few empty tables, the vast majority taken by the impeccably dressed jeoseung saja—grim reapers cherishing their last few moments of morning freedom before setting out to do the day's work of collecting deceased souls and filling out underworld paperwork in order to send them on their way to King Yeomra's realm. At least five black bowler hats have been deposited onto the café's hat stand, ready to be donned by the jeoseung saja as they head out on their way to work.

It is amusing, Hani thinks, that the jeoseung saja all order the same drink: a small coffee, black, no milk, no sugar. Black, she thinks wryly as a grim reaper enters the café and precariously balances his black hat atop somebody else's on the hat stand, like their souls. Corporate jobs do have a tendency to suck the life from people.

Demigods lounge back in their seats, slurping their coffees in the self-important ways that all demigods do. They may look ordinary and human for the most part, but the way that they carry themselves with pompous smiles and upturned noses clearly indicates their godly heritage.

That one there, the boy currently preoccupied with hissing at a wide-eyed jeoseung saja to put down the sausage biscuit he's eating and save the cows, is probably the son of the cattle god, Hasegyeong. Hani would place good money on it. She moves her gaze away in boredom. Demigods don't do much but wander around and sometimes slay a few Unruly creatures for shits and giggles.

Most of the time, they're just doing what normal people do—university, jobs, trips to the supermarket…while also trying to get their godly parents' rare attention by wrecking cars and throwing extravagant parties. Despite their divine heritage, they're probably the dullest creatures to exist. Hani doesn't bother herself with them very often, except to attend their parties when she's in the mood for some absolute chaos.

There are a few haetae within the café, too, clad in the standard precinct uniform, their walkie-talkies buzzing with static noise every few seconds to give updates on the city's supernatural crime occurrences. The guardian creatures rub their trademark golden eyes wearily as they sip at their drinks and poke at their pastries. Those eyes have always intrigued Hani. When the haetae shift into their beast form, an enormous horned and scaled lion, those eyes burn as brightly as a midsummer sun.

Dokkaebi visit the Creature Café, as well, but Hani does not see any here today. The goblins rarely emerge in the mornings, preferring instead to wreak havoc and mischief at night, dancing in the city's nightclubs, and sleeping the entire next day.

Hani sighs as the door to the café is pushed open by another group of grim reapers. Behind her, she feels Somi stiffen. The reapers are harmless (they guide the dead; they don't murder the living), but that hasn't stopped the young gumiho from flinching each time one of the creatures orders a small black coffee, no milk, no sugar. "Service with a smile," Hani reminds Somi under her breath, turning to grin mischievously down at her friend as the café's bell chimes again, signaling another entry.

But Somi is gaping at a point past Hani's shoulder. "Unnie," she breathes, "look who it is." Hani sighs inwardly. The duality of both fear and fangirl seeping into Somi's voice lets Hani know that it can only be him.

Only one customer has a tendency to turn Somi so pink with admiration. He has been coming for a year or two now, yet it is impossible to know when to expect him. Unlike the others, the regular jeoseung saja and haetae, Seokga the Fallen may pay a visit to the café for a week consistently, only to disappear for three months afterward. Hani is fine with this, for the fallen trickster god is as fickle a customer as she's ever seen—ordering an iced coffee with one cream and one sugar, only to return a few moments later and (wrongfully) accuse, with that cruel glint in his green eyes, that Hani put two creams into his coffee and demand a refund that, despite Hani's best efforts, he usually receives.

It is no surprise that the god of trickery and treachery is silver-tongued—and it is also no surprise that his heavenly kin threw him from the godly kingdom of Okhwang. The deity is the biggest pain in the ass that Hani has ever encountered during her very long, and very immortal, life.

She takes pleasure in the fact that if she was not retired from her time as the most notorious gumiho in Korea, she could have easily devoured Seokga's liver the first time he accused her of putting one too many creams into his drink. Alas, Hani has not been able to consume a man for one hundred and four years.

Her little binge in 1888 has left her unable to eat anything more since. She is, simply put, overstuffed.

Very, very, very overstuffed. It is quite clear that she will not be hungry for many more years to come.

Yet she considers taking a break from retirement as Somi turns a brilliant, blazing red—a sure sign that Seokga the Fallen is waiting at the counter. "Hani," Somi near-wheezes, her keen eyes darting from the god to the gumiho with lightning-quick speed. "Hani, he's waiting. Should I serve him? I'll faint if I serve him. Hani? Hani?"

Somi, to Hani's great disappointment, is a fangirl for all things pantheon. Her bias, as she's told Hani many times, is Yongwang—the blue-haired sea god and ruler of the underwater kingdom of Yongwangguk. But that doesn't mean that Somi hasn't written fan fiction about Seokga the Fallen. Hani saw it on Somi's computer once, and considered deleting the entire 150k-word document, if only to save Somi from herself.

It had been titled The Smutty Prince: A Dark and Delicious Romance.

Hani'd wanted to scrub her eyes with soap after she'd skimmed the fic. Somi used the words bulging,moaned, and growled too many times for her own good. And, of course, sexy.

Seokga—at least to Hani—is not sexy.

He's fucking infuriating.

Gritting her teeth, Hani turns and her hair smacks Somi in the face. "Hello," she manages to say through her teeth as Somi makes a noise of distinct disgruntlement. "Welcome to the Creature Café. What can I get for you this morning?"

"Service with a smile," Somi whispers from somewhere behind her, sounding immensely peeved. "You hypocrite." And then she giggles, looking at Seokga. "Hi, Seokga," Somi whispers.

