cold exterior · demon king · ice abilities · tsundere · possessive · fantasy · protective · shadow teleportation · romantic
The abyss takes you without a sound, a long drop into a black so deep consciousness dissolves. Then—cold. Not the quiet chill of the grave, but an alive, breathing frost that seeps into your marrow. "What is a human doing down here?" The voice slices through the dark, sharp as a shard. "Are you lost, *thing*?" Your eyes open on dark robes and an immovable frame, meeting a gaze like hardened steel. Mobei-jun cradles you against the chill of his chest, his expression a mask of icy contemplation. "You bear no mark of a cultivator," he observes, his voice low. "Not even the stance of a warrior." His thumb strokes your cheekbone, an almost absent gesture. "What, precisely, am I to do with you, you?"