Teotw ( ) Jeon Jungkook ()

teotw (세상의 끝) — jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* 18+

when the world ended, it wasn’t with the thunderous roar of wars or the blinding light of an angry sun; it was with a whisper—a collective sigh of resignation that echoed across the hollowed bones of cities, once vibrant and teeming with life. the sky, once a canvas of blues and radiant golds, faded into an endless stretch of ashen gray, swallowing the horizon in a blanket of melancholy. nature, sensing the final breath of humanity, ceased its symphony. the winds grew still, no longer carrying the songs of birds or the rustle of leaves but instead murmuring secrets of the past, stories of a world that had forgotten how to live.

the oceans, once wild and untamed, receded in quiet mourning, their waves lapping at the shores like a lover’s farewell, leaving behind only the memories of their once-mighty tides. the forests, now shadows of their former selves, stood like silent sentinels, their branches brittle and bare, reaching out as if to grasp the last remnants of a fading existence. the air was thick with the scent of decay, not of flesh, but of dreams, hopes, and the indomitable spirit that once drove humanity forward.

cities, grand monuments to human achievement, crumbled under the weight of their own hubris. skyscrapers, once towering symbols of progress, lay twisted and broken, their glassy facades shattered, reflecting a sky that no longer held any promise. streets, once alive with the pulse of civilization, were now abandoned corridors of desolation, where the ghosts of the past wandered aimlessly, searching for a future that would never come.

and in that silence—that all-encompassing stillness—there was no one left to mourn, no voices to cry out in anguish, no souls to seek redemption. the world had ended not with a bang, but with the quiet acceptance of inevitability, a final chapter in a story that had been written long ago. all that remained was the echo of what once was, a faint, lingering trace of a world that had, for a time, dared to believe in tomorrow.

when the world ended, it wasn’t the end at all, but the beginning of an eternal quiet, where the whispers of a forgotten age danced on the winds of oblivion, carrying with them the tales of a time when the world was full of light, love, and the promise of forever. when the world ended, you didn't even know of it. you didn't know of the wreckage, the losses, the cries of anguish.

when you awoke, it wasn’t to the soft hum of machinery or the gentle murmurs of nurses tending to their patients. it wasn’t to the warmth of sunlight filtering through thin hospital curtains or the comforting sound of your sister’s voice, softly reading you a book you couldn’t remember the title of. no, you awoke to a silence so profound, so unnatural, that it wrapped around you like a suffocating shroud. your eyes fluttered open, heavy with the weight of a month-long sleep, and for a moment, you wondered if you had woken up at all or if this was some dark, twisted dream.

the room around you was eerily still, the once-familiar beep of the heart monitor conspicuously absent. the sterile scent of disinfectant was replaced by an unfamiliar, almost metallic tang that clung to the back of your throat. you blinked, trying to clear the fog from your mind, but the darkness lingered, oppressive and unforgiving. you called out, your voice hoarse and cracked from disuse, a weak “hello?” that barely reached the corners of the room. there was no answer, not from the doctors, not from the nurses, not from anyone. panic fluttered in your chest, but you pushed it down, forcing yourself to sit up, your muscles protesting with a sharp ache that radiated through your entire body.

you moved slowly, every motion a battle against the weakness that threatened to pull you back into unconsciousness. swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you hesitated, the cold tile floor unwelcoming beneath your bare feet. you stood on shaky legs, the room tilting dangerously as you clutched at the bed’s railing for support. you had to find someone—anyone. the halls were your next goal, just outside the room. there, you told yourself, there would be answers.

but the hallway, once loud with activity, was a void of darkness and silence. you reached for the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. your breath quickened as you stepped out into the corridor, your eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light that seemed to seep in from somewhere far, far away. the air was thick, heavy with a sense of abandonment that made your skin crawl. you began to walk, each step echoing off the walls, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. you peeked into the rooms as you passed, expecting to find patients sleeping soundly or perhaps a nurse bustling about. but every room was empty, the beds made, equipment untouched, as if everyone had simply vanished.

it was as though time had frozen, leaving you the only soul moving through this ghostly space. the deeper you went into the hospital, the more your unease grew. the halls, once so familiar, now felt like a labyrinth designed to ensnare you in its endless emptiness. and then you saw it.

the exit doors loomed ahead, their glass panes reflecting the faint, gray light from outside. but it wasn’t the light that caught your attention. it was the words scrawled across the doors, crude and unsettling, in a dried crimson that made your stomach turn. “may god help us all,” the letters cried out, jagged and desperate. your hands trembled as you reached out to touch the glass, feeling the dried substance beneath your fingertips. it was real—too real.

with your heart pounding against your ribs, you pushed through the doors, bracing yourself for the world outside. but nothing could have prepared you for what awaited. the street, once teeming with life, was desolate, a graveyard of twisted metal and charred remnants. no cars drove by, no people walked the sidewalks. there was only the ghostly silence of a world long forgotten. ash rained from the sky, mixing with the smoke that billowed from what remained of the trees, their once-green leaves reduced to smoldering embers. buildings, or what was left of them, leaned precariously, their foundations crumbled into dust. the sky, an ominous shade of gray, pressed down on you, darker and more foreboding than you could ever remember.

the realization hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. you were alone. truly, terrifyingly alone. the world you had known was gone, erased in an instant while you had been locked in the oblivion of your own mind. panic surged, rising like bile in your throat as you stumbled back, desperate to find something—anything—that could explain what had happened. but there was nothing. only the ruins of a world that had ended while you slept.

your legs gave out beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground, your hands clutching at the broken earth as your heart raced uncontrollably. tears blurred your vision as your mind struggled to comprehend the enormity of it all, the finality. what had happened? how could everything just end? the questions spun in your mind, but there were no answers, only the overwhelming silence of a world that no longer cared.

you stood there, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the realization settled in, heavier than the thick air that clung to you. your mind was a tangled mess, struggling to find a thread of logic in the chaos that surrounded you. what had happened? how could everything you knew—everything you loved—disappear so completely? you tried to piece it together, tried to remember anything that might explain the desolation, but your thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by the lingering haze of your coma. the dull throb in your head reminded you of how desperately you could’ve killed for an advil, but there was no time for that. there was nothing, really. all you could do was run.

so you did. your legs, still weak and unsteady, carried you through the streets, though every step felt like a battle. the world was a blur as you sprinted past, your eyes scanning the devastation in a desperate search for something familiar, something that made sense. but the deeper you went, the clearer it became—nothing was the same. there were cars, yes, but they were lifeless, their hoods flattened as if they’d been crushed by some immense force, their windows shattered, spilling glass like jagged tears onto the pavement.

houses that once lined these streets, places you’d walked past a thousand times, were torn apart, reduced to piles of splintered wood and crumbling brick. the trees, the ones that had stood tall and proud, casting shade on your summer walks, were now nothing more than charred skeletons, their blackened branches clawing at the smoke-filled sky. not even the birds could bring themselves to chirp in this wasteland. there was no life, no movement, only the eerie silence that pressed down on you from all sides, suffocating in its finality.

you kept running, your breaths coming out in harsh, uneven bursts as your heart pounded relentlessly in your chest. you needed to find them. you needed to see them—to prove that they were still there, waiting for you. your house wasn’t far, just a few more streets, and then everything would be okay. you clung to that thought as if it were a lifeline, letting it pull you through the thick fog of disbelief that clouded your mind.

but when you reached the spot where your house should’ve been, the breath was stolen from your lungs as if you’d been punched in the gut. you stopped dead in your tracks, your legs suddenly unable to carry you any further. your heart plummeted, your blood running cold as you took in the sight before you. or rather, the lack of sight. there was nothing. no car parked in the driveway where it always was. no familiar structure with its faded paint and crooked shutters that you’d always meant to fix. no house. no home. just an empty space where everything you’d known had once stood. it was as if the ground had opened up and swallowed it whole, leaving behind nothing but emptiness. the earth beneath you was torn and jagged, as if some great force had ripped it apart, and in its place, there was only desolation.

your knees buckled, sending you crashing to the ground. the pain that shot through your legs was distant, a mere echo compared to the agony tearing through your chest. you tried to deny it, tried to force yourself to believe that this was some horrible dream, that you would wake up in your bed, surrounded by the warmth of your family’s love. but the reality was stark and undeniable, pressing down on you like the weight of the sky itself. there was no car. no house. and most terrifyingly—no family.

“mom?” you called out, your voice trembling, barely more than a whisper. Then louder, “dad? hera?”

there was no answer, only the hollow sound of your voice bouncing back at you from the wreckage. you pushed yourself up, staggering towards the spot where the front door should’ve been, where your mother would’ve been waiting to greet you with a smile. but there was nothing. you tore at the dirt with your hands, desperate to find something—anything—that would tell you this wasn’t real. but your fingers found only dirt and ash, the remnants of a world that had been reduced to nothingness.

you screamed then, a broken, guttural sound that ripped from your throat, filling the emptiness around you. it was a scream born of pure despair, of a pain so deep it threatened to consume you whole. but there was no one to hear it, no one to answer your cries. the world had ended, and it had taken everything you loved with it.

you lay there on the cold, unforgiving ground, the weight of your despair threatening to drag you down into an abyss you feared you’d never crawl out of. but something inside you—some deep, primal instinct—refused to let go. you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let yourself be swallowed by the overwhelming grief and fear that gnawed at your insides. you had to survive.

as you forced yourself to take deep, steadying breaths, the sobs that wracked your body began to subside, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest. the world had ended, that much was clear. you didn’t know how or why, and you didn’t know who—if anyone—had survived. but the cause no longer mattered. the effect was all that remained, a bleak reality that you had no choice but to face. the end had come, and you were still here, standing in its aftermath.

you wiped the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand, your fingers smearing dirt across your cheeks. there would be time to grieve later—if there was ever going to be a “later.” for now, you had to pull yourself together, had to force your mind to focus on the one thing that mattered: survival. you needed a plan, something to cling to, a small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, someone else was out there, doing the same. you took one last, lingering look at the remnants of what had once been your home, your sanctuary. the memories that flashed through your mind were almost too painful to bear, but you pushed them down, burying them deep inside. you couldn’t afford to dwell on what was lost. not now.

the sky above was a dull, bleak gray, casting a muted light over the landscape. it was the only source of illumination, and you knew that when night fell, the world would be plunged into total darkness. the streetlights that had once lined your neighborhood were now twisted metal, their bulbs shattered, their posts collapsed. you could only imagine that the power plants had long since run out of fuel, and any solar panels that might have once gathered energy were likely coated in a thick layer of dust and debris. maybe, just maybe, a hydroelectric station somewhere was still running, its turbines spinning in the dark, keeping some small part of the world alive. but you couldn’t count on that. you had to prepare for the worst.

pushing yourself up from the ground, you forced your legs to move, taking one step, and then another. it felt as if every muscle in your body was screaming in protest, but you ignored the pain. you had to keep going. you needed supplies, something to get you through the coming days—weeks?—whatever it would take to survive.

the neighborhood you’d grown up in was unrecognizable. as you walked, your eyes scanned the destruction around you, trying to make sense of it all. houses that had once stood tall and proud were now reduced to piles of rubble, their walls crumbled, their roofs caved in. cars, once symbols of freedom and mobility, were nothing more than dented, broken shells, their windshields smashed, their frames twisted beyond repair. the street poles, once beacons of light and order, had collided with the ground, their remains scattered like fallen giants. and yet, there were no bodies. no signs of life—or death. the absence of people, of any living thing, sent a chill down your spine, making your skin crawl. what could have caused this? where had everyone gone? the questions pounded in your head, but you had no answers. only the silence, thick and oppressive, followed you as you walked.

in the distance, you spotted a store—a small grocery shop you’d frequented countless times with your sister. the sight of it sent a wave of nostalgia crashing over you, memories of those carefree days when the world was whole and you were blissfully ignorant of what was to come. you remembered sneaking in with your sister, buying cigarettes and energy drinks, indulging in everything you weren’t supposed to have. the chime of the bell above the door had always greeted you, a cheerful sound that had made you feel mischievous and alive.

but as you approached the store, you knew there would be no bell this time. the windows were shattered, shards of glass glittering on the pavement, and the door hung on its hinges, barely clinging to the frame. you pushed it open, the movement slow and tentative, half-expecting something—or someone—to jump out at you. but there was nothing. just the echo of your footsteps on the cracked tile floor.

the interior of the store was almost untouched, the shelves still stacked with supplies, just as you remembered them. but the sight didn’t bring you comfort. Instead, it unnerved you. everything was in place, just as it had been before—except for the people. the lack of any sign of life was more terrifying than if you’d found the place ransacked and empty.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and began to gather what you needed. a sturdy bag, first. then a flashlight and batteries—your lifeline when the world plunged into darkness. water, food, anything that would keep you going for the days ahead. your hands moved with a mechanical precision, your mind numb as you tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside the fear that threatened to paralyze you.

as you moved through the store, you paid careful attention to the creaky ceiling above, the pitch-black corners where the light didn’t reach. the silence pressed down on you, every small sound amplified in the emptiness. you grabbed a lighter, matches—anything that could start a fire when the nights grew cold. you were preparing for the worst, trying to think ahead, but it was hard to see beyond the next few minutes, let alone days.

you realized you’d need more supplies, especially if you were going to survive for any length of time. a pharmacy would be your next stop. you’d need medicine, bandages, anything that could help in case of injury. but before you left the store, your eyes landed on a familiar sight—cigarettes. they were just sitting there, tucked away on a high shelf, untouched, as if waiting for you.

you reached up and grabbed a pack, turning it over in your hands. the weight of it brought back memories, of sneaking behind the store with your sister, laughing as you shared one, the taste of forbidden freedom on your lips. you hesitated for a moment, the nostalgia flooding you, bringing with it a wave of bittersweet emotion. and then you slipped the pack into your bag, a small piece of the past to hold onto in a world that had left you with nothing.

with the bag slung over your shoulder, you took one last look around the store, the familiar layout now foreign in its stillness. you didn’t know what lay ahead, but you knew you couldn’t stay here. there was no safety in the ruins of the past, no comfort in the empty aisles. you had to keep moving, had to keep surviving. the world had ended, but you were still there, and as long as you had breath in your lungs, you would fight to stay alive.

your breath came out in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the tightness in your chest as you moved through the desolate streets. the weight of the bag slung over your shoulder was a constant reminder of the grim reality you were now living in. every step you took felt heavy, not just from exhaustion, but from the crushing weight of everything you had lost—or never had the chance to say goodbye to.

as you walked, your hands trembled uncontrollably, not just from the cold or the shock that had settled deep in your bones, but from the overwhelming sense of fear and hopelessness that clung to you like a shroud. you reached into the bag, pulling out the pack of cigarettes you’d taken from the store. your fingers fumbled with the lighter as you brought it to your lips, the flame flickering before catching the tip of the cigarette. the familiar, acrid scent filled the air as you inhaled deeply, the smoke curling into your lungs and spreading a warmth that felt so out of place in this cold, dead world. but that warmth was nothing more than a cruel mockery, a fleeting comfort in the face of an unbearable reality. as you exhaled, the smoke billowed out in front of you, curling into the empty air, dissipating into nothingness—just like everything you had ever known.

and then, it hit you all at once—the full force of your grief. it crashed over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under, threatening to drown you in its depths. your vision blurred, the world around you dissolving into a swirl of tears and smoke. you stumbled, your feet dragging along the cracked pavement, as sobs wracked your body. the cigarette hung limply from your lips as your breath hitched, the tears turning into streaks of sorrow that etched themselves into your skin, each one carrying a piece of the life you had lost.

you didn’t know exactly what you were grieving—was it the life you had before you fell into that coma? or was it the life you had woken up to, a life that had ended before you even had a chance to live it? perhaps it was both. perhaps it was the loss of the world you had known, the world that had crumbled into dust and ashes while you lay in that hospital bed, unaware, untouched by the horrors that had unfolded.

you wished, with every fiber of your being, that the world had ended and taken you with it. it would have been easier that way—easier than facing this bleak, empty existence where the only sounds were the echoes of your own despair. but no matter how much you wished for it, the world had not taken you. it had left you behind, abandoned in the ruins of what once was, forced to navigate the shattered remnants of a life that no longer existed.

the pharmacy loomed in the distance, its windows shattered just like the store you had come from. there was no bell to greet you as you pushed open the door, no sense of nostalgia to soften the blow. the aisles were eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights flickering dimly overhead, casting long, twisted shadows across the floor.

you moved through the pharmacy like a ghost, your hands moving on autopilot as you gathered what you needed—bandages, medicine, rubbing alcohol, gauze. the mundane nature of it all was almost surreal, as if you were simply running errands on an ordinary day. but the weight in your chest reminded you that nothing about this was ordinary. the very fact that you were there, loading up on supplies to survive in a world that had ended, made your chest tighten with a fresh wave of panic.

you didn’t linger in the pharmacy, not when every creak and groan of the building made your skin crawl. the door swung shut behind you as you stepped back into the cold, gray light of the outside world. you took one last drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out on the pavement, watching as the ember died out, leaving nothing but ash and the bitter taste of smoke on your tongue.

but as you walked away from the pharmacy, a new realization dawned on you—a realization that made your blood run cold and your heart beat faster with dread. you had nothing to defend yourself with. not even a kitchen knife. you had been so focused on finding food and medicine that you hadn’t thought about the dangers that might be lurking out there, waiting for you. you didn’t know what exactly you needed to defend yourself against, but your mind conjured up images that made your stomach churn—animals, hungry and rabid, prowling the streets in search of food, their instincts driving them to hunt, just as yours were driving you to survive. and there could be worse things out there—things you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

the thought of facing whatever dangers lay ahead without a weapon sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through you, but you knew you couldn’t afford to let that fear paralyze you. you needed to find something—anything—that could give you a fighting chance. but the problem was, the closest store that sold weapons wasn’t in busan. it was in seoul. you stopped in your tracks, the enormity of what lay ahead of you sinking in. seoul was far—too far. the journey would be long and dangerous, and you had no idea what you would find when you got there. but you had no other choice. if you wanted to survive, you had to go.

the road stretched out before you like a never-ending nightmare, each step a reminder of the bleak reality you were now forced to confront. there were no trains to take, no cars to drive; the underground systems that once thrummed with life had long since flooded, their pumps abandoned and left to the mercy of nature’s relentless tide. walking was your only option, the thought of it a crushing weight on your already heavy heart. you had no idea how long it would take to reach seoul on foot, no concept of the obstacles that lay ahead, but you knew you couldn’t stay in that place—that neighborhood that had become a graveyard of memories and lost hope. so, with nothing more than a deep breath and the resolve to keep moving, you set off, leaving behind the remnants of what you once called home.

the sun hung low in the sky, a weak and pale imitation of its former self, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. the air was thick with dust, every breath a struggle against the dryness that coated your throat and lungs. you reached into your bag, pulling out a bottle of water, the cool liquid easing the burn in your throat as you sipped it slowly. you splashed some onto your face, washing away the sticky, salty residue of your tears, trying to cleanse yourself of the sorrow that clung to you like a second skin. but no amount of it could wash away the weight of what you had seen, what you had lost.

as you continued walking, the landscape began to change. the crumbling buildings gave way to open fields, the asphalt turning to dirt beneath your feet. and then, in the distance, you saw it—a farm, its silhouette etched against the horizon like a beacon of hope. your heart leapt in your chest, the thought that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance that you wouldn’t have to walk all the way to seoul. if the farm had survived, perhaps there would be something there, something to ease your journey, to make this unbearable task just a little bit easier.

fueled by a sudden surge of hope, you broke into a run, the bottle of water forgotten as you sprinted toward the farm. the sight of it grew clearer with each step—the fields, the pens, the barn standing tall in the distance. but as you drew closer, the hope that had burned so brightly in your chest began to flicker and fade, replaced by a growing sense of dread.

the first thing you saw were the sheep—dozens of them, their bodies lying lifeless in their pen, their wool matted with blood and dirt. flies buzzed around them, the air thick with the stench of decay. your stomach churned, the bile rising in your throat as you forced yourself to look away. but there was no escaping the sight—the pigs, the goats, all of them dead, their bodies twisted in unnatural poses, their eyes staring blankly into the void.

you had to stop, bending over with your hands on your knees as you fought to keep the contents of your stomach where they belonged. the smell was overwhelming, a sickening combination of rotting flesh and the sharp tang of blood. you took deep breaths, forcing the nausea down, forcing yourself to keep moving. you couldn’t afford to stop now—not when you had come so far. and then, just as you were about to give up, you heard it—the sound that made your heart skip a beat, a sound so out of place in this world of death and decay that you almost didn’t believe it. the cows. they were alive, their low, mournful moos carrying across the field, a desperate plea for help that tugged at your heartstrings.

you ran toward the barn, your feet pounding against the dirt as you pushed through the gates, sprinting toward the sound. you didn’t even stop to think, your only focus on getting to them, on finding some sign of life in this dead world. the barn doors creaked as you pushed them open, the hinges groaning under the weight of years of neglect. but the sight that greeted you inside was not one of hope. it was a scene that would be etched into your memory forever, a sight that made your stomach lurch and your heart freeze in your chest.

a man sat in a chair in the middle of the barn, his body slumped forward, his head resting on the head of the little girl in his lap. they were both dead, their eyes closed, their faces peaceful in a way that belied the horror of their final moments. blood had dried on their clothes, the dark stains a vivid contrast against the pale skin of the girl. at the man’s feet lay a shotgun, its barrel still warm from the final act that had ended both of their lives.

you stood frozen, your breath caught in your throat, unable to move, unable to process the scene before you. it was only when the tears began to fall that you realized you were crying, the sobs tearing from your chest in a torrent of grief and guilt. you stumbled forward, collapsing to your knees in front of them, the weight of their deaths pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. you didn’t know the man, you didn’t know his daughter, but that didn’t matter. in that moment, they were all you had—all you had left in this empty, dead world. you reached out, your hand trembling as you brushed a lock of hair from the girl’s face, whispering apologies through your tears. she was so small, so innocent, and she had deserved none of this. neither of them had.

the man had chosen the easy way out, sparing his daughter from the horrors that awaited her in the new world. you could only hope that he had been quick, that he had been merciful, that she had felt no pain. but the sight of them, sitting there in that barn, was a cruel reminder of the reality you were now living in. there was no easy way out for you—not yet, not now. you forced yourself to your feet, the weight of the shotgun in your hands a grim reminder of what you had to do. you couldn’t leave it behind, not when it was the only thing that could keep you safe, the only thing that could give you a fighting chance in this world. but the thought of taking it, of holding the weapon that had ended their lives, made your skin crawl.

with one last, tearful apology, you turned and left the barn, the shotgun clutched tightly in your hands. the air outside was cold, the sky a dull gray, the sun barely a sliver on the horizon. and then, just as you were about to give up hope, you heard it—a sound that made your heart leap in your chest. a neigh, clear and strong, as if calling out to you.

you spun around, your eyes scanning the fields until you saw them—three horses, their bodies thin and frail, their ribs visible beneath their coats. they were desperate, hungry, on the brink of starvation, but they were alive. the sight of them filled you with a renewed sense of hope, a glimmer of something you had thought long lost. without a second thought, you ran to them, grabbing handfuls of hay from the bales stacked against the barn, easing the food to them one by one. their eyes were wide, their movements frantic as they devoured the hay, their hunger evident in every bite. you fed them until the last bit of hay was gone, the sound of their chewing the only thing breaking the silence of the farm.

once they were fed, you approached the largest of the three, your hand trembling as you reached out to stroke its neck.the horse nickered softly, its breath warm against your skin, and you knew in that moment that walking was no longer your only option. you saddled up, the shotgun strapped to your back, knowing that this was your best chance, your only chance, to make it to seoul. with one last look at the farm—the barn, the fields, the lifeless bodies of the animals—you urged the horse forward, its hooves clattering against the dirt as you set off on the long journey ahead.

the journey to seoul was long and grueling, the landscape around you gradually shifting as the hours passed. at first, the road was lined with the remnants of suburbia—houses in various states of disrepair, some still standing, others reduced to rubble. trees, once tall and full of life, now stood as charred skeletons, their branches twisted and broken. cars littered the streets, their windows shattered, hoods crumpled like discarded cans. the silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the once-bustling streets you remembered. there was no sound but the rhythmic clop of the horse's hooves against the pavement, a lonely echo that reverberated through the empty world.

as you rode, the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows that stretched across the road like grasping fingers. the air grew cooler, the oppressive heat of the day giving way to a chilly breeze that sent shivers down your spine. you pulled your jacket tighter around you, the fabric rough and comforting against your skin, and glanced down at the horse beneath you. its breathing was steady but labored, its pace slowing as exhaustion set in. you felt a pang of guilt as you realized just how long you had been pushing it, driving it forward without pause, without thought. the horse had carried you this far, and it deserved a moment to rest, to drink, to catch its breath. you guided it off the road and into a small clearing, where a stream trickled gently through the grass. dismounting, you led the horse to the water, watching as it dipped its head and drank deeply, its thirst evident in the way it gulped down the cool liquid.

you crouched beside it, cupping your hands to scoop up some water for yourself. the stream was clear and cold, and as you splashed it onto your face, the icy shock helped to clear the fog of fatigue that had settled over you. you drank in silence, the water a welcome relief to your parched throat, before standing and gazing out at the road ahead. seoul was still miles away, the city skyline barely visible on the horizon, a distant mirage of steel and glass. but it was there—your destination, your last hope. the thought of reaching it filled you with a strange mixture of dread and determination. what would you find there? would the city be as lifeless as everything else you had seen, or would there be some sign of life, some remnant of the world you once knew?

the horse finished drinking and nudged you gently with its nose, as if urging you to continue. you patted its neck, offering it a quiet word of thanks before mounting once more. the journey resumed, the road stretching out before you like a ribbon of darkness, winding its way toward the heart of the city. as you rode, the landscape continued to change. the open fields and scattered houses gave way to more densely packed buildings, their windows staring out like hollow eyes. shops, restaurants, and offices lined the streets, their signs faded and their doors broken. some buildings had collapsed entirely, their walls crumbling into piles of rubble that spilled out onto the road. others stood eerily untouched, as if waiting for someone to return, to breathe life back into their empty halls.

you passed by a school, its playground overgrown with weeds, the swings creaking softly in the breeze. a grocery store stood nearby, its windows smashed, the shelves inside picked clean. the sight of it sent a chill down your spine, the realization that you were utterly alone sinking in once more. there were no scavengers, no looters, no signs of struggle—only the quiet, oppressive weight of abandonment. the sun dipped lower in the sky, its light casting the world in hues of orange and gold. the shadows grew longer, stretching across the road like dark tendrils, and you felt a growing sense of urgency. you needed to reach seoul before nightfall, before the darkness swallowed the world whole. with a gentle nudge, you urged the horse to quicken its pace, the city drawing ever closer with each passing moment.

finally, as the last rays of sunlight began to fade, you crested a hill and saw it—seoul. the city spread out before you, vast and sprawling, its towering skyscrapers rising up like sentinels in the twilight. the sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, the enormity of the city’s center almost overwhelming in its silence. you slowed the horse to a stop, your breath catching in your throat as you took it all in. the streets below were empty, devoid of the bustling crowds and endless streams of cars that once filled them. buildings that had once housed thousands of people now stood dark and hollow, their windows reflecting the fading light like dull, lifeless eyes. the silence was palpable, a living thing that pressed in around you, filling the empty spaces with its oppressive weight.

as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the last vestiges of daylight vanished, leaving the city bathed in a deep, inky darkness. the only light came from the few remaining fires that still smoldered in the distance, their orange glow casting eerie shadows that danced along the edges of the buildings. the temperature dropped, the chill of night seeping into your bones as you sat there, staring out at the city that had once been the heart of the nation. you should have felt something—relief, maybe, or even hope. but all you felt was a hollow emptiness, a gnawing ache that settled deep in your chest. you had made it, but the city offered no comfort, no answers. it was as lifeless as the rest of the world.

you dismounted the horse, your legs trembling with exhaustion, and led it to a nearby alley where you could find some semblance of shelter. the walls rose up around you, the darkness closing in, and you pulled your jacket tighter, trying to ward off the cold. the horse nickered softly, its warm breath a small comfort in the chill night air. you found a spot where the alley narrowed, the walls on either side providing some protection from the wind, and sat down, your back against the rough brick. the horse stood nearby, its eyes half-closed, its head drooping with fatigue. you reached out and stroked its mane, whispering soothing words, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to comfort—yourself or the horse.

the city was quiet, the silence alive with the absence of sound. there were no voices, no footsteps, no hum of electricity or rush of cars. the world had ended, and all that remained was this—an empty city, a lone survivor, and the faint hope that somewhere, somehow, someone else had made it through the darkness. as the last of the light faded and the world was plunged into darkness, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. but the silence was too loud, the emptiness too vast, and all you could do was sit there, staring into the void, waiting for a dawn that might never come.

the moon hung high in the sky, a sliver of pale light casting long shadows across the deserted streets of seoul as you made your way to the weapon shop. the air was cold, biting at your exposed skin as you trudged forward, your mind a fog of exhaustion and fear. the city was eerily quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant creak of a sign swaying in the wind. but it was when you heard the first howl that your blood ran cold, freezing you in place.

the sound echoed through the empty streets, low and guttural, a primal call that sent a shiver down your spine. you didn’t know what it was, but you knew it wasn’t anything good. the howling grew louder, more frequent, and you forced your feet to move, your heart pounding in your chest as you quickened your pace. the weapon shop was close—just a few more blocks, and you would be safe. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

when you finally reached the shop, you didn’t hesitate. the building loomed large before you, three stories tall with a garage to the side, its dark facade blending into the shadows of the night. you darted across the street and threw open the door, slipping inside and quickly closing it behind you. the air inside was musty, filled with the scent of gun oil and old wood, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside.

your eyes adjusted to the dim light, and you took in your surroundings. the shop was enormous, shelves upon shelves lined with every kind of weapon imaginable. guns, knives, bows and arrows, boxes of ammunition—everything you needed to survive was right here. you wasted no time, grabbing a large duffel bag from a nearby counter and filling it with supplies. a handgun with a box of bullets, a set of throwing knives, a bow with a quiver of arrows—each item you picked up felt like a small piece of security, a shield against the unknown dangers lurking outside.

as you moved through the shop, your eyes fell on the garage door, and you froze. there, written in big, crimson letters, were the same words you had seen before, “may god help us all.” the blood was still wet, glistening under the faint light filtering in through the broken windows. your heart skipped a beat, and a cold wave of fear washed over you. the message was ominous, a reminder that whatever had happened was far from over.

you were still staring at the words when the sound of glass shattering snapped you back to reality. you whipped around, the shotgun already in your hands, your finger on the trigger. the noise had come from the front of the shop, where a window had just been broken. panic seized you as you realized you weren’t alone. you spun around, eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement, the shotgun trembling in your grip.

but before you could react, something heavy and solid collided with your hand, sending the shotgun flying across the room. a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest, while another hand clamped down on your wrists, pinning them to the wall. you struggled, kicking out, but the grip was too strong, the man behind you unyielding. “who are you?” his voice was low, rough, filled with suspicion. “what are you doing here?”

you were too shocked to respond at first, your mind reeling. relief flooded through you at the realization that you weren’t alone, that there was another human being here. but that relief was short-lived, replaced by a surge of panic as you registered the man’s hostility. “my name is (y/n) (l/n),” you replied, your voice trembling. “i came from busan. the closest weapon store was in seoul, so i—”

“do you really think i’m gonna fall for that?” the man scoffed, his grip tightening around your wrists. you winced at the pain, shaking your head in confusion. “i don’t—what are you talking about?” you asked, your voice growing weaker as fear took hold. you could feel the man’s breath against your neck, hot and unsteady, as he spun you around to face him. your back hit the wall, and you looked up to meet his eyes—dark, piercing, and filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

he studied your face intently, his eyes narrowing as he reached out and touched your skin, probing at your cheeks and jawline as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. you recoiled at the contact, trying to pull away, but he held you firmly in place. “what the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice rising in frustration and fear. the man ignored your question, his brow furrowing as he continued his inspection.

“are you really human?” he muttered, almost to himself, his eyes narrowing further. “when did the last war end?”

the question caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. “the korean war? it ended in 1953,” you stammered, utterly confused. his grip loosened slightly, and you seized the opportunity to ask, “why wouldn’t i be human?”

he let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “you really don’t know, do you? have you been living under a rock this whole time?” there was a note of incredulity in his voice, as if the very idea was impossible. you had no idea how to respond. you wanted to ask what he meant, to demand answers, but the words caught in your throat. all you could do was stand there, staring up at him with wide, bewildered eyes.

“i just wanna find my sister,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. something in his gaze shifted at your words, the hard lines of his expression softening slightly. but before he could say anything, the howling started again, closer this time, the sound tearing through the silence of the night like a blade. the man’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face as he released your wrists and grabbed your hand instead.

“they’re near,” he said urgently, pulling you away from the wall. “we need to go. now.”

“who’s near? what’s out there?” you asked, your voice rising with fear. but he didn’t answer, his grip on your hand tightening as he dragged you toward the door. the howling grew louder, more desperate, and your heart pounded in your chest as you followed him outside. he led you to a horse tied up at the side of the shop, its eyes wide with fear, nostrils flaring as it sensed the danger approaching.

“get on,” he commanded, practically lifting you onto the horse’s back. you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with questions, but another howl—closer, more menacing—sent a jolt of fear through you, and you didn’t argue. the man mounted the horse behind you, his arms wrapping around you to take hold of the reins. without another word, he spurred the horse into a gallop, the two of you racing away from the shop and the howls that pursued you through the darkness. the wind whipped at your face, and the city blurred around you as the horse sped through the empty streets, the pounding of its hooves matching the frantic rhythm of your heart.

the wind whipped against your face as the horse bolted down the deserted streets, the rhythmic pounding of hooves resonating through the silence of the city. you tightened your grip around the man's waist, your fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as you clung to him, your heart hammering in your chest. the world blurred around you, a dizzying mix of shadows and moonlight, but you forced yourself to look back, to see what was chasing you.

at first, you thought you were seeing things—figures, indistinct in the darkness, running after you. people. it didn’t make sense, but there they were, sprinting through the streets with an almost unnatural speed. relief fluttered in your chest, a momentary flicker of hope that you weren’t as alone as you thought, that maybe, just maybe, there were still survivors. but that hope died a quick death as you watched in horror.

the figures—those people—began to change. as they ran, their bodies convulsed, bones snapping and reforming in grotesque ways, their limbs elongating and bending at unnatural angles. fur sprouted across their skin, thick and matted, as their faces elongated into sharp muzzles, fangs flashing under the moonlight. the air filled with the sickening sound of their transformation, a blend of animalistic growls and the grotesque snapping of bones. in mere seconds, what had been human was now a pack of wolves, their eyes glowing with a terrifying hunger as they closed the distance between you.

you were paralyzed with shock, your mind struggling to process what you were seeing, a cold wave of terror crashing over you as the realization settled in. the man in front of you glanced over his shoulder, his gaze hard as he took in the sight of the wolves. “do you get it now?” he asked, his voice grim, almost resigned. you shook your head, your voice trembling as you replied, “i was in a coma, for a month. i woke up to nothing.”

he didn’t respond immediately, his focus shifting back to the path ahead as the horse galloped faster, the cityscape flying by in a blur. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, laced with a bitter edge. “you missed the end of the world. lucky you.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of them settling heavily in your chest. the end of the world. you wanted to ask him what had happened, to demand answers, but the words stuck in your throat, strangled by the fear clawing at your insides. instead, you forced yourself to ask the one question that burned in your mind.

“what are those things?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and the relentless pounding of hooves. he shrugged, a sharp, humorless laugh escaping him. “people call them skinwalkers.” he paused, his gaze hardening as he looked back at the wolves chasing you. “we just call them predators. they don’t deserve to be named—just killed.”

his words sent a chill down your spine, the cold, detached tone in which he spoke of them making your stomach turn. you wanted to argue, to protest, but you knew it would be futile. the creatures—those skinwalkers—were far from human now, twisted by whatever horrors had unfolded during your month of oblivion. you swallowed hard, fighting back the nausea that threatened to rise as you clung tighter to the man, your mind spinning with a thousand questions that had no answers.

the horse veered sharply to the right, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts as the man guided it down a narrow alley, the buildings towering above you on either side. the howls of the wolves echoed through the city, growing louder, more frantic, as they pursued you with relentless determination. but the man didn’t falter, his grip on the reins steady, his focus unwavering as he pushed the horse to its limits. you didn’t dare look back again. Instead, you buried your face in the man’s shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block out the terror that threatened to consume you. your mind raced with thoughts of your sister, of the world that had crumbled while you lay unconscious, and of the unknown dangers that lurked in the shadows of the new, terrifying reality.

for what felt like an eternity, you rode through the labyrinth of seoul’s streets, the city a dark and twisted maze that offered no comfort, no refuge. every shadow seemed to move, every sound echoed with the threat of something worse, and the howls of the skinwalkers followed you like a sinister promise of what awaited if you faltered. at last, the secluded campsite came into view, a sprawling expanse surrounded by tall, imposing fences. the heavy gates were reinforced with barbed wire, a stark reminder of the dangers lurking beyond. the man guided the horse towards the entrance, his movements careful, methodical. he had been quiet for most of the ride, his focus solely on getting you both to safety, but now that you were here, you could sense a shift in his demeanor. a tension that had been absent before.

when the horse came to a stop just outside the gates, he dismounted first, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. he reached up to help you down, his hands firm as he guided you to solid ground. you felt the exhaustion settle into your bones as soon as your feet touched the earth, your legs trembling with the effort of standing after such a long and harrowing ride. you managed a weak smile, despite everything, and offered a quiet, “thank you.”

he scoffed, his expression a mix of weariness and amusement. “don’t thank me,” he muttered, his tone almost dismissive. he paused, glancing down at the bags you clutched tightly to your chest. “you’re the one with the weapons.” his words made you scowl, the idea of sharing the supplies you had risked so much to gather sending a surge of irritation through you. you clutched the bags tighter, your knuckles whitening as you grimaced at the thought. it was your first real instinct of self-preservation since you had woken up, a primal urge to protect what little you had left.

he noticed, and a soft chuckle escaped him. “relax,” he said, his tone lighter now, almost teasing. “i’m not here to take anything from you. just making sure we both survive the night.”

his words did little to ease your discomfort, but you forced yourself to loosen your grip on the bags, nodding reluctantly. there was a long pause, the silence stretching between you as you stood there in the shadow of the towering fence, the distant crackle of a fire reaching your ears. it was the first sign of life you had encountered since the end of the world as you knew it, and it stirred something deep within you—hope, maybe, or the fear of finding out just how few had survived.

you swallowed hard, pushing past the knot of anxiety that had lodged itself in your throat. “I never got your name,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, barely louder than the rustling of leaves in the wind. he looked at you then, really looked at you, his dark eyes reflecting the dim light of the distant fire. there was something guarded in his expression, a hesitation that you couldn’t quite place, but after a moment, he nodded, his lips curving into a faint, almost reluctant smile.

“jungkook,” he replied, his voice steady. then, after a beat, he added, “jeon jungkook.”

you nodded, the name settling into your mind as you repeated it silently to yourself. there was something reassuring about knowing his name, something that made the situation feel a little less surreal, a little more grounded in reality. you didn’t know why, but it gave you a small measure of comfort, as if knowing this one thing could somehow anchor you in a world that had become so utterly unrecognizable.

with a quiet sigh, you followed him towards the entrance of the campsite, the soft glow of the fire growing brighter as you drew closer. the night was still, the silence broken only by the sound of your footsteps crunching against the gravel. the tall fences loomed above you, their presence both intimidating and reassuring, a reminder that, for now at least, you were safe.

as you approached the camp, you caught sight of the fire—a small, controlled flame flickering in the center of the site, surrounded by a few scattered tents and makeshift shelters. shadows moved around it, figures huddled close to the warmth, their faces obscured by the dim light. you couldn’t tell how many people were there, but the sight of them filled you with a mixture of anticipation and unease. you had wondered for so long if you were alone in this new world, and now that you knew you weren’t, you weren’t sure what to expect.

as you neared the campsite, the first thing that struck you was the subdued glow of the fire, its warmth a definite contrast to the cold, oppressive darkness surrounding you. the silhouettes of the people grew clearer with each step, their movements casting shifting shadows on the ground. a man sat by the fire, meticulously cleaning his pistol with practiced precision. the soft clinking of metal against metal was a steady, rhythmic sound, providing a strange comfort in the otherwise silent night. nearby, a woman was hanging clothes to dry on a makeshift line, her actions slow and deliberate. the sight of her, busy with mundane tasks, was oddly reassuring.

another man, his face illuminated by the firelight, was roasting what appeared to be an animal. the smell of cooking meat filled the air, mingling with the scent of smoke. It was a reminder of the normalcy that once was, a slice of life that had persisted even in the wake of disaster. beside the fire, another figure lay on the ground, his form barely discernible, while a young girl—barely older than a teenager—stood with her back to you. as you and jungkook approached, the girl turned slowly, the sound of your footsteps catching her attention. when she saw you, your heart skipped a beat, and the weight of the world seemed to lift momentarily. your bags slipped from your grip, hitting the ground with a muted thud.

“hera?” you breathed, the name escaping your lips in a whisper.

the recognition was mutual. hera’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled up and spilled over. her face contorted with shock and disbelief, and she ran towards you. in an instant, she was in your arms, her embrace fierce and desperate. you sobbed into her shoulder, the relief of finding her overwhelming. the group watched in stunned silence as you and her clung to each other, your sobs mingling with hers in a raw display of emotion. hera’s voice was muffled as she asked, “what are you doing here?”

you could barely manage to articulate through your tears. “i was looking for you,” you managed to choke out. “i was looking for you, and i found you.” you brushed her hair away from her tear-streaked face, trying to steady yourself. the warmth of her presence was a balm to your fractured spirit. jungkook, standing just outside the circle of light, took in the scene with a softened gaze.

“you should’ve just said hera was your sister,” he said, his voice low and contemplative. the woman hanging clothes wiped at her eyes, her expression one of awe and empathy. “not every day you get a sight like this in such a place,” she said softly.

the man who had been cleaning his gun straightened, curiosity etched on his face. “jungkook, who is she?” he asked. jungkook turned to the group, gesturing towards you. “(y/n) (l/n),” he said. “found her at the weapon shop.”

you lifted the two bags that had fallen to the ground, holding them up for the group to see. one was filled with weapons, the other with supplies. as their faces lit up with a mix of relief and gratitude, the gravity of the situation seemed to shift. the realization that you had come prepared, that you had braved the perils to bring something valuable to their camp, seemed to lift the somber mood. with hera still holding onto you, you felt the weight of the journey finally lift from your shoulders. the camp, once a distant beacon of hope, now felt like a place of refuge, a haven where, against all odds, you had found something precious amidst the ruins.

as the night deepened, you settled near the fire, the warmth seeping through your clothes and offering a much-needed reprieve from the cold. the crackle of the flames was soothing, a rhythmic backdrop to the quiet conversations that wove through the camp. hera had fallen asleep on your lap, her breathing steady and calm after the emotions of the day. you carefully shifted, trying not to disturb her as you reached for the bags you had brought with you. the group watched with a mix of curiosity and gratitude as you opened the bags, revealing the canned goods and supplies you had scavenged.

“oh hani, min yoongi, kim taehyung, jung hoseok,” jungkook introduced the members of the group with a casual wave, nodding to each as he spoke. each name felt like a small anchor in the sea of confusion, a thread connecting you to the new world you were navigating.

you set about distributing the canned goods, the clink of metal against metal a comforting sound in the quiet of the night. hani, who had been hanging clothes earlier, now busied herself arranging the cans, her movements efficient and practiced. yoongi, who had been resting on the ground, joined the effort with a weary but grateful nod. taehyung, who had been cleaning his pistol, put his weapon aside to help. hoseok, having finished roasting the squirrel, offered a satisfied smile as he took a can. as you worked, the group explained more about their situation. they shared that hera had been desperately searching for you, her presence a beacon of hope in their small enclave. they had taken her in, treating her like their own, and she had become a beloved part of their makeshift family.

the conversation eventually turned to you and your ordeal. hani, while opening a can of beans, gently asked about your coma and how you had survived. you shook your head, struggling to recall the details. “i don’t remember much,” you admitted softly. “i was in a coma. i woke up after a month, and everything was different.”

they listened attentively as jungkook took over, explaining that the world had ended with a nuclear attack, a catastrophic event that had turned many into twisted, hungry creatures. “those who were exposed either died or became skinwalkers,” he said, his voice somber. “skinwalkers, they were once people. now, they’re predators, hiding among the living. it’s not always obvious who’s been turned until they’re hungry, and by then, it’s too late.”

the weight of his words sank heavily in your stomach. the thought that anyone, even those you trusted, could become something monstrous was terrifying. the image of those skinwalkers, people who had lost their humanity, lingered in your mind, twisting into dark, anxious thoughts. taehyung’s voice broke through your reverie. “are you planning to join us?” he asked, his eyes steady as he looked at you.

you hesitated, the decision weighing heavily on you. the idea of leaving hera behind was unthinkable, but you also knew you had to make a choice for your own survival. after a moment of silent contemplation, you met jungkook’s gaze. his expression was open, his eyes warm and reassuring. “i’ll stay,” you said finally, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside you. “i can’t leave hera. i need to be here for her.” jungkook’s smile softened, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “good,” he said quietly. “we could use another pair of hands.”

as the night deepened, the flickering firelight gradually began to dim, its warm glow surrendering to the cool darkness of the surrounding forest. the sounds of the camp quieted, conversations trailing off as exhaustion began to overtake the small group. one by one, they each found their way to their makeshift beds, the day's events weighing heavily on their minds. jungkook, still sitting by the fire, looked around the group. “who’s going to keep watch tonight?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, cutting through the peaceful silence.

you immediately volunteered, the words slipping out before you could even think about them. “i’ll do it,” you said, determination lacing your voice. you didn’t want to sleep, not yet. your thoughts were too restless, too clouded by everything that had happened. you began to gently lift hera, her small body feeling heavier in your arms as the day’s exhaustion settled in. she stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her face calm and peaceful, a contrast to the chaos that surrounded you. you tried to carry her into her tent, but your muscles screamed in protest, the weight too much after the day you’d had. your arms shook, and you felt yourself faltering.

jungkook noticed your struggle, his dark eyes softening as he quietly stood and walked over to you. without a word, he reached out and took hera from your arms, his movements careful and deliberate as he cradled her against his chest. relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help but give him a grateful smile. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet night. he just nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned and carried her toward the tent. you followed close behind, your footsteps soft against the earth. the tent flap rustled as he pushed it aside and stepped inside, his movements slow and gentle as he laid hera down on the makeshift bed. he adjusted the blanket around her small frame, making sure she was warm and comfortable.

you knelt beside her, your heart swelling with a mix of love and sorrow as you watched her sleep. her face, so serene, was a reminder of everything you were fighting for. you reached out and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead, your fingers lingering as you marveled at how peaceful she looked, even in this broken world. “she’s like a daughter to us,” jungkook said quietly, his voice carrying a deep sense of affection. he sat back on his heels, watching her with a soft expression that you hadn’t seen before.

you turned to look at him, your heart aching with gratitude. “thank you for watching over her, for keeping her safe. i don’t know what i would’ve done if something had happened to her.” jungkook met your gaze, his eyes dark and sincere. “you don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “she’s a good kid. we all care about her.”

silence fell between you, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air. there was a shared understanding in that quiet, an acknowledgment of the burdens each of you carried. in that moment, you felt a connection with him, something deeper than the circumstances that had brought you together. you broke the silence first, your voice soft but firm. “you should get some sleep. i’ll keep watch.”

he shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ll keep you company,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. you opened your mouth to protest but stopped yourself. there was something comforting in the idea of not being alone, of having someone beside you as the night wore on. you nodded, a quiet acceptance, and he settled down beside you. together, you both sat in the tent, the stillness of the night wrapping around you like a blanket.

outside, the wind rustled through the trees, a soft whisper that mingled with the quiet breaths of the sleeping camp. jungkook stayed close, his presence a steady anchor in the uncertainty of the night.

every so often, you’d glance at hera, her tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath, and your heart would swell with a fierce protectiveness. you were grateful to jungkook and the others for keeping her safe when you couldn’t, and for giving her a sense of normalcy in a world that had lost all sense of it. he leaned back slightly, his shoulders relaxed as he kept a watchful eye on the tent’s entrance. the firelight from outside cast long shadows, painting his features in a mixture of light and dark. you studied him in the dim light, wondering about the man who had so easily taken on the role of protector, not just for hera, but for all of them.

time passed slowly, the night inching forward as the two of you remained vigilant. every creak of a tree or rustle in the underbrush set your nerves on edge, but jungkook’s calm presence helped keep your fears at bay. the silence was no longer uncomfortable; it was a shared experience, a mutual understanding that you were both in this together. you found yourself growing more and more weary, the events of the day catching up to you. but every time your eyes began to droop, you’d shake yourself awake, determined to stay alert. jungkook noticed, his sharp gaze catching every small movement. “you’re exhausted,” he observed quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “you should rest.”

you shook your head, refusing to give in. “i’ll be fine,” you insisted, even though your body was screaming for sleep. “i can’t, can’t let my guard down.” jungkook’s expression softened, and he leaned a little closer. “you’re not alone anymore,” he reminded you. “we’ll take turns. i’ll keep watch for now. you can rest.”

the warmth in his voice, the genuine concern, made something inside you finally give way. you hadn’t realized just how desperately you needed that reassurance, that reminder that you didn’t have to do this all on your own. with a reluctant nod, you finally allowed yourself to lie down beside hera, pulling the blanket up to your chin. jungkook stayed close, his presence a silent promise that he’d keep you both safe.

as your eyes began to close, you felt a hand gently brush your arm. “you did good today,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “get some rest. i’ve got you.” those were the last words you heard before you allowed the world to go black once more. once again, everything was silent. only this time, you allowed it. you allowed it as you relished in the fact that, for once, you weren't alone.

you awoke to the smell of something cooking, the savory aroma of meat roasting over a fire drawing you from the depths of sleep. the tent was still, hera’s small form curled up beside you, her breathing soft and even. you took a moment to watch her, the way her face relaxed in slumber, so different from the tense expression she often wore when awake. it was a reminder of how much she had been through, how much she still needed you.

carefully, you slipped out of the tent, making sure not to wake her. the morning air was cool and crisp, the sky a pale blue streaked with the first light of dawn. the camp was coming to life around you, the quiet rustling of movement as the others began their day. near the fire, you spotted hani, her dark hair pulled back as she crouched beside a spit, turning a rabbit that was roasting over the flames. the sight of it made your stomach growl, a reminder of just how long it had been since you’d eaten anything substantial.

you approached her quietly, offering her a small smile. “good morning,” you said softly, not wanting to startle her. hani looked up, her expression warm as she returned your greeting. “morning. thank you for keeping watch last night.”

you shook your head, waving off her thanks. “it was nothing. you should sit down for a bit, though. i can take over the cooking if you’d like.” she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “you’re a sweetheart, but i’ve got it under control. i’ve been doing this for a while now.” she paused, her eyes assessing you for a moment before she asked, “do you know much about guns?”

you nodded slightly. “enough to get by. why?” she motioned towards the bag you had brought with you, where the weapons were stored. “could you take over cleaning the ones you brought? we need to make sure they’re in good condition.” you nodded again, understanding the importance of keeping the weapons clean and functional. “of course,” you replied. “i’ll take care of it.”

“thanks,” hani said, her tone appreciative. “it’s a big help.” you retrieved the bag with the weapons, hefting it over your shoulder as you walked towards the edge of the camp. you needed space, somewhere quiet where you could focus on the task at hand. the forest loomed ahead, the trees casting long shadows over the ground as the morning light filtered through the branches.

as you walked, you caught taehyung’s eye across the camp. his gaze was sharp, unreadable, and you couldn’t quite place the look he gave you. it wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either. you offered him a small smile, hoping to ease whatever tension lay between you, but he didn’t return it. instead, he looked away, his expression hardening. pushing the encounter from your mind, you found a secluded spot beneath a large oak tree and set the bag down. the ground was damp with morning dew, the air thick with the scent of earth and foliage. you knelt down, unzipping the bag to reveal the assortment of weapons inside. pistols, rifles, even a couple of knives—all in need of cleaning.

you started with the pistols, methodically disassembling each one, laying the pieces out on a clean cloth. your hands moved with practiced ease, the motions familiar as you cleaned and oiled each part, ensuring they were in working order. the repetitive task was almost meditative, giving you something to focus on besides the lingering uncertainty in the pit of your stomach. as you worked, the sounds of the forest filled the silence—the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, the distant crack of a branch. it was peaceful, a stark contrast to the tension that had been gnawing at you since you’d woken up in that hospital. there, in that quiet moment, you felt a semblance of control, a small piece of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic world.

but the peace didn’t last. as you were finishing the last pistol, you heard a rustling in the bushes behind you, the sound too deliberate to be an animal. your heart leapt into your throat, and without thinking, you reached for the nearest gun, your fingers wrapping around the grip as you spun around, ready to defend yourself. before you could react further, you felt two hands on your shoulders, firm but not aggressive. you whipped around, your pulse racing, only to find yourself staring into jungkook’s amused eyes.

“this is the second time you’ve drawn your gun on me,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, lowering the gun as you scoffed. “and this is the second time you’ve scared me.”

he laughed, the sound low and rich, cutting through the tension that had built up in your chest. “fair enough,” he conceded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “did you really clean all these guns by yourself?” pride swelled within you as you gestured to the neatly arranged weapons. “see for yourself.”

his grin widened as he glanced at the pistols, his eyebrows lifting in appreciation. “impressive,” he admitted, nodding in approval. “you’re full of surprises.” you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, a sense of satisfaction warming you from the inside. it felt good to be useful, to contribute something tangible to the group.

“come on,” jungkook said, jerking his head towards the forest. “let’s see if we can catch some game. we could use the meat.” you nodded in agreement, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as you followed him deeper into the woods. the forest was alive with the sounds of morning, the sunlight filtering through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor.

it didn’t take long to spot your first target—a rabbit, its small, gray body barely visible among the underbrush. you raised your gun, your breath steady as you took aim, focusing on the task at hand. the rabbit was still, unaware of the danger, and you hesitated for just a moment before pulling the trigger. the shot rang out, echoing through the trees. the rabbit fell, its body twitching slightly before going still. you lowered the gun, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over you as you approached the animal.

but as you drew closer, something about the rabbit caught your eye. its fur was matted, patches of it missing, and there were dark, swollen marks around its neck. you knelt down, examining it more closely, and your stomach dropped when you saw the unmistakable signs of a bite—jagged, deep wounds that could only have been made by a skinwalker. you stepped back quickly, your heart pounding as the reality of it sank in. the rabbit wasn’t just injured; it was infected. if you had touched it, eaten it.

“damn,” you muttered under your breath, fear creeping up your spine. jungkook, who had been watching from a few feet away, noticed the change in your demeanor. he walked over, his expression darkening as he saw the bite marks. “we should leave it,” he said, his voice low and serious. “it’s not safe.”

you nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. the encounter had shaken you more than you cared to admit, the fear of what could have happened lingering in the back of your mind. sensing your unease, jungkook gave you a reassuring look. “it’s okay,” he said gently. “we’ll find something else.”

he led the way deeper into the forest, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced ease. you followed, trying to shake off the lingering fear, focusing instead on the task at hand. after a while, you spotted movement in the distance—a deer, its graceful form half-hidden among the trees. jungkook motioned for you to stay back as he raised his rifle, taking careful aim. you watched, holding your breath as he steadied his shot, his finger tightening on the trigger.

the shot was clean, the bullet finding its mark. the deer stumbled, then fell to the ground, its body going still. relief washed over you, mingled with a sense of admiration for jungkook’s skill. you approached the fallen deer together, your hands steady as you began the process of cleaning it. the work was familiar, the motions practiced, but there was a heaviness to it now, the encounter with the rabbit still fresh in your mind.

he watched you as you worked, a small grin tugging at his lips. “i didn’t take you for a hunter,” he remarked, his tone light. you glanced up at him, a smirk playing on your lips. “yeah, well, you took me for a skinwalker.”

he rolled his eyes, though there was no malice in his expression. “i’m glad you’re not.” you both shared a small laugh, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating as you finished cleaning the deer. it was hard work, but it felt good, grounding you in the reality of the moment, reminding you that you were still here, still fighting.

with the deer cleaned and ready, you and jungkook headed back to the campsite. the sun was higher in the sky now, casting a warm glow over the clearing as you emerged from the trees. the others were waiting, their faces lighting up when they saw the deer. hera was the first to spot you, her eyes widening with pride as she ran over to you. “did you really clean it?” she asked, her voice full of admiration. you nodded, a warm smile spreading across your face. “i did.”

from behind, you heard taehyung’s voice, cold and sharp. “good,” he said, his tone biting. “you should be making yourself useful anyway.” silence fell over the group, the air thick with awkwardness. you felt the sting of his words, the way they cut through the camaraderie that had been building. you didn’t understand where his hostility was coming from, but it was clear that he didn’t trust you, didn’t want you here.

you noticed hani out of the corner of your eye, hovering over a crate of wet clothes, her movements slow and tired. concern for her well-being overshadowed the hurt from taehyung’s comment, and you quickly moved over to her. “hey,” you said softly, placing a hand on her arm. “you should get some rest. i can hang the clothes to dry.”

she looked at you, gratitude in her eyes as she nodded. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice tinged with exhaustion. as you gathered the clothes, you could feel taehyung’s eyes on you, his gaze heavy and unyielding. you refused to meet it, focusing instead on the task at hand. hoseok, sensing the tension, turned to him, his expression puzzled.

“what’s your problem?” hoseok asked, his tone laced with curiosity and concern. taehyung shrugged, his face impassive. “i don’t trust her.”

hera’s voice was firm as she spoke up, her tone leaving no room for argument. “if we could trust anyone, it would be her.” jungkook, who had been watching the exchange from afar, smiled to himself, his gaze lingering on you as you walked away with the clothes. there was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him believe that hera was right.

as you hung the clothes to dry, you couldn’t shake the feeling of taehyung’s glare burning into your back, the weight of his distrust heavy on your shoulders. but you refused to let it break you. you were determined to prove your worth, to show them all that you were more than capable of pulling your weight. you took your time with the clothes, the fabric heavy and damp in your hands as you draped each piece over the thin wire stretched between two posts. the morning air was crisp, the kind that made your breath fog slightly, but the warmth of the rising sun began to chase away the chill. around you, the camp slowly stirred to life, the quiet sounds of people waking up blending with the natural world—a bird’s distant call, the rustle of leaves, the crackle of the dying fire from last night.

you focused on the task, trying to lose yourself in the simplicity of it, finding a strange comfort in the routine. with each piece of clothing hung, you felt a small sense of accomplishment. it was something normal, something to hold onto in the midst of everything that had become so abnormal. as you clipped the last piece of clothing to the line, the quiet of the morning was broken by the sound of footsteps behind you. you turned to see jimin and hoseok approaching, their expressions warm and inviting, a welcome contrast to the anxiety that had settled in your chest since you arrived.

“need a hand?” jimin asked, his voice soft yet cheerful, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made you feel at ease. you smiled, nodding as you handed him a damp shirt to hang. “sure, thanks.”

the three of you worked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the rhythm of the task almost meditative. jimin eventually broke the quiet, his tone casual but genuinely interested. “where’d you find the food?” he asked, glancing over at you. “i thought the stores in seoul were all cleared out.”

you paused, the memory of your frantic journey through busan flashing in your mind. you could almost smell the musty air of the abandoned store, feel the sharp edge of desperation as you grabbed whatever you could find. “i got it from busan,” you said, unable to hide a small, nostalgic smile as you thought of your hometown. jimin’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement. “no way! i’m from busan too!”

you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, the coincidence lifting your spirits. “really? i can’t believe you were so close this whole time. it feels like a lifetime ago.”

“tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “i used to hang out at haeundae beach all the time. do you remember the food stalls there? the tteokbokki was the best. i’d always grab some before heading to the beach.” you felt a pang of bittersweet emotion at the memory. “i used to go there with hera,” you replied, your voice softening. “it was one of our favorite spots. busan feels like a different world now, doesn’t it?”

he nodded, his expression tinged with a similar sadness, but also a shared understanding. “yeah, it does. but it’s nice to meet someone who knows that world, you know?” hoseok, who had been quietly working beside you, couldn’t resist adding his own thoughts. he grinned widely, his bright energy a welcome contrast to the bleakness of your situation. “it must be fate that you two found each other here.”

you smiled at the thought, the idea of fate bringing a flicker of hope to your heart. but before you could respond, another voice, colder and sharper, interrupted the moment. “what must be fate?” taehyung’s voice was laced with suspicion, his eyes narrowing as he approached, his posture tense and guarded. he leaned casually against the fence, but there was nothing relaxed about the way he looked at you, his gaze sharp and calculating.

hoseok turned to him with a lighthearted tone, trying to defuse the tension. “(y/n) and jimin both coming from busan,” he explained, his smile genuine as if hoping to include taehyung in the conversation. but he didn’t soften. instead, his lips twisted into a grimace as he folded his arms across his chest. “maybe you should think about going back to busan then,” he suggested, his words carrying a harsh edge.

jimin’s brow furrowed in confusion, his cheerful demeanor dimming slightly as he looked at taehyung. “why would she do that?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “there’s not enough food to go around for all of us,” taehyung replied, his tone icy as he shifted his gaze back to you. “might as well save everyone the trouble.”

his words stung, cutting through the tentative sense of belonging you’d started to feel. you wanted to defend yourself, to remind him that you’d brought food too, but before you could speak, hoseok beat you to it. “the food from last night was what (y/n) brought,” he said firmly, his usual bright demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness as he stood up for you.

taehyung’s eyes flashed with irritation, and he opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get a word out, another voice cut through the tension. “do you ever know when to shut your mouth?” jungkook’s voice was low and hard as he approached, his gaze fixed on taehyung with an intensity that made the air around you seem heavier.

he scoffed, straightening up as he turned to face jungkook, his stance challenging. “if you want to starve, be my guest,” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. the confrontation between them was thick with unspoken challenges, the tension palpable. you felt caught in the middle, your heart pounding in your chest as the situation escalated. without thinking, you spoke up, trying to find a solution that wouldn’t lead to more conflict.

“i could make a run to busan,” you offered, your voice steady despite the uncertainty you felt. “get more supplies.”

jimin and hoseok both looked at you with concern, their expressions showing they didn’t think it was a good idea. jimin was the first to voice his worries. “it’s too dangerous,” he said, his voice soft but firm. but taehyung decided to play the contrarian, nodding in approval. “good idea. at least someone’s thinking,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

before you could respond, jungkook stepped in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “you’re not going alone.” you turned to him, your eyes meeting his. “i can handle it,” you insisted, not wanting to seem weak or incapable.

but he shook his head, his expression unwavering. “i’m going with you.” taehyung, who had been watching the exchange with a growing smirk, leaned in closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “congrats, (y/n). you’ve got a knight in shining armor.” he shot jungkook a mocking look before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving the rest of you in an awkward silence.

you watched him go, feeling a mix of frustration and anger, but also confusion. taehyung’s hostility was baffling, but jungkook’s presence beside you was a source of comfort, grounding you in the midst of the the unexpected tension. when you looked back at him, his expression softened slightly, and there was an understanding in his eyes—a silent promise that he wouldn’t let you face whatever was out there alone.

“don’t let him get to you,” he said quietly, his voice breaking through the tension. he glanced in the direction taehyung had gone, then back at you. “some people just don’t know how to deal with what’s happening.” you nodded, appreciating his words, though the sting of taehyung’s attitude still lingered. “thanks,” you murmured, feeling a bit more at ease knowing he had your back. you expected survival to be your biggest concern, the creatures of the undead lurking in the woods. you had second-guessed just how much other people would be a bother.

the camp was alive with the sounds of morning—rustling leaves, distant birdsong, and the gentle murmur of conversations as everyone began their day. you felt a sense of quiet determination as you and jungkook moved toward hani, who was sitting by the fire with hera. the warmth of the flames contrasted with the cool morning air, and the smell of roasting rabbit still lingered in the air from breakfast.

he caught hani’s eye first, his expression serious but calm. “hani,” he began, his voice soft yet firm, “(y/n) and i are planning to make a run to busan for more supplies.” her brow furrowed slightly, weariness etched into the lines of her face. the life of survival had worn on all of you, but for hani, who carried so much of the group's burdens, it showed the most. her lips pressed into a thin line, concern flashing in her eyes. “busan? that’s a dangerous trip. are you sure it’s worth the risk?”

before you could respond, hera’s small voice cut through the conversation, her eyes wide with fear as she realized what was being discussed. “no,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she rushed to your side. her tiny arms wrapped around your waist, clutching you tightly. “don’t go, please don’t go. what if something happens to you?” her plea was like a knife to your heart, the sheer desperation in her voice almost breaking your resolve. you felt her trembling against you, and your heart ached with the weight of her fear. slowly, you crouched down so that you were at eye level with her, gently taking her small hands in yours.

“hera,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth and reassurance, “nothing is going to happen to me. i promise.” you smiled, trying to infuse your words with as much confidence as you could muster, though the uncertainty of the world loomed over you like a shadow. she shook her head, her lower lip trembling as she clung to you even tighter. “but what if, what if something bad happens?” her eyes, wide and innocent, searched yours for any sign of doubt.

you felt your throat tighten as you pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to shield her from the harsh realities of the world around you. “i’ll be back before sundown,” you whispered into her hair, smoothing it down with one hand. “and i’ll bring back lots of food and supplies. we’ll be safe, i promise.” her tiny arms wrapped around your neck, and she buried her face in your shoulder, refusing to let go. the warmth of her embrace filled you with both a sense of responsibility and a fierce determination to keep your word.

as you held her, you became aware of the others watching. hani’s expression softened, the worry still present but mixed with a reluctant acceptance. she knew better than anyone the risks of this new world, but she also understood the necessity of your mission. hoseok offered you a supportive nod, his usual bright energy subdued but still present in the way he smiled at the two of you. jimin stood a little ways off, his eyes gentle as he observed the scene, a silent reassurance in his gaze. even jungkook, who had been standing quietly beside you, had a softness in his expression as he watched hera cling to you. taehyung remained distant, his gaze averted as if unwilling to witness the emotional exchange. his aloofness cut through the warmth of the moment, a cold reminder that not everyone in the group trusted you yet. it stung, but you tried to push the thought aside. there were more important things to focus on right now.

finally, jungkook stepped forward, crouching down beside you and hera. he reached out, gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek with the back of his hand. “i’ll take good care of her, hera,” he promised, his voice gentle but steady. “i won’t let anything happen to her.” your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around you like a protective blanket. the way he looked at your sister, with such care and affection, only deepened the growing warmth in your chest. he was a natural protector, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of trust in him—something that wasn’t easy to come by in these times.

hera pulled back slightly, her teary eyes flicking between you and jungkook. “promise?” she asked, her voice small and full of hope. he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded. “i promise.” she hesitated for a moment, her grip on you still firm, but the conviction in jungkook’s voice seemed to ease her fears. slowly, she nodded, though she still clung to you as if letting go meant losing you forever. you hugged her once more, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before finally standing up.

“we’ll be back before you know it,” you said, trying to keep your tone light and reassuring, even as the weight of the task ahead pressed down on you. she nodded again, her small hand slipping into yours as if needing that last bit of connection before you left. you gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey through that simple touch all the love and protection you felt for her.

the preparations for your journey were swift but thorough, the weight of the task ahead pressing on everyone’s mind. as the group saw you and jungkook off, the air was thick with a mix of concern and hope. hera held onto your hand until the very last second, her grip tight as if willing you to stay. you gave her one final, reassuring smile before you and jungkook turned toward the horses tied up near the edge of camp.

the horses were strong and sturdy, their coats gleaming under the pale morning light. you approached one, a deep brown mare with a calm demeanor, while jungkook untied her reins. he patted her neck, murmuring something under his breath that seemed to soothe her. the animal’s large, gentle eyes met yours, and you felt a pang of nervousness at the thought of riding again after so long. the last time you’d ridden a horse was before everything had fallen apart—when the world was still whole, still recognizable.

jungkook must have noticed the hesitation in your eyes because he glanced back at you with a small, reassuring smile. “don’t worry, she’s a good horse,” he said, his voice steady. “she’ll take care of us.” you nodded, swallowing down the nerves as you approached the mare. he swung up into the saddle first, his movements fluid and practiced. he turned, extending a hand down to you. you hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, the warmth of his grip steadying your resolve. with a firm tug, he helped you up, guiding you to settle in front of him on the saddle.

the moment you were seated, you realized just how close the two of you were. your back was pressed against jungkook’s chest, his arms on either side of you as he held the reins. his presence was warm and solid, a comforting contrast to the cold uncertainty of the world around you. you tried to focus on the task, but the feeling of his body against yours was impossible to ignore. “comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. you nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “yeah, i’m good.”

he chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “hold on tight, just in case.” taking his advice, you reached up and gripped the edge of the saddle, but it felt inadequate. there was still a small part of you that was uneasy, the fear of falling gnawing at the back of your mind. sensing your discomfort, he shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the reins with one hand while the other came to rest gently on your waist. “this might be easier,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

the gentle weight of his hand at your waist was both comforting and distracting. you nodded again, feeling your cheeks heat up, and then the horse began to move, her steps smooth and deliberate as she set off on the path toward busan. the journey started quietly, the sound of the horse’s hooves against the dirt path the only thing breaking the morning’s stillness. the trees overhead were thick with leaves, their branches arching across the path to create a tunnel of green that filtered the sunlight into soft, dappled patterns on the ground. the air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant wildflowers, a small reminder of the beauty that still existed in the world, despite everything.

jungkook guided the horse with practiced ease, his movements confident and sure. you focused on the rhythmic sway of the horse beneath you, the steady rise and fall that made you feel like you were part of the landscape, moving in sync with the world around you. the unease you had felt earlier began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm as you became accustomed to the ride. the forest around you was alive with the quiet sounds of nature—birds singing, leaves rustling in the breeze, and the occasional crack of a twig underfoot. as you traveled deeper into the woods, the path grew narrower, the trees denser. you felt the brush of branches against your arms and legs as the horse navigated the increasingly rugged terrain.

after some time, the gentle motion and the warmth of jungkook behind you began to lull you into a sense of drowsiness. you fought it at first, determined to stay alert, but the early morning and the stress of the past few days had taken their toll. your eyelids grew heavy, the sounds of the forest fading into the background as your mind began to drift. “hey,” jungkook’s voice cut through the haze of sleep, gentle but amused. “you’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

you blinked, startled by how close you had come to dozing off. you hadn’t realized how much you had relaxed into him until now, your head resting lightly against his shoulder. embarrassed, you straightened up, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “didn’t mean to.” jungkook’s laughter was soft and good-natured. “it’s okay. you’ve been through a lot. i don’t mind being a pillow.”

despite the situation, you couldn’t help but smile at his teasing tone. “a comfortable pillow, i gotta add.” he chuckled again, the sound warming the chilly air around you. “well, go ahead and rest if you need to. we’ve still got a long way to go.” you considered his offer, the temptation to give in to the exhaustion pulling at you. but part of you didn’t want to let your guard down completely, not when you were on a mission as important as this. still, the comfort of the ride and the safety you felt in his presence made it hard to resist.

eventually, you let your head rest against his shoulder once more, the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait and the rise and fall of jungkook’s breathing lulling you into a light sleep. you drifted in and out of consciousness, the sounds of the forest and the warmth of his body blurring together into a comforting haze. by the time you woke again, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows on the path ahead. you sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you took in your surroundings.

the trees had thinned out, giving way to the remnants of civilization. the outskirts of busan were visible in the distance, a contrast to the natural beauty of the forest. buildings stood like skeletons, their once bustling interiors now empty and crumbling. the streets, once filled with life, were eerily silent, devoid of any movement save for the occasional rustle of debris caught in the wind. jungkook felt you stir and glanced down at you with a small smile. “welcome back. you were out for a while.”

“sorry,” you said again, feeling a little guilty for leaving him to handle the journey alone. “did i miss anything?” he shook his head. “just a lot of trees and silence. figured you needed the rest more than i needed the company.” you appreciated his thoughtfulness, though you couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for falling asleep when you should have been alert. as the horse continued forward, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the city ahead. seoul’s skyline, once towering and majestic, was now broken and hollow, a ghost of its former self.

“this place used to be so full of life,” you murmured, the weight of what had been lost settling heavily in your chest. “yeah,” he agreed, his voice tinged with a sadness that matched your own. “hard to believe it’s the same city.” as you drew closer to seoul’s main point, the atmosphere shifted. the air grew thicker, more oppressive, as if the city itself was holding its breath. the closer you got, the more the reality of what you were about to face set in. the city was a dangerous place, filled with the remnants of people who hadn’t made it through the catastrophe. and worse still, the possibility of encountering skinwalkers loomed over you like a dark cloud.

jungkook must have sensed your unease because he adjusted his hold on the reins and leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “we’ll be okay. we just need to be careful.” you nodded, taking comfort in his calm demeanor. he had been through this before—navigating the ruins of the old world, facing the dangers that lurked within. his experience and confidence were something you could rely on, even as the fear gnawed at the edges of your mind.

the horse came to a stop as you reached the edge of the city. the streets were deserted, littered with debris and the remnants of lives long abandoned. the silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant sound of something creaking in the wind. jungkook dismounted first, his movements quiet and deliberate as he surveyed the area. after a moment, he turned and extended a hand to you. “ready?”

taking a deep breath, you accepted his hand and slid down from the horse, your feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. you felt a rush of nervous energy, but his steady demeanor beside you helped keep the fear at bay. “let’s find what we need and get out of here,” he said, his voice low but firm. you nodded in agreement, your eyes scanning the deserted streets. the stakes were high, but it would make all the difference to the group.

the streets of busan were as desolate as you remembered, each step echoing through the emptiness that surrounded you and jungkook. the buildings, once towering and majestic, now stood as mere husks of their former selves, looming like ghosts over the deserted streets. as you walked side by side, you found your thoughts drifting back to a time when the city was still alive—when the streets buzzed with the sounds of life, of people going about their daily routines. it was hard to believe that such a world had ever existed, but as you glanced up at the remnants of old storefronts and cracked sidewalks, you couldn’t help but remember the way things used to be.