Hani swats at her from around her back, glaring at the deity. He is dressed, as usual, in a crisp black suit and is currently examining a silver pocket watch with that sharp green gaze. Upon Hani's words, the god glances up, snaps his pocket watch closed, and looks down at her over the length of his thin, pointed nose.

"I see that timeliness is not one of the Creature Café's strengths," he says. Hani has always found his voice strange, for it is perennially hoarse, an eternal rasp.

Perhaps he had been screaming when he fell from the sky.

Somi sighs dreamily.

"Welcome to the Creature Café," Hani repeats, clenching her jaw. She knows that if she allows herself to go off-script, then there is a very big chance that she will be fired. "What can I get for you this morning?"

Seokga sneers slightly and tilts his head up so he can examine the menu.

Hani waits as thirty seconds tick by. A minute.

Two minutes.

"If there was a line," Hani snaps, finally losing her patience, "you would be holding it up." She drops jondaemal with a certain amount of gusto. The formal speech falls and shatters on the ground. There's really no point in displaying the typical deferential manner shown to customers when she would like, very much, to kick this customer in a very sensitive bodily area.

The god snaps his eyes back down to her, and his lips curl in sour derision, letting Hani know that he's noticed her utter lack of respect and is not pleased. "The key word, there, is ‘if.'If you had a line, I would be holding it up. If you were more pleasant to me, I might consider tipping. If a rabid bulgasari hadn't tried to bite my sword, I wouldn't be dealing with your questionable customer service."

Hani straightens in indignation, anger warming her cheeks. "If you continue to piss me off—" she bites out, and Seokga's eyes gleam in interest, as if he greatly anticipates whatever Hani plans to say next.

But Somi, ever so timidly, peeks over Hani's shoulder and whispers, half in awe, half in girlish longing, "A rabid bulgasari?"

Hani arches a brow, her anger slowly replaced by smug satisfaction at the fact that Seokga has encountered a bulgasari. The creatures do have a tendency to go rabid, which can only be expected when one eats rusted metal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A bulgasari had entered the Creature Café once, and had been escorted out by Hani herself after he had tried to devour the silverware.

It had been amusing and concerning all at once.

"Let me guess," Hani purrs, tilting her head. "It ate your sword for its dinner. So sorry to hear that."

Seokga scowls.

It is common knowledge that ever since his fall some six hundred years ago, Seokga the Fallen has been attempting to regain Emperor Hwanin's favor by ridding Iseung of supernatural beings with a tendency to terrorize mankind (or, simply put, Unrulies). Cruel dokkaebi, vengeful gwisin, rogue jeoseung saja, ravenous gangcheori…any supernatural being who disobeys the Laws of the Creature is fair game. Nothing is out of the question.

Including hungry gumiho.

But even during the peak of her terrorization of Korea and beyond, Hani had never been caught by the fallen god. And, Hani thinks smugly, the Scarlet Fox is only an urban legend now. He doesn't know that he stands in front of her, complaining about customer service. He doesn't know that if I wasn't so full, I could make his life miserable.

She would take such joy in munching her way through the city and cleverly evading the fallen god who would no doubt try to hunt her down. It's truly a pity that she'd overeaten in 1888.

The thought spreads a smug smile across Hani's face, even as Seokga leans forward and, in a voice cold enough to freeze over the entirety of South Korea, says, "I want an iced coffee with one cream, one sugar."

Hani cocks her head. "Fine," she retorts sweetly. "One iced coffee with one cream, one sugar, coming right up."

Behind her, Somi bustles around, snatching a plastic coffee cup and reaching for the bottle of brew. Hani sends her a pointed look. "Let me," she offers—only it's not an offer. It's a demand. Somi's eyes widen, as if she knows what Hani plans to do…but it's too late. Hani is preparing the god's coffee and making a point to dump three creams and four sugars into the disgusting drink.

"Hani," Somi warns in a panicked undertone as Seokga hands her his black credit card at the register. Hani ignores her.

Coffee is bad enough hot,she seethes as she stirs the ice, coffee, sugar, and cream together in the plastic cup with a plastic straw. Why would you make it cold?

Hani slides the drink over the counter to Seokga, who eyes it warily.

"The coffee is too light to only have one cream," he says sharply. "I said one cream, one sugar." A muscle in Seokga's jaw jumps. "You repeated it back to me. Are you daft?"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Hani shrugs. "If you were more pleasant to me, I might have considered following your order exactly." She grins cheerfully at the seething god. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"

With a sharp, stiff motion, Seokga hands her back the coffee. He is clearly not amused. "Make it again."

Only vaguely aware that Somi is practically hyperventilating behind her, Hani grabs the coffee and violently shoves it back toward Seokga. "No," she snaps—and watches in horror as the plastic lid flies off, releasing a torrent of ice and coffee that splatters across the god of mischief's face and stains his suit.

The entire café is silent, so incredibly silent, as Seokga stands before the counter, dripping with iced coffee…and three creams, four sugars.

A few jeoseung saja shift uneasily, as if preparing to collect Hani's soul after her inevitable murder by Seokga's hand.

I've gone too far.Hani holds her breath as Seokga slowly raises a shirtsleeve to his forehead and wipes away the coffee. I've gone too far this time.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drops of the drink fall to the floor from the god's damp hair. He raises his gaze to Hani, and the fury burning there is enough to send Somi scuttling to the storage room, leaving Hani alone before the wrathful deity.

Hani offers a smile that is more like a grimace than anything else. "Well," she says, "at least you're wearing black."