The influencer took a photo of her. "What's your Insta? Or do you only commune with spirits?"
Only one host didn't laugh. A younger man, eyes thoughtful, was scrolling something on his tablet—likely cross-referencing ancient Korean lore.
"So… Daegon," he said, voice uneven. "A dragon-titan guardian turned executioner, corrupted by unrequited love, who slew Hwanung beneath a blood-red moon. Quite the bedtime story."
The historian cleared his throat. "Remarkable. But… did you—er, did you get paid by Sophisticated Space? You know, Seoryeon's company? Or is this some viral marketing stunt for that new artist, 'Deagon'—spelled D‑E‑A‑G‑O‑N?"
A ripple of nervous laughter followed. The skeptic host leaned forward, tapping her pen against her notes. "Yes, I mean—how much did you charge for this performance? Because I'd hate to think we're all sitting here dissecting a K‑drama promo."
But the veiled woman's voice dropped like cold iron:
