How Does The Protagonist Meet The Demon In 'My Demon I'M In Love With A Monster'?

The protagonist stumbles upon the demon during a midnight stroll through the abandoned churchyard near their apartment. A sudden storm forces them to take shelter inside the crumbling chapel, where they accidentally break an ancient seal carved into the floorboards. Out seeps this smoky, shadowy figure that solidifies into the demon—all sharp angles and glowing eyes. Turns out, he’s been trapped there for centuries, cursed by a witch’s spell until someone ‘pure of heart’ (ironic, given the protagonist’s sarcastic personality) releases him. Their first interaction is a mix of terror and fascination—the demon’s growl about owing a life debt clashes hilariously with the protagonist tossing him a granola bar like he’s a stray cat. The dynamic is electric from the start, with the demon’s archaic speech patterns crashing against the protagonist’s modern snark.

In 'My Demon I'm in Love with a Monster', the meeting is anything but coincidental—it’s fate twisted by dark humor. The protagonist, a museum archivist, unknowingly buys a cursed antique mirror at a flea market. When they polish it, the surface ripples like water, and out steps the demon, disheveled and furious after being imprisoned for 300 years. His first words? 'You’re the one who interrupted my nap?'

Their relationship starts as a battle of wits. The demon can’t leave the protagonist’s side due to the curse’s fine print (something about 'binding to the first human touch'), so he’s stuck haunting their apartment. Early scenes show him dramatically sighing as the protagonist binge-watches reality TV, or using his powers to make their coffee inexplicably spicy. The real turning point comes when a rival demon attacks, and the protagonist shields him with a salt circle they saw in a movie—wrong method, right instinct. That act of reckless loyalty makes him reconsider humans entirely.

What’s clever is how the author layers their bond. The demon’s initial arrogance hides vulnerability—he’s been betrayed before. The protagonist’s skepticism masks loneliness. Their meet-cute is less 'romantic' and more 'survival partnership with sarcastic flirting', which makes their eventual love feel earned.

Picture this: the protagonist is a bartender working the graveyard shift when a guy walks in—too handsome, too pale, with eyes that flicker red under the neon lights. He orders absinthe, which the protagonist jokes they don’t serve because 'this isn’t 1890'. The demon smirks and corrects them—'1843, actually'—before downing a glass of vodka like it’s water. When a drunk patron picks a fight, the demon’s fingers elongate into claws mid-punch, stopping just short of the guy’s throat. The protagonist, instead of screaming, hands him a napkin to wipe the blood off and says, 'You’re overtipping for bad service.'

That’s how they meet—no grand curse, no ancient ritual. Just two night creatures recognizing each other in a dive bar. The demon keeps coming back, initially because the protagonist’s blood smells 'interesting' (half-laced with anxiety meds, they later admit), but then because their sharp tongue amuses him. Their chemistry builds through late-night debates about morality, the demon stealing fries off their plate, and one memorable evening where they bond over setting his ex’s cursed painting on fire. The mundane meets the supernatural in the best way.