“this way,” you murmured, leading him down a narrow alleyway that branched off from the main road. the alley was overgrown with weeds and littered with debris, but you knew this path like the back of your hand. ot was one of the few places in the city that held any semblance of familiarity, a relic of your childhood that had somehow survived the chaos.

as you walked, you found yourself sharing memories of the past with jungkook, your voice soft in the quiet of the alley. “i used to come here with hera when we were kids. there was this little convenience store at the end of the alley. the owner was this old man who always had a kind word and a free candy for us.” he glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “sounds like a nice guy. surprised the store’s still standing after everything that’s happened.”

you nodded, the nostalgia settling over you like a warm blanket. “it’s one of the few places in the city that feels untouched, i guess. like a little piece of the past that’s still here, even when everything else is gone.” he hummed in agreement, his gaze shifting to the end of the alley where the store’s faded sign was just visible. as you neared the store, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. despite the danger that loomed over every corner of the city, this place still held a certain safety for you—a sanctuary in the midst of the madness. jungkook broke the silence with a sudden, wistful sigh. “you know, i’d kill for a cigarette right now.”

the mention of cigarettes jolted something in your memory. you came to an abrupt stop, causing jungkook to glance at you in confusion. “what’s wrong?” without a word, you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the small, crumpled box of cigarettes you had picked up during your previous scavenging run. you had completely forgotten about them until now, the memory of stuffing them into your pocket slipping your mind amidst all the chaos.

his eyes widened as he caught sight of the box, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “i can’t believe you’ve been hiding these this whole time.” a guilty smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head. “i swear it wasn’t intentional. just forgot.”

he let out a soft laugh, his tension easing as he reached for the box. “forgot, huh? well, you just made my day.” you handed him a cigarette, along with a lighter, watching as he eagerly lit it up. the tension practically melted off his face as he took his first drag, his eyes closing in satisfaction. to your surprise, after lighting his own cigarette, he turned to you and held the flame up to your own. you hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, letting him light it for you.

“thanks,” you murmured, taking a drag and savoring the familiar taste of tobacco. it had been so long since you’d had one, the sensation was almost surreal. “no problem,” he replied, his voice lighter, more relaxed now that he had a cigarette in hand. the two of you began walking again, side by side, the smoke curling into the air above your heads as you continued down the alley.

“so,” he began after a moment of comfortable silence, “you and hera used to come here a lot?”

“yeah,” you replied, smiling at the memory. “it was our favorite spot. we’d save up our pocket money and come here to buy candy and snacks. the owner, mister kim, always gave us a little extra, just because he liked us.” jungkook nodded, a hint of wistfulness in his eyes. “aounds like a good guy. must’ve been nice, having a place like that.”

“it was,” you agreed softly. “it made us feel safe. like no matter what was going on in the world, we had this one little corner that was ours.” you walked in companionable silence for a while, the memories of your childhood warming you from the inside out. as you neared the store, you could see that it had changed very little since the last time you were there. the sign was faded and the windows were cracked, but it was still standing—still the same little store that had been a refuge for you and hera all those years ago.

jungkook paused as you approached the entrance, glancing at the old, weathered sign with a curious expression. “this is it?” you nodded, feeling a surge of nostalgia as you pushed open the door. the familiar creak of the hinges greeted you, the smell of dust and old wood filling your senses as you stepped inside. the store was dimly lit, the shelves mostly bare, but it still felt like a small piece of home.

“i’ll grab some food and water,” you said, breaking the silence as you pulled a bag from your shoulder. “you take whatever you can find. we’ll meet back here in a few minutes.” jungkook nodded in agreement, already scanning the shelves for supplies. as you made your way down the aisles, you couldn’t help but marvel at how little had changed. the store was nearly empty, but the layout was exactly as you remembered it—the same rows of shelves, the same old wooden counter at the back. It was as if time had stopped within these walls, preserving a piece of the past for you to find.

you picked out another bag from behind the counter, just as you had done with hera all those years ago, and began filling it with whatever canned goods and water you could find. the work was methodical, almost calming, as you focused on gathering what you needed. you could hear jungkook moving through the aisles behind you, the soft thuds of items being placed into his own bag. suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the store, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. your heart lurched in your chest as you spun around, dropping the can of beans you had just picked up. Without a second thought, you sprinted toward the source of the noise, your breath catching in your throat.

as you rounded the corner, you saw jungkook on the ground, a look of shock and horror on his face as a figure loomed over him. the creature—because it was no longer human—towered over him, its eyes glowing a menacing red, its mouth twisted into a snarl. it was a skinwalker, its human features barely masking the monster beneath. panic surged through you, but you didn’t hesitate. with a surge of adrenaline, you rushed forward, locking an arm around the creature’s neck and yanking it off jungkook with all your strength. the creature hissed and thrashed, but you held on, your other hand reaching for the knife at your belt. with a swift, practiced motion, you drove the blade into its throat, the force of the strike sending a spray of dark, viscous blood across the floor.

for a split second, you feared that you had acted too rashly—what if it had been a human? but as the creature dropped to the ground, its eyes flashing red before it finally stopped moving, you knew that you had made the right choice. jungkook scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily as he glanced down at the now lifeless body. “holy shit,” he muttered, brushing the dust off his clothes. “you saved my ass.”

you couldn’t help but smile, despite the lingering fear in your chest. “hera,” you began, mimicking his earlier words with a teasing grin, “i’ll protect her.” he rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “it caught me off guard.”

his gaze shifted to the body at his feet, his expression darkening as he crouched beside it. before you could ask what he was doing, he reached for your knife, his fingers curling around the handle with a grim determination. “you have to finish it off,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. and then, to your shock, he drove the knife into the creature’s head with a sickening crunch. “they never fully die unless you get the brain.”

the cruelty of the act made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t deny that he was right. the world you lived in now demanded such harsh measures—measures that were necessary for survival, even if they made you feel sick to your stomach. as you tried to shake off the unease, your gaze shifted to the aisle jungkook had been in. a quiet laugh bubbled up from your chest as you saw the box of condoms lying on the floor, the likely cause of the crash.

“what were you looking for over here?” you asked, your tone teasing as you pointed to the box. he glanced down, and to your amusement, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i might need them at some point,” he mumbled, quickly stuffing the box into his bag as if hoping you hadn’t seen.

you raised an eyebrow, your grin widening as you caught the flustered look on jungkook’s face. his sudden bashfulness was a contrast to the confident, almost unshakeable demeanor he usually carried. the idea of him, out of all people, getting embarrassed over something as trivial as condoms made the situation all the more amusing. “need them at some point, huh?” you teased, tilting your head as you tried to catch his eye. “do you have a girlfriend stashed away somewhere that i don’t know about?”

jungkook finally met your gaze, and you could see a flicker of something mischievous in his eyes, though his cheeks were still tinged with that same boyish pink. he let out a soft chuckle, shrugging as if to shake off the embarrassment. “not yet,” he said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. “but you never know when you might get lucky.” you rolled your eyes playfully, though you couldn’t help the slight warmth that spread through your chest at his words. he was flirting—lightly, but it was still there, lingering in the space between you like an unspoken possibility. you couldn’t quite tell if he was being serious or just trying to deflect the awkwardness of the situation, but either way, it was enough to make your own cheeks heat up.

jungkook’s eyes glinted with something unreadable as he prepared to remount his horse. you adjusted yourself, the strain of the long day suddenly hitting you with a wave of weariness. despite the comfort he offered with his presence, the lingering memory of his earlier remark about needing condoms made your cheeks flush involuntarily. the implications of that comment buzzed persistently in the back of your mind, and you tried to push them away as you gathered your composure.

“ready to head back?” his voice brought you back to the present. he was seated on his horse, looking at you with a casual yet attentive gaze. you forced yourself to nod, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “yeah, let’s go.” the two of you mounted the horse once more, and as you started riding, the rhythm of the horse’s steady gait beneath you began to soothe your frazzled nerves. the sun was in the sky, casting long, golden shadows over the deserted landscape. the air was cool, a welcome relief from the heat of the day, and you found yourself falling into a contemplative silence, your thoughts wandering as the miles of road stretched out before you.

jungkook’s earlier smirk lingered in your memory, and the memory of his flustered reaction when he revealed the condoms made your heart skip a beat. you caught yourself glancing over at him frequently, the way the fading sunlight highlighted the angles of his face, the way his eyes sometimes met yours with that playful glint. it was impossible not to think about what lay beneath the surface of those moments, to wonder if there was something more to his teasing.

as you neared seoul, a faint silhouette of a bar emerged in the distance. it was a solitary structure, seemingly untouched by the chaos that had engulfed the world. jungkook’s gaze followed yours, and he suddenly reined in his horse, bringing her to a halt. “hey, how about we stop there for a drink?” he suggested, pointing toward the bar with a casual nod. the sun was still hanging in the sky, its last light painting the horizon in shades of pink and orange. you looked at the bar, then back at him, a spark of curiosity igniting within you. “a drink? sounds like a good idea. we could use a break.”

he nodded approvingly and guided his horse toward the bar. you relaxed, the horse’s hooves clattering softly against the cracked pavement as you approached. he tied her to a nearby post and you both dismounted, the evening air cooler now that the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. the bar’s door creaked as you pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit interior. dust motes danced in the narrow beams of light that filtered through the grimy windows. the bar was exactly as you had expected—completely abandoned, with a thick layer of dust covering every surface. bottles of alcohol lined the shelves behind the bar, their labels faded and worn.

jungkook made his way behind the bar, his movements fluid and confident. he retrieved a bottle of whiskey and began to pour two glasses, the amber liquid catching the light in a rich, golden hue. you took a seat at the bar, watching as he expertly filled the glasses. “you know,” you said, trying to break the silence that had settled between you, “whiskey is such a male drink. i thought maybe you’d go for something a bit lighter.”

he scoffed, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “oh, so you’re used to soju bombs, are you? guess you haven’t had the pleasure of a good whiskey then.” you raised an eyebrow, your competitive spirit flaring up. “i bet i can drink more whiskey than you.”

jungkook’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he held up his glass in a mock toast. “you’re on. the bottle’s full, so it must be fate.” you clinked your glasses together, the sound ringing out in the empty bar, and took your first gulp. the whiskey burned pleasantly as it slid down your throat, a warming sensation spreading through you. you could feel the alcohol working its way into your system, dulling the edges of your fatigue and sharpening the edge of the challenge.

the two of you drank steadily, the glasses being refilled with practiced ease. the whiskey’s rich flavor grew stronger with each sip, and you both laughed and bantered, the earlier tension slowly dissipating. the initial competitive edge softened into a more relaxed camaraderie, though neither of you were willing to concede defeat.

hours passed in a blur of alcohol and laughter, the room growing dimmer as the night progressed. you both reached a point where even the act of lifting the glass seemed like an effort, the whiskey taking its toll on your senses. the bottle was nearly empty, and both of you were feeling the effects of the alcohol, your laughter becoming more carefree and your movements more languid. jungkook finally leaned back, his face flushed from the drink, and held up his glass in a final toast. “i think we can call it a tie,” he said with a grin, his voice slightly slurred but still cheerful. you nodded, your head spinning pleasantly as you set your glass down. “tie it is,” you agreed, your own voice feeling a bit unsteady.

with the competition settled, a comfortable silence settled between you. jungkook looked over at you, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you, sitting there with a tipsy smile on your face. “so,” you said, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the bar, “what did you mean earlier with the condoms? were you serious or just messing around?”

jungkook scratched the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful. “i’m not really sure. it was just something that came to mind.” you raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on your lips. “i think you were being serious.”

he brushed off the comment with a wave of his hand. “maybe. or maybe i was just trying to be funny.” you leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest. the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions, and you found yourself closing the distance between you and jungkook, your breath mingling with his. “i think you weren't,” you whispered, your voice low and soft. his breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of surprise and something else—something that was unmistakably desire. the space between you seemed to shrink until there was nothing left but the two of you and the charged air that surrounded you.

without another word, jungkook closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a heated, passionate kiss. it was sudden and intense, a mix of urgency and raw emotion that took you by surprise. his lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. you melted into the kiss, your body responding instinctively as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the taste of whiskey lingered on his lips, mingling with the sweetness of his breath. the kiss deepened, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you firmly as he pressed you against the bar. you weren't exactly sure what pushed you to do it, maybe it was the sheer fact that the world had come to an end. the world had ended, yet you two remained. maybe it really was fate.

his hands began to wander, slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back. you gasped into his mouth, arching into his touch as he pulled you closer. the friction between your bodies grew more pronounced as the kiss grew hungrier, his tongue tracing the line of your lower lip before delving into your mouth. his touch was gentle, almost reverent, and you felt your own desire beginning to build, a slow burn that spread through your body like wildfire. you broke the kiss, panting softly, your eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation. jungkook's gaze was filled with a raw, unbridled passion that left no room for doubt. “i want you,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “please, let me have you.”

you nodded, your own voice a whisper. “take me, have me.” it was truly all he needed to hear. his hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, deftly unbuttoning them one by one. your heart raced as he peeled it off, revealing your clothed tits. neither of you had attire on that would make a lasting impression, but neither of you seemed to care. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. “you really are pretty,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

you felt his hands move to the clasp of your bra, his fingers fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar mechanism. with a soft chuckle, you reached around and unhooked it yourself, letting the fabric fall away to reveal your bare tits. jungkook's eyes widened with awe, and he leaned in to kiss and nibble at your neck, making his way down to your chest. his mouth found your nipples, his teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh, allowing you to moan and arch into his touch.

his hands moved to cup your tits, his thumbs circling the stiff peaks as he continued to kiss and suckle. the sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure through your body. it had been a long time since you had done anything of the sort, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, your arousal building to a crescendo. “you like that?” he asked, his voice gruff and needy. you nodded, unable to form coherent words. “yes,” you managed to gasp out. “please don't stop.”

his hands slid down to your pants, unbuttoning them with the same urgent need. you stepped out of them, leaving you in just your underwear. jungkook took a step back, his eyes roaming over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and desired. “i need to tell you something,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “i've never done this before.”

you blinked in surprise. “you're a virgin?” he nodded, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “yes,” he whispered. “but i want it to be with you.”

your heart swelled with affection and lust. “it's okay,” you assured him, taking his hand and leading him to a nearby table. “i'll make it good for you.” the world had ended, there was no reason not to. you didn't want to grow attached, you didn't want to attach yourself and love him during such a time, knowing he could slip away at any moment. but this was acceptable, you could let yourself have just the slightest of fun.

you sat on the edge of the table, your legs spread wide as jungkook stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours. his hands found your panties, and with trembling fingers, he slid them down your legs. your breath caught in your throat as he knelt before you, his eyes traveling from your face to the apex of your thighs. “oh, fuck. you're so wet,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. you nodded, your voice a low moan. “touch me.”

his hands moved to your thighs, his fingers sliding up the soft skin before finally reaching your folds. he explored you tentatively, his touch feather-light as he traced your slit. you bit your lip, trying to keep the sounds of pleasure at bay. “like this?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval. you nodded, your voice a breathy whisper. “yes.”

his touch grew bolder, his fingers delving deeper, teasing your clit before sliding inside you. you threw your head back, the sensation of him filling you making you feel complete. “you're so tight,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “i don't wanna hurt you.” you reached down, taking his face in your hands. “you won't,” you assured him, your voice thick with desire. “just go slow.”

he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he slid one finger into your slick warmth, then two, moving them in a gentle rhythm that had your hips rocking against his hand. your moans grew louder, filling the empty bar with the sweet symphony of pleasure. his thumb found your clit, and he began to rub it in tight circles, his eyes watching as your expression grew more and more ecstatic. “you're so perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence. his movements grew more confident as he felt your body responding to his touch. your legs began to tremble, and you knew you were close to the edge. “right there,” you gasped, your voice strained. “don't stop.”

his fingers moved in a steady rhythm, his thumb pressing down with just the right amount of pressure as he continued to whisper dirty words into your ear. “you're gonna cum for me, aren't you?” he said, his voice low and rough. “you're gonna moan my name, yeah?” you could only nod, unable to form the right words as the orgasm built within you. jungkook leaned in, his mouth finding your nipple once again as he quickened his pace. the sensation was overwhelming, and with a sharp cry, you shattered, your body convulsing with pleasure. he held you through it, his gentle touch soothing you as the waves of ecstasy receded.

once your breathing had returned to normal, jungkook stood up, his eyes never leaving yours. “it's your turn,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. you slid off the table, pushing him down onto it instead. he watched as you unbuckled his pants, his eyes wide with anticipation. you could see his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, the tip of it leaking enough to leave a stain, and your mouth watered at the sight.

you pulled his boxers down, his cock springing free. it was thick and long, the head a dark, angry red with need. “wow,” you murmured, genuinely impressed. jungkook blushed, his cheeks reddening even further. “i've never had anyone look at me like that before.” you leaned in, your breath hot against his skin as you took him in your mouth. his moan was music to your ears, and you began to suck, your tongue swirling around the tip as you took him deeper. his hands found your hair, gripping it tightly as he thrust his hips upwards, his body responding instinctively to the pleasure you were giving him.

you could feel his cock twitch and throb with every suck and lick, his muscles tensing as he grew closer to the edge. “i'm gonna cum,” he whimpered, his voice tight with restraint. you pulled back, giving him a wicked smile. “not yet,” you whispered, standing up to straddle him. “i wanna feel you inside me.”

you reached into his bag, pulling out one of the condoms he had bought earlier. jungkook watched with hooded eyes as you tore the packet open with your teeth and rolled it onto his erection. “are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse. you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. “more than anything.”

slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling him stretch and fill you completely. jungkook's eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “fuck, you're so tight,” he hissed. you took a moment to adjust to the feeling, your body clenching around him. then, with a gasp, you began to ride him, your movements slow and deliberate at first, building up speed as you grew more comfortable. his hands roamed your body, cupping your tits and squeezing your ass as he whispered dirty words into your ear, urging you to go faster, harder.

the friction between your bodies grew intense, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the bar. his grip tightened, his hips bucking up to meet yours as he reached his own climax, his body taut with pleasure. for a second, you wished he hadn't been so quick to buy the condoms, but it was the safer route. it was the route that assured you both you wouldn't be bringing any more children into the mess that claimed the world. it didn't matter, not with that look on his face. the gaping of his mouth, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with his hair plastered to his forehead. you had ruined him, and he had never been more grateful.

you collapsed onto him, your chest heaving as you both tried to catch your breath. his voice was a mix of satisfaction and disbelief. “that was—” he trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intensity of the experience. you smiled, feeling a sense of pride in the way you had brought him to such a powerful release. “are you okay?” you asked, peeling yourself off of him gently. he nodded, his eyes still closed as he savored the feeling. “better than okay,” he murmured. “that was amazing.”

you chuckled, the sound echoing in the quiet bar. “you're not so bad for a first-timer,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him softly. his eyes snapped open, a mischievous glint in them. “you think?” he said, his voice low and playful. “maybe we should practice some more.”

you rolled your eyes, but the idea was tempting. the chemistry between you was palpable, and the desire hadn't waned even after the intense climax. “maybe we should get going,” you suggested, glancing out the window at the darkened sky. “it's getting late.” jungkook nodded reluctantly, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “yeah, we should.” he opened his eyes and looked around the room, the reality of their situation crashing back down on him.

the ride back to seoul was quiet, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves the only sound as you and jungkook traveled through the darkening landscape. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you had shared earlier, and your thoughts churned restlessly, replaying the intensity of the everything that had gone down, the sudden shift in your feelings. jungkook rode with a steady, focused demeanor, his presence a comforting anchor against the backdrop of the encroaching night.

the distant growling began as a faint, unsettling noise, like a distant echo of something primal and hungry. you exchanged a worried glance with him, but he merely tightened his grip on the reins and urged the horse onward. you both chose to ignore it, hoping it was merely the result of your overactive imaginations and the eerie quiet of the world that had fallen into disarray. as you approached the campsite, the familiar shapes of the makeshift shelters and tents came into view, their silhouettes dark against the twilight sky. jungkook guided the horse through the gate, and you dismounted with a sense of relief that you had made it back safely.

“we’re back,” jungkook called out as you both entered the campsite. hani’s face lit up with a mixture of joy and relief as she spotted you. “you’re back! thank god!” she rushed over, her eyes wide with gratitude.

jimin, too, looked visibly relieved, though his face was a mask of exhaustion. “you made it. i was getting worried.” taehyung, however, remained unfazed, his expression impassive as he observed the scene. his indifference only served to heighten your anxiety as you noticed the tension in the air.

hoseok emerged from one of the tents, holding hera’s small hand in his own. the sight of her, safe and sound, was a balm to your worried heart. but before you could fully relax, a guttural, menacing snarl cut through the evening air. the sound was unmistakably close, and a cold knot of fear tightened in your stomach. you turned to jungkook, panic rising in your chest. “we need to arm everyone.” his face hardened with urgency as he nodded. “get everyone ready.”

you dashed around the campsite, shouting instructions and grabbing weapons. the atmosphere was charged with tension as people scrambled to arm themselves, their faces mirroring your own fear. your eyes darted around, trying to assess the situation and protect those you cared about. but it was already too late. from the shadows emerged a horde of grotesque, nightmarish creatures, their forms twisted and deformed. they moved with a terrifying speed and hunger, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. the campsite erupted into chaos as the creatures lunged forward, their growls and shrieks filling the air.

you shouted commands, urging everyone to defend themselves, but the creatures showed no mercy. the battle was brutal and swift. amid the confusion, you spotted hera, her small frame trembling as she looked around in terror. your heart ached with a primal urge to protect her. as you tried to reach her, a creature—larger and more vicious than the rest—seized her, pinning her to the ground with a savage grip. your breath caught in your throat as you saw its fangs sink into her throat. the sight was a gut-wrenching horror that rendered you momentarily paralyzed, your body frozen in shock.

hera’s eyes met yours, wide and filled with a silent, desperate plea. her mouth moved, forming a wordless scream as the creature ripped her throat open. blood poured from her wound, staining the dirt beneath her. the sound of her choking, gasping breaths was the only thing you could focus on, and you felt as though time had stopped. tears streamed down your face as you finally broke free from your paralysis. you scrambled toward her, your movements frantic and disoriented. the world around you seemed to blur as you tried to reach her, but the reality of her injury was too harsh, too immediate.

the creature was still there, its grotesque form looming over hera’s bleeding body. with a surge of desperation, you raised your gun and fired, the shot ringing out sharply. the creature’s head jerked back, its body convulsing before collapsing lifelessly. the noise of gunfire and the dying howls of the creatures were all that punctuated the silence that followed. the campsite fell eerily quiet, everyone pausing to process the horrifying scene. your eyes remained locked on hera’s dying form, her body growing still. the sight of her lying there, the sister you had fought so hard to find, was a brutal twist of fate.

hani was sobbing uncontrollably, her cries echoing the agony you felt inside. even taehyung, usually so composed, had turned his back, unable to watch the tragedy unfold. the world seemed to collapse around you as you knelt beside hera, your hands trembling as you fumbled with your medical supplies. “help me,” you pleaded, your voice cracking as you reached out for the medicine.

jungkook was quick to respond, his own eyes red-rimmed with tears as he brought the supplies to you. the urgency of the moment did nothing to calm your frayed nerves. you worked frantically, tearing open gauze and pouring rubbing alcohol, but deep down, you knew it was too late. hera’s hand weakly grasped yours, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of sadness and resignation. “stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “it’s too late.”

you refused to accept it, your hands continuing to work despite the futility of the task. “no, baby. we can’t give up. i’m here. i’m here with you.”

her eyes were glazed with pain and exhaustion. her breaths were shallow, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. “i love you,” she said, her voice barely a breath. “i’m glad you found me.”

tears streamed down your face as you brushed the blood and hair from her pale face. you held her close, whispering apologies and begging her to hold on. “please, hera. don’t leave me. i need you.”

she weakly shook her head, her strength waning. “kill me,” she said softly, her voice cracking with the effort. “i can’t become one of them.”

you clutched her tighter, your heart breaking at her words. “no, hera, you can’t leave me. not like this.”

with one final tear slipping down her cheek, her eyes fluttered closed. her body went limp in your arms, and you felt an overwhelming wave of despair crash over you. the finality of her death was a cruel blow, and you were left holding her lifeless body, your cries echoing through the night. jungkook tried to hold you back as you thrashed and sobbed, his own tears mingling with yours as he watched helplessly. your hands, stained with blood, covered your face and clothes as you shook her body, pleading for her to wake up.

hoseok and jimin were distraught, their faces pale and their eyes filled with anguish. hani’s sobs were inconsolable, her grief visible as she tried to comfort you. taehyung had his back turned, unable to bear the sight of the tragedy unfolding before him. in the midst of the grief, you felt as though you had lost everything. the weight of hera’s death, the cruel twist of fate, and the relentless reality of the world you were living in all combined into a suffocating darkness that threatened to swallow you whole. the campsite was silent except for the sound of your sobs and the occasional, haunting howl in the distance. you were left with nothing but the shattered remnants of your hopes and dreams, the loss of your sister, and the overwhelming sense of defeat. the world outside might have been a barren wasteland, but inside, you felt as though you were drowning in an ocean of despair.

jungkook’s voice broke through the haze of your grief, desperate and choked with tears. “please, calm down. please, i’m begging you.” his hands were on your shoulders, trembling as he tried to steady you, but your sobs were uncontrollable, your body trembling with the force of your anguish. his words were like a distant echo in your ears, barely registering over the cacophony of your own despair. you had searched for hera for so long, through countless days and sleepless nights, through blood and fear, clinging to the hope that she was still alive, that you could save her. you loved her all your life, protected her, and now, after finally finding her, she was gone. ripped away from you in the cruelest twist of fate.

“please,” he whispered again, his voice breaking. “please, just breathe.” slowly, painfully, you began to calm, though the tears continued to flow unchecked down your cheeks. the sound of your ragged breaths filled the air, the only thing grounding you to the moment. but it wasn’t enough. nothing could be enough. how could it be, when you had lost everything?

jimin’s hand on your shoulder was a gentle weight, his touch warm and full of sorrow. “i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. his presence was meant to comfort, but instead, it only deepened the ache in your chest. the weight of your new reality began to sink in, a heavy, suffocating pressure that left you gasping for air. you looked down at hera’s lifeless body, her face pale and peaceful, as if she were merely sleeping. but the truth was undeniable. she was gone, and there was nothing you could do to change that. the sight of her, so small and fragile in your arms, made your heart shatter all over again.

with a trembling hand, you reached for your gun, the metal cold against your skin. the others watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with shock as they realized what you were about to do. but you couldn’t let her turn into one of those things, the very creatures that had stolen her life. you held the gun in both hands, your fingers shaking as you aimed it at her head. time seemed to slow, each breath you took feeling like it could be your last. the silence was deafening, every sound muffled by the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your sorrow. “i’m so sorry, baby.” and then, with a sharp intake of breath, you pulled the trigger.

the gunshot rang out, a deafening sound that echoed through the campsite. everyone flinched, their expressions frozen in shock and horror as they stared at you. the gun fell from your hand, clattering to the ground with a hollow thud. your hand, now free, moved to cradle her head once more. you gazed down at her, the reality of what you had done settling over you like a shroud. you weren’t going to let her turn into the monster that killed her. you had saved her from that fate, but the cost was too high, too unbearable. she was still warm in your arms, her body unmoving, and the finality of it all was like a dagger to your heart.

hoseok wiped away his own tears, his face drawn with grief. hani was beside herself, her sobs uncontrollable as she clung to hoseok for support. even taehyung, who had tried so hard to remain detached, took one final, shocked look before turning away, retreating from the sight that was too much for him to bear. jungkook wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with tears. “i’m so, so sorry.”

you were silent, the words trapped in your throat, too tangled with your grief to form a coherent response. his embrace was warm, comforting, but it did little to soothe the storm raging inside you. all you could do was sit there, holding hera’s lifeless body in your arms, the world around you fading into the background.

the night passed in a blur, the hours bleeding into one another as you remained by hera’s side. the others drifted in and out, their faces etched with grief and helplessness. they didn’t know what to say, how to comfort you in a moment like this. what words could possibly bring solace when the world had stolen everything from you?

the sky gradually lightened, the first rays of dawn creeping over the horizon. but you didn’t move, couldn’t bring yourself to leave her side. her body had grown cold in your arms, but still, you held on, as if by doing so, you could keep a part of her with you, keep her from slipping away completely. jungkook stayed with you throughout the night, his presence a silent comfort. he didn’t try to make you speak, didn’t force you to move. he simply sat with you, his hand resting on your shoulder, a steady, grounding force in the midst of your grief.

as the sun finally broke over the horizon, casting a golden light over the camp, you looked down at hera one last time. her face, once so full of life, was now still, peaceful in a way that tore at your heart. you had lost everything, but in this final moment, you made a silent vow to keep her memory alive, to carry her with you, no matter what. “goodbye, hera,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “i love you.”

the last of your strength seemed to leave you. you slumped forward, your forehead resting against hera’s, your tears mingling with the cold morning air. the world felt impossibly heavy, the weight of your loss almost too much to bear. but somehow, you knew you had to keep going. for her. for the others who still needed you. for the memory of everything you had lost.

with movements slow and deliberate, you extricated yourself from her lifeless body, the coldness of her skin a final reminder of what you had lost. as you stood, the world around you felt distant, like you were moving through a fog. your eyes, still swollen and bloodshot from the tears that had finally stopped falling, stared blankly at the campsite. the others were beginning to stir, their exhaustion evident in every movement, but your mind was already made up.

you approached the pile of weapons with a determined stride, your hands reaching out to begin loading the guns. the mechanical nature of the task gave your hands something to do, something to focus on other than the pain that threatened to swallow you whole. clip after clip, you loaded each gun with a practiced ease, your fingers moving with a steady, unfeeling precision.

one by one, the others awoke, their eyes settling on you, unsure of what to say, too afraid to ask if you were okay. the air was thick with the tension of unspoken words, the grief that hung over all of you like a heavy cloud. they could see the change in you, the hardening of your features, the way your hands moved with a purpose that bordered on obsession. they didn’t know how to approach you now, how to reach out to the person who had been broken so thoroughly the night before.

jungkook was the first to find his voice, his concern for you overriding his own grief. “what are you doing?” he asked, his voice soft, careful, as if he were afraid of pushing you too far. you didn’t look at him as you continued to load the guns, your voice cold and distant as you replied, “we need to relocate. the fences, they’re not doing their job. we’re not safe here.”

hoseok spoke up, his tone cautious. “are you sure that’s a good idea? where would we even go?” you shrugged, the motion stiff and mechanical, your face devoid of any emotion as you finally met his eyes. “i don’t care what you do. stay here if you want. but i’m leaving. with or without you.”

the bluntness of your words left everyone taken aback. they exchanged worried glances, the shift in your demeanor more shocking than anything they had seen from you before. but none of them could question it. none of them dared to. they all knew why you were like this, understood the depth of your pain, even if they couldn’t fully grasp the extent of it. jungkook stepped forward, his heart breaking at the sight of you. the dried tears on your cheeks, the bloodstains on your skin, the hollow look in your eyes—it was too much for him to bear. gently, he took your hands in his, trying to offer some comfort, though he knew it was a small, almost meaningless gesture in the face of what you had lost.

“we’ll go with you,” he said softly, his voice full of a sadness that matched your own. he squeezed your hands, hoping to offer some small reassurance. “we’ll all go with you.” the others murmured in agreement, their resolve firm even in the face of the unknown. they would follow you, wherever you went. there was no question in their minds. they couldn’t leave you alone, not after everything that had happened.

with everyone in agreement, the mood shifted from grief to grim determination. they began to pack up what little they had, the weight of the previous night still hanging heavily over them. the silence was thick, broken only by the sounds of their movements as they prepared to leave the campsite that had been their home, if only for a brief moment in time. you didn’t say anything more as you continued your work, your hands moving with a detached efficiency. when everything was ready, the group mounted the horses, each person somber, their minds weighed down by the events of the night. jungkook helped you onto the horse you would share, his hands lingering on your waist as if he were afraid you might slip away. you didn’t meet his eyes, your gaze fixed on something far off in the distance, beyond the pain, beyond the reality of your new life.

the campsite was a ghost of what it had been, the memories of the past days haunting the empty spaces. as you prepared to leave, you couldn’t help but take one last look, your eyes sweeping over the area that had once offered a fleeting sense of safety. and then your gaze fell on hera. her body, now cold and lifeless, lay where you had left it, a stark reminder of the cruelty of this world. your heart twisted in your chest, a fresh wave of grief crashing over you, but you couldn’t look away. you owed her that much.

for a moment, it felt as if time had stopped. the sounds around you faded away, the world shrinking down to just you and her. it was as if you were back in that nightmarish moment, the sight of her blood, the way her eyes had pleaded with you in those final, agonizing seconds. you couldn’t look anymore. it was too much. with a sharp intake of breath, you tore your eyes away, focusing on the path ahead. you felt jungkook’s hand tighten around yours as the horse began to move, carrying you away from the campsite, away from the memories that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

the woods loomed ahead like a dense, impenetrable wall, the trees casting long shadows in the early morning light. the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and the faint rustle of leaves, but the only sound that really registered in your mind was the steady thud of the horses’ hooves against the ground. no one spoke as you rode deeper into the forest, each of you lost in your thoughts, the silence heavy with the weight of your collective grief.

you didn’t know where you were going. none of you did. the destination didn’t matter. all that mattered was putting as much distance between you and the horror you had left behind. it was as if fate itself had taken the reins, guiding you into the unknown, toward whatever cruel end awaited you.

the horses, sensing the tension, began to grow restless. their movements became erratic, their heads tossing, their ears twitching in every direction. it was a sign—a warning that something was wrong. you could feel it too, a tightening in your chest, a prickle of unease at the nape of your neck. the others noticed as well, their hands tightening on the reins, their eyes scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of danger. then, you saw them.

they emerged from the shadows like phantoms, their forms shifting and blurring between human and something far more sinister. there were three of them, each one more terrifying than the last. their bodies were gaunt, stretched tight over bones that jutted out at unnatural angles, their faces twisted in a grotesque parody of hunger. their eyes glowed with a malevolent light, focused entirely on you and your group. hani gasped, the sound sharp and piercing in the silence, and your heart thudded painfully in response. jungkook, always ready to take charge, turned in his saddle, his voice rising in a barked command that cut through the tension like a knife. “get ready—”

but it was too late. the command was swallowed by the rush of blood in your ears, by the wave of anger that surged through you like a wildfire. the sight of them—those creatures, those monsters—brought it all back. the image of hera, broken and bloodied, flashed before your eyes, and all the fear that should have paralyzed you turned into something far more dangerous. you swung your legs off the horse with a fluid motion, the ground solid beneath your boots as you strode forward. the others called out to you, their voices edged with panic, but you didn’t hear them. all you could hear was the pounding of your own heartbeat, the roar of blood in your veins as you reached for your gun, steadying it in your hands.

you aimed, the barrel of the gun unwavering as you locked onto your targets. the first shot rang out, a deafening crack that echoed through the trees. the bullet struck the first creature squarely in the heart. it howled in pain, its body convulsing as it fell to the ground, but you knew it wasn’t dead. not yet. another shot, and then another. three shots, three hits. each one found its mark, burying itself deep in the chests of the creatures. they writhed on the ground, their howls of agony filling the air, but you felt no satisfaction. no relief. the rage inside you burned hotter, brighter, until it was all you could feel.

“shut the fuck up,” you snarled as if it could understand you, the words slipping from your lips like venom as you approached the first creature. its eyes, once so full of malice, were now wide with fear, its body trembling as you closed the distance between you.

without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, your hands wrapping around its throat. its fur was cold and clammy beneath your fingers, its pulse weak and fluttering as it struggled against you. you squeezed harder, your grip like iron as you watched the life drain from its eyes, your own breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. it clawed at your hands, its strength waning as the light began to fade from its gaze. the world around you faded as well, the voices of your companions drowned out by the pounding of your heart. all that mattered was the creature in front of you, the way its body convulsed, the way its breaths turned into shallow gasps, then to silence. and then it was still.

you didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to think as you pressed the barrel of your gun against its temple. the shot was deafening, the sound tearing through the quiet of the forest. the creature’s body jerked once, then went limp, its eyes now nothing but empty, lifeless sockets. you let the gun drop to your side as you rose to your feet, your legs unsteady beneath you. the second creature was still howling in pain, its voice a pitiful wail that grated on your nerves. you couldn’t stand it—couldn’t stand the sound of its suffering, couldn’t stand the reminder of the pain these things had caused.

you stalked over to it, your boots crunching on the fallen leaves as you drew closer. it looked up at you, its eyes wide with a mix of fear and something else—something almost like pleading. but you had no sympathy left to give. with a single, brutal motion, you kicked it in the ribs, the force of the blow sending it sprawling onto its back. the howl turned into a whimper, the creature curling in on itself as if trying to escape the pain. but there was no escape. not from you.

you kicked it again, harder this time, feeling the bones crack beneath the force of your boot. the whimpering grew softer, weaker, until it was little more than a pathetic whine. the sound filled you with a twisted sense of satisfaction, a dark pleasure in knowing that it was suffering—that it felt even a fraction of the pain you carried with you. but it wasn’t enough. it would never be enough. you raised your gun once more, aiming it directly between the creature’s eyes. the whimpering stopped as it looked up at you, its gaze filled with a terror that was almost human. almost. the shot was quick, clean. the creature’s head snapped back, its body going limp, and the forest fell silent once more.

you took a step back, your breath coming in harsh gasps as you tried to steady yourself. but there was no time for rest. the third creature was still alive, still watching you with those same hungry eyes, though now they were tinged with fear. you crouched beside it, your expression hardening as you met its gaze. It whimpered, its body shaking as it tried to crawl away, but you were faster. with a quick, practiced motion, you drew your knife, the blade glinting in the dim light as you held it up for the creature to see.

