Dance With The Devil's Download

Yunxin's throat went dry. "Your... world?"

"Did you think Hell was all fire and brimstone? Please." He stood, moving with an inhuman grace that made even her trained dancer's precision look clumsy. When he stepped closer, the air between them crackled with static electricity, making the fine hairs on her arms rise. "We have our own societies, our own entertainment, our own..." his smile showed too many teeth, and his eyes lingered on her lips, "artistic patrons."

"So I'd be, what, your personal dancer?" She tried to keep her voice steady, professional, like this was just another contract negotiation, not a conversation making her pulse race with equal parts fear and something else entirely.

"My star performer." He corrected, extending his hand. A contract materialized between his fingers, written in what looked suspiciously like blood. His fingers brushed hers as he handed it over, sending a jolt of cold fire through her skin. "Exclusive venues, adoring audiences, and a chance to create choreography that defies the laws of physics themselves. Plus, of course, all your earthly concerns... eliminated."

Yunxin stared at the contract, her mind racing. "I have conditions." She matched his intensity with her own, refusing to back down from his magnetic presence.

"Of course you do." He sounded delighted, almost proud. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was already dancing, already performing just for him. "Negotiate away, Miss Song. It's refreshing to meet a soul who knows their worth."

"First," Yunxin held up a finger, falling into the same tone she used when haggling at the night market, "I want my friend Chen Mei protected. No sudden 'accidents' or mysterious disappearances."

"Done." He snapped his fingers and a new line of text shimmered into existence on the contract. "Though I must say, she negotiated the same protection for you. Touching, really."

"Second," she continued, pretending her hands weren't shaking, "I maintain creative control over my performances. I won't be doing any sacrificial ritual dances or summoning elder gods through interpretive movement."

His laugh echoed off the mirrors. "My dear, if I wanted that sort of thing, I'd hire from the corporate world. Much more experience with soul-crushing performances." He waved his hand and more text appeared. "You'll have complete artistic freedom. Though I do request one command performance a year, for... special occasions."

Yunxin narrowed her eyes. "Define 'special occasions.'"

"Nothing too dire. The occasional celestial alignment, a few demonic holidays." He straightened his already perfect tie. "Think of it as the supernatural equivalent of performing at a corporate Christmas party."

"That's actually worse than what I was imagining." But she nodded. "Final condition: I want to keep my memories. All of them. No convenient amnesia about my past life."

His smile faltered for the first time. "That's... unusual. Most souls find it easier to forget."

"I'm not most souls." Yunxin lifted her chin. "My memories, my experiences—they're what make my dancing what it is. You want my talent? This is part of the package deal."

For a long moment, he studied her, and something ancient stirred behind his carefully curated modern appearance. "You continue to surprise me, Miss Song." The contract shimmered one final time. "Very well. Full memory retention, with one caveat: you can never reveal your true nature to the mortal realm. No dramatic reunions, no tearful goodbyes. As far as this world is concerned, Song Yunxin simply... disappeared one night."

She thought of her empty apartment, her dwindling social circle, the stack of unpaid bills. "Not much of a caveat," she muttered. "Do you have a pen, or do I need to sign in blood?"

He produced an elegant fountain pen that seemed to be made of shadows. "Ink will suffice. Though if you're offering blood..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She took the pen, its surface cold enough to burn. "One last thing—does your world have bubble tea?"

His smile widened. "My dear, we invented bubble tea."

"First," Yunxin held up a finger, falling into the same tone she used when haggling at the night market, "I want my friend Chen Mei protected. No sudden 'accidents' or mysterious disappearances."

"Done." He snapped his fingers and a new line of text shimmered into existence on the contract. "Though I must say, she negotiated the same protection for you. Touching, really."

"Second," she continued, pretending her hands weren't shaking, "I maintain creative control over my performances. I won't be doing any sacrificial ritual dances or summoning elder gods through interpretive movement."

His laugh echoed off the mirrors. "My dear, if I wanted that sort of thing, I'd hire from the corporate world. Much more experience with soul-crushing performances." He waved his hand and more text appeared. "You'll have complete artistic freedom. Though I do request one command performance a year, for... special occasions."

Yunxin narrowed her eyes. "Define 'special occasions.'"

"Nothing too dire. The occasional celestial alignment, a few demonic holidays." He straightened his already perfect tie. "Think of it as the supernatural equivalent of performing at a corporate Christmas party."

"That's actually worse than what I was imagining." But she nodded. "Final condition: I want to keep my memories. All of them. No convenient amnesia about my past life."

His smile faltered for the first time. "That's... unusual. Most souls find it easier to forget."

"I'm not most souls." Yunxin lifted her chin. "My memories, my experiences—they're what make my dancing what it is. You want my talent? This is part of the package deal."

For a long moment, he studied her, and something ancient stirred behind his carefully curated modern appearance. "You continue to surprise me, Miss Song." The contract shimmered one final time. "Very well. Full memory retention, with one caveat: you can never reveal your true nature to the mortal realm. No dramatic reunions, no tearful goodbyes. As far as this world is concerned, Song Yunxin simply... disappeared one night."

She thought of her empty apartment, her dwindling social circle, the stack of unpaid bills. "Not much of a caveat," she muttered. "Do you have a pen, or do I need to sign in blood?"

He produced an elegant fountain pen that seemed to be made of shadows. "Ink will suffice. Though if you're offering blood..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She took the pen, its surface cold enough to burn. Their fingers touched again, and this time he let the contact linger, his thumb tracing a small circle on her wrist. "One last thing—does your world have bubble tea?"

His smile widened, and he leaned close enough that she could smell exotic spices and woodsmoke. "My dear, we invented bubble tea."

"Before we make this official," Yunxin said, pen hovering over the contract, fighting to keep her voice steady as his proximity made the room spin. "I need to make one stop."

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he reached out to brush an imaginary strand of hair from her face. "Miss Song, most souls are eager to—"