“please,” it rasped, its voice barely more than a whisper, the sound twisted and distorted as it tried to form words. but there was no mercy in you, not anymore.

you leaned in close, feigning a look of sympathy, your voice low and cold as you whispered, “you don’t get to beg.”

with that, you drove the knife into its throat, the blade sinking deep into its flesh. blood spurted from the wound, the creature’s body convulsing as it tried to fight, but you held it down, your grip like iron. you twisted the knife, the motion slow and deliberate, watching as the life drained from its eyes. the final breath rattled in its chest, its body slumping against the ground as the last of its strength left it. but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. the anger still burned hot and fierce inside you, demanding more, demanding blood. with a final, brutal motion, you pulled the knife from its throat and drove it into its skull, the blade sinking deep into bone. the creature shuddered once, then went still, its eyes staring blankly at the sky above.

for a moment, you simply crouched there, your breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as you stared at the bodies before you. the silence was deafening, the forest around you eerily quiet as if it, too, were holding its breath. when you finally stood, your hands were trembling, the knife still slick with blood as you wiped it on your jeans. the others were staring at you, their faces a mix of horror, sympathy, and something else—something you couldn’t quite name.

you couldn’t meet their eyes, couldn’t bear to see the pity, the fear, the judgment. all you could do was focus on the task at hand, on the steps you needed to take to keep moving forward. without a word, you turned and walked back to the horse, your legs feeling like lead as you moved. you mounted with stiff, mechanical movements, your mind still reeling from the violence, from the anger that had consumed you.

jungkook’s eyes met yours, his gaze filled with a deep, heartbreaking sympathy that made your chest tighten with a fresh wave of pain. he opened his mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but you didn’t give him the chance. “keep going,” you said, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. It was all you could manage. all you could allow yourself to feel. he hesitated, his hand reaching out to you as if he could offer some comfort, but you pulled away, your gaze fixed on the path ahead. there was no comfort to be found. no solace. only the cold, hard reality of survival.

the forest enveloped you in an overwhelming silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of hooves against the earth. each beat echoed in your mind, matching the hollow thudding of your heart. the trees closed in like towering sentinels, their branches interlocking overhead, casting flickering shadows across the path. the air was cool, but you felt nothing—no bite of the wind, no comfort in the shade. just numbness, a void where your thoughts should have been.

jungkook’s hand rested on your waist as he rode behind you, a gentle, anchoring touch that would have once brought comfort. now, it was simply another weight, another reminder of the world you inhabited—a world where tenderness was a luxury you couldn’t afford. his fingers pressed lightly, as if he were afraid you might break under the pressure, but you didn’t react. your body was there, solid and real, but your mind was adrift, lost in the aftermath of what you had just done.

you could feel the others behind you, their presence like shadows at your back, silent and heavy. no one dared to speak. not after what they had seen. they were with you, but they were alone in their thoughts, just as you were. perhaps they were trying to process the same thing—how you could have shifted so easily into that cold, ruthless killer, the one who had looked those monsters in the eyes and ended their lives without hesitation.

but none of that mattered now. the silence stretched on, growing thicker with each passing moment, until it became a tangible force, pressing down on you from all sides. even the forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual rustle of leaves and distant calls of birds eerily absent. there was nothing but the sound of hooves, the creak of leather, and the faint, steady breathing of the horses. jungkook’s hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that was meant to be soothing, but you barely registered it. his presence was a distant hum in the back of your mind, overshadowed by the cold, creeping numbness that had taken hold of you. your eyes were fixed ahead, unseeing, as the path stretched on endlessly before you.

then, something broke through the haze—a shape, emerging from the blur of trees and shadow. it was faint at first, a dark silhouette on the horizon, but as you drew closer, it solidified, taking form. your mind, sluggish and detached, struggled to make sense of it. it was a building, large and foreboding, its outlines jagged and stark against the sky. a prison. the word came to you slowly, sinking into the fog that clouded your thoughts. the horses sensed it too, their ears perking up, their pace quickening as if drawn by some unseen force. they moved with purpose, their steps more certain, more eager, as if they understood that place, that prison, held something you all needed.

the structure loomed ahead, its towering walls and barbed wire fences a stark contrast to the natural chaos of the forest. it was massive, a relic of a world long gone, its gray stone walls cracked and weathered with age. the gate, once a barrier meant to keep the world out—or perhaps to keep something in—hung open, its iron bars twisted and rusted, as if time itself had worn them down. the closer you got, the more you could see—the high, watchful towers that stood like sentinels at each corner, the shattered windows that gaped like empty eyes, the overgrown courtyard where weeds had taken root, choking out any trace of order. the place was abandoned, long forgotten, but it still held an air of menace, a lingering aura of despair and violence.

you slowed the horse as you neared the entrance, the others doing the same, their eyes fixed on the structure with a mix of caution and curiosity. that place, as desolate and grim as it appeared, offered something you desperately needed—shelter, security, the promise of walls that could protect you from whatever else lurked in the shadows. as you dismounted, the ground felt solid beneath your boots, grounding you in reality once more. the numbness receded just enough for you to focus, to take in the details with a cold, calculating eye. you led your horse to a nearby post, tying the reins with quick, practiced movements. the others followed suit, their actions mirroring yours as they secured their mounts.

the horses, sensing the tension, stamped their hooves and snorted, but they remained obedient, their heads lowered as if understanding the gravity of the moment. you gave the horse a brief, absent-minded pat before stepping away, your eyes sweeping over the entrance to the prison. the gate creaked as you pushed it open wider, the sound jarring in the quiet. It swung inward with a groan of protest, revealing a long, narrow corridor that led deeper into the compound. the walls on either side were tall and imposing, lined with cracked tiles and the remnants of old posters that had long since faded into obscurity. the air was thick with the scent of decay and mildew, a stale odor that spoke of years of neglect.

you moved forward, your steps slow and deliberate, each footfall echoing in the stillness. the others trailed behind you, their footsteps mingling with yours as you made your way into the heart of the prison. your eyes darted from side to side, taking in every detail—the rusted chains that hung from the walls, the empty cells with their iron bars twisted and broken, the remnants of a life that had once thrived here but was now long gone.

everywhere you looked, there were signs of violence, of desperation. the walls were scarred with deep gouges, as if someone had tried to claw their way out. the floors were stained with dark patches that might have been blood, long dried and faded. you passed by a cell where the door hung ajar, its hinges broken, the interior filled with debris—tattered blankets, discarded shoes, a single, withered plant that had somehow managed to grow in the darkness.

it was a place of death, of suffering, and yet, it felt safer than the world outside. there, within these walls, there was a sense of control, of containment. you could fortify this place, make it a stronghold against whatever else the world had to throw at you. you reached the center of the compound, a large, open courtyard surrounded by high walls and barbed wire. the ground was cracked and uneven, littered with debris—broken glass, twisted metal, the remnants of old fires. a few scattered pieces of furniture, rotted and sagging, hinted at attempts to make this place livable once, though those efforts had clearly failed.

jungkook was beside you now, his presence steady and calm, though you could feel the tension radiating off him. his eyes swept over the courtyard, taking in the same details you did, his mind likely working through the same calculations. he said nothing, but his hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours in a gesture of solidarity. the others spread out, moving through the space with cautious steps, their eyes wide as they took in their new surroundings. hani moved to the edge of the courtyard, peering into one of the cells with a wary expression. hoseok crouched down beside a rusted metal drum, his fingers tracing the outline of a handprint left in the dust. jimin and taehyung exchanged a glance, their unease mirrored in the set of their shoulders, but they said nothing, their eyes turning back to you for guidance.

you let out a slow breath, your chest tightening with a mix of dread and determination. it was awful. It reeked of death, of hopelessness. and yet, it was the best chance you had. the best chance to survive, to regroup, to find some semblance of safety in a world that had long since forgotten what that word meant. finally, you broke the silence, your voice rough and low as you addressed the group. “this is it,” you said, the words hanging in the air like a final judgment. “we’ll stay here tonight. we’ll fortify the place, make it secure. then, we’ll decide what to do next.”

there was no argument, no protest. they all knew there was no other option. the forest outside was filled with unknown threats, with dangers that would only grow more relentless as time went on. there, at least, you had walls. you had a chance. you turned back to the entrance, your mind already running through the tasks that needed to be done. the gate needed to be secured, the cells checked for any remaining threats. you’d need to set up a watch, make sure the perimeter was safe, that there were no weak points.

as the night began to descend upon the old prison, the air grew heavy with the scent of damp stone and lingering decay. the others had already set to work, driven by a desperate need to create some semblance of normalcy in a world that had long since abandoned it. the courtyard had become a flurry of activity, each person taking on a task that required their full attention, their minds focused on survival rather than the dark thoughts that threatened to creep in.

hoseok and jimin worked together to clear a space in one of the larger cells, dragging out rusted debris and sweeping away the layers of dust and grime that had settled over the years. they spoke in low voices, their words too quiet to make out, but the tension in their movements said enough. every now and then, they’d glance over at you, concern etched into their features, but they knew better than to interrupt.

jungkook busied himself with securing the entrance, his eyes sharp and calculating as he inspected the gate’s hinges and the surrounding walls. he moved with purpose, his hands steady as he reinforced the gate with whatever materials he could find—broken pipes, pieces of metal, anything that could act as a barrier against whatever might come. the others kept glancing his way, silently reassured by his presence, by the way he took control without hesitation.

hani had found a small room off to the side, the remnants of an old kitchen. she set about scavenging through the drawers and cupboards, hoping to find anything useful—canned goods, old utensils, anything that could be repurposed. her face was set in a determined frown, but you could see the faint glimmer of hope in her eyes when she found a few tins of food that had somehow remained unspoiled. taehyung was quieter than usual, his movements deliberate as he helped the others, but his eyes kept drifting your way. there was something in his gaze, a mixture of guilt and something else you couldn’t quite place. he was more subdued, his usual sharp remarks replaced with silence, his energy focused on the tasks at hand.

you couldn’t stay inside any longer. the walls, though protective, felt too close, too stifling, pressing in on you with memories of what you’d done. you stepped outside, into the open air of the courtyard, and let the cool breeze wash over you. It was a small relief, but enough to steady your racing heart, if only for a moment. as dusk settled over the prison, painting the sky in hues of deep purple and inky black, you shakily pulled a cigarette from your pocket, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with the lighter. the first inhale was harsh, burning your throat, but the familiar taste brought with it a sense of grounding, something to cling to amidst the chaos.

but then you looked down. the sight of your hands, stained with dried blood, sent a wave of nausea through you. the blood wasn’t yours— it was theirs, the creatures you’d killed without hesitation, without mercy. but there was also her blood, the remnants of your sister’s final moments clinging to your skin like a cruel reminder. you almost couldn’t bear it. the cigarette trembled between your fingers, and for a moment, you considered throwing it away, letting it burn out on the cold, hard ground. but then you heard the sound of footsteps behind you, soft and hesitant, and you stiffened, instinctively preparing yourself for another confrontation, another fight.

but when you turned, it wasn’t an enemy standing there. it was taehyung. his expression was unreadable, but there was no hostility in his eyes, no anger or judgment. instead, he was holding out a small, crumpled tissue, the corners of his lips pulled into a faint, almost apologetic smile. “here,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. you stared at the tissue for a moment, surprised by the gesture, by the softness in his gaze. slowly, reluctantly, you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his briefly as you did. the tissue felt small and insignificant in your hand, but you appreciated the thought behind it. silently, you wiped at the blood on your hands, though it did little to erase the stains that had already seeped into your soul.

in a quiet act of solidarity, you reached into your pocket and pulled out another cigarette, offering it to him along with the lighter. he hesitated for a second, then took it, his fingers steady as he lit the cigarette and took a long drag. the two of you stood there in silence, the night settling around you, the quiet only broken by the distant sounds of the others moving inside the prison. it wasn’t until the cigarettes were nearly burned to the filter that taehyung finally spoke, his voice low and rough, “i’m sorry.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. you turned to look at him, your eyes searching his face for some hint of what he was thinking, but all you saw was a strange mixture of guilt and sorrow. “it took my sister dying for you to be nice to me, is that it?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, harsh and bitter. but they were true, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, he held your gaze, the faint lines of exhaustion and pain evident in his expression. for a long moment, he said nothing, and you thought he might leave, but then he shook his head slowly. “no,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “i envied you.”

you blinked, taken aback by the admission. “you envied me?” you echoed, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. “why?”

“because you found her,” he said simply, the words heavy with a sadness that cut through the quiet. “you found your sister. i found my brother, but not in the same way.”

there was a long pause, the weight of his words sinking in. you turned to fully face him, your heart tightening with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name. “what do you mean?” you asked, though you weren’t sure if you really wanted to hear the answer.

taehyung stared down at the ground, his cigarette burning down to the filter, the ember glowing softly in the fading light. “i found him, but he had already turned into a skinwalker by then.” the revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. your breath caught in your throat as the full weight of what he was saying settled in. the horror of it, the unimaginable pain he must have felt, it was too much. but you didn’t interrupt, didn’t say anything, just waited as he continued, his voice breaking slightly as he spoke.

“i looked that thing dead in the eye and knew it was him,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “there was nothing left of the brother i knew, just hunger. the same hunger you saw tonight.” he paused, swallowing hard before he continued. “i had to take his life, the same way you had to take hera’s.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you like an unspoken understanding. you felt a pang of sympathy, a deep, aching sadness for the pain he had endured, for the burden he had carried alone. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, the words inadequate but sincere. taehyung shook his head, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “don’t be,” he said softly. “if he had lived, i think he would’ve gotten along with her.”

the unexpected tenderness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it—your sister and taehyung’s brother, alive and well, laughing and joking together in a world that wasn’t torn apart by monsters and death. it was a fleeting thought, one that was quickly swallowed by the harsh reality of your situation, but it was enough to bring a small, sad smile to your lips. but the moment passed, and you were once again reminded of the blood on your hands, the lives you had taken, the sister you had lost. your hands began to tremble again, the cigarette slipping from your fingers and falling to the ground, smoldering in the dirt. you stared down at them, the tremors growing stronger, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

taehyung noticed. he reached out, gently taking your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding. “don’t detach,” he said quietly, his voice firm but kind. “not yet. the group needs you.”

his words, simple as they were, cut through the fog of despair that threatened to overwhelm you. you met his gaze, seeing the sincerity, the understanding in his eyes. he wasn’t just asking you to stay present for the group’s sake—he was asking you to hold on, to fight against the numbness that threatened to consume you, to find some reason to keep going, even if it was just for a little while longer. you nodded, the movement slow and reluctant, but it was enough. you knew he was right, even if you couldn’t fully believe it yet. the group did need you. they needed all of you, working together, supporting each other, if you were going to survive the hellish world.

the night was still, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on the small group like an invisible burden. the old prison offered a semblance of shelter, but the cold, unfeeling stone walls did little to ease the tension that hung in the air. everyone was tired—physically, mentally, emotionally. the exhaustion was evident, settling in their bones and dragging down their movements as they slowly prepared to sleep.

hani was the first to approach you, her eyes full of concern as she stepped closer. she hesitated for a moment before she spoke, her voice soft and tentative. “how are you holding up?” she asked, her words heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. you wanted to answer, to reassure her that you were fine, but the truth was lodged somewhere deep inside, tangled in a mess of emotions you couldn’t quite unravel. so, instead of speaking, you just nodded, a small, jerky motion that conveyed none of what you were feeling but was all you could manage in that moment.

she didn’t push, didn’t ask for more. she simply nodded back, a silent acknowledgment of your response, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned away to find her own spot to sleep. it should have been the end of the interaction, but then, out of nowhere, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. it was jimin. his touch was warm, his hug firm but not suffocating. you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest, the rise and fall of his breathing. for a moment, you were too stunned to react, your body stiff in his arms, unsure of how to respond to the sudden show of affection. but then, slowly, you allowed yourself to relax, to lean into the embrace and accept the comfort he was offering.

you didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. words felt too clumsy, too inadequate to convey the storm of emotions swirling inside you. but jimin didn’t seem to need words. he just held you, offering a quiet, unspoken understanding that was more comforting than anything anyone had said to you all day. when he finally pulled back, there was a small, reassuring smile on his face, and you found yourself returning it, even if only slightly. the warmth of the hug lingered, a small balm against the cold reality that had settled in your heart.

but as he moved away, you noticed taehyung lingering behind you, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. he didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. his presence was enough to draw jungkook’s attention, and you saw the way his eyes narrowed slightly, concern evident in the lines of his face. “what happened?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with an undercurrent of worry.

you met his gaze, the weight of the day’s events still heavy on your shoulders. “we talked,” you said simply, your voice betraying none of the depth of the conversation you and taehyung had shared earlier. to everyone’s surprise—and perhaps horror—taehyung smiled. it wasn’t the sharp, mocking smile they were used to seeing from him, but a genuine one, soft around the edges and full of something that almost looked like relief.

hoseok’s eyes widened comically, and he let out a loud cackle that echoed off the stone walls. “someone write this down,” he said, barely containing his laughter. “taehyung actually smiled. this should be documented.” the sound of laughter filled the room, a rare, welcome sound that broke through the tension that had gripped them all day. even you found yourself laughing, a small, genuine chuckle that surprised even you. it wasn’t much, but it was something—a brief moment of light in the darkness.

taehyung shook his head, still smiling, and muttered, “fuck off,” though there was no real bite to his words. the smile remained, lingering on his lips as he found his own spot to settle in for the night.

everyone gradually found their places, creating makeshift beds from the few blankets and sleeping bags they had managed to bring with them. the space was limited, and the proximity was closer than anyone would have preferred, but no one complained. they were grateful just to have somewhere to rest, somewhere that felt even marginally safe.

as you looked around the cramped space, your eyes fell on jungkook, who was settling into a small corner, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. the sight of him, so alone and yet so steadfast, tugged at something deep inside you. you hesitated for a moment, but then the lack of space became all too apparent, and you found yourself speaking before you could second-guess the decision. “jungkook,” you called softly, your voice carrying over the quiet murmurings of the others. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as you continued. “can i get in with you?”

for a moment, he just stared at you, clearly taken aback by your request. his cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he quickly averted his gaze, nodding almost too eagerly. “yeah, sure,” he stammered, shifting over to make room for you. you moved closer, carefully lowering yourself beside him, the small space forcing you to press up against him more than you anticipated. the warmth of his body was immediate, seeping through the thin layers of clothing and into your skin. it was comforting in a way you hadn’t expected, a small solace in the midst of everything.

the space was tight, the proximity almost intimate, and as you both settled in, you felt jungkook’s body begin to relax beside you. he hesitated for a moment, his breath hitching slightly, but then he shifted closer, his arm wrapping around you in a tentative hug. you didn’t mind it. in fact, you found yourself leaning into the embrace, letting his warmth envelop you, grounding you in a way that nothing else had. the sound of his steady breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against yours, was soothing, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone.

the others slowly drifted off to sleep, the quiet sounds of their breathing filling the room. but you and jungkook remained awake, the silence between you both heavy but not uncomfortable. after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the silence, his words barely more than a whisper. “are you asleep?” you shook your head, the movement slight but enough for him to notice. his grip on you tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension in his body as he struggled with whatever it was he wanted to say.

“i know you’re going through a lot,” he began, his voice soft and full of concern. “and I know it’s not my place to say this, but i don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. i’m here for you, fuck, i love you.” you felt your heart tighten at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of despair that had settled in your mind. you wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his words, but the fear of losing someone else, of getting attached only to have them ripped away, was too overwhelming.

“i can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “i can’t risk loving you and losing you too.”

he was silent for a moment, his arms tightening around you as if he could somehow protect you from the pain that had already taken root in your heart. “you won’t lose me,” he said finally, his voice firm and full of quiet determination. “i promise you won’t lose me.” there was something in his voice, something so sure, so certain, that it made you want to believe him. and for a moment, you did. you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you could hold onto this, onto him, without it slipping away.

before you could stop yourself, you turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. there was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that made your heart ache, and before you knew it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative, hesitant kiss. the kiss was soft, gentle, and full of blind promises. his lips were warm against yours, his touch careful, as if he was afraid of breaking you. but you didn’t feel fragile, not in that moment. you felt grounded, tethered to something real, something that wasn’t just pain and loss.

jungkook responded slowly, his lips moving against yours with a careful, tender pressure that sent a shiver down your spine. his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a soothing motion as he deepened the kiss just slightly, testing the waters. you kissed him back, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him. it wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, a silent one that you wouldn’t let the darkness consume you, that you would hold onto this moment, to him, for as long as you could.

when you finally pulled away, your forehead resting against his, you were both breathing heavily, your hearts pounding in unison. his hand remained on your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than despair. the fear was still there, lurking in the back of your mind, and as much as you wanted to hold onto this moment, you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that clung to your thoughts.

“i love you, too,” you whispered back. he smiled and, fuck, was it contagious. you found the corners of your lips tilting upward as you returned the smile, allowing him to embrace you in warmth that seemed permanent, even though you knew it wasn't. you knew everything would wither away one way or another, but you couldn't stand another second living in the harsh reality you made your own. so, you let yourself believe. the world had ended, but it didn't mean yours had to.

you woke to a sudden, piercing sound that tore through the heavy silence of the prison, pulling you from the depths of an uneasy sleep. it was an unnatural noise, shrill and relentless, like the world itself was screaming in agony. your heart pounded in your chest, your body jolting upright as you tried to make sense of what was happening. beside you, jungkook was already awake, his eyes wide and alert as he instinctively reached for you, his hand gripping your arm. his touch grounded you, if only for a moment, but the fear in his eyes reflected your own.

“what the hell was that?” hoseok’s voice cut through the chaos, rough with sleep and rising panic. he was across the room, already on his feet, his eyes darting around the dimly lit space as if expecting something to burst through the walls at any moment. “the creatures, have they come?” hani asked, her voice trembling as she clutched at the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes wide with fear.

you knew that sound wasn’t from them. it was something else, something far worse. your gut twisted with a sense of foreboding, an inexplicable dread that made your skin crawl. a glance out the barred window told you everything you needed to know.

the sky, once a deep, inky black, was now ablaze with a sickly orange glow. it wasn’t the warm, welcoming hue of sunrise, but something far more ominous. the horizon was alive with a creeping, fiery light, like the world itself was being consumed by an inferno. the air was thick with a choking heat, the stench of burning metal and something acrid filling your nostrils. “something’s happening,” you said, your voice low and filled with dread as you turned to face the others. the look in your eyes must have conveyed the gravity of the situation because the panic in the room grew tangible.

before you could even think, a distant, thunderous roar reached your ears, vibrating through the very walls of the prison. it was a sound that chilled you to the bone, a sound that wasn’t just heard, but felt—a deep, resounding tremor that reverberated through the earth, shaking the foundations of the building. then, in the distance, you saw it.

the horizon exploded into a blinding flash of light, a surge of energy that seemed to consume everything in its path. you could see the mushrooming cloud of destruction rising into the sky, towering over the landscape like a monstrous titan. the light was so bright, so intense, that it burned into your retinas, searing the image into your mind even after you squeezed your eyes shut. “get down!” jungkook shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar that followed. it was a command, a desperate plea, but there was no time to think, no time to react.

the blast wave hit the prison like a freight train, a wall of force that slammed into you with brutal, unstoppable power. the air was sucked from your lungs, your body lifted off the ground and thrown back like a ragdoll. the walls shook violently, dust and debris raining down from the ceiling as the very structure of the building groaned in protest. you crashed to the floor, the impact knocking the breath out of you, pain shooting through your limbs as you landed hard. the world around you was a chaotic blur, the sound of shattering glass, crumbling concrete, and the terrified screams of your friends filling your ears. it was like being caught in the eye of a storm, a maelstrom of destruction that was tearing everything apart.

the heat was unbearable, a searing wave that licked at your skin, threatening to consume you. you could feel the shockwave rippling through the building, shaking the ground beneath you, and with it came the unmistakable sound of structural collapse—the groan of metal twisting, the crack of concrete splitting, the rumble of walls buckling under the strain. you tried to move, to crawl, to find some semblance of safety, but your body wouldn’t respond. every inch of you screamed in agony, your head spinning from the impact, your ears ringing from the deafening noise. the air was thick with dust and smoke, choking you, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

jungkook was there, his arms around you, shielding you as best he could as the world fell apart around you. you could feel his heart pounding against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered something—words you couldn’t make out, couldn’t comprehend, but you knew they were meant to comfort, to reassure. but there was no comfort to be found. the prison was falling, crumbling under the force of the blast, the walls and ceilings collapsing in on themselves, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. the sound of metal tearing, of stone splitting, filled the air as the building shuddered and groaned, and you knew it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

a second blast followed, this one closer, the shockwave hitting you with even more force. you were thrown again, your body skidding across the floor as more debris rained down from above. you could hear the others shouting, their voices lost in the cacophony, and then, finally, there was silence—a heavy silence that weighed down on you like a blanket. you didn’t know how long you lay there, gasping for breath, your ears ringing, your body aching with pain. the world was a blur of dust and smoke, the once familiar walls of the prison now a twisted, broken mess of rubble and debris.

when you finally managed to push yourself up, your limbs trembling with the effort, the sight that greeted you was one of utter devastation. the prison was barely standing, the walls crumbling, the roof half-caved in. the once-sturdy structure had been reduced to little more than a shell, a skeleton of what it once was. the air was thick with dust, the smell of burning and decay heavy in your nose.

the others were scattered around the room, some lying motionless, others struggling to move. jungkook was beside you, his face pale and streaked with blood, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the destruction around you.

“what happened?” jimin’s voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling as she clutched at hoseok, who was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. “the nuclear plants,” you said, your voice hoarse, the realization dawning on you with a cold, terrifying certainty. “the cooling water must have evaporated.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final, as the reality of the situation sank in. the world wasn’t just ending; it was being obliterated, piece by piece, consumed by a fire that couldn’t be stopped. and you were right in the middle of it. you looked around at the faces of your friends, at the fear and despair etched into their features, and you knew that whatever came next, it was going to be worse. there was no escape from this, no way to outrun the destruction that was spreading across the globe like wildfire.

one by one, you helped the others to their feet, offering words of comfort, of reassurance, even though you didn’t fully believe them yourself. the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but it was tempered by something stronger—the will to survive, to keep fighting, no matter what. together, you stumbled out of the wreckage of the prison, into a world that was no longer recognizable, a world that had been torn apart by forces beyond your control. the sky was still burning, the air thick with smoke and ash, but you didn’t look back. there was no point.

just as you thought you had found some semblance of footing, another explosion erupted, far closer than before. the world around you seemed to implode in on itself, a monstrous roar of fire and fury swallowing everything in its path. the blast wave hit you with unimaginable force, sending you and jungkook flying backward.

you felt the ground leave you, your body weightless for a moment before crashing down hard. the impact knocked the wind from your lungs, your body racked with pain as you skidded across the debris-strewn ground. the noise was deafening, a cacophony of destruction that drowned out everything else. you barely had time to register the pain before you realized jungkook had been thrown with you. his body collided with yours, and the two of you tumbled together, a tangled mess of limbs and blood.

“jungkook,” you barely managed to rasp his name, your throat raw from the dust and smoke. you tried to move, to reach for him, but your body refused to respond. every nerve screamed in agony, and you could feel the warmth of blood seeping through your clothes, soaking into the earth beneath you. he groaned, a pained sound that sent a spike of fear through your heart. he was right there, just inches away, his eyes wide and unfocused as he struggled to breathe. you could see the blood trickling from a gash on his forehead, could see the way his chest heaved with every ragged breath.

“stay with me,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "jungkook, stay with me." he turned his head toward you, his eyes locking onto yours. there was fear there, yes, but something else too—something that broke your heart even more. it was acceptance. a quiet, resigned acceptance that this was the end.

“i’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames and the crumbling world around you. he tried to smile, a weak, trembling thing that made your heart ache. “i’m right here.” you forced yourself closer to him, every movement sending waves of pain through your battered body. but you didn’t care. all that mattered was getting to him, being with him, even if it was only for a few more moments.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out, tears blurring your vision as you finally reached him, your fingers intertwining with his. his hand was warm, his grip weak but steady. “i’m so sorry, jungkook.”

“shh,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand in a comforting gesture, despite the pain etched across his face. “it’s okay, it’s okay.”

but it wasn’t. it wasn’t okay at all. you could see the light fading from his eyes, could feel the way his grip was loosening, his strength slipping away. you wanted to fight it, to hold on to him, to refuse this cruel fate that was tearing him from you, but there was nothing you could do. the world was ending, and you were powerless to stop it.

“i love you,” he breathed, the words barely more than a whisper as his eyes fluttered closed. “i love you.”

the tears flowed freely now, hot and unchecked as you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice breaking. “i love you so much.” and then, with a final shuddering breath, the life left his body.

“no,” you rasped, your voice raw, filled with a grief so deep it threatened to swallow you whole. you clutched him to you, your arms trembling as you held him close, as if you could somehow keep him here, keep him with you. “no, no, no please, no.” but he was gone. the realization hit you like another blast, a wave of pain and despair that ripped through your very soul. the world around you was crumbling, but all you could feel was the emptiness where he used to be. the world was gone, and so was he.

you didn’t even notice the others until you heard them shouting, their voices barely registering through the haze of grief. they were calling your name, screaming for you to move, to get up, but you couldn’t. you didn’t want to. the world was ending, and you wanted it to take you too. and then, the final blast hit. the world exploded into a blinding white light, a force so powerful it lifted you off the ground once more, tearing you away from jungkook’s lifeless body. you felt the searing heat, the crushing pressure, and then? nothing. darkness.

when you opened your eyes again, the world was still. still, silent and lonely, not a soul to harbor it but yours. the suffocating weight of death and destruction was gone, replaced by a heavy, eerie calm. you tried to move, to lift your head, but the effort felt impossible. every part of your body ached, a deep, bone-deep pain that left you gasping.

the ceiling above you was white, sterile, and familiar in a way that made your heart stutter. the sharp, chemical smell that filled your nostrils brought with it a wave of memories—memories of hospital corridors, of beeping machines, of the steady hum of fluorescent lights. a hospital. you blinked, trying to focus, your mind struggling to catch up with what you were seeing. slowly, your vision cleared, and you realized you were lying on a bed, wrapped in crisp, white sheets. the walls around you were painted in soft, muted tones, the kind designed to soothe, to comfort.

for a moment, you felt a strange sense of peace, a fleeting thought that maybe it had all been a nightmare—that you had simply woken up from a horrible, twisted dream. then, you heard it. you heard it all over again, because the sound was unmistakeable. silence.

✧.*

a/n: this took so long to write actually bye stream cosmic

professor (교수님) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

the classroom was a haven of knowledge, a place where the boundaries of your mind were pushed and expanded. every time you walked through those doors, you were met with an air of possibility, the faint scent of old books mingling with the fresh anticipation of discovery. all of the professors had ways of making the most complex concepts feel within reach, of turning abstract theories into tangible truths that you could almost hold in your hands.

they spoke with a quiet confidence, their words weaving intricate patterns that painted the vastness of the world before you. each lecture was a journey, guiding you through the twisting paths of philosophy, literature, and history. they had a gift for connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, showing you how the art of renaissance painters could influence modern technology, or how ancient philosophies could still hold relevance in the digital age. under their guidance, you realized that learning wasn’t just about absorbing information; it was about seeing the world through different lenses, understanding the interconnectivity of all things.

you delved into texts that explored the human condition, the nature of existence, and the purpose of life. you wrestled with questions that had no easy answers, questions that required you to look within yourself for understanding. it wasn’t just about gaining knowledge for the sake of it—it was about applying what you learned to your own life, using it as a tool to navigate the complexities of existence.

but among all the things you studied—science, art, history, language—there was one thing that stood out as the most important: the lessons you learned. these weren’t found in any textbook or taught in any lecture. they were the lessons life had already carved into your soul, shaped by your experiences, your failures, your triumphs. under your own guidance, you came to understand that the most valuable knowledge you could acquire wasn’t about facts or theories. it was about the wisdom you gained from living, from making mistakes, and most importantly, from learning from those mistakes. in the end, it wasn’t just the information you gathered that mattered, but how you used it to grow, to become better, and to understand the world and yourself more deeply. if only you had put those lessons learned to better use.

you hadn't been taught the lesson of love, not in the way you had learned about history or philosophy. love was never something you could study in a textbook or learn through the wisdom of others. it was a lesson you learned by living it, feeling it, enduring it. but you had always trusted too easily, believing that everyone who offered you a kind word or a gentle touch had your best interests at heart. it was a trait that made those around you frustrated, watching as you opened yourself up to hurt time and again. even you, in quieter moments of reflection, found yourself exasperated by your own naivety. but you couldn't help it; trusting others came as naturally to you as breathing.

so, it was no shock—no surprise, really—when you got your heart broken for the first time. you were in your early twenties, a time when many had already experienced their share of heartbreaks and fleeting romances. you, on the other hand, had waited. you had held out for something real, something lasting, thinking that by doing so, you could avoid the pain that others had endured. but love, as you learned, didn't work that way.

for two years, you were caught up in what you thought was a love that would last forever. you built your life around it, around him. you imagined a future where the two of you would wake up side by side, where you would make breakfast together in a sunlit kitchen, sharing quiet moments over coffee. you dreamed of nights spent stargazing, your fingers intertwined as you pointed out constellations, finding comfort in the steady light of the north star. your idea of forever was simple, yet profound: it was the promise of a shared life, of growing old together, of finding peace in each other's presence.

his idea of forever was something else entirely. it was a fleeting thing, something that could be found at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or in the anonymity of a cheap motel room. it was in the arms of whoever he could get his hands on first, someone who wasn’t you. the realization that he had been unfaithful—repeatedly, with over fourteen different girls—shattered the image of the life you had built in your mind. every girl was another crack in the foundation of your trust, another tear in the fabric of your heart. it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but the way you had been so blind to it, so willing to believe that what you had was real.

you were devastated, to say the least. the pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, a deep ache that settled in your chest, radiating through your entire body. the nights were the hardest. you would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of your relationship, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. you wanted to understand how the love you had given so freely could have been so thoroughly disregarded. but no matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, you couldn’t make sense of it.

the worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry with him. you wanted to be—to scream, to curse him for the way he had treated you—but all you felt was a hollow sadness. you were disappointed in him, but more so, you were disappointed in yourself. how could you have let this happen? how could you have been so foolish, so trusting? you had always prided yourself on being smart, on being able to see through people’s intentions, but when it came to him, you had been blind.

the nights following your heartbreak were long, seemingly endless. sleep was a distant stranger, slipping through your fingers every time you tried to grasp it. Instead, you spent those hours in late-night conversations with your friends, searching for solace in their words. their voices were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair, even if just for a little while. you talked about everything and nothing, dissecting the intricacies of your failed relationship, trying to find some sense of closure that always seemed just out of reach.

those talks were punctuated by silences filled with the quiet clicking of a lighter, the soft exhale of smoke as you shared a joint or two. the haze it brought was a welcome escape, a way to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts, to ease the relentless ache in your chest. it wasn’t a solution, but it was enough to get you through the night, to carry you to the next day. and on those days when the darkness seemed to press in too close, you relied on the small comforts you could control—a coin flipped to decide whether you would indulge in a few too many sweets or abstain from food altogether. it was a way of exerting some semblance of control over a life that felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp.

but after weeks of the same routine, you began to realize that you were merely existing, floating in a limbo of your own making. the conversations, the indulgences, the vices—they were all temporary fixes, distractions that couldn’t mask the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. you were tired of it, tired of feeling like a shadow of yourself, tired of being weighed down by the remnants of a love that was never truly yours.

and so, one night, as you stared into the mirror, you made up your mind. you were going to step out of the bubble you had been living in, to let loose, if only for a single night. you reasoned that if he could spend two years indulging in every whim and desire, seemingly without consequence, then why couldn’t you do the same for just one night? why couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself the freedom to be someone else, to cast aside the constraints of who you were and embrace something—someone—new?

as you stood there, gazing at your reflection, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your makeup was bold, the colors striking and uncharacteristic of your usual understated look. the dress you wore was scandalous, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and exposed. it was a look that screamed confidence, even if you didn’t fully feel it yet. but that was the point, wasn’t it? you were going to stop being you for just one night, just enough time to forget, to drown out the memories of a love that had never truly been yours.

you inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, steadying yourself for what was to come. Yyu weren’t sure what you were seeking—perhaps a fleeting connection, a momentary escape, someone who could make you forget all about him for a few hours. maybe you didn’t need to know. maybe it was enough to simply let nature take its course, to surrender to the night and whatever it might bring.

the club pulsed with a life of its own, the heavy bass thumping through the floor, reverberating in your chest as the neon lights cast erratic shadows across the crowd. bodies moved in sync with the music, a sea of motion and sound that made it easy to lose yourself if you let it. but your mind, despite the alcohol and the haze of smoke in the air, remained annoyingly sharp, focused on anything but the moment at hand.

you leaned closer to your friend, your voice slightly raised to be heard over the music. “did you hear about the new english and philosophy teacher? they’re replacing—”

ahe groaned, cutting you off with an exasperated look. “please,” she begged, placing a hand on your arm, “not tonight. can we just, for once, not talk about teachers or school or anything remotely responsible? we’re here to let loose, remember?”

you hesitated, the words dying on your lips. she wasn’t wrong. you were supposed to be here to escape, to forget, not to get caught up in the mundane details of your everyday life. but old habits died hard, and it was difficult to switch off the part of you that found comfort in routine and order, even when surrounded by chaos. still, you nodded, forcing a smile, and took a deep breath, letting the noise and the lights and the sheer energy of the place wash over you. “okay,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “okay, let’s do this.”

your friend grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the bottle on the table. the label was foreign, the name of the alcohol something you couldn’t even begin to pronounce. that should have been your first warning, but tonight was all about ignoring those little voices of caution in your head. she poured a shot for you, and then one for herself, the clear liquid shimmering under the lights. “bottoms up,” she said, lifting her glass.

you mirrored her action, the cool glass pressed against your lips as you downed the shot in one swift motion. the burn was immediate, searing down your throat and settling heavily in your stomach. it was unpleasant, but it was also a distraction, a welcome one at that. you had no intention of focusing on the men who watched you from across the room, their eyes lingering on your exposed skin as if you were some kind of display piece. it made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to ignore it, to focus on the drinking instead. the coin had been flipped, and tonight, apparently, drinking it all away was your new diet. so you did just that. another shot, then another, until the sharp edges of your thoughts began to blur and the leering gazes of strangers became easier to dismiss.

but then, in the midst of it all, you saw him. he was standing at the edge of the crowd, partially obscured by the throng of people. you didn’t see much at first, just a tall figure with a presence that drew your eye. He was turned slightly away, talking to someone, but something about him caught your attention, held it. you found yourself staring, your curiosity piqued in a way that the alcohol couldn’t dull. and then he turned around.

your eyes met, and the world seemed to slow for a moment, the noise around you fading into the background. he was gorgeous, that was your first thought. his features were sharp, striking—high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were dark and intense, holding a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you. there was a sweet smile on his lips, but it was his eyes that captivated you. there was something almost menacing in them, a contrast that sent a shiver down your spine.

he didn’t look away, and neither did you. for a moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones in the room, a silent understanding passing between you despite the fact that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. but that didn’t matter. not tonight. before you could second-guess yourself, you did something you wouldn’t normally do. you flashed him a smile, one that you hoped was confident, maybe even a little alluring, and silently prayed that the universe would take your side for once. that, just this once, everything would fall into place.

you turned back around, the music vibrating through your body as you reached for another drink, your hand shaking slightly as you grasped the cool glass. you brought it to your lips and downed it in one go, the burn familiar by now, comforting in its own way. the alcohol was your crutch tonight, something to hold onto as you navigated this unfamiliar terrain of letting go, of not being yourself for just one night. you prayed silently, to whatever or whoever might be listening, that he would come over. that the universe, for once, would be kind. and as if in answer to your unspoken wish, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned, heart racing, and there he was. the man from across the room, the one whose gaze had pulled you in and held you captive. his smile was easy, confident, the kind that could make anyone believe that the night might hold something special, something just for you. “mind if i buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the noise. “or have you had enough already?”

you smiled, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. fuck, not another drink or you might just convulse, you thought silently. but what you really said was, “you could keep me company, and i might make it worth your while.” he laughed, a sound that seemed to roll through you like the bass in the music, deep and warm. “i like that offer,” he said, as he took a seat next to you, his presence somehow making the world around you feel smaller, more intimate.

there was something about him, something that made you feel like the night was just beginning, like everything before this moment had been leading up to something. you looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what it was that drew you to him, but all you could see were those eyes, that sharp jaw, the way he seemed to belong in a place like this, even if you didn’t. “what’s a guy like you doing alone in a place like this?” you asked, leaning in slightly, letting the alcohol loosen your tongue.

he shrugged, his expression casual, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “felt like it’d be nice for a change,” he replied, before his gaze slid back to you. “what about you?”

you sighed, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders. “i felt it’d be nice too,” you admitted, “but that feeling was dead wrong.” he laughed again, and the sound was a little sharper this time, a little more knowing. it made you pause, a sudden, unwelcome memory resurfacing—a project due tomorrow, something about socrates. you groaned inwardly, realizing how far you had strayed from your usual path, how this was so unlike you.

“a project,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “what about?”

“socrates,” you said with a hint of frustration. “i decided to do one on him, but it completely slipped my mind.” he scoffed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “poor choice, aristotle is much more influential.”

“okay, and?” you countered, a spark of your usual self peeking through. “socrates is the more seminal one.” his amusement deepened, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. “i can’t believe a smart thing like you is in a place like this.”

you frowned, the words not sitting well with you. they reminded you of everything you were trying to forget tonight, everything you didn’t want to be for just a few hours. “i don’t want to be a smart thing,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “not tonight.”

something in his expression shifted, softened, as he looked at you. he placed a hand on your thigh, the touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else had that night. “are you sure you feel that way?” he asked gently, his voice low, the words carrying a weight you weren’t sure you could handle. you didn’t feel that way, not really. but tonight wasn’t about what you usually felt, or who you usually were. It was about letting go, about being someone else, if only for a little while. so you forced yourself to nod, even though a small voice in the back of your mind screamed that this wasn’t you, that this wasn’t right.

he seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t push. instead, he simply said, “let me help you.” you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, he was gently tugging your wrist, gesturing for you to follow him. your vision, blurred by the alcohol and the dim lighting, focused enough for you to see where he was leading you—to the back, to the private rooms. a sense of unease settled in your stomach, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that this was what you wanted, what you needed.

you followed him, your heart pounding louder with each step. the corridor to the private rooms was dimly lit, the music a dull thrum in the background. as you walked, he glanced back at you, that same smile playing on his lips, the one that had stopped you in your tracks just minutes earlier. “i never got your name, sweetheart,” he said, his voice teasing, yet somehow sincere.

you gave him your name, “(y/n) (l/n),” the sound of it foreign in your own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “and yours?” you asked, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of caution.

he turned to you fully then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and something else, something darker. “namjoon,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that matched everything else about him. “kim namjoon.” and as he said it, you felt the world shift slightly, as if that name carried more weight than you could understand. but you were too far gone to care, too far gone to do anything but follow him, to see where this night might lead, to forget about everything else—your project, your heartbreak, your old self—and lose yourself in the unknown, if only for a few hours.

the private room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls as you and namjoon stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind you, a sound that seemed to echo in the small space, followed by the unmistakable turn of a lock. it felt final, as if you were sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, from everything you knew, leaving only this moment, this man, and the uncertain promise of the night ahead.

you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his body. the way his broad shoulders filled the space, how his black shirt clung to the muscles beneath, made your heart race. his hands, veiny and strong, were relaxed by his sides, but you couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around you, feeling their strength and gentleness at once. and his eyes—god, his eyes—were the most mesmerizing of all. they were dark, intense, and held a dangerous kind of allure, like something that could either save you or ruin you, depending on how close you got.

a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your mind. you worried you might not be enough, not for someone like him. he was so composed, so sure of himself, and you—well, you were there trying to forget who you were, trying to become someone else for just a night. what if that wasn’t enough? what if you weren’t enough? namjoon must have sensed your unease because his gaze softened, the same easy smile spreading across his lips as he approached you. his steps were unhurried, confident, and with each one, the air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation.

when he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. he simply cupped your cheek in his hand, his touch warm, and surprisingly gentle. his thumb stroked your skin, the soft caress sending a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, lost in the darkness of his eyes. “you’re not afraid, sweetheart, are you?” he asked, his voice a low purr that sent another shiver through you. it was a voice that could coax secrets from you, a voice that promised things you weren’t sure you were ready for but found yourself wanting anyway.

was it fear that you were feeling? the heat coursing through your veins, the quickened beat of your heart, the way your skin seemed to burn where he touched you—was that fear? you didn’t know, and the uncertainty of it all made you nervous. but you shook your head, trying to convince yourself as much as him that you weren’t afraid.

he didn’t seem entirely convinced. he let out a soft, almost playful, tsk, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “you should use your words, yeah?” he coaxed, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, something that told you he wanted you to be sure, that he wanted you to choose this, to choose him. “i promise i’m not,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, but steady enough. it felt like a small victory, a way to prove to yourself that you could do this, that you could be this version of yourself, if only for a night.

it seemed to be enough for him. namjoon’s smile widened, and the warmth in his eyes deepened, drawing you in even further. he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to change your mind, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were caught, helpless under the spell he was weaving with every look, every touch. when his lips finally met yours, it was like the world stopped. the kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, tasting it, tasting you. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a controlled kind of passion that left you breathless. he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing for more, just kissing you like he had all the time in the world and was determined to spend it unraveling you, piece by piece.

you responded tentatively at first, unsure of how to match the intensity of his kiss. but he guided you, his free hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. the heat between you flared, igniting something deep within you, something that made you press back against him, your lips parting slightly as you began to lose yourself in the feel of him. namjoon took the invitation, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a way of marking this moment as something significant, something more than just a fleeting encounter in a club. you could feel the way he held you, firm yet gentle, as if he was trying to tell you something without words, trying to show you how he could make you forget everything, even if just for tonight.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. his body was solid, reassuring, and the way he held you made you feel small, but in a good way, like you were being enveloped by something safe, something you could trust, even if only for these few stolen hours. he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your lips, mingling with your own, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, breathing together, the air thick with the tension and the promise of what was to come.

“you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice a whisper in the small space between you. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you weren’t ready. but you were ready. or at least, you wanted to be. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. it was calming in a way, a reminder that despite everything, despite the chaos in your own heart, there was something steady, something real, right in front of you. and so, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips, you whispered back, “i’m sure.”

his smile grew, and his hand slid down to the hem of your dress. with one swift tug, he pulled it over your head, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel seen and desired. his eyes raked over you, pausing at your tits, your stomach, your hips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. he stepped back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your lacy black bra, the one you’d picked out specifically for tonight, hoping it would be enough to catch his eye.

his hands went to his own shirt, and he began to unbutton it, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, the slow reveal of his chest, his abs, the v of his hips disappearing into his pants. when he was finally bare-chested, you couldn’t help but stare. he was beautiful, sculpted in a way that made your mouth water, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out, to trace every line and curve with your fingertips.

before you could act on the impulse, namjoon stepped closer again, his hand sliding up your back to unclasp your bra. it fell away, and your tits spilled into his waiting hands. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. his eyes never left yours as he played with you, teasing you, watching as your breath grew shallower, as your eyes glazed over with lust. “you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. and you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he continued to toy with your sensitive flesh, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently until you were squirming against him.

his other hand slid down to your ass, squeezing it firmly, and he stepped closer, pressing his growing erection against your stomach. it was a clear message, one that sent a bolt of excitement through you, making you even wetter than you already were. without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking pretty. can’t wait to ruin you.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your voice a breathless agreement.

his hand moved from your ass to the hem of your panties, and with a quick pull, they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you in absolutely nothing. he knelt down, kissing a trail from your belly button to one your hips, and you could feel the dampness seeping onto his fingers. his fingers slid down your legs, relishing in the fact that you were completely bare before him. his eyes took in the sight of you, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire that mirrored your own.

his hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your clit, making you jump. he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers through your body. “you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a purr that made you want to melt into him. “yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “good, i like that in a woman.”

his hand slid away, and you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the pressure of his mouth on your pussy, his tongue sliding through your folds, tasting you. your legs trembled, and you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing. his tongue was skilled, teasing and probing, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. you’d never felt anything like this before, never been this exposed, this wanton. and as he worked you over, you realized you didn’t care. all you cared about was the feel of his mouth on you, the way he was making you feel.

his tongue circled your clit, and you felt your orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew until you couldn’t hold it back any longer. you cried out, your body shaking as you came, the sensation overwhelming you. namjoon didn’t stop, didn’t ease up, just kept licking and sucking until you were a trembling mess, your legs barely able to hold you up.

he stood, a smug smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at his erection, straining against his pants. he noticed your gaze and chuckled, reaching down to free himself. “you want it?” he asked, stroking himself, and you nodded, your mouth dry with need. he led you to the bed, pushing you down gently. “spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through you. you did as he asked, your heart racing as he climbed on top of you. he positioned himself at your entrance, and without any preamble, pushed inside you. you gasped, the sensation of his size filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

his thrusts were deep and deliberate, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through you. “you’re so tight, so wet,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “feel so good around me, baby.”

his hand found your ass, and he began to spank you lightly, the sting melding with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge again. you moaned, your hips moving in sync with his, your body begging for more. “yes, like that,” you panted, and he complied, his hand coming down harder, the smack echoing in the room.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. “yes, yes, please, namjoon,” you whimpered, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

his hand moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down as he thrust into you. the pressure was too much, and you shattered, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed closely behind, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body taut with the effort to hold off until you reached yours.

as you both came down from the high, he collapsed on top of you, his weight feeling surprisingly comforting. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the beat of your own. he kissed your neck, his breathing still ragged, and whispered, “you’re mine for the night, remember that.” and as you lay there, his cock still inside you, you realized you didn’t want it any other way.

his kisses grew softer, more tender, as his hand slid up to cup your cheek. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but before you could miss it too much, he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. he was still hard, and the feeling of him between your thighs was enough to make you want more. “ride me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you didn’t need any more encouragement than that. you positioned yourself over him, your hands on his chest for balance as you began to slide up and down, his cock filling you with every movement. the sensation was different like this, the angle hitting you in new, delicious ways. you moaned, throwing your head back as you found a rhythm that made your toes curl. namjoon’s hands roamed your body, caressing your tits, your waist, your hips, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, to take him deeper.

his eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that made you feel powerful, like you could do anything. and as you moved above him, grinding down on his length, you realized that maybe you could. you felt alive in a way you hadn’t in a long time, free from the constraints of who you were outside of this room.

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. your eyes rolled back in your head, and you leaned down to kiss him, your movements growing erratic as you approached the edge once more. he swallowed your moans, his own hips bucking up to meet yours, pushing you closer and closer. you felt it building, the tension coiling in your belly, tightening around his cock. your muscles clenched, and you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you came, your body shaking with the force of it. namjoon’s grip on your hips tightened, his own orgasm following quickly after, his cock pulsing inside you.

you collapsed against him, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the feeling of him, the way he filled you up in more ways than one. as you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night would bring. would it be more of this? or would it end with the club, a memory that you’d cherish forever? either way, you knew you’d never forget the way he’d made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were the most important person in the world. and as you felt his heart beating in time with yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself to be enough.

the pale light of dawn was beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains when you stirred, the dim glow pulling you out of a deep, dreamless sleep. it took you a moment to remember where you were. the unfamiliar surroundings, the dimly lit room, and the soft, warm body lying next to you—everything came rushing back in a disorienting wave. the events of the night before flashed in your mind, and with them, the realization of what time it must be.

your heart began to race as the panic set in. morning classes. you had morning classes, and you weren’t in your bed, you weren’t even in your apartment—you were still here, in a private room that now felt too intimate, too close. you sat up carefully, trying not to disturb namjoon, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you. the sheets were tangled around you both, his hand resting on your thigh, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

your gaze dropped to him, taking in the sight of his relaxed features, his slightly tousled hair, the way the early morning light played across his face. he looked almost boyish in his sleep, the sharpness in his eyes softened, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. it was a sight that made your heart warm, despite the chaos swirling in your mind. for a moment, you hesitated. there was a strange comfort in being there with him, in the warmth of his presence and the softness of the bed beneath you. part of you wanted to stay, to curl back up against him, to let the world outside wait a little longer. but reality was a harsh companion, and the ticking clock in your mind reminded you that you had responsibilities, a life that didn’t include waking up in a stranger’s bed after a night of reckless abandon.

you gently lifted his hand off your thigh, sliding out of bed as quietly as you could. your feet touched the cool floor, sending a shiver up your spine as you quickly scanned the room for your clothes. they were scattered across the floor—your dress draped over a chair, your shoes lying haphazardly near the door, your bag tucked under the bed. as you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at namjoon. he was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one arm stretched out across the bed where you had just been. you paused, taking in the way he looked so at peace, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

you dressed quickly, your movements hurried but careful not to make too much noise. the dress, once sleek and form-fitting, now felt slightly wrinkled and askew as you slipped it back on. your fingers fumbled with the zipper, your mind too distracted by the thought of the morning ahead and the fact that you were nowhere near ready for it. just as you reached for your bag, you heard a rustling behind you. you froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up, but when you turned around, there he was—propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-open, still heavy with sleep, but focused on you.

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough and low, still laced with the remnants of sleep. the sound of it sent a small thrill through you, even as you tried to calm your racing heart. “i have morning classes,” you replied, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize, but something about the situation—the intimacy of the moment, the fact that you were leaving so abruptly—made you feel like you owed him an explanation.

namjoon blinked, his gaze sharpening slightly as he processed your words. he sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “you won’t even let me treat you to breakfast?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, though it was tinged with regret. “maybe another time,” you said, already moving toward the door. “but i really can’t be late for my classes.”

he watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “i’ll see you around, then,” he said, his tone easy, but there was a note of something else in it, something that made your chest tighten slightly. you paused at the door, your hand on the handle, and turned back to him. “i had a good time,” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were true. despite everything, despite the way the morning had come too soon, you didn’t regret the night before.

he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that had drawn you in from the start. “so did i.” with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. the corridor outside was empty, the muffled thump of music from the club below barely audible through the thick walls. you hurried down the hallway, your mind racing with a million thoughts—what you were going to say if anyone saw you, how you were going to explain the state you were in, and most importantly, how you were going to make it to class on time.

the drive back to your apartment was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as you sped through the early morning streets. the city was still waking up, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a pale, golden light over everything. you barely noticed, too focused on the task at hand—getting home, getting dressed, and somehow making it to class without looking like you had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. when you finally pulled up to your apartment, you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to get inside. the keys fumbled in your hand, slipping once, twice, before you managed to unlock the door and rush inside. your apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with the early morning hours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself pause, leaning against the door as you caught your breath.

there was no time to waste. you darted into your bedroom, shedding your dress and tossing it onto the bed as you rifled through your closet for your uniform. the blouse was slightly wrinkled, the skirt a little too short for your liking, but there was no time to worry about that now. you yanked the blouse on, your fingers clumsy as they buttoned it up, tucking it into the skirt with a haste that left it slightly uneven, but you didn’t care. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you hurried to the bathroom, and winced. your makeup was a mess, the once-perfect red lipstick now faded to a nude smudge, your eyeliner smeared, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes that made you look more like a raccoon than the confident, put-together student you were supposed to be.

there was no time for a full fix, but you did what you could—wiping away the worst of the smudges with a makeup wipe, reapplying a thin layer of a lighter lpstick, and hoping that no one would look too closely. your hair was another matter entirely, tangled and wild from the night before, but a quick brush through had to suffice. with one last look in the mirror—satisfied that you were at least presentable—you grabbed your bag and bolted out the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you rushed to make it to class on time. you didn’t allow yourself to think about namjoon, about the way he had looked at you as you left, or the way his voice had lingered in your mind, soft and warm. there would be time for that later—maybe.

you made it to class just before the bell rang, your breath still a little uneven from the mad dash across campus. the relief that washed over you was short-lived, though, as you barely had time to compose yourself before you felt eyes on you. you caught soobin’s glance from the corner of your eye—he was the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even on your best days, and today was far from your best.

feigning being startled at your sudden appearance, soobin exaggeratedly flinched, his eyes widening in mock surprise before breaking into a smile. “well, well,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “i didn’t think you were gonna make it. i was about to call search and rescue.” you scowled at him, trying to ignore the way his smirk widened. but before you could retort, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “so, how much is a night?”

his words were laced with humor, but they hit too close to home. you glared at him, a retort already on your lips. “you couldn’t afford it,” you shot back, your tone sharp, but there was no real heat behind it. the truth was too raw, too close to the surface, and you weren’t in the mood to joke about it. as you settled into your seat between soobin and heewon, you could feel the tension beginning to ease—only slightly, though. the classroom was slowly filling up, students chatting idly as they waited for class to begin, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

heewon, who had been flipping through her notes, glanced up at you and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of your disheveled appearance. “god, you pull off the messy whore look really well,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “almost like hyuna.” you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for jokes. “not today, hee,” you muttered, reaching into your bag to pull out a small mirror. you avoided looking at her directly as you adjusted your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands that refused to cooperate.

your reflection was unkind, showing the toll the morning’s rush had taken on you—your blouse was still slightly untucked, your skirt wrinkled from where you’d hastily shoved it on, and your lipstick was more of a faint suggestion than an actual color. heewon didn’t miss a beat, though. “if i didn’t know you,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “i’d say you actually had that one-night stand you were talking about.”

the words hung in the air, and you froze, your hand stilling mid-motion as you applied another layer of nude lipstick. your blood ran cold as you slowly turned to look at her, your expression a mask of forced nonchalance. but she wasn’t fooled—her eyes widened in realization, shock flooding her features as she stared at you. “no way,” she breathed, a little too loud for comfort. her eyes darted around the room, but most of the other students were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “with who?”

you slapped her arm lightly, more out of habit than actual reprimand, and opened your mouth to answer. but before you could get a word out, the door to the classroom creaked open. the sudden silence that fell over the room was deafening, everyone’s attention snapping to the front as the principal stepped inside. he was a tall, stern-looking man with graying hair and sharp eyes, the kind of person who commanded respect without having to say much. he cleared his throat, and the last of the murmurs died away as he addressed the class.

“i’m sure most of you are aware by now that mister im has decided to leave us,” the principal began, his voice measured and calm. “but i wanted to personally introduce you all to your new english and philosophy professor.” there was a pause as he turned to the door, gesturing for the man outside to step in. the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the faint rustle of papers, the shifting of feet—everyone waiting with bated breath for the new teacher to make his entrance. and then he stepped in.

the world seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the man walking through the door. everything else fell away—the murmurs of the students, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, even the very breath in your lungs—all of it disappeared as your gaze fixed on him. it was him. the man you had spent the night with, the one whose name you had whispered in the dim light of the private room just hours before. and now, here he was, standing in front of you as your new professor.

namjoon—no, professor kim namjoon—mister kim? whatever he was going to be called from that point on, froze in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. for a moment, he looked just as shocked as you felt, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. but there was no mistaking it—you were as real as they came, sitting there with wide eyes and a racing heart, just as he was standing there, trying to process the impossibility of the situation.

the principal, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, turned to namjoon, his voice breaking the silence. “is everything okay?” namjoon blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing into something more composed, though you could see the faint tension in his jaw. “yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the slight edge to it, the barely perceptible waver that only someone who knew him—or had spent the night with him—might notice.

he turned back to the class, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, but his eyes remained firmly on you as he introduced himself. “i’m professor kim namjoon,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with a quiet authority. “i’ll be your new english and philosophy instructor.” you were stunned into silence, your mind reeling as you tried to process what was happening. the man who had been a nameless stranger just hours before was now your professor, standing there in front of the entire class, his attention seemingly focused on you alone.

there was a brief moment where you thought you might faint, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. but then namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly, and you saw something there—recognition, yes, but also something else. a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. and then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the calm, composed demeanor of a professor addressing his class. he began speaking again, introducing the syllabus and his expectations for the course, but you barely heard a word of it. all you could focus on was the fact that your night of recklessness had followed you here, into the one place you had thought was safe, and there was no escaping it now.

as he continued to speak, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to adopt the same mask of composure he had. but inside, you were anything but calm. your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. heewon nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced between you and namjoon, clearly sensing something was off but not daring to ask. soobin, for once, was silent, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern.

but none of it mattered. not really. because as namjoon’s gaze flickered back to you, just for a moment, you knew that it was far from over. the connection you had felt the night before was still there, humming beneath the surface, and there was no telling where it might lead—or what it might cost you. the bell rang, signaling the start of class, but for you, it felt like the beginning of something else entirely.

namjoon had composed himself almost too well for someone who had just discovered an unexpected connection in his classroom. his voice was steady, professional, as he launched into the introduction of the day's topic—a deep dive into existential philosophy, a subject that would set the tone for the entire semester. his words flowed with an easy confidence, drawing the attention of the entire class, but your mind was a whirlwind, struggling to keep up with the reality of the situation. as he spoke, you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the man who stood before you now with the one you had been so intimately close to just hours ago. every time his eyes drifted toward you, your gaze would dart away, your heart beating too fast, too loud.

just as you were beginning to gather your thoughts, namjoon posed a question to the class, inviting anyone to share what they knew about existentialism. before you could react, heewon’s hand shot up beside you. “oh, (y/n) knows all about that,” she announced, her voice light with an undercurrent of mischief. she shot you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if daring you to deny it.

you turned to face her, your eyes pleading, practically begging her to drop it. but she was never one to back down from a moment like this, especially when she sensed there was more to the story. your warning gaze seemed to only fuel her amusement. namjoon’s eyes flicked from heewon to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying a playful edge that only you seemed to notice. “i figured you’d know it. you probably know most of the plan and program.”

his words hung in the air, the double meaning not lost on you. there was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued, his gaze locked onto yours. “why don’t you tell us what you know?” you swallowed hard, your mind racing to find an answer, any answer. but all you could think about was the night before—the way his voice had sounded in your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours. the memories clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the question he’d asked.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until soobin nudged you gently from the other side. his elbow digging into your ribs jolted you back to reality, and you forced yourself to speak. “sartre believed that existence precedes essence,” you began, your voice quieter than usual, barely above a whisper. “it means that we're born without purpose, and it’s our responsibility to give our lives meaning through our actions.”

namjoon’s smile widened, a look of approval crossing his face. “outstanding,” he said, his tone genuine, almost too warm. he paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he asked, “what’s your name?” the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent again, unable to form a response. it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the classroom and the other students fading into the background. your mouth opened, but no sound came out, the weight of his gaze rendering you speechless.

another nudge from soobin brought you back to the present. you blinked, realizing that you had to respond. “it’s (y/n) (l/n),” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. namjoon nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression as he repeated your name, letting it linger in the air. “(y/n),” he said softly, almost like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. “thank you for sharing.”

you could feel heewon’s eyes on you, a mixture of curiosity and realization dawning on her face. she wasn’t a fool—she had seen the way you had reacted, the way namjoon had looked at you, and it didn’t take long for her to start putting the pieces together. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what she thought, not when all you could focus on was him. he continued with the lecture, but you hardly heard a word of it. every time he turned back to the class, your gaze would drop to your desk, your heart thudding in your chest. the tension in the room was palpable, and you could tell that soobin and heewon were both aware of it, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

after what felt like an eternity, namjoon began handing out sheets of paper, instructing the class to spend the next fifteen minutes writing an essay on the topic he had introduced. you barely registered the words, your mind still caught up in the swirl of emotions from earlier. when he reached your desk, he paused, his movements slower, more deliberate. as he set the paper down in front of you, his hand brushed against your fingers, the contact brief but electric. you looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw something in them—a flicker of desire, maybe, or perhaps just a shared acknowledgment of the impossible situation you both found yourselves in.

he took his bottom lip between his teeth, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. the air between you crackled with tension, so thick that you could almost taste it. namjoon didn’t miss the look in your eyes, nor did he miss the way your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the sight of him. his gaze dropped for just a second before he looked back at you, his expression unreadable but intense.

heewon and soobin exchanged a worried look, sensing that something was off but unsure of what to make of it. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the man standing in front of you, the man who had somehow become both a stranger and something more in the span of just one night. namjoon lingered for a moment longer before moving on to the next student, but the heat of his touch stayed with you, lingering on your skin long after he had stepped away. you stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions, wondering how you were supposed to focus on anything else when the only thing you could think about was him.

you stared at the blank sheet of paper for what felt like forever, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. the memory of Namjoon’s touch lingered on your skin, his presence looming over you despite him moving on to the next student. every word you tried to write felt forced, disjointed, as if your mind was too occupied with the events of the night before to form a coherent sentence. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to string together an essay that would meet namjoon’s expectations—or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally as he walked around the room, checking on the other students, and every time, it made your heart race and your fingers tremble.

finally, you managed to write something—an essay that was far from your best work, but at least it was done. the bell rang, its sharp sound jolting you out of your thoughts. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you as namjoon dismissed the class with a curt nod. the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet filled the room as everyone stood up and turned in their papers. you gathered your things slowly, hoping to blend in with the crowd, to escape without another encounter with him. as you moved toward the front to turn in your essay, soobin and heewon caught your attention.

“we’ll wait outside for you,” soobin said, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. your eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to leave you alone in this classroom. but it was too late; they were already heading out the door, leaving you and namjoon as the last ones in the room. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes down, refusing to meet it. you set your paper on his desk, trying to make a quick exit.

but just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “i didn’t know you went to college here.” you froze, every muscle in your body tensing at his words. you slowly turned around, forcing yourself to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “i didn’t know you worked here,” you replied, your voice barely steady.

the silence that followed was thick with tension, the air heavy with everything that was left unsaid. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same uncertainty that mirrored your own. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. then he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. his gaze hardened, the warmth from earlier replaced with something colder, more distant. “please only refer to me as your professor from now on,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sinking in. it felt like your heart was physically breaking, the pain sharp and immediate. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. he paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he continued. “pretend like anything we had didn’t happen, for our sake.”

you nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical, even as the nausea churned in your stomach. it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were free-falling and there was nothing to catch you. but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, doing your best to hide the turmoil inside. “see you next period, professor kim,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your legs feeling like they were made of lead. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you. as you pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise and bustle of the other students barely registered.

all you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the coldness in his eyes, and the realization that whatever connection you had felt the night before was now nothing but a distant memory. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his voice in your ear, but it all felt so far away now, like a dream that had ended too soon. heewon and soobin were waiting for you just outside the classroom, their expressions shifting from playful to concerned the moment they saw you. heewon opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head, silently begging her not to ask. you couldn’t talk about it, not now—not when everything felt so raw, so real.

the day felt like a blur as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to shake off the weight of the morning’s events. you met up with soobin and heewon during your free period, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. the café in the student center was a welcome escape, its warm lighting and soft chatter offering a brief respite from the chaos in your mind. you slid into a booth with them, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your exhaustion. you barely registered the vibrant colors and bustling activity around you, too preoccupied with the events of the morning.

“so,” soobin said, leaning in with an inquisitive look. “what the hell happened between you and professor kim?” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. with a heavy sigh, you began recounting the events of the previous night—everything from the club, the fleeting connection with namjoon, to the morning’s abrupt encounter in class. your friends listened in stunned silence, their eyes widening with each detail.

when you finished, soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and heewon. “i didn’t expect that,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. heewon, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “you’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “he’s like, the hottest professor ever. you did good, really good.”

you managed a weak smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a twinge of warmth despite the tumult inside. as you looked around, your gaze fell upon namjoon again, this time surrounded by a swarm of female students. they clustered around him, offering water and engaging in casual conversation. his earlier gaze had been replaced by a smile that was charming but distant, his attention firmly on his admirers. “guess you aren’t his only fan,” soobin remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

you turned back to your friends, trying to mask the tightness in your chest. “i don’t care,” you said, your voice carrying a trace of frustration. “i’m not allowed to care.” heewon placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look on the bright side,” she said gently. “you got over your ex, if anything. and maybe, in some weird way, this is a chance to start fresh.”

her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind you of the painful truth. the breakup with your ex had left you vulnerable and searching for validation, and namjoon’s presence had complicated everything in ways you hadn’t anticipated. but you nodded, appreciating her attempt to offer perspective. you managed a grateful smile, the gesture feeling heavy but sincere. as you sipped your coffee, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. the conversation drifted, and you tried to focus on the mundane topics your friends brought up, but your thoughts kept returning to namjoon.

the next day unfolded with a disorienting sense of déjà vu, as if you were trapped in a cycle you couldn’t escape. the english period began with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the previous day’s awkward encounter with namjoon. his presence was now a constant, uncomfortable weight, and you braced yourself for another session of tense interactions. he entered the classroom, his authoritative stride commanding immediate attention. he took his place at the front, his gaze scanning the room with a sharpness that made your skin prickle. the air seemed charged with unspoken tension as he began his lesson, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

throughout the class, it became increasingly clear that namjoon was deliberately targeting you. his questions were relentless, designed to probe and unsettle. his piercing eyes would lock onto you as he asked complex questions about the texts you’d studied. “so,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of challenge, “can you tell me how socrates’ concept of virtue contrasts with plato’s theory of forms?” you stumbled over your answer, your mind racing to piece together a coherent response. “um, socrates—he believed that virtue was a form of knowledge, right? and plato, well, he thought virtue was tied to the ideal forms?”

namjoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the sound echoing through the classroom. “not quite. socrates did indeed view virtue as a form of knowledge, but plato’s theory of forms goes beyond that, focusing on the ideal forms as the true reality of virtue.” the click of his tongue felt like a stinging reprimand, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. from behind, soobin offered a comforting wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. you smiled back, grateful for his support, even if you didn’t fully understand his intentions.

as namjoon moved through the rows, he handed back the essays with a stoic expression. when he reached your table, he paused, his eyes scanning your paper. “you can do better,” he said, despite the high mark you’d received. his voice was flat, dismissive, and it stung more than the failing grade could have.

soobin leaned over as his eyes raked over the positive mark on your paper, a smirk playing on his lips. he whispered, “congratulations,” before wrapping his arms around your neck in a gesture that surprised you. he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring. “well done,” he added, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the brief moment of affection. it was partly for show, a subtle defiance in the face of namjoon’s scrutiny, but it felt genuine enough to offer a small comfort. as he pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice namjoon’s eyes flicking toward you, his expression unreadable but his demeanor tense.

the moment was shattered when soobin dropped his pencil, its clatter startlingly loud in the quiet classroom. he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “could you get that for me?” you nodded, bending over to retrieve the pencil. the motion was unavoidably revealing, your short skirt riding up just enough to provide a provocative view. you could feel namjoon’s gaze on you, intense and almost overwhelming. as you picked up the pencil, you glanced up to see soobin’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze deliberate and knowing.

you handed the pencil back to him, who responded with a smirk, “thank you, sweetheart.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched the interaction. his knuckles whitened around the stack of papers in his hand, the sheets crumpling under the pressure of his grip. the sight of soobin’s gaze on you seemed to inflame his irritation, and he struggled to maintain his composure. the tension broke when he suddenly snapped, “pop quiz.”

the sharpness of his command cut through the room, drawing startled gasps from the students. you looked back to see soobin’s smirk widening, a silent acknowledgment of the provocation. you couldn’t help but return his smirk, feeling a mix of amusement and defiance. as he began distributing the quiz papers, the atmosphere in the room shifted. the playful energy between you and soobin contrasted sharply with namjoon’s stern demeanor.

the bell's chime reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. as students shuffled to their feet, handing in their quizzes with murmurs of relief, you lingered behind, finalizing your answers and tapping the pencil against the paper. you were the last to submit your quiz once again, and as you made your way to the front, you glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had before your next class.

with your quiz in hand, you approached namjoon's desk, determined to leave the room as quickly as possible. however, as you turned to head for the door, namjoon's voice stopped you in your tracks. “come here,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laden with an undercurrent of something else. your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. “is everything okay, professor kim?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

namjoon's posture stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that you noticed immediately. he adjusted himself in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. as you met his gaze, your eyes flickered momentarily to the front of his pants. specifically, the painfully visible tent in his pants that had been rightfully covered by his desk. now, you were able to get a clear view of it and, fuck, was it obvious. the sight was unsettling, a realization that you forced yourself to ignore.

he leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “did you enjoy the show you put on today?” he asked, his voice low and carrying an edge of challenge. you struggled to maintain composure. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and focused. your gaze danced around the room, avoiding the direction of his gaze.

his expression hardened slightly. without breaking eye contact, he reached for a stapler on his desk and tossed it lightly in front of you. “pick it up for me,” he instructed, his tone carrying a hushed command. you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his command. his voice seemed to reverberate through you, causing an involuntary clenching in your thighs. you turned around and bent over to retrieve the stapler, your skirt rising above your hips with the motion. the fabric brushed against your legs as you reached for the stapler, the movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from namjoon.

as you stood up and placed the stapler back on his desk, you tried to keep your gaze forward. namjoon’s eyes followed you, and you could sense the tension in the air thickening. “come here,” he murmured again, his voice softer but still carrying the same underlying authority. you hesitated, fighting the urge to defy him. but the knowledge that resistance was futile made you comply. you approached him, feeling his gaze on you as you moved closer. when you were within arm’s reach, he reached out and drew you gently into his lap, his grip firm yet careful.

you could feel it, the clothed tent in his pants pressing into the bare flesh of your thigh, it sent goosebumps all arouns your skin. his lips brushed against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “are you happy knowing that the boys are getting off to this ass of yours?” he asked, his voice a dark purr against your skin. you tried to muster a response, a smirk curling on your lips as you said, “yeah, the boys are real nice to me.” the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to mask your discomfort.

namjoon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. his hand pressed against you, and you could feel the firmness of his body beneath you. “you don’t need them,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more possessive tone. “you need a man.” your breath caught in your throat, the situation spiraling beyond your control.

his hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently through your shirt. the fabric was thin, offering no real barrier to his touch. your nipples tightened, and you gasped. “is this what you want?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the peak. “to be manhandled by some immature college boys?” his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, one that was as much about power as it was passion. your body responded instinctively, arching into him. his tongue pushed into your mouth, and you could taste the mint from his gum, a stark contrast to the earthy scent of his cologne.

his hand moved from your neck to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to expose your bare skin. his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you panting. “now, let’s see how wet you get when you’re being punished by your professor,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. before you could protest, his hand slid down to cup your sex through your panties, his fingers moving in slow circles. his touch was deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. the fabric of your panties was drenched, and you could feel the heat of your arousal spreading. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “gonna pay for teasing me like that.”

his hand withdrew, and before you could react, his palm connected with your ass in a sharp spank. the sting of pain shot through you, but instead of anger, you felt a pulse of desire. the room around you spun, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice mocking. “to be used like this?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough. namjoon chuckled again, his hand moving to your other cheek. this time, the spank was harder, and the sound echoed through the empty classroom. you gasped, your legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around his fingers. “yes, professor,” you murmured, the words slipping out despite your attempt to remain defiant.

his hand slid into your panties, his fingers pushing inside you without preamble. you were so wet, so ready, and his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. his thumb circled your clit, and you moaned, unable to hold back. “that’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and encouraging. “tell me how much you like it when i spank you, and maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick.”

his other hand moved to the zipper of his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock. it sprang out, and you couldn’t help but stare at it, the size of it both terrifying and exhilarating. “you want this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a gruff challenge. “you wanna be fucked by your professor, right here, where everyone can see?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your body betraying your every thought. namjoon leaned back in his chair, pulling you onto his desk. the cold wood was a shock against your skin, but the heat of his body washed over you as he stepped closer. his pants fell to the floor, and he positioned himself between your legs. “beg for it,” he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. your voice was shaky as you whispered, “please, professor kim, fuck me.” the words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your vision swim. his hips began to move, a steady, punishing rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

each thrust was accompanied by a smack on your ass, the sting mixing with the ache in your pussy. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice harsh with need. “no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to touch you like this.” his words were a blend of assertion and question, and you nodded, your eyes glazed with lust. your silence happened to be a grave mistake, and you realized it the minute he delivered another harsh slap to your ass.

“use your fucking words,” he snarled in your ear, hips pressed against your flesh. you could only whimper, his balls pressed against your soaking slit. but he didn't move, he was gonna make you work for it. “what happens to bad girls?” you gritted your teeth and forced out a whisper, “they get punished, professor kim.”

his hand squeezed your ass hard before delivering another spank, the sting turning into a warm buzz that spread through your body. he chuckled darkly, pleased with your response. “that’s right,” he said, his voice gruff and animalistic. “and what happens when bad girls get punished?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. “they get fucked, professor kim.”

that was all the encouragement he needed. namjoon’s cock slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating the silence of the classroom. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips pistoning against you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. your legs were shaking, and your knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, but you didn’t care. you were lost in the feeling of him inside you, claiming you in a way that no one else ever had.

his hand moved from your ass to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it in a grip that was tight but not painful. he squeezed slightly, the pressure sending a jolt of arousal through you. his eyes bore into yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the need to dominate and control. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

you nodded, unable to form words. your breath was coming in ragged gasps, and your pussy was clenching around his cock, begging for release. another spank, another squeeze of your neck, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you’re mine, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours, professor kim,” you choked out, the words a desperate plea.

his grip tightened, and he slammed into you one last time, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. you screamed as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. namjoon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of triumph and possessiveness. he waited, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure before he began to move again, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic. you could feel his release building, his cock swelling inside you. he was close, and the thought of him filling you up with his cum made your pussy clench even tighter. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “i’m gonna fill you up, fuck. i’m gonna mark you as mine.”

you could feel your own orgasm building again, a second wave crashing into you as his words sent a fresh surge of arousal through your body. he leaned over, his teeth scraping along your neck as he reached down to pinch your clit. the combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, your body shaking violently. he grunted, his hips jerking as he released deep inside you. he held you there, his cock buried to the hilt, his grip on your neck unyielding. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possession. “no one else will ever make you feel like this again.”

you couldn’t argue with him, not when his cum was still pulsing inside you, not when his scent was all over your body. you were his, and as much as you hated to admit it, the thought thrilled you. his hand moved from your neck to your hair, his grip gentle as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the remnants of your orgasm, and you kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

the room was spinning, and your heart was racing, but all you could think about was how much you wanted this to never end. how much you wanted to be claimed by him, over and over again. finally, he pulled away, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. he tucked himself back into his pants, his expression unreadable. “now, get out of here before someone sees you like this,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

you nodded, your legs unsteady as you slid off the desk. your panties were a ruined mess, so you left them where they lay. your skirt was hiked up around your waist, and your shirt was askew, but you didn’t bother to fix it. you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, a sticky reminder of what had just happened. you stumbled out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind you. the hallway was empty, the only sound the echo of your heels against the tiles. your mind was racing, trying to process the intensity of what had just occurred. you hadn’t meant for it to go that far, but the power dynamics had overtaken you both.

as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his hand on your neck, his cock inside you. your body was still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sting of his spanks lingered, a sweet reminder of his dominance. once inside the stall, you leaned against the cool metal, trying to catch your breath. your pussy was sore, but the ache was a delicious one, a reminder of his brutal possession. you cleaned up as best as you could, trying to erase the evidence of your transgression. when you stepped out, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

you checked the mirror, fixing your makeup and smoothing your hair. your eyes were wild, your cheeks flushed. you really looked like you’d just been fucked by your professor, and that thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you left the bathroom, heading to your next class, your mind racing with thoughts of namjoon. what had just happened between you? was it a one-time thing, or was this the start of something darker, something more intense? you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his voice, his touch, his cock. the way he’d claimed you, the way you’d begged for it. it was wrong, so wrong, but you craved it.

the rest of the day was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the illicit encounter. when you saw him in the hallways, his eyes would briefly meet yours, a smoldering heat passing between you that no one else could see. the tension was palpable, a silent promise of more to come. by the time you reached the evening, you were on edge, desperate for a release that only he could provide. you knew you had to see him again, to find out where this was going, to let him take you apart and put you back together in whatever twisted way he saw fit.

the next day, namjoon was crueler than ever. the moment you walked into the classroom, you felt the shift in his demeanor, an icy coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, sharp and unforgiving, as if waiting for you to slip up.

“miss (l/n),” he drawled, barely five minutes into the lecture, “do you even know what the word ‘competence’ means? because, frankly, i’m starting to doubt it.” his words were laced with venom, each syllable landing like a physical blow. you felt your heart sink, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as all eyes turned to you. your mouth opened to respond, but the words caught in your throat, your voice betraying you in the moment you needed it most.

“answer me,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. “i do,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear that your confidence had shattered.

he scoffed, a cold, mocking sound that made you flinch. “then perhaps you should start showing it. this is a university, not a daycare. i expect more from my students.” the classroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. you could feel the stares of your classmates, could hear the unspoken judgment in the air, and it made your stomach churn. namjoon’s relentless criticism continued throughout the class, his every word designed to tear you down, to make you feel small and insignificant.

“is that really the best you can do?” he sneered at one point, after you had answered another one of his questions with trembling uncertainty. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the disdain written all over his face. “how disappointing.” your patience was wearing thin, the fragile hold you had on your emotions slipping with each cruel remark. you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, to ask him why he was being so unbearably harsh. but you couldn’t. the words refused to come, lodged in your throat like a stone.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class drew to a close. as soon as namjoon dismissed everyone, you gathered your things and bolted from the room, your vision blurred with unshed tears. you could hear the murmur of voices behind you, the curious whispers of your classmates, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get away. you didn’t stop until you reached the empty locker room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening echo. the second you were alone, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

“how could he be so bipolar?” you choked out between gasping breaths, your voice thick with hurt and confusion. it was as if he had two completely different personalities, one moment kind and almost gentle, the next vicious and unrelenting. it was too much. the sound of approaching footsteps cut through your thoughts, startling you. you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying in vain to compose yourself, but it was too late. the door creaked open, and soobin stepped inside, his expression filled with concern as he saw you huddled on the floor.

“(y/n)?” he called softly, his voice laced with worry. without waiting for an answer, he hurried over to you, crouching down by your side. “what happened? why are you crying?” you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob. soobin’s face softened, and he reached out to pull you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “it’s gonna be okay. just breathe.” for a moment, you let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms and the softness of his voice soothing your frazzled nerves. but eventually, you pulled back enough to look up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

“it’s namjoon, you saw it,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “he’s just, he’s being so awful, and i don’t understand why.” soobin’s expression darkened at the mention of namjoon, his jaw clenching slightly, but he quickly masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “he’s being an ass,” he agreed, his voice firm with conviction. “you don’t deserve that, you need to stop running to him.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “you’re right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i don’t know how to stop.” his gaze softened, and he reached up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “you’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his tone full of quiet confidence. “and until you do, i’ll be here for you.”

a small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the warmth of his words seeping into the cracks that namjoon’s cruelty had left behind. “thank you, soo,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. for a moment, the two of you just sat there, lost in each other’s eyes. then, before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

it was so quick, so unexpected, that you barely had time to react before he was pulling back, his eyes wide with panic. “i’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to—” but you didn’t let him finish. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him back. this time, it was slower, deeper, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t made a mistake. when you finally pulled away, you could see the relief in soobin’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with affection. “you didn’t make a mistake,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but filled with sincerity.

soobin searched your eyes for a moment, looking for confirmation, before his arms tightened around you. the kiss grew more urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. your hands roamed over his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you moaned softly, the heat between you growing with every passing second. the locker room was suddenly too small, too confining, and you needed more.

without breaking the kiss, you reached down and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling the smooth fabric give way beneath your trembling fingers. his hands mirrored yours, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. as his shirt fell open, you gasped, taking in the sight of his broad chest, the tattoos that danced across his skin like secrets waiting to be uncovered. you ran your fingers over the ink, tracing the lines as you explored him, and he groaned, his hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt.

you pulled back just long enough to let him lift it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your bra followed shortly after, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts. without a word, he leaned down and captured one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips. the pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain namjoon’s words had brought you just moments ago. soobin’s touch was gentle, reverent, a stark reminder of the way you deserved to be treated.

his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as he sucked and bit at them, making you whimper. you could feel yourself growing wetter, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. he must have noticed too, because his hand began to drift lower, slipping under your little skirt and finding your panties already drenched for him. you moaned into his mouth, your legs parting slightly to give him better access.

his fingers slid over the fabric, teasing you, making you squirm with need. then, with a wicked grin, he pulled them aside and plunged two fingers into you, making you gasp. his strokes were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, learning what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

his other hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had dried on your cheeks. “you’re so beautiful, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of pleasure through your body. “so perfect, so responsive. i want to make you feel good, really good.” and with that, he kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers picked up the pace, filling you up and stroking that spot inside you that no one else seemed to know existed.

you could feel yourself getting closer, your breath hitching in your chest, your body tightening around his fingers. “soobin,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “yes, baby, come for me,” he whispered, his voice full of desire, and with that, you shattered. your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, your legs giving out beneath you. he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you up, his kisses turning gentle and soothing.

as you came down from the high, you became aware of the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, the muffled sounds of someone walking down the hall. soobin’s eyes widened in panic, his hand still buried in your panties, his fingers coated in your arousal. “shit, we can’t get caught,” he hissed, pulling away and hastily buttoning his shirt. you nodded, fumbling to put yourself back together, your heart racing.

you looked around, your eyes landing on a shower stall in the corner, and an idea formed in your mind. “quick, in there,” you urged, pushing him towards it. he looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned, and he grinned, pulling you in after him. the sound of the shower turning on masked the sound of your breathing as you kissed him again, more urgently this time. his hand found its way back to your panties, his touch no longer gentle but demanding, and you could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. you reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling the length and thickness of him, making you even more eager. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking against your hand.

his own need was clear, and you knew what you had to do. you sank to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick. without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as you began to suck. his moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as you worked him with your mouth, eager to bring him the same pleasure he had given you. his taste was new, but familiar in a way that made your stomach flip. you could feel his cock swell even more, and you knew he was close. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, and you took it as a sign to speed up, to swallow him down deeper. and just as the footsteps grew closer, he came, his release hot and salty on your tongue.

you swallowed, licking him clean as you stood up, your own arousal pulsing between your legs. he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming over your body. “i want you, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i want all of you, right here, right now.” and before you could respond, he was lifting you up, setting you on the bench and peeling your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed.

his cock was still hard, and he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip nudging against your wetness. you could feel the size of him, the way he stretched you open even though he hadn't even slid in yet. you desperately tried not to think about namjoon, to focus on the comfort soobin was offering as a friend. his eyes searched yours for consent, and with a nod, you gave it. he pushed in, slow and gentle, filling you completely. you moaned out his name, the sound echoing off the tiles. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, his girth stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he didn't stop, though, continuing to move at a pace that was just right, building the tension until you felt like you might come apart at the seams.

his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the passion in them, the way he was losing himself in the moment, and it made you feel alive, wanted. “you're so wet,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort. “so perfect.”

his words were like a balm to your soul, the praise you had been craving, the gentle touch you hadn't realized you needed. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. “yes,” you murmured, your voice a whisper. “yes, fuck, soo.” his rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was close. your own orgasm was building, the pressure inside you threatening to burst. “you're gonna cum for me,” he panted, his voice low and commanding. “gonna cum so hard.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you screamed out his name. he followed shortly after, his release hot and powerful, filling you up without any barrier. the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only added to the intensity of the moment.

as you both came down from the high, panting and trying to catch your breath, you realized what you had done. the comfort sex had turned into something much more intimate, something that would change everything between you. but for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the water from the shower washed away the evidence of your shared secret.

his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was new to you. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, your chest heaving with each breath. “yes,” you whispered, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i'm okay.”

you didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the physical release that had made you feel better. it was the connection, the understanding, the gentle way he had taken care of you when you felt so broken. you knew that this moment would be something you would cherish, something that would sustain you through the storm that was namjoon's cruelty.

but you also knew that you couldn't keep running to soobin every time namjoon hurt you. you had to find a way to stand on your own two feet, to face the demons that were holding you hostage. but for now, in the warmth of the shower, with soobin's arms around you, you allowed yourself to just be. to feel alive and desired, if only for a little while longer.

you could feel the pulse of his cock still inside you, a strangled moan passing your lips as you felt him grow hard inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him, so lewd and filthy for your cunt, a smirk playing on his face as he began to tilt his hips upward, the overwhelming sensation bringing tears to his eyes. “you really gonna fuck me again?” you practically purred, nails scratching at his chest as his pace began to quicken.

“i have to, you're still dripping for me,” he almost whined, the feeling of your juices drenching his dick just too intense. you pulled him in closer, saving the second blissful sensation of him pulling your cunt apart as he continued to pump his dick into you. you were both unaware of just how loud you were being, as much as you were of the nearby presence, who had been listening to every word with a look of utter anger on his face.

namjoon had been on his way to grab something from his office when he heard the locker room door slam, and the sound of your sobs had drawn him in. he had been torn between leaving and walking in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. and now, as he heard the sound of soobin's body slapping against yours, as he heard the two of you gasp and moan, his anger grew. he felt like he had been stabbed in the back, the betrayal a cold, sharp pain in his chest.

his hand was clenched into a fist, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from storming in and tearing the two of you apart. instead, he leaned against the wall, listening as soobin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he praised your body and made you feel good about yourself. the irony of the situation was not lost on him; the one person who had been so cruel to you was now being the one to console you in the most intimate way possible.

his mind raced with thoughts of what he should do, but in the end, he decided to stay put. he would let this play out, let soobin have his moment of victory, and then he would deal with it. but for now, he had to listen to the sound of your pleasure, the sound of what he had wanted to be his, being given to someone else. and it made his blood boil.

the following day, tension hung heavy in the air, a storm brewing in namjoon's chest as he awaited your arrival. the echoes of what he overheard between you and soobin replayed in his mind, each word twisting the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. the anger was sharp, intense, and the moment you stepped into the classroom, he felt his blood begin to boil.

you entered the room with a sense of calm, your steps measured and your expression serene. it was a visible contrast to the way namjoon’s heart raced and his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. as the lesson began, he made it his personal mission to nail you into the ground with questions, to strip away that calm exterior and expose whatever emotions lay beneath. “miss (y/n),” he began, his voice cutting through the classroom like a blade, “perhaps you can explain the concept of friedrich nietzsche's ‘übermensch’ to the class?”

the question was pointed, meant to trip you up, to make you falter. but to his astonishment, you didn’t miss a beat.

“the ‘übermensch’ is a concept in nietzsche’s philosophy that refers to someone who has transcended the limitations of conventional morality and societal norms to create and live by their own values,” you replied, your voice steady, almost indifferent. “it’s a cornerstone of his idea of life-affirmation, where one embraces their existence fully and creates meaning in a world that might otherwise seem meaningless.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t done yet. “and what about the eternal recurrence? how does that concept tie into the idea of the ‘übermensch’?”

“the eternal recurrence is the idea that life, in all its events, could potentially repeat itself infinitely,” you answered, still without hesitation. “for nietzsche, the ‘übermensch’ is someone who could embrace this concept, who would live their life in such a way that they’d be willing to relive it over and over again. it’s about living with such purpose and strength that one would welcome even the most painful experiences.” namjoon’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he fired question after question at you, trying to find a chink in your armor. but you got all of them right, each answer delivered with precision and clarity. and what made his blood boil even more was that you never once glanced at him. not even for a second.

it was as if he didn’t exist to you, and that realization twisted his gut into knots. the way you didn’t acknowledge his presence felt like a slap in the face. he could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. but what pushed him closer to the edge was the way you looked at soobin. he noticed it—the way your eyes softened when you glanced at him, the way your lips curved into a genuine smile when you laughed at something he said. the sight made something inside namjoon snap. he could feel the pencil in his hand crack under the pressure of his grip, the wood splintering, but you didn’t even notice.

as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, namjoon watched you closely. everyone else filtered out of the room, but you lingered, packing your things with that same maddening calm. when the last student left, his resolve crumbled. “(y/n),” he called out softly, his voice a mere whisper of the authority it usually held. you paused, glancing up from your bag. “yes, professor kim?”

there was a sting in the formality of your response, a distance that hadn’t been there before. it made his heart constrict painfully. he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “please, stop calling me that,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. you tilted your head slightly, the smallest hint of confusion crossing your features. “but that’s what you asked me to call you,” you replied, your tone even, devoid of the warmth he had once taken for granted.

he felt the sting of his own words being thrown back at him. it was true; he had been the one to demand that distance, to keep you at arm’s length. and now he was paying the price. as you turned to leave, something in him snapped. “i’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. you froze, your hand stilling on the strap of your bag. slowly, you turned back to face him. “sorry for what?”

“for everything,” he said, his voice thick with regret. he hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say it. “i fell for you the minute i saw you, you know? you looked so out of place in the club, and it drew me to you. but when i realized you were my student, it pissed me off. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” your gaze softened, the hard edges of your expression melting away as you looked at him. “how do you think i felt?” you asked, your voice gentle, understanding.

namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i know i’ve been an asshole, (y/n),” he admitted, his voice rough with self-loathing. “but i can’t keep playing this game. it’s tearing me apart.”

you didn’t respond immediately, the silence between you stretching out, heavy with unspoken words. you turned to leave once more, but before you could take another step, namjoon moved. he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. “please, don’t go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions.

“namjoon,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “you have to stop. you’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i don’t care if it means i get to be with you.”

you stood there, wrapped in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a dangerous game the two of you were playing, one that could cost him everything. but in that moment, all you could think about was the way his heart beat against your back, strong and steady, grounding you in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you knew the risks, there was a part of you that didn’t want to let go either. the part that had fallen for him too, despite everything, despite the pain and the confusion and the impossibility of it all.

“namjoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible, “what are we gonna do?”

he didn’t have an answer, not yet. all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. not now. not when he had finally admitted the truth to himself. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the classroom seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a stolen moment that neither of you was ready to end.

✧.*

a/n: this was soo ass but some sweet soul wanted more joon content so i hope they see this and if they don't like it i will def do another one

new kpop stans have no idea what it was like being a lucas biased nctzen last year

“ballads are boring,” so close! ur favs cant sing! try stanning shinee instead

under the moon (달 아래) — kim namjoon (김남준)

this is part one, part two can be found here

✧.*

life had unraveled like the frayed edges of a delicate drapery. each thread that once held your world together seemed to have slipped through your fingers, leaving you grasping at memories that no longer felt like your own. the air had grown heavier, thick with a silence that pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe. colors that once brightened your days had faded to muted shades, as if the world itself had lost its vibrancy, reflecting the numbness that settled deep within you.

time moved differently, stretching endlessly in moments that felt like they would never end, yet slipping away in a haze when you tried to grasp it. nights bled into days, marked only by the quiet echoes of thoughts you couldn’t quite escape, thoughts that circled in your mind like a storm you couldn’t find shelter from. you were adrift, untethered, as if the solid ground you once stood on had crumbled beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a void where nothing made sense.

even the simple things, the ones you had taken for granted, felt foreign and out of reach. laughter sounded distant, like a memory of a dream you weren’t sure you ever had. the warmth of sunlight on your skin felt like a distant echo of a comfort you could no longer feel. you had become a stranger in your own life, watching from a distance as it fell apart, powerless to stop the pieces from scattering.

you sat on the docks, your feet dangling over the edge, barely touching the cold, dark water below. the wooden planks were weathered and rough beneath you, each one holding the memory of countless others who had sat here before, lost in their own thoughts. the day was heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, the gentle lapping of the waves the only sound breaking the silence. above, the sky was a vast expanse of blue, dotted with stars that seemed too far away to matter.

in your hand was a bottle of soju, the cool glass damp from the night air. you had been nursing it for a while, taking slow, deliberate sips, letting the burn settle in your chest before swallowing it down like a bitter truth. each sip felt like a small rebellion against the ache that had taken residence in your heart, but it did little to numb the pain.

the events of the past few days replayed in your mind, each one sharper than the last. you had trusted him, loved him with a fierceness that scared you at times. but he had left you, not just abandoned, but burdened with the weight of his debt—debts you hadn’t even known existed until the collectors came knocking. and as if that betrayal wasn’t enough, he had left you for your best friend. confronting her had been like walking into a nightmare. the hurt in her eyes when you accused her, the way she had looked at you with pity, not guilt. you had expected an apology, a confession that she had made a mistake, but instead, she had stood by him, unwavering. his mother’s arrival had only made things worse, her voice shrill and unforgiving as she berated you, her book club friends nodding along, their eyes filled with judgment. you hadn’t meant to cause a scene, but their anger, their righteousness, had pushed you out, sent you running until you found yourself here, alone.

you took another long drink from the bottle, the alcohol warming your throat as it went down, but leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. the docks had always been your refuge, a place where you could escape the noise of the world, but tonight, even the quiet seemed to mock you. you stared out at the horizon, the lights of the distant city blinking like tiny, indifferent stars, and you wondered how everything had gone so wrong.

a rustle caught your attention, and you glanced to your side. across from you, not too far away, sat a homeless man, his clothes tattered and worn, his face weathered by years of hardship. his eyes, however, were sharp, and they were fixed on the bottle in your hand. he didn’t say anything, just watched you with a mix of curiosity and hunger, and you could see the desire for a drink etched in the lines of his face. you sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, and without a word, you extended the bottle towards him. he hesitated for a moment, then shuffled closer, his movements slow and deliberate. he took the bottle from your hand with a nod of thanks, but still, neither of you spoke.

the silence stretched between you, thick and impenetrable, as he took a swig from the bottle. you watched him, noting the way his hands trembled slightly as he drank, the way his eyes closed for a brief moment as the alcohol slid down his throat. he settled beside you, the two of you sitting in a shared, unspoken understanding of the night’s loneliness.

“do you ever wish you could sleep for the next hundred years?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely louder than a whisper. the words had slipped out before you could stop them, a quiet admission of the exhaustion that had seeped into your bones. you didn’t expect an answer, and the man didn’t offer one. he continued to stare out at the water, the bottle now resting in his lap, his silence a mirror to your own thoughts.

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, each one tugged from the depths of your sorrow. “life is awful,” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of the truth. “every time i think it’s getting better, it just gets worse. it’s like some cruel joke, this constant cycle of hope and disappointment.” the man didn’t move, didn’t even look at you. his silence was deafening, yet somehow comforting in its neutrality. he wasn’t there to judge or console, just to listen—or maybe, not even that. perhaps he was just a presence, a reminder that you weren’t entirely alone, even if it felt like it.

your voice faltered, and you felt the first sting of tears burning at the corners of your eyes. you tried to hold them back, to swallow the sobs that were building in your chest, but it was useless. the dam broke, and you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your cries. the tears were hot against your skin, your sobs muffled as you tucked your head between your knees, trying to make yourself as small as possible, to disappear into the night.

for a long while, the only sound was your crying, the grief pouring out of you in waves. the man remained silent, his gaze now fixed somewhere in the distance, as if he was watching a world that neither of you could see. you didn’t expect him to comfort you, didn’t even want him to. all you needed was to release the pain that had been choking you since everything had fallen apart.

when your tears had subsided into soft, hiccupping breaths, the man shifted beside you. he sighed, a deep, resigned sound, and for the first time, he spoke. his voice was rough, like gravel being dragged across pavement, but there was a quiet wisdom in it, a hard-earned understanding of the world. “life won’t get better just because you want it to,” he said, his words hanging in the cold air between you. he didn’t offer any more than that, no advice or platitudes, just the blunt truth that he had learned over years of hardship.

he stood up slowly, the bottle now empty in his hand, and he moved a few feet away, curling up on the wooden planks with his back to you. you watched as he settled down, pulling a tattered blanket around himself, his body already relaxing into sleep. the conversation was over, and you were left alone again, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. you stared at the empty spot beside you, where the bottle had rested just moments before, and felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. life wouldn’t get better just because you wanted it to, but you hadn’t given up wanting, not yet.

you stood on the edge of the docks, the wooden planks beneath your feet creaking softly as you stared out at the water. the sun hung low in the sky, its golden light casting long, warm reflections on the rippling surface of the bay. the distant murmur of the city seemed to fade as your gaze followed the gentle dance of the waves, their rhythmic motion both calming and hypnotic. it was then you heard it—a sudden splash that jolted you from your reverie.

you turned swiftly, eyes scanning the dock for the source of the disturbance. panic gripped you as you spotted a small figure struggling in the water. a little boy, no older than six, flailed desperately, his tiny arms reaching out as he bobbed helplessly. his parents, oblivious to the danger, chatted animatedly on the dock, their laughter ringing hollow in the midst of the growing crisis.

your heart raced, and you glanced over at the homeless man who usually occupied a corner of the docks. he lay slumped against a crate, fast asleep, his tattered coat pulled tightly around him. desperation surged through you as you realized the responsibility of the moment fell squarely on your shoulders. you cursed under your breath, frustration and fear mingling as you pushed yourself into action.

without a second thought, you sprinted toward the edge of the dock. the world seemed to blur around you as you dove into the cold, dark water. the shock of the chill hit you hard, and for a split second, you were enveloped in a freezing embrace. the surface above you shimmered faintly, growing dimmer as you plunged deeper. your limbs cut through the water with urgency, each stroke bringing you closer to the struggling boy.

when you finally reached him, his face was etched with sheer terror, his eyes wide and glassy. you grabbed him firmly, wrapping your arms around his small, shivering body. he clung to you with a vice-like grip, his sobs muffled by the water. you kicked with all your might, pushing upwards, determined to get him to safety. as you breached the surface, the dimming light of the sun cast eerie shadows across the water. you could see the boy’s father now, his face a mask of fear and urgency as he maneuvered a small raft toward you. with a final burst of energy, you managed to get the boy onto the raft. the father, his face etched with gratitude, reached out a hand towards you.

you were about to grasp it when you noticed something strange. the sun, which had been steadily sinking, was now obscured by an enormous, dark shadow. your gaze followed the shadow up, and your breath caught in your throat. the sun was being eclipsed, a celestial body slipping between you and its light. the sky darkened abruptly, the shadow growing ever larger, swallowing the golden hue with an ominous, encroaching blackness.

panic gripped you anew as the raft’s father shouted at you to take his hand. but before you could respond, a strange, powerful force seemed to pull at you from below. the water beneath you churned violently, dragging you down with an insistent, merciless strength. the familiar warmth of the sun’s rays was now a distant memory, replaced by the encroaching darkness. you struggled against the pull, but the force was overwhelming. as you descended, the water around you grew darker and colder. You glanced up one last time, the surface above you now a faint, distant blur. the sun was gone, and the moon seemed to press down on you with an oppressive, unyielding presence.

in the depths of the water, you began to see fleeting, fragmented visions—glimpses of your best friend, their face full of concern; your boyfriend, looking at you with eyes filled with love and worry. these images flickered like memories on the brink of dissolution, fading in and out as you sank deeper and deeper. the darkness enveloped you, the water now a viscous black void. you reached out, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to hold onto. the last remnants of light slipped away, and with a final, desperate gasp, everything went black.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets of the goryeo dynasty's capital. a palpable excitement filled the air as the crowd gathered, their murmurs rising to a crescendo as they awaited the arrival of the imperial procession. the cobblestone streets seemed to vibrate with anticipation as the riders galloped in, their horses' hooves striking the ground in rhythmic beats. the crowd parted respectfully, creating a clear path for the approaching figures.

the lead rider, whose face was partially obscured by an ornate mask, exuded an aura of authority. despite the mask, his commanding presence was unmistakable. as he drew closer, the mask was subtly lifted, revealing the sharp features of kim namjoon, the fourth imperial prince of goryeo. his eyes, sharp and discerning, surveyed the crowd with a mix of regality and practiced indifference.

at the palace, the scene was one of a different nature entirely. the atmosphere within the grand palace complex was a blend of opulence and casual domesticity. In the palace's expansive hot springs, a more relaxed environment prevailed. the tenth prince, baekhyun, splashed gleefully in the steaming waters, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. his actions were a far cry from the formalities of court life, displaying a childlike exuberance that was both endearing and mischievous.

beside him, the fourteenth prince, kang daniel, remained close, his presence a constant in baekhyun’s playful antics. daniel’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he engaged in the water games, showing a loyalty and camaraderie that was evident in their every interaction. the water playfully splashed around them, creating a lively contrast to the otherwise serene setting. the third prince, kang chaehee, observed from a slightly elevated edge of the hot springs, a sly scowl playing on his lips. his eyes followed the two princes with an air of calculated disbelief, as though he were silently plotting his next move or simply reveling in their stupidity.

the thirteenth prince, kang younghyun, joined the others with a warm smile, his entrance into the water adding a new layer of mirth to the scene. younghyun’s demeanor was that of a congenial companion, blending effortlessly into the group as he splashed and laughed with baekhyun and daniel.

the eighth prince, kang chwe hansol, watched the scene unfold with a calm and thoughtful expression. his gaze, serene and contemplative, contrasted with the playful energy of the younger princes. hansol’s mind was occupied with matters of the palace and the well-being of its occupants, a duty that seemed to weigh heavily on him. the ninth prince, kang yeosang, also observed from a distance, his face a mask of indifference. his role in the royal family was less pronounced, but his presence was a constant backdrop to the more dominant personalities of his brothers.

as the evening wore on, hansol noted the conspicuous absence of the fourth prince. his brow furrowed slightly in concern. “if namjoon is any later,” he said thoughtfully, “he’ll miss the ritual ceremony.” the ritual itself played a vital role in the dynasty as a whole, a tradition that had gone on for what could have been centuries. its purpose was not only to bring the princes together, but to rid them and the palace of spirits and hexes.

baekhyun, still immersed in the water, nudged daniel playfully. “i heard,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “that namjoon’s been killing people like a wolf. maybe we’ll be next.” he let out a playful howl, imitating a wolf with exaggerated movements. chaehee’s eyes narrowed, and he chided sang with a tone of authority. “quiet, baekhyun. this is all but the time for such nonsense.”

just as baekhyun began to submerge himself deeper into the water, a sudden figure emerged behind him. you gasped for air, your heart pounding as you struggled to catch your breath. the shock of the cold water and the realization of being in such a strange and precarious situation overwhelmed you. your mind raced, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

baekhyun turned around abruptly, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at you. “there’s a girl in the water!” he called out in shock, his voice carrying across the hot springs.

the princes froze, their expressions shifting from surprise to confusion as they took in the unexpected sight. before you could fully process the situation, a voice to your left beckoned you. you turned to see a slave girl standing at the edge of the hot springs in the bushes, her eyes darting nervously between you and the assembled princes. she gestured urgently for you to come over and whispered a name that you struggled to understand—“come on, my lady nabi.”

you had no clear idea of what she was saying, but the urgency in her voice compelled you to follow. you moved toward her, the water clinging to you as you emerged from the hot springs, your movements slow and hesitant. the princes watched in stunned silence, their gazes fixed on you. hansol’s eyes widened slightly as he processed the situation. “na…bi?” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the rippling water. the name hung in the air, its significance unclear but laden with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

the slave girl, chayeon, moved swiftly and decisively, her demeanor a stark contrast to the chaotic scene unfolding around you. her clothes, though simple and practical, were impeccably clean, and her face wore an expression of stern disapproval. she guided you away from the hot springs, her hands gripping your arm with a firmness that left no room for argument.

“lady nabi, what are you doing here?” she scolded, her voice a sharp whisper that cut through the murmurs of the princes. “you mustn’t be here. how did you end up in the water? this is no place for you!” her words came rapid-fire, her frustration palpable. her eyes scanned you, as if seeking to understand how you had arrived in such a predicament.

as she ushered you away, her scolding continued, though her voice softened slightly. “are you feeling alright now? are you hurt?” her concern, though genuine, was laced with an undercurrent of irritation. the whirlwind of her reprimand left you bewildered, struggling to make sense of your surroundings.

you were still disoriented from the cold shock of the water and the suddenness of the situation. you wondered why chayeon kept addressing you as “lady,” and why you had been dragged into this unfamiliar place. your confusion deepened as you took in the scene before you.

the outdoor pools, set amidst the grand palace grounds, were filled with people clad in elaborate period clothing. their garments were rich with color and intricate designs, the fabrics shimmering in the soft light of the setting sun. the setting was almost idyllic, with the gentle sounds of the water mingling with the low hum of conversation. it struck you with a sense of surrealism—the opulence and the formality of the setting contrasted sharply with the disarray of your predicament.

a growing realization began to dawn on you. the period clothing, the palace surroundings, the way chayeon addressed you—it all seemed to indicate that you had somehow crossed into another realm, a place that bore the hallmarks of the hereafter. the thought was disorienting and unsettling. overwhelmed and unable to process the strange new reality, your vision began to blur. the world around you grew dim, and with a final, desperate gasp, you fainted, collapsing into the comforting embrace of darkness.

the fourth prince made his entrance at the palace gates. his arrival was marked by an imposing presence, the grandeur of his attire and the regal bearing of his posture commanding attention. as he rode through the gates, his lead attendant followed closely, speaking with a tone that was both respectful and cautious.

“your highness,” the attendant said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “remember to uphold the honor of your adopted family name before the king. after your audience, you will need to return to shinju.” namjoon’s face twisted into a sneer at the mention of his adopted status. his tone was laced with sarcasm as he replied, “ah, yes. i had forgotten that i’m not just an adopted son but a hostage in this palace.”

his demeanor hardened as he rode further into the palace grounds. the vast courtyard stretched out before him, the silence heavy with the weight of his impending actions. he dismounted with a grace that belied the storm brewing within him. his hand moved to his sword, and in a swift, decisive motion, he drew it from its sheath.

the courtyard was filled with startled gasps as namjoon took a swing and, to everyone’s horror, struck his horse. the animal reared up, a cry of pain escaping its throat before collapsing to the ground, lifeless. the suddenness of the act stunned everyone into silence. the scene was one of utter shock, with onlookers frozen in place, their eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and fear.

a soldier stepped forward, his voice trembling as he stuttered, “your highness, you’re not allowed to carry a sword inside the palace.” he extended his hand, a gesture that seemed both hesitant and necessary. namjoon’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes cold and unyielding. without a word, he handed over the sword, the metal gleaming ominously as it was taken from him. the soldier, still visibly shaken, added, “i will prepare a horse for your departure.”

namjoon’s response was delivered with an unyielding finality. “i won’t be going back,” he declared, his voice echoing with a resolve that left no room for further discussion. he wasn’t going back, he wasn’t going to allow himself to return to shinju as a hostage.

the world around you began to coalesce into something more tangible as you slowly regained consciousness. the first thing you noticed was the softness of the bed beneath you. it was an opulent four-poster, draped in rich, dark fabrics that exuded an air of both comfort and grandeur. the room was lit by the soft glow of an oil lamp, and the furnishings, though elegant, felt strangely foreign.

you groaned softly, your head throbbing with an intensity that made it difficult to focus. the pain was sharp and persistent, a constant reminder of the disorienting turn your life had taken. as you attempted to sit up, a woman in traditional attire entered the room, her presence graceful and composed. she had an air of authority about her, and she approached with a concerned expression.

“nabi,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. the name felt like an intrusion into your fragile state of awareness, and you looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“what do you mean, nabi?” you asked, your voice strained. “i’m (y/n) (l/n).” the declaration felt weak even as you spoke it, and you noticed the woman’s eyes widening in surprise. the woman’s face reflected a mix of shock and disbelief. “you’re not nabi?” she repeated, her tone tinged with uncertainty. her gaze darted between you and the door, as though she were expecting someone else to appear.

realization dawned on you, and a sudden, albeit delirious, laugh escaped your lips. “oh right, i died. i must be dead,” you said with a half-hearted chuckle. the absurdity of the situation hit you again, and your mind raced to piece together the fragments of your memories.

chayeon stepped into the room, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “no, you didn’t die,” she clarified. “you had a near miss, and we brought you here for safety.” her words did little to alleviate your confusion, and you blurted out, “i didn’t die?” your sense of reality felt tenuous, and your panic surged.

you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled toward the door, the pounding in your head growing louder with every step. the sight that greeted you outside was both breathtaking and bewildering. you found yourself in a spacious courtyard, surrounded by traditional architecture that spoke of a bygone era. the buildings were constructed with ornate wooden beams, their roofs sweeping gracefully upward in elegant curves. the lush greenery and tranquil garden added to the sense of otherworldly calm.

the unfamiliarity of the scene only heightened your alarm. “where am I?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling with a mix of anxiety and confusion. you turned back to lady ja, who had followed you out of the room, and pleaded for clarification.

her gaze softened with a mixture of pity and patience. “you are at the residence of the eighth prince, wang chwe hansol, in songak,” she explained. the name rang a distant bell in your memory, but the pieces were still not fitting together. as the words sank in, a realization began to form in your mind. “songak?” you repeated, the name resonating with a sense of historical significance. “is this goryeo?” the question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of historical context.

lady ja nodded, her expression confirming your growing suspicion. “yes,” she said, “the current king is taejo wang geon, the founder of goryeo.” her words struck a chord with you, and the implications of what she was saying began to crystallize.

the recognition hit you like a wave. songak was indeed the old capital city of goryeo. you were not just in a different place but in a different time altogether. the realization was both thrilling and terrifying. you had somehow been transported into the past, into the very era of taejo wang geon’s reign. the weight of the revelation was almost too much to bear. your surroundings, the people, the architecture—all of it was a vivid testament to a historical period you had only known through books and tales. you stood there, trying to come to terms with the fact that you had somehow come into someone else’s body, into a world that was both rich in history and utterly foreign to you.

lady ja’s voice broke through your thoughts. “think hard about where you are,” she urged gently. “this is the residence of prince haneul, and we must ensure that you are properly cared for.” you nodded numbly, your mind still grappling with the enormity of your situation. as you took in the sights of the palace, the historical context of your predicament began to settle into place. the world around you was not merely a fantastical dream but a reality rooted in a time long past.

the throne room of the goryeo palace was a place of imposing grandeur and intricate design. richly adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of historical triumphs, the walls of the room gleamed with polished wood and gold accents. the vast chamber was dominated by the throne itself, a majestic seat of authority, intricately carved and elevated on a dais.

king taejo wang geon presided over the court with a gravity befitting his esteemed position. his regal presence commanded attention, his robes a cascade of deep, rich colors that spoke of both power and tradition. at his side were the six princes, each seated in a manner that reflected their rank and status. however, the fourth prince, namjoon, was notably absent from this gathering, his absence a conspicuous gap in the otherwise well-ordered assembly.

the tension in the room was palpable as an official presented a dead bird, its lifeless form displayed for all to see. the bird had fallen dead after a single bite from the crown prince’s breakfast, an unsettling testament to possible tampering. the sight of the dead creature stirred murmurs of concern among those in attendance.

king taejo's gaze was sharp and unwavering as he addressed the issue. “find the culprit responsible for this heinous act,” he commanded, his voice echoing with the weight of authority. the room fell into a hushed silence as the gravity of the situation sank in.

amidst the tension, jackson wang, a cousin of the king, stepped forward with a calculated expression. his tone was smooth yet insistent. “your majesty,” he began, “i must speak. there are growing concerns about the crown prince, wang taehyung. rumors suggest that he suffers from an incurable disease, and some believe he is unfit to assume the throne.” the words hung in the air, charged with implications. his proposal was audacious, but not without precedent in the power struggles of the royal court. he entreatied taejo to consider dethroning wang taehyung and replacing him with another prince. the notion of replacing the crown prince was met with a mix of surprise and unease from those present.

outside the throne room, crown prince taehyung himself arrived just in time to overhear jackson’s suggestion. his expression was one of barely contained frustration and hurt, his position at the heart of the debate adding to his evident distress. he hesitated at the door, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the gravity of the situation. inside the throne room, king taejo turned his attention to the remaining princes, his gaze probing and expectant. “do any of you agree with wang jackson’s proposal?” he asked, his voice laced with the tension of the moment. “is there anyone among you who would like to see the crown prince replaced?”

the princes exchanged glances, their reactions a mix of anxiety and discomfort. some avoided eye contact, while others looked visibly taken aback by the king’s question. the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty as they weighed their options, each one acutely aware of the delicate nature of the discussion.

the eighth prince was the first to break the silence. with a calm yet resolute demeanor, hansol moved forward and knelt before the king. “your majesty,” he said earnestly, “i beseech you to reconsider these words. there is no one among us who wishes to replace crown prince tae. we are united in our belief that he is the rightful heir.” his plea was followed swiftly by the thirteenth prince, who also approached the throne and knelt. “i too implore you, your majesty, to retract this proposal. crown prince taehyung is our leader, and we support him wholeheartedly.”

third prince chaehee was next to kneel, his actions reflecting the collective sentiment of the princes. his expression was guarded, but his voice carried a sense of urgency as he added his support to the plea. the younger princes, recognizing the shift in the room, followed suit. they too knelt, their voices merging in a unified plea for the king to reconsider. “please, your majesty,” they said in chorus, “do not dismiss crown prince taehyung. he is deserving of his position.”

in the midst of this fervent display of loyalty, king taejo called forth his esteemed astrologer and fortune-reader, choi jisoo. the elderly man, dressed in robes adorned with celestial patterns, approached the throne with a measured step. he began his explanation with a reverent tone, his words flowing with the weight of ancient knowledge. “the stars,” he began, “do not indicate that the crown prince is unfit. instead, they reveal a future filled with promise and stability. the alignment of the stars suggests that crown prince tae is destined to lead with wisdom and strength.”

the king listened intently as he continued to elaborate on the celestial omens, his confidence in the prince’s future unwavering. the explanations of the stars, combined with the united front of the princes, seemed to sway the king’s judgment.

king taejo’s expression softened as he addressed the court. “i have heard your pleas,” he declared. “i reaffirm that crown prince taehyung will take the leading position in the upcoming rites. his position is secure, and he shall fulfill his duties as our future sovereign.” the room erupted into a murmur of relief and approval, but not all were pleased with the outcome. hyun’s expression darkened, a subtle shift in his demeanor betraying his displeasure. his eyes, though fleetingly narrowed, reflected a deep-seated discontent, suggesting that the issue was far from resolved.

in the lavishly adorned quarters of queen jiyoung, the air was filled with an opulent serenity. the queen's residence was a realm of understated luxury, with delicate silks draped over intricately carved wooden screens and the gentle flicker of oil lamps casting soft shadows across the richly decorated walls. the fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood mingled, creating an atmosphere of calm and refinement.

jiyoung, seated gracefully at a low, ornate table, was engaged in conversation with chaehee, her expression one of composed interest. her attire, resplendent in hues of deep purple and gold, emphasized her status and authority. the intricate embroidery on her gown depicted scenes of serene landscapes and mythical creatures, adding to her regal bearing.

“i must admit, chaehee,” she said, her voice smooth yet laced with an edge of surprise, “i didn't expect crown prince taehyung to emerge from this latest crisis unscathed. i had anticipated that his position would be in jeopardy, particularly with the evidence presented against him.”

chaehee, standing by her side with an air of practiced deference, offered a sympathetic smile. “your majesty, it seems the king has decided to keep the crown prince in his position for now. the princes’ pleas and the astrologer’s predictions seem to have swayed him.” her gaze hardened slightly, her fingers drumming lightly on the surface of the table.

a court lady approached with a respectful bow, interrupting their conversation. “your majesty,” she began, her voice tentative, “there is a visitor outside requesting an audience. he has been waiting for some time.” jiyoung’s expression shifted to one of irritation. “a visitor? at this hour? who could it be?” her tone was sharp, revealing her displeasure at the interruption.

the court lady hesitated before responding. “it is your son, prince namjoon, your majesty. he has been waiting outside for your presence.”

jiyoung’s irritation grew palpable. her sons were often seen as pawns in the grand scheme of palace politics, and the timing of this interruption seemed particularly inconvenient. “prince namjoon?” she repeated, her voice tinged with frustration. “i have no time for such distractions right now. tell him to leave. i am not to be disturbed.” the court lady bowed deeply, her face a mask of regret as she turned to deliver the message. “yes, your majesty,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of her duty.

the night descended upon songak with a veil of darkness, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind against the palace walls. within the confines of your room, the atmosphere was heavy with a sense of desolation and uncertainty. You had locked yourself away, seeking refuge in the solitude of the opulent space, but it offered little solace.

the room was adorned with luxurious fabrics and furnishings, yet the grandeur did little to dispel the turmoil within you. you huddled on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the silken covers but feeling cold and detached. your mind replayed the events of the day with haunting clarity. the dead bird, the tense courtroom, and the disturbing reality of your situation all blended into a nightmarish haze.

as you shivered beneath the covers, you grappled with the reality of your existence. “did i die in the water that day?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling in the quiet room. the thought that your host body, nabi, might have met the same fate only compounded your anxiety. the idea that you had somehow taken on nabi’s life in this strange, historical world was both disorienting and terrifying.

“am i (y/n) (l/n), or nabi?” you questioned, your voice barely more than a whisper. the realization that you were living someone else’s life was an unsettling one. yet, amidst the confusion, you decided to view this as a stroke of fortune—a new chance at life, albeit in a form you had not anticipated. if you were to continue as nabi, you resolved to make the most of the unexpected opportunity.

the enormity of your predicament loomed over you. despite your determination, you were acutely aware of how little you knew about goryeo. the intricacies of the court, the historical context, and even the line of succession were mysteries to you. you weren’t even sure which king followed taejo. your attempt to guess was a shot in the dark, and you feared it might be embarrassingly wrong. as you sat brooding, the soft murmur of voices reached your ears from outside the door. prince hansol had returned home, and you could hear him speaking with his wife, lady ja. their conversation was laden with concern.

“she was in the water for two hours before resurfacing,” lady ja was saying, her tone filled with worry. “she was like a corpse. we fear she might harm herself.” chayeon’s voice joined the conversation, her words carrying a hint of distress. “she lost her memory. we don’t know what to do.”

the weight of their concern seemed to seep through the walls, intensifying your sense of isolation. lady ja’s anxiety was palpable, and the thought of harming yourself felt like a grim possibility. the fear that you might be beyond help was overwhelming. suddenly, the door to your room was thrust open with a force that startled you. standing in the doorway was hansol, his face etched with a deep concern. his presence was commanding, yet there was a softness in his eyes that belied his authoritative stance.

“please, don’t be scared,” hansol said firmly, his voice cutting through the fog of your confusion. “i brought you here, so i will help you through to the end.”

he extended his hand toward you, his gesture a lifeline in the midst of your turmoil. he brought you there? what exactly did he mean by that? the sight of his outstretched hand seemed to pierce through the haze of your thoughts. you looked at it, feeling a mix of desperation and resolve. the prospect of remaining in this strange new world was daunting, but the notion of giving up was even more so. despite the uncertainty, a new wave of determination surged within you. the realization that you could not go back or change your appearance fueled a newfound resolve to face the challenges ahead. you took a deep breath, gathering your strength, and reached out to grasp his hand.

as your fingers closed around his, a sense of commitment and hope took root. hansol’s grip was firm and reassuring, offering a semblance of stability in the midst of your disorientation. you looked up at him, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. “i trust you,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tremor of uncertainty. “’i want to make sense of this life.”

namjoon’s mind drifted back through the fog of time, to a moment of clarity from his childhood. the memory was etched into his mind with a precision that made it feel as though it had happened only yesterday. he was a young boy then, barely old enough to understand the gravity of the world around him. the palace, once a place of warmth and familial affection, had turned cold and unwelcoming. the loss of the crown prince, taejo and jiyoung’s firstborn, had cast a shadow over the entire court. the death had shaken the very foundation of their lives, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

jiyoung’s grief was intense, her sorrow a constant, gnawing presence that colored her every interaction. she had been inconsolable, a stark contrast to the determined, almost clinical demeanor of king taejo. the queen’s eyes, once so full of life, were now heavy with an unspoken anguish. her hands, which had once cradled her child with tender care, now trembled with a mix of rage and despair.

in the aftermath of the tragedy, taejo had made a decision that seemed both practical and cold-hearted. he sought to fortify the kingdom’s borders through another marriage, a strategic move intended to bolster alliances and strengthen the realm. the political implications of his choice were clear, but to the grieving queen, they were an affront to her sorrow. as the king prepared to finalize his decision, the palace was awash with tension. jiyoung, her face streaked with tears and resolve, confronted him.

her voice was a strained whisper, laden with desperation. “how can you even consider another marriage?” she demanded. “do you not feel any sadness? is our loss so easily forgotten?” taejo responded with an unsettling calmness. “my decisions are guided by the needs of the kingdom,” he said. “this marriage is necessary for the security of our borders. it’s not a matter of personal grief.”

the queen’s eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity. her hand clenched around a small, ornate dagger, a symbol of her resolve. “you will choose between your marriage and your son,” she declared, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and anguish. she seized namjoon, who stood beside her, and pressed the dagger against his young throat.

the king’s face darkened, a storm of conflicting emotions crossing his features. “this won’t stop my decision,” he warned, his voice edged with a steely resolve. “you cannot use our son as leverage.” the tension in the room reached a breaking point. rhe queen’s grip on the dagger tightened, her face a mask of defiant rage. with a sudden, violent movement, she raised her hand, intent on striking out in her desperation.

taejo acted swiftly, his hand grasping her wrist in a desperate bid to prevent the impending violence. but the queen was resolute, wrenching her arm free from his grasp. in the struggle, the dagger’s blade sliced across namjoon’s young face. the sharp edge cut through flesh, spraying blood in a sudden, horrifying arc. hansol rushed forward in a panic. his eyes widened in horror as he saw the blood seeping from namjoon’s wound, the child’s face contorted in pain and shock. the sight was etched into his memory as he reached out, his own face pale and stricken.

years later, the mask namjoon wore was a constant reminder of that night, a physical manifestation of the emotional scars he carried. the memory of that moment—the struggle, the pain, and the betrayal—was a shadow that lingered in his past, shaping his present in ways both seen and unseen. the mask, more than a protective covering, was a symbol of the emotional wounds that had never truly healed.

as dawn crept over songak, its light filtered gently through the silk curtains of your chamber, casting a soft glow across the opulent furnishings. you emerged from the cocoon of your blankets, your mind still tangled in the disarray of your new reality. chaeyeon arrived promptly to escort you around the grounds, her demeanor a blend of professionalism and sympathy. the palace grounds were a sprawling expanse of beauty and grandeur, with meticulously manicured gardens, serene water features, and stately buildings that spoke of the power and wealth of the dynasty. the scent of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves in the morning breeze created an atmosphere of tranquility.

chaeyeon led you with practiced ease, her steps light and graceful. she spoke with a calm, informative tone, filling you in on the details of your life as nabi. “this is the western garden,” she said, gesturing to a lush area adorned with vibrant flora. “you used to spend a great deal of time here, enjoying the serenity. and over there,” she pointed towards a grand pavilion, “is where you and lady ja often held tea parties.”

you nodded, feigning familiarity with the surroundings. “it’s all starting to come back to me,” you said, though internally you struggled to piece together the fragmented information. the “amnesia” you claimed was a convenient cover for your ignorance, allowing you to absorb details about your new identity without raising suspicion.

chaeyeon’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze scrutinizing you with a hint of suspicion. “are you certain you’re not faking your condition?” she asked, her tone laced with concern. “perhaps you had a secret relationship with someone or incurred a debt that might explain your current state.”

the accusation took you aback, and you paused, considering her words. “did nabi have a secret life?” you mused aloud. “was she someone who acted one way in public and another behind closed doors?” chaeyeon’s eyes widened slightly, her suspicion momentarily replaced by concern. “nabi was always so quiet and reserved,” she said, shaking her head. “it’s hard to believe she would have done anything underhanded.”

your tendency to refer to yourself in the third person seemed to convince chaeyeon of your genuine amnesia. she softened her stance, though her gaze remained thoughtful. “if you truly don’t remember, then we’ll have to help you piece together the fragments of your past,” she said, her voice gentler now. you sighed inwardly, recognizing the futility of explaining that you were merely inhabiting someone else’s body. the truth was far too complex to convey, and the best course of action was to continue with the pretense of amnesia.

as you walked alongside her, your gaze fell upon the distant river that meandered through the palace grounds. across it, you could see prince hansol and lady ja enjoying a quiet moment together. hansol’s attention towards his wife was marked by an evident tenderness, his every gesture reflecting a deep affection. curiosity piqued, you asked chaeyeon, “what can you tell me about prince hansol?”

her face lit up with pride as she spoke of him. “prince chwe hansol is truly the finest man in all of goryeo,” she said, her voice brimming with admiration. “he is often regarded as the one who should have been the first prince. his wisdom and kindness are unmatched, and he is deeply loved by all who know him.” you absorbed her words with a mix of relief and contemplation. from your limited historical knowledge, you wondered if he was the prince who later became king gwangjong.

as you continued to observe the serene interaction between hansol and lady ja across the river, you found yourself lost in thought, the quiet affection between the couple stirring something within you. the tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by the sharp voice of a woman you hadn’t noticed approaching.

“how dare you stare so rudely?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the calm like a blade. you turned to face the intruder, immediately noting her keen, almost predatory eyes. “being lady ja’s cousin is no excuse for such impropriety.”

before you could respond, chaeyeon quickly bowed low and urgently nudged you to do the same. “princess seulgi,” she whispered in warning, her tone laced with anxiety. princess seulgi, you thought, sizing up the woman before you. her posture was rigid, her gaze unyielding, and her expression one of barely concealed disdain. there was an air of superiority about her, as if she expected the world to bend to her whims. despite chaeyeon’s subtle attempts to pacify the situation, hana’s eyes never left you, narrowing slightly in irritation.

with a voice sweetened by insincerity, she said, “it’s such a shame, nabi, that you seem to have forgotten your manners along with your memory. you could stand to relearn quite a few things, it seems.”

the condescension in her tone was unmistakable, and you felt your irritation bubble to the surface. internally, you grumbled at her haughty attitude, unwilling to be cowed by her status. so, with a bright, wide smile, you met her gaze and replied, “if you dislike me, princess, just say so.” for a moment, silence hung between you, thick with tension. hana’s eyes widened in shock, her sharp tongue momentarily stilled by your audacity. she had likely expected you to cower or apologize, not to confront her so directly.

you continued, your voice steady and firm, “it’s clear you’re the type to bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in with criticism. but that doesn’t work with me.” seulgi’s shock quickly morphed into anger, her face flushing with indignation. “you insolent little—” she began, her voice rising as she spat out, “bitch!”

you raised your voice right back, ready to escalate the argument further. but just as the tension reached its peak, a commanding presence interrupted. “enough.” the single word, spoken in a calm yet authoritative tone, immediately silenced the room. you and hana both turned to see hansol approaching, his expression unreadable but his mere presence enough to quell the brewing storm.

he stepped between you and the princess, his gaze settling on you as he urged you to walk with him, toward the library. “nabi,” he began, his voice softening slightly, “it seems you’ve forgotten the proper way to greet a member of the royal family.” you felt a rush of embarrassment as the reality of the situation dawned on you. bowing hurriedly, you tried to recover, offering a modern and awkward, “hello.”

the corner of hansol’s mouth twitched slightly in what could have been amusement, though his expression remained mostly neutral. “i suppose your amnesia means you don’t remember much at all,” he mused, his tone more curious than accusatory. “including whether you’ve peeped on the princes’ bath before or after you lost your memory.” caught off guard by his question, you struggled to form a coherent response, heat rising to your cheeks. “i don’t remember,” you admitted, feeling the weight of his scrutiny.

hansol didn’t press further, his gaze thoughtful as he considered you. “what is it that you want to do with yourself now, nabi?” he asked. there was a sincerity in his tone, as if he genuinely wanted to help you find your place. “i brought you here when you first accompanied lady ja, and i intend to look after you. but i need to know what you wish for your future.” his concern surprised you. you hadn’t expected him to take such an interest, especially given that you were technically a stranger in this body. yet, there was a part of you that wondered why he would go to such lengths, even if you were related to his wife.

determined to assert some control over your situation, you squared your shoulders and said, “i’ll take care of myself, your highness.” the words came out more confidently than you felt, but you were resolved to prove that you weren’t a burden. he seemed taken aback by your response, his brows knitting together slightly in confusion. your modernisms, the casual way you spoke, must have seemed strange to him. “you’ll take care of yourself?” he repeated, as if trying to understand your meaning.

realizing your mistake, you quickly added, “what i mean is, i’ll find a way to live here and be of use. i don’t want to be a burden.” his expression softened again, though a hint of concern lingered. “very well,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “but you must understand that you’re not alone here. we all have roles to play, and we’ll help you find yours.”

as he spoke, he moved around the room, his steps measured and deliberate. you followed him, your eyes tracing the lines of the bookshelves that lined the walls. the library was grand, filled with volumes that spoke of a rich history you barely understood.

“i have many talents,” you blurted out, trying to reassure both him and yourself. “i’ll find a way to make myself useful, i promise.” you nearly ran into him as he stopped abruptly, turning to face you. his closeness made you tense, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken tension. he studied you intently, his gaze searching for something in your eyes.

“you seem like someone else,” he observed quietly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your consciousness. you were flustered by his remark, unsure how to respond. but before you could speak, he continued, “it doesn’t matter who you were before, nabi. what matters is how you move forward now.” his words were a comfort, a reminder that while your situation was strange and frightening, you had a chance to shape your own path.

“i won’t ask further about your memory,” he added, his tone gentle. “but you must not worry lady ja any further. she cares deeply for you, and so do i.” you nodded quickly, agreeing to his terms. “i won’t,” you promised, feeling a renewed determination to adapt to this life. with that, he dismissed you, and you ran off, your mind buzzing with everything that had transpired. as you left the library, you couldn’t shake the feeling that hansol saw through you, that he knew there was something fundamentally different about you.

as namjoon roamed the dimly lit library, his fingers traced the spines of countless books that lined the shelves. the scent of old paper and ink hung heavy in the air, a quiet reminder of the knowledge stored within these walls. the books there were far from ordinary, though—jisoo’s collection was infamous for its peculiar and often forbidden contents. namjoon’s sharp eyes quickly zeroed in on a particular shelf, one that seemed to be tucked away more carefully than the others. his lips curled into a smirk as he pulled out a slender, well-worn volume, its cover unassuming save for the faint, faded title that promised scandalous secrets within.

he flipped through the pages, his amusement growing with each explicit passage. lost in the irony, he didn’t notice jisoo’s approach until the man was practically breathing down his neck. “enjoying the collection?” his voice was light, almost teasing. his presence was like a shadow, creeping up without warning, and it made namjoon’s grip tighten on the book.

namjoon didn’t bother to hide the volume he was holding. he met jisoo’s gaze with a lazy smirk. “you’ve got an interesting taste. planning on lending me these?” jisoo’s eyes glittered with amusement, though the smile on his lips was sharp. “if it suits your fancy, i’d be more than happy to let you borrow them. but something tells me you’re not here just for a light read.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, and he snapped the book shut with a decisive clap. “why was i called here?”

jisoo didn’t seem perturbed by the shift in his tone. he folded his arms and leaned back against the nearest shelf, his posture relaxed yet calculating. “the court lady who prepared crown prince taehyung’s breakfast was found hanged this morning. a curious case, given that it’s rather difficult to hang oneself in such a manner.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “a suicide, then?”

jisoo shook his head, his gaze darkening. “not quite. a death staged as a suicide, which suggests the involvement of someone who knows their way around the palace. someone with the means to silence her before she could speak.” namjoon’s smirk faded as he absorbed the implications. “you’re suggesting it’s someone within the royal family. perhaps even a prince.”

jisoo nodded, his expression grave. “that’s exactly what i’m suggesting. and you’re the one I want to find the culprit.” namjoon let out a low, humorless laugh. “what am i, a dog now? people keep calling me a wolf, and you must think i’ve actually become one.”

jisoo’s gaze remained steady, unflinching. “you’ve spent years in the shadow of this court, namjoon, watching and learning. no one knows the intrigues here better than you.” he turned away, pacing slowly between the shelves, his thoughts churning. “i’m a hostage, jisoo, not a hound to be sent sniffing out conspiracies.”

jisoo’s voice followed him, cool and measured. “maybe you were. but that display earlier—killing your horse in front of everyone—that wasn’t the act of a hostage. it was the act of a man who no longer wants to live as one.” namjoon halted, his back to jisoo, his fists clenching at his sides. the truth of those words stung, even as they ignited a flicker of something deep within him—a desire for something more, something beyond the chains that had bound him for so long.

he continued, his tone coaxing, “if you fulfill this task, it could be your chance to claim that freedom you’re so desperate for.” namjoon remained silent, weighing the offer. the idea of being free, of no longer living under the constant threat of being used as a pawn, was tempting. but the risk was high, and the stakes higher still. it was then that jisoo dropped the final piece of information, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. “it was crown prince taehyung who requested this investigation.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, and he turned slowly to face jisoo. “taehyung?” he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. before he could respond, the door to the library creaked open, and tae stepped inside. his presence was commanding, even in the quiet, scholarly atmosphere of the room. he was dressed in the formal robes befitting his station, though there was an air of exhaustion about him, as if the weight of the crown was already pressing down heavily on his shoulders.

“crown prince taehyung.” namjoon bowed his head slightly, though his eyes remained on the prince, searching for answers. taehyung’s expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “namjoon,” he greeted, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air. “i’m glad you’re here.”

jisoo stepped forward, his tone shifting to one of deference. “your highness, i’ve informed him of the situation.” tae nodded, his gaze never leaving namjoon. “there have been whispers of an assassination attempt during the upcoming rites. if those whispers are true, i need someone I can trust to root out the traitor before it’s too late.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed as he considered the prince’s words. this was more than just palace intrigue—it was a matter of life and death. “and if i succeed?” he asked, his voice low, careful. tae met his gaze squarely, the gravity of the situation reflected in his eyes. “if you find the one responsible, i’ll give you anything you ask for.” namjoon’s heart pounded in his chest as the possibilities raced through his mind. this was his chance—his chance to finally step out from the shadows and take control of his own destiny. but he wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

“anything?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of challenge. taehyung didn’t flinch. “anything.”

namjoon let the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke, his voice steady and clear. “i want to live here, permanently.”

taehyung’s eyes widened slightly, the request taking him by surprise. he had expected namjoon to ask for land, titles, perhaps even power. but the capital, along with a wife, that was a different kind of demand altogether. “done,” he said after a moment, his voice firm with resolve. “if you find the culprit, i’ll see to it that you’re granted a permanent residence in songak.”

the ladies of hansol’s household bustled around the courtyard, their nimble fingers busy at work crafting delicate lanterns shaped like flowers. the air was filled with the scent of freshly cut paper and the faint tang of glue, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the women. each one of them worked with a practiced ease, folding and cutting the colored paper with precision to create intricate designs. you, however, were utterly hopeless at it. no matter how hard you tried, your fingers fumbled with the delicate materials, and your lanterns came out misshapen and clumsy.

it wasn’t long before princess seulgi took notice. her sharp eyes caught every flaw, every misstep, and she wasn’t one to let them slide. “it seems your amnesia has taken more from you than just your memory,” she remarked, her tone laced with disdain as she inspected your work. she held up one of your malformed creations with a look of barely concealed disgust. “this is hardly suitable for the rites.”

you bit back a retort, feeling your frustration rise. it was bad enough that you were struggling with those tasks, but having seulgi point out your failures so openly stung even more. still, you were determined to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t as useless as she made you feel. “i can still help,” you insisted, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “very well,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “since you’re so eager to contribute, why don’t you make the glue for us?”

you didn’t miss the challenge in her tone, nor the way the other ladies exchanged glances, their expressions tinged with pity. making glue was a dirty job, often relegated to the lowest servants, but you swallowed your pride and nodded. “i’ll do it,” you replied, trying to sound confident.

the task was every bit as grueling as she had intended. you were sent outside, away from the cool shade of the courtyard, to work under the sun. the thick, sticky mixture of rice flour and water required constant stirring to keep it from burning, and the heat made the air feel heavy and oppressive. your arms ached from the effort, and sweat dripped down your forehead, but you pushed through, determined not to give seulgi the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

at one point, you paused to stretch, your body protesting the repetitive motion. you leaned back, stretching your arms overhead and bending at the waist to relieve the tension in your muscles. the movement was hardly graceful, but you were too focused on easing your discomfort to care. it wasn’t until you straightened up that you noticed hansol standing a short distance away, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. the thought of hansol watching you as you contorted yourself in such an ungainly manner made you want to shrink into the ground. quickly, you turned back to the pot of glue, resuming your stirring with renewed vigor. “the princess put me to this task,” you explained, trying to sound nonchalant despite your awkwardness.

hansol’s lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile. “i see you’re demonstrating your many talents,” he said, his tone dry as he echoed your earlier words. you couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. “yes, well, i suppose i should have specified that glue-making wasn’t one of them,” you replied, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. he chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. for a moment, the tension between you eased, and you found yourself feeling grateful for his presence. but before you could say more, he was called away by one of the other princes, leaving you to your task once more.

later in the day, the princes gathered to prepare for the upcoming rites, practicing a ceremonial sword dance that required both grace and precision. tenth prince baekhyun was by far the worst at the dance. his movements were stiff, his timing off, and after several failed attempts to keep up with the others, he finally threw down his sword in frustration. “this is pointless,” he muttered, his tone sulky as he stalked off to the side, clearly in no mood to continue.

the other princes paused, taking a break from their practice. ninth prince yeosang, took the opportunity to speak up. “is it true that the king intends to abdicate his throne to crown prince tae after the ceremony?” the question hung in the air, bringing everyone up short. even the most practiced of the princes couldn’t hide their surprise at the boldness of his inquiry. all eyes turned to jisoo, who had been observing the practice from a distance.

jisoo’s expression was unreadable as he responded. “i know nothing of the sort,” he said carefully, his tone giving nothing away. but his non-answer only fueled the tension. hansol frowned at yeosang, his voice low and admonishing. “you were foolish to say that, kwan. the king must not hear such rumors.” third prince chaehee crossed his arms and spoke up. “we’re all curious, hansol. and it’s not yeosang’s fault for asking. besides, jisoo didn’t exactly deny it outright.” the tension among the princes was intense, each of them silently weighing the implications of the question.

exhausted from the day’s work, you decided to rest outside, hoping to clear your mind. as you leaned back against a tree, you noticed a familiar figure walking by, his robes fluttering slightly in the breeze. it was jisoo, the court astrologer—and, you realized with a start, the hobo from the pier. the recognition hit you like a lightning bolt, and without thinking, you leapt to your feet and took off after him.

“wait!” you called, your voice breathless as you darted through the courtyard. jisoo glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in recognition, and then he began to move faster, slipping through the narrow alleys of the city with practiced ease. you chased after him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he was always just out of reach, his figure disappearing around corners and ducking into shadows. finally, you lost sight of him altogether, standing in the middle of a busy street with no idea where he had gone. the disappointment was bitter, and you were about to turn back when the sound of hooves thundered through the air.

namjoon came riding furiously down the street, his horse galloping at a breakneck pace. villagers dove for cover as he barreled through, his expression set in a fierce scowl. you didn’t see him until the last moment, too distracted by your pursuit of jisoo to notice the danger. by the time you did, it was too late—you froze in the middle of the street, your eyes wide with shock as the horse bore down on you.

a peddler’s pack brushed against you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, arms flailing as you teetered on the edge of the ravine that bordered the street. the ground seemed to drop away beneath you, and you felt the sickening lurch of gravity pulling you down. panic surged through you, your mind racing with the realization that you were about to fall. but just as you began to tip over the edge, a strong hand shot out and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you up with a force that left you breathless. you were yanked into the saddle, your body pressed against namjoon’s as he steadied his horse with a firm grip. for a moment, you could only cling to him, your heart pounding in your chest as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. the world spun around you, the near-fall leaving you shaken and disoriented.

you stared up at namjoon, wide-eyed and breathless, your fingers clinging desperately to his robe as the horse thundered through the city streets. the wind whipped through your hair, your heart still pounding from the near fall into the ravine. for a moment, all you could focus on was the intensity of namjoon’s face—the sharp line of his jaw, the cool indifference in his left eye, the slight frown that seemed permanently etched into his brow. it was as if he held the world at arm’s length, letting nothing and no one touch him. the ride was brief but harrowing. you felt the rhythm of the horse’s hooves beneath you, the power of its muscles as it responded to namjoon’s every command. you wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to unearth a flicker of emotion from him, something other than the stoic mask he wore so effortlessly.

finally, namjoon slowed the horse, bringing it to a halt just outside the palace gates. the sudden stop jolted you from your thoughts, and you blinked up at him, still gripping his robe as if it were a lifeline. his gaze flicked down to you, the barest hint of curiosity in his eyes, before he looked away. without warning, his arm released you, and you found yourself unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. you landed in an undignified heap, the breath knocked out of you as you hit the dirt. for a moment, you could only lie there, staring up at the sky in stunned disbelief.

“what the hell was that for?” you demanded, scrambling to your feet and glaring up at him. you dusted yourself off, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “you could’ve at least helped me down like a normal person.” namjoon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. for a moment, you thought he might apologize—or at the very least, offer an explanation. instead, his lips quirked into a faint, mocking smile.

“perhaps i thought you’d enjoy the challenge,” he replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. you narrowed your eyes, not about to let him off the hook so easily. “you’re impossible, you know that? just because you ride in here like a—”

but before you could finish, namjoon clicked his tongue, and the horse reared up on its hind legs. you stumbled backward, losing your balance as the horse’s hooves pawed the air above you. panic surged through you, and you fell back onto the ground once more, landing with a hard thud. by the time you regained your composure, namjoon had already ridden off, the sound of his horse’s hooves echoing through the streets. you stared after him, fuming, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. he was insufferable, arrogant, and completely out of control.

“lady nabi, are you all right?” you turned to see chaeyeon hurrying toward you, her face etched with concern. she reached out to help you up, her hands warm and steady. “what happened? i saw you with prince namjoon just now.” you sighed, brushing off your clothes once more as you accepted her help. “it’s nothing. just a misunderstanding,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite your lingering irritation.

chaeyeon gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. instead, she glanced over her shoulder, as if worried someone might overhear. “princess seulgi is looking for you,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with urgency. “you should come quickly.”

with a nod, you followed her through the palace grounds, your mind still reeling from the encounter with namjoon. as you walked, she filled you in on the latest developments—apparently, seulgi was currently meeting with her brothers, or at least the six of them who got along. namjoon was noticeably absent, though it was clear from the tension in the air that his presence, or lack thereof, weighed heavily on the gathering.

by the time you reached the small courtyard where the meeting was taking place, you could already hear the low murmur of voices. the princes were discussing something in hushed tones, their expressions serious. as you and chaeyeon approached, you caught snippets of their conversation, the words charged with a sense of foreboding.

“…difficult to get along with him,” one of the princes was saying, his voice tinged with frustration. “he’s moody and unpredictable. it’s like walking on eggshells around him.” you recognized the speaker as tenth prince baekhyun, his youthful face twisted into a pout. his words were met with nods of agreement from the others, though no one seemed willing to voice their thoughts too openly.

just as he opened his mouth to continue, the door to the courtyard slid open with a soft thud. the princes fell silent, their eyes snapping to the entrance as namjoon stepped inside. the tension in the room was heavy, the air thick with unspoken worries. seulgi was the only one who looked pleased to see him, her face lighting up with a smile as she stood to greet him. “namjoon,” she said warmly, moving toward him with a graceful sweep of her robes. “i’m so glad you could join us.”

namjoon offered a polite nod. “it’s good to see you,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual warmth. but before he could say more, chaehee, the third prince, cut in with a smirk. “don’t try too hard with namjoon, brother. he understands the language of beasts better than people.”

the barb hung in the air, and the other princes stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. even seulgi’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes darting between namjoon and chaehee, as if bracing for the fallout. but namjoon didn’t react as expected. instead, he simply met chaehee’s gaze with a calm, measured look. “ah,” he said softly, his voice as cool as ice, “that’s why i understand my brother’s words so well.”

the room went silent, the tension simmering beneath the surface. even the normally boisterous sang seemed cowed, his earlier bravado evaporating in the face of namjoon’s quiet menace. the princes exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond. at that moment, the maids entered the courtyard, carrying trays laden with snacks and refreshments. it was also your cue to join the gathering, though you hesitated, doing your best to hang back out of sight. the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, especially with namjoon’s unnerving presence so close by.

but your attempt to skulk behind a pillar didn’t go unnoticed. baekhyun caught sight of you and immediately zeroed in, his eyes narrowing as he tried to place why you seemed so familiar. “you there!” he called out, his voice ringing through the courtyard as he stepped closer. “i know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

you froze, your heart sinking as his gaze locked onto yours. he was right, of course—you had crossed paths before, but not in any way you wanted to be reminded of. you went cross-eyed in panic, silently praying that he wouldn’t figure it out. but he was nothing if not persistent. his brow furrowed as he racked his brain, and then his eyes lit up with recognition. “wait a minute, weren’t you the peeping tom at the baths?” the words hit you like a ton of bricks, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out a denial. “no! absolutely not!”

but in your haste to deny the accusation, you stumbled backward, accidentally knocking into a maid carrying a tray. the tray wobbled precariously, and with a horrified gasp, you watched as the plateware went crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces with a deafening clatter. for a moment, the entire courtyard fell into a stunned silence. all eyes were on you—the princes, the maids, even chaeyeon—each one of them staring in varying degrees of shock and disbelief. seulgi’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

“what have you done?” her voice was low and cold, her tone cutting through the air like a knife. “are you truly so incompetent that you can’t even keep out of trouble for a single day?” faced with her anger and a roomful of staring princes, you felt a wave of mortification crash over you. the humiliation was too much to bear, and without thinking, you turned and bolted from the courtyard, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls as you fled. as you ran, you caught a glimpse of namjoon out of the corner of your eye. he was standing off to the side, his expression unreadable as he watched you go. but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or maybe something else entirely.

you ran through the palace corridors, your heart pounding in your chest. slowing your pace, you took a moment to lean against a column, forcing yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. “hang in there,” you whispered to yourself, willing your racing heart to calm. the palace, with its sprawling halls and myriad of secrets, was a dangerous place for someone like you—a place where one wrong move could mean disaster. but you couldn’t let yourself be consumed by fear or anger. you had to stay sharp.

as your breathing evened out, you heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. panic gripped you again as you realized who it was—baekhyun, the tenth prince. he was still convinced he recognized you correctly and was now on the prowl, searching for you. you quickly ducked behind a pillar, watching him from your hiding place. he moved with eagerness, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny as he walked. you bit your lip, hoping he would pass by without noticing you. then, he stopped in front of a door, peering through a small tear in the fabric that covered it.

you tensed, realizing where he was looking. on the other side of that door was chaeyeon, who had no idea she was being watched. baekhyun’s eyes widened with curiosity as he leaned in closer, clearly intrigued by what he was seeing. you felt a surge of anger. it was one thing to be an immature prince, but this—this was crossing a line.

before you could react, chaeyeon suddenly looked up and saw him. her eyes went wide with horror, and she let out a sharp scream that echoed through the hallway. the sound startled baekhyun, and he stumbled back from the door, his face pale with shock. without thinking, he turned and ran, his feet slipping on the polished floor as he tried to make a hasty escape. but he didn’t get far.

you stepped out from your hiding place, planting yourself firmly in his path. your eyes narrowed with determination, you crossed your arms over your chest, blocking his way. sang skidded to a stop, his expression a mixture of guilt and indignation. “what are you doing?” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to regain his composure. “move aside!”

you didn’t budge. “where do you think you’re going, prince baekhyun?” you asked, your voice stern, it almost sounded like a grandmother scolding an errant schoolboy. “you think you can just run off after what you did?”

his eyes darted around, as if looking for an escape route. “i didn’t do anything!” he protested, though his voice lacked conviction. “that slave—she’s lying! she can’t prove anything!” his mouth opened and closed as he fumbled for a response, but you cut him off, taking a step closer to him. “don’t lie, i saw it clearly,” you said, your voice firm. “what you did was wrong, and you need to apologize.”

the prince’s face twisted with a mix of outrage and disbelief. “apologize? to a slave?” he scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “i’m a prince! i don’t bow to the likes of her—or you, for that matter!” but you didn’t back down. “you may be a prince, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like that,” you shot back. “you owe her an apology, and i won’t let you leave until you give it.”

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you could see the childish petulance rising in him. he turned on his heel, determined to storm off, but you weren’t about to let him go that easily. you reached out and grabbed the edge of his cloak, pulling him back. “let go of me!” he shouted, trying to shake you off. he shoved you hard, and you stumbled back, crashing to the ground. the impact sent a fresh wave of anger surging through you, and as you sat there, stunned, you decided you’d had enough.

without a second thought, you lunged forward, grabbing him by the ankle and yanking him off balance. he yelped in surprise as he went down, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to stay upright. the two of you hit the ground with a thud, and before he could recover, you pounced on him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “what are you—?” he began, but his words were cut off as you pulled his head back, your eyes blazing with fury.

“you think you can just shove me around and get away with it?” you growled, your voice low and dangerous. “i don’t care if you’re a prince—i’ll still kick your ass.” he tried to push you off, his hands scrabbling at your arms, but you held on tight, refusing to let go. his struggles only fueled your anger, and before you knew it, the two of you were engaged in a full-on tussle, rolling across the ground in a tangle of limbs.

baekhyun managed to get one arm around your neck, pulling you into a headlock, but you were too fired up to care. you twisted and turned, using every ounce of strength you had to break free. when his grip loosened for just a moment, you sank your teeth into his arm, biting down hard. “ow! you bit me!” he howled, letting go of you in shock. but before he could recover, you kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling onto his back. you didn’t give him a chance to get up. you climbed on top of him, your fists clenched, and started smacking him repeatedly.

“spoiled brat,” you hissed, each word punctuated by a slap. “you think you can do whatever you want, but i won’t let you! you’re a pervert, a peeping tom—” sang flinched with each blow, his hands raised in a feeble attempt to protect his face. “stop! you’re going to regret this!” he shouted, but his words only fueled your rage.

“i’ll regret it?” you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you’re the one who should be regretting everything. you think i’m going to let you get away with this? not a chance!” his eyes blazed with fury, but there was also a flicker of fear in them. “you won’t escape unscathed, you know that?” he warned, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.

but you were too caught up in your fury to care. you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up so that your faces were inches apart. “we’ll see about that,” you hissed, before delivering a final, mighty head-butt. the impact stunned both of you, the force of it reverberating through your skull. baekhyun’s head snapped back, and he let out a pained groan, his eyes glazing over as he struggled to stay conscious. you, too, felt the dizziness wash over you, but you refused to let it show.

with him dazed beneath you, you rolled up your sleeve, ready to deliver a doozy of a slap that would leave a mark. but just as you were about to bring your hand down, a strong grip caught your wrist, stopping you mid-swing. you looked up, startled, and found yourself staring into the amused eyes of namjoon. his hand was wrapped around your wrist, holding it firmly but not painfully. he seemed almost entertained by the sight of you and sang sprawled out on the ground like children caught in a schoolyard brawl.

“what do you think you’re doing?” namjoon asked, his voice calm and composed, but with an undercurrent of amusement that made your blood boil even more. you gaped at him in surprise, struggling to find the words. “i—he—” you stammered, trying to pull your wrist free from his grasp, but namjoon’s hold was unyielding.

before you could say more, baekhyun, still reeling from the head-butt, tried to charge at you, his face twisted in anger. “let me go! she—she attacked me!” he yelled, his voice shaking with indignation. but hansol appeared just in time, stepping between the two of them with a stern expression. “that’s enough, baekhyun,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “there are eyes watching. we can’t afford to make a scene here.”

baekhyun glared at him, his chest heaving with fury, but he knew better than to argue with his elder brother. with a final huff of frustration, he flounced off, storming down the hallway in a fit. namjoon finally released your wrist, and you scrambled to your feet, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. you couldn’t believe what had just happened—the fight, the princes, and now namjoon, standing there with that infuriatingly calm expression.

you narrowed your eyes at him, the anger from before flaring up once more. “and what about you?” you demanded. the anger that had fueled your fight with sang still simmered beneath your skin, and now it was directed entirely at namjoon. “you’re not getting away without an apology.”

his brow arched, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “an apology?” he repeated, as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. “who are you to demand such a thing from me?” you squared your shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “someone who deserves respect, that’s who,” you shot back. “or do you only apologize to people who share your bloodline? because if that’s the case, then maybe you should start practicing, seeing as you’re on such thin ice with your brothers.”

his eyes darkened at that, the playful glint disappearing as something more dangerous took its place. he stepped closer, towering over you, his presence suddenly more imposing. “so, if you’re a slave, i ignore you,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “but if you were a princess, i’d bow at your feet? is that what you’re saying?”

you held your ground, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “i’m saying respect should be given regardless of status. but clearly, that’s a concept beyond your understanding.” for a moment, there was silence between you, the tension thick in the air. then, without warning, namjoon leaned in, his face inches from yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “when i do apologize,” he said slowly, each word enunciated with chilling precision, “it means you’ll die.” before you could respond, namjoon turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing. his words echoed in your ears, the warning clear, but so too was the challenge.

the moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the palace grounds as you made your way to the bathing pools. the path was quiet, the only sounds your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. the stillness of the night mirrored the turmoil within you. the jisoo man you’d seen earlier—was he real, or had your desperate mind conjured him from nothing? it felt like a sign, divine or otherwise, a spark of hope that there was a way to return home. you desperately needed to leave goryeo, especially with the looming punishment for hitting a prince hanging over your head. every step toward the bathing pools solidified your resolve. if there was even the slightest chance that jisoo held the key to your escape, you had to find him.

the pools were a serene sight, surrounded by tall trees that shielded them from the rest of the palace. you hesitated for a moment, peering into the dark waters before slipping into the pool. the water was cool, a refreshing contrast to the heat that had built up in your body from your frantic thoughts. you submerged yourself, holding your breath as long as you could, as if the water could wash away the fear and anxiety knotting in your chest. when you finally emerged, gasping for air, your eyes locked onto a figure standing at the edge of the pool.

namjoon. his mask was off, revealing the multitude of scars crisscrossing his back and torso, alongside the gash on his eye. the moonlight accentuated the lines of his disfigurement, a stark reminder of the pain he must have endured. his gaze was fixed on the still water, lost in thought, until your sudden appearance shattered the silence.

his head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you were frozen, caught in each other’s gaze. then, in a swift motion, namjoon’s hand flew to his face, covering the scarred eye with a mix of shame and fear. “did you see?” he asked, his voice hesitant, almost childlike in its vulnerability. you could only stare, your mind blank with shock. Tthe sight of his scars, the rawness of his question, rendered you speechless. but his expression darkened at your silence. he stepped closer, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grabbing you by the throat.

“i asked if you saw!” he bellowed, his grip tightening. the suddenness of the attack, coupled with the sheer strength behind it, made your heart race in terror. “please, please,” you gasped, your hands clawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to free yourself. “i won’t say anything! i swear.”

namjoon’s eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit. the intensity of his gaze was suffocating, but you forced yourself to meet it, praying he would believe you. “forget me,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing. “forget what you saw here tonight.” you nodded jerkily, too afraid to do anything else. after what felt like an eternity, he released you, his hand trembling slightly as he backed away. he grabbed his mask and clothes, casting one last look at you before turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

as he left, a small object fell from his grasp, unnoticed by him in his haste. you waited until you were sure he was gone before approaching the spot where it had landed. it was a hairpin, intricately designed, delicate in its craftsmanship. you picked it up, holding it gingerly in your hand. it was a small thing, but something about it felt significant, as if it held a piece of his story. clutching the hairpin to your chest, you slowly made your way back to the palace. the long walk back gave you time to think, to process everything that had happened. your heart still raced from the encounter, but beneath the fear, there was a growing realization that namjoon wasn’t just the cold, unfeeling prince you had initially taken him for.

by the time you reached the entrance of the household, the entire family was waiting for you outside. their faces were a mix of worry and anger, and your stomach dropped at the sight. “where have you been?” lady ja demanded, stepping forward with an air of authority. her tone was sharp, but the underlying concern was unmistakable. “you left without a word! the whole household has been worried sick.”

the word “family” struck a chord within you, and you blinked in surprise. It was such a simple thing, but hearing it made something inside you shift. you looked around at the faces surrounding you, at the worried expressions of the servants, the stern gaze of lady ja, and something clicked into place.

“I’ve… come home,” you whispered to yourself, the words heavy with realization. and for the first time since you’d arrived in this strange world, it didn’t feel so foreign. you didn’t feel so lost. there was still much you didn’t understand, still so much to figure out, but in that moment, you felt a small, tentative sense of belonging.

queen jinyoung soaked in the warm bath, her body submerged beneath the surface, save for her head resting against the smooth edge of the porcelain tub. steam rose in delicate wisps, curling around her face and obscuring the sharpness of her features. the water was scented with jasmine and lavender, calming scents that usually soothed her nerves. but tonight, they failed to quiet the storm brewing in her mind.

she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to the recent conversation she had with her eldest son, chaehee. it had been late at night, the palace shrouded in darkness, when he had come to her chambers. chaehee was always careful, always discreet, and he knew better than to be seen sneaking into his mother’s quarters at such an hour. the candles flickered as he entered, casting his face in a dance of light and shadow, highlighting the tension etched into his brow.

“we can’t wait any longer,” chaehee had said, his voice low and urgent. “the rumors are spreading faster than we anticipated. the court is abuzz with talk that the king may abdicate the throne to tae.”

jinyoung had felt her chest tighten at his words. she had known this day would come, had prepared for it, but the reality of it was still a bitter pill to swallow. taehyung, the crown prince, was favored by the king in ways that none of her sons were. he was seen as the rightful heir, the embodiment of everything the king wished to pass on to the next generation. but jinyoung knew better. taehyung was a threat—a threat to her sons, to their future, to everything she had fought so hard to secure.

“we need to speed things up,” she had murmured, her fingers gripping the armrest of her chair with a white-knuckled intensity. “the upcoming ceremony is our best chance. if we’re going to eliminate tae, it has to be then.” chaehee had nodded, his eyes gleaming with cold determination. “leave it to me, mother. i’ll ensure everything goes according to plan.”

“see that you do,” jinyoung had replied, her voice steely. “we cannot afford any mistakes.”

now, as she lay in the bath, those words echoed in her mind. the plan was set into motion, and there was no turning back. the fate of her sons rested on the success of this plot. her heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and resolve. if tae were to ascend the throne, her family’s future would be in jeopardy. but if they succeeded—if they succeeded, her sons would finally have the power and recognition they deserved.

she closed her eyes, letting the warm water soothe her aching muscles, but not her troubled thoughts. the image of chaehee’s face, so full of confidence and ruthlessness, stayed with her. she had raised him well, molded him into the man he needed to be in this cutthroat world. but even as she took pride in his ambition, there was a part of her that worried. the stakes were higher than ever, and if they failed—no, she couldn’t think of that. failure was not an option.

the following day, the princes gathered in the training grounds for one final run-through of their sword dance. the air was thick with anticipation, the weight of the upcoming ceremony hanging over them like a shroud. taehyung stood at the front, watching the princes with a critical eye as they practiced the intricate choreography. the dance was a vital part of the ritual, a symbol of the unity and strength of the royal family as they drove out the demons from the palace.

the princes moved in perfect synchronization, their swords slicing through the air with practiced precision. tae couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he observed them. despite the tension that often simmered beneath the surface, they were still his blood, and they had trained long and hard for this moment. as they completed the final sequence, tae’s lips curved into a rare smile of approval. “well done,” he praised, his voice carrying over the training grounds. “we’re ready.”

tenth prince baekhyun, panting slightly from exertion, turned to thirteenth prince kyeom with a mischievous grin. “do you think she’ll be here today?” he asked, a hint of eagerness in his tone. daniel smirked, catching the excited glint in baekhyun’s eyes. “who? the one who gave you that lovely black eye?”

the other princes chuckled, and baekhyun’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “it wasn’t like that!” he protested, though his smile betrayed him. “sure it wasn’t,” chaehee drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “you just happened to trip into her fist, is that it?”

the teasing continued, lightening the mood among the brothers. even namjoon allowed himself a small smile at baekhyun’s expense. but as soon as he caught hansol’s gaze on him, that smile faded, replaced by the stoic mask he usually wore. hansol’s eyes were thoughtful, as though he was trying to puzzle out something about namjoon, but he said nothing.

meanwhile, chaehee’s attention was drawn to a line of black-clad men entering the grounds, their faces obscured by demon masks. they were part of the ritual, their role to represent the evil spirits that the royal family would symbolically banish. but to hyun, they were more than just performers. he had chosen them carefully, ensuring that they were loyal to his cause. his eyes flickered with a brief, calculating light as he watched them take their positions.

but chaehee wasn’t the only one with a plan. unbeknownst to him, tae had been working on his own counterplay. the crown prince had always been astute, quick to sense when something was amiss, and he wasn’t blind to the undercurrents of tension surrounding the ceremony. that’s why, in a quiet moment before the ritual began, he sought out namjoon. the exchange of masks was swift, and soon namjoon was clad in the elaborate costume of the crown prince, his face hidden behind a mask that bore the markings of leadership. taehyung donned a simpler outfit, blending in with the other princes as they prepared for the ceremony.

the palace courtyard was packed with onlookers, all eager to witness the grand ritual. the air was thick with the scent of incense, and the rhythmic beat of drums set the tone for the performance. namjoon took the lead position, his presence commanding as he stood at the forefront of the princes. to everyone watching, he was the crown prince, the one who would lead them in driving out the demons.

the ritual began, a carefully choreographed mix of martial arts and dance. namjoon moved with fluid grace, his sword cutting through the air in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the drums. the other princes followed his lead, their movements synchronized as they played their part in the elaborate display. as the dance progressed, the demon-masked men entered the scene, their presence dark and ominous. they advanced toward the princes, their swords drawn, and the real battle began. namjoon took them on with an impressive display of skill, his movements precise and controlled. he danced between them, his sword clashing against theirs in a series of carefully timed strikes.

chaehee, also masked, joined namjoon in the fight, their swords working in tandem as they recited an incantation to drive out the demons. the performance was flawless, a testament to the hours of practice they had put in. but then, something unexpected happened. more masked men appeared, descending from above like shadows. their arrival was sudden and unplanned, and immediately, the king and jisoo knew that something was wrong. the newcomers weren’t part of the ritual—they were assassins.

the atmosphere shifted in an instant, the crowd’s murmurs turning into gasps of alarm as the assassins drew their swords and charged at namjoon. jisoo’s voice rang out, calling for the soldiers to protect the king, and the royal guards surged forward, surrounding the king’s platform. namjoon, still masked and mistaken for the crown prince, found himself at the center of the attack. he fought back with fierce determination, his sword moving in a blur as he defended himself against the onslaught. but the odds were overwhelming, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fend them off alone.

hansol was the first to realize that something was amiss. without hesitation, he charged into the fray, his sword flashing as he cut down the attackers. the other princes followed suit, their faces set in grim resolve as they joined the battle. together, they evened the numbers, driving back the assassins with a renewed vigor. chaehee caught sight of one of the demons—the very man he had conspired with. their eyes met through the slits in their masks, and in that brief exchange, a silent understanding passed between them. hyun knew this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment to strike and make it look like an accident.

with calculated precision, he maneuvered himself closer to namjoon. the sounds of clashing swords and the shouts of the combatants filled the air, masking the tension that thrummed between the two brothers. namjoon was fully engrossed in fending off another attacker when a third made its move. he twisted his sword in a way that seemed unintentional, a misstep in the dance of battle, and his blade sliced across namjoon’s arm.

he gasped as pain seared through him, his sword slipping from his grasp as he staggered backward. the world seemed to slow as he looked down at the wound, blood soaking into the fine fabric of his costume. for a moment, he was disoriented, his mind reeling from the unexpected betrayal. and then, as if on cue, one of the assassins saw his opportunity. the masked figure lunged at him, sword raised for the kill. namjoon, weakened and caught off guard, could do nothing but brace himself for the inevitable.

but at the last possible second, another figure intervened. a masked prince—swift, precise, and unyielding—threw himself between namjoon and the assassin, deflecting the blow with a resounding clash of steel. namjoon barely had time to register what had happened before he was pushed aside, the masked prince taking his place in the fight. the assassin hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift, and in that brief hesitation, the masked prince drove his sword through the attacker’s chest. the demon crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

the remaining assassins, sensing that their plan was unraveling, began to retreat. hyun, still masked, barked orders at the soldiers, commanding them to chase down the fleeing attackers. the courtyard was a chaotic whirlwind of movement as the soldiers pursued the assassins, determined to capture them before they could escape. the king, who had been watching the scene unfold with mounting dread, hurried down from his platform the moment the danger had passed. his gaze was frantic as he looked for taehyung, his fear palpable. but when he reached the center of the courtyard, he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat.

the mask had been removed, and instead of tae, he found namjoon standing there, clutching his wounded arm. the realization struck the king like a blow, and for a moment, he was speechless, the words caught in his throat. “where is taehyung?” the king demanded, his voice tight with fear and urgency.

namjoon, already in pain and now reeling from the king’s clear distress, felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury. he swallowed hard, the hurt evident in his eyes, as he struggled to find the words to respond. the king’s priority had always been tae, and now, in this moment of crisis, it was clearer than ever.

before namjoon could respond, tae stepped forward, still clad in his simpler attire, but with a regal bearing that could not be mistaken. “i’m here,” he said calmly, though there was a sharpness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. the king’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he immediately moved to embrace tae, his concern for mamjoon seemingly forgotten in the wake of his son’s safety. tae, however, held himself stiffly, his eyes flicking toward namjoon with an unreadable expression.

queen jinyoung, watching from a distance, felt her heart sink as she realized her carefully laid plans had been thwarted. the ceremony had been the perfect opportunity to eliminate taehyung, but now, it was clear that her plot had failed. worse, her eldest son had been implicated in the attempt on namjoon’s life. she knew there would be consequences, and the realization filled her with dread.

namjoon, his face pale from the loss of blood, suddenly spoke, his voice cutting through the tension in the courtyard. “i’ll catch them,” he declared, his tone firm despite his injury. without waiting for permission or acknowledging the pain in his arm, he turned and began to walk away, his steps purposeful and determined.

“namjoon, wait—” taehyung called out, moving to follow, but the king grabbed his arm, holding him back. “no, taehyung,” the king said, his voice filled with urgency. “you can’t go after him. it’s too dangerous.” his eyes flashed with frustration, but he stopped in his tracks, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. he watched helplessly as namjoon continued on, his figure growing smaller as he disappeared into the palace corridors.

the city streets blurred past namjoon as he sprinted through the narrow alleys, his focus entirely on the figures moving with alarming speed across the rooftops. the assassins, their dark silhouettes stark against the night sky, seemed to dance effortlessly between the buildings, but namjoon was relentless. his breath came in sharp bursts, each exhale mixing with the cool night air as he pursued them with a single-minded determination.

his boots pounded against the cobblestones, his cloak billowing behind him like a dark specter in the night. the chase led him out of the city and into the dense woods that bordered the outskirts. the trees loomed tall and foreboding, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to ensnare the unwary. namjoon’s heart raced, adrenaline pumping as he navigated the underbrush, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his path.

he finally caught sight of the assassins again, their figures moving with purpose through the trees. his gaze locked onto one of them—a particularly formidable figure—whose sword gleamed ominously in the moonlight. with a burst of speed, he closed the distance, drawing his own sword with a metallic hiss. the confrontation was immediate and intense. the assassin met namjoon’s blade with a skilled parry, the clash of steel echoing through the woods. they circled each other, eyes locked, each strike and counterstrike a testament to their training and resolve. mamjoon’s movements were precise and calculated, each swing of his sword a carefully measured attack. the assassin, equally adept, responded with a series of fluid, almost graceful maneuvers, his own blade a deadly extension of his will. it was his lifeline, it was what his second family taught him to do. the rumor had long swept the palace that namjoon had hunted down every wolf in the area, and he only proved it to be true.

as they fought, you had been wandering through the woods, taking a break from your sightseeing. the peaceful silence of the forest had been disrupted by the sounds of the fierce battle, and curiosity had drawn you further into the woods. the clash of swords was soon replaced by more hushed, but still tense, sounds as you stumbled upon a secluded clearing.

there, hidden behind the trees, you watched in horror as a group of masked assassins gathered around a figure you recognized as prince chaehee. the assassins, their heads bowed in deference, stood in a semi-circle around him. his expression was cold and calculating as he surveyed the group, his eyes gleaming with a ruthless edge. with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the failed assassins, his voice a low murmur of disdain. the air grew tense, and you watched in growing dread as his guards stepped forward. without hesitation, the guards drew their blades and executed the failed assassins. the silent, efficient killings were over before you could fully process what was happening.

you gasped involuntarily, the sound escaping before you could stifle it. the noise was faint, but in the quiet of the night, it was enough. chaehee’s head snapped around, his eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the disturbance. panic surged through you, and you took a step back, trying to retreat quietly. you bolted, stumbling through the underbrush as fast as you could manage. the woods seemed to close in around you, branches snagging at your clothes as you fled.

namjoon had managed to subdue the assassin he was fighting. panting heavily, he pressed the blade of his sword against the assassin’s throat, his eyes cold and unyielding. “tell me who you’re working for,” he demanded, his voice a low growl. the assassin, still reeling from the fight, hesitated. namjoon’s grip was unrelenting, and the assassin’s eyes darted nervously. his eyes flicked towards the trees, sensing that something was off. just as the assassin seemed on the verge of breaking, you burst into the clearing, breathless and disheveled.

“help!” you gasped, staggering towards namjoon. “you don’t understand, i saw—” before you could finish, the assassin saw an opportunity. he grabbed you, holding his sword to your throat with a threatening snarl. namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, his blade momentarily faltering. namjoon’s expression hardened, and he raised his sword, pointing it directly at your face. the cold steel of the blade felt like a chilling weight on your skin, and you could see the glint of the edge as it pressed against your neck.

“please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “just let me go.” namjoon’s smirk was icy and detached. “one woman means nothing to me,” he said, his tone devoid of sympathy. “tell me what i want to know.”

the assassin wavered, his grip on the sword loosening slightly. namjoon’s gaze was steely, his resolve unshaken. he pressed the assassin further, his voice a harsh demand for the name. victory seemed close at hand when you took a desperate measure. with a burst of adrenaline, you bit the assassin’s hand, the sudden pain causing him to stagger back.

the assassin stumbled in fury, moving to strike you again. namjoon’s reaction was swift, but before he could intervene, a dagger flew through the air, embedding itself in the assassin’s head. the figure slumped to the ground, lifeless, as hansol stepped into view. his arrival was dramatic but unwelcome for namjoon. the older prince’s presence was a complication namjoon had not anticipated. his eyes flashed with anger as he turned to confront hansol.

“you ruined everything,” he snapped, his sword still pressed close to your bloody neck, grabbed you roughly, his expression a mixture of frustration and rage. “why did you have to interfere?”

hanaol’s eyes were sharp and unwavering as he faced namjoon. with a flick of his wrist, he drew his sword, pointing it menacingly at his neck. “let her go,” haneul ordered, his voice firm and commanding. namjoon’s gaze met his, and in a swift, fluid motion, he whirled to clash swords with him. the metal of their blades met with a resounding clash, sparks flying as they engaged in a tense duel. the forest seemed to hold its breath as the two princes fought, their movements a deadly ballet of skill and precision.

“why should i?” namjoon spat, his voice laced with frustration. “this woman cost me answers. i won’t let her go until i get what I need.”

the night air was still and heavy as you stood among the trees, the remnants of the chaotic battle echoing in the distance. namjoon’s grip was a vice around your throat, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and disbelief. hansol, standing nearby, observed the scene with a stern expression. “you’re saying you saw a group of assassins being killed?” namjoon’s voice was a harsh whisper, his grip tightening as he tried to extract the truth from you. “by someone’s guards?”

you nodded frantically, trying to catch your breath. “yes, i swear. they were executed. i saw it happen.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “show us where.”

you led them through the woods, your heart pounding as you moved swiftly through the darkened paths. the eerie silence that followed was suffocating. when you finally arrived at the spot, the clearing was empty, devoid of any evidence of the massacre you had described. you looked around, your voice trembling. “i swear, it was here. they were killed by guards. i saw it with my own eyes.”

namjoon’s patience snapped. he grabbed you roughly by the neck, his face a mask of fury. “you’re lying,” he growled. “there’s nothing here.” fear surged through you, and you gasped for breath. “i’m not lying!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “i saw it. i swear i did.”

hansol had been the one examining the surroundings. his eyes caught a subtle detail on one of the trees—a patch of blood, faint but unmistakable. “look,” he said, pointing at the stain. “they were definitely here.”

namjoon’s grip on your neck loosened as he turned to inspect the bloody patch. His expression shifted from anger to contemplation. “so whoever killed them is the one who hired them,” he deduced. he turned back to you, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “what else did you see? who else was there?”

panic gripped you, and you shook your head frantically. “i couldn’t make out the face. It was too dark, too chaotic.” namjoon’s eyes flashed with anger once more. “you’re lying. i know you are. don't you know i'll kill you for it?”

the threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, and your sobs grew louder as the weight of his words sank in. “why are you so cruel?” you cried out, your voice cracking. “what have i done to deserve this?”

he seemed momentarily taken aback by your anguish. his expression softened ever so slightly, but his resolve remained firm. “you’re in my way,” he said coldly. “i need to solve this issue, and if you’re not helping, you’re a liability.”

through your sobs, a memory surfaced—a fleeting image of the killer. you recalled a detail that had seemed strange in the midst of the chaos. “he had fur on him,” you blurted out. “i saw fur. i don’t know whose it was, but there was fur.”

namjoon and hansol exchanged a look of recognition. they knew immediately who the fur might belong to. namjoon’s eyes widened with realization. “if you didn’t see his face, then we’re still dealing with a mystery, but that clue is crucial. i need to find him now.” without another word, he turned and sprinted back towards the city, his figure quickly disappearing into the night. you were left standing in the woods, your body trembling with sobs.

hansol, watching you from a distance, observed your emotional state with a mixture of curiosity and concern. he approached you slowly, his expression softening. despite the gravity of the situation, he found something oddly endearing in your distress. he hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and gently enveloped you in his arms. his embrace was warm and reassuring, a comforting contrast to the harshness you had just experienced. “it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice soothing. “you’ll be alright. i promise.”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his robes as you wept uncontrollably. hansol’s hand gently stroked your back, shushing you softly. “you did your best,” he said, his tone calming. “just try to stay calm. we’ll figure this out.” as the tears slowly subsided, you could feel haneul’s reassuring presence grounding you, offering a sliver of comfort amidst the turmoil. the night continued to envelop the woods in its dark embrace, but for a moment, in his arms, you felt a fragile sense of security.

you woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the windows, a gentle warmth settling over you as you stirred from sleep. the sudden clatter of footsteps and the murmur of voices drew you from your dreams. you blinked groggily and found lady ja standing beside your bed, her face etched with concern. “wake up,” she said, her voice a mix of urgency and worry. “i’ve been looking for you. what happened to your neck?”

you touched the tender area where the assassin's blade had grazed you. “it’s nothing,” you assured her, offering a reassuring smile despite the sting. “i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.” she didn’t look entirely convinced but let it go, focusing instead on the bustle around her. the other maids were helping her sort through a collection of old gowns, meticulously folding and packing them.

“what’s all this for?” you asked, observing the activity with curiosity. “it’s for a donation,” lady ja explained, her tone carrying a hint of pride. “the king has these events from time to time, where old clothes are given to those in need. hansol goes to oversee the donations.”

you tilted your head, thinking. “does he go alone?” she nodded, confused. “yes, he usually does. why do you ask?” you shrugged. “i think you should go with him. it’s what husbands and wives do, isn’t it?” her eyes lit up with a soft smile. “is that so?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “of course. and if you want, i could even do your makeup for you. it would be my pleasure.” lady ja’s gratitude was evident in her eyes. “would you really? that would be wonderful.”

“absolutely,” you said, eager to help. you busied yourself with powders, oils, and brushes, working diligently to enhance her features. as you applied the makeup, you apologized for your lack of experience. “i’m not quite used to this yet. i hope it turns out alright.”

she seemed pleasantly surprised as you finished. “you did a marvelous job,” she said, taking the mirror you handed her. her eyes widened in amazement. “you’ve made me look so youthful.” you smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “i’m glad you like it. enjoy yourself today.”

to your surprise, she had other plans. “no, you should come with me. i’d like your company.”

you both ventured out together, joining the others in distributing food to the children. from a distance, hansol observed you with a warm, approving smile. the scene was bustling with activity. you were handing out treats to the eager children when a small altercation caught your attention. one of the boys snatched a treat from his friend’s hand and dashed off, leaving his friend in tears.

without hesitation, you pursued the boy, your heart pounding as you caught up to him. you knelt to his level, pinching his cheek gently. “is it okay to steal from a friend?” you asked softly. the boy shook his head, eyes wide with remorse. “then,” you said with a smile, “how about we make a deal? if you give the treat back, i’ll give you both two each.” the boy’s face brightened as he returned the stolen treat. you handed out the additional treats, and the children’s smiles returned. lady ja watched, her eyes filled with admiration, while hansol’s smile broadened. the scene was one of simple joy, and it seemed to resonate deeply with both of them.

you found chayeon in the corridor, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with your rising panic. your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you approached her. “chayeon,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “what’s the punishment for hitting a prince? is it severe?” she glanced up from her tasks, a hint of discomfort in her eyes. “it’s not something to take lightly,” she said vaguely, her tone evasive. “it could be quite serious.”

before you could probe further, the clatter of footsteps and the sight of two guards alerted you to prince baekhyun’s arrival. he climbed the stairs with an air of authority, his gaze fixed on you.

“you should show more gratitude,” he said as he approached, his tone unexpectedly light. you blinked, confused. “gratitude for what?”

his expression shifted awkwardly. “i had to beg the king to let you go unpunished.” you were taken aback by his unexpected revelation. “why would you do that?”

baekhyun hesitated, unable to find the right words. the silence stretched between you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his actions stemmed from something more personal. the thought that he might be harboring feelings for you crossed your mind, but he remained tight-lipped. before you could voice your curiosity, you gave a sincere, “thank you.”

you turned to leave, but sang’s voice halted you. “wait,” he called, his tone shifting to something more casual. “you should repay me for this favor.”

you arched an eyebrow. “repay you how?” baekhyun’s gaze softened slightly, though he still maintained his composure. “i want to see you at least once a day, every day.”

a laugh bubbled from your lips, both relieved and amused. “that’s the least i can do,” you said, beginning to walk away. “consider this our first day,” he called after you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. with a final nod, you walked away, feeling a strange mix of relief and curiosity about the new arrangement.

the night was cloaked in darkness as namjoon raced through the narrow, twisting paths leading to the hidden temple. his breath came in ragged bursts, the cold night air stinging his lungs as he pushed his horse to its limits. the news of the renounced monks taking refuge in an isolated temple had reached him in the midst of the chaos, and he knew he had to act swiftly. the steep, rocky hillside loomed ahead, its shadowed contours barely discernible against the moonlit sky.

the temple was perched precariously at the top of the hill, its ancient stone walls weathered and worn. as he approached, he could see the flickering glow of torches from within the temple's crumbling walls. he dismounted swiftly, drawing his sword as he climbed the final ascent. his mind raced with thoughts of the assassins who had attacked him, their inability to speak striking him as odd. he recalled tales of monks who had their tongues cut out as punishment, their silence a symbol of their penance.

reaching the temple, he found the entrance unguarded, the heavy wooden doors hanging loosely on their hinges. the interior was dimly lit by a few scattered torches, their light casting eerie shadows on the cracked and crumbling walls. the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and incense, a remnant of long-forgotten rituals. the temple seemed abandoned, but an unsettling sensation of being watched prickled at the back of his neck.

he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the subtle sounds around him. the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of wooden beams, and the whisper of unseen movements made his senses keenly aware. suddenly, a figure lunged at him from the darkness, a dagger gleaming in the dim light. instinctively, namjoon deflected the attack with his sword, the blade clashing with metal. he spun around, narrowly avoiding a thrust from a spear, and with a swift and decisive motion, cut down the attacker.

the clamor of combat erupted as more figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding namjoon. he fought with a fierce determination, his movements fluid and precise. his sword sliced through the air, each strike calculated and deadly. the attackers were relentless, but namjoon’s skill was unmatched. he dispatched the first wave of opponents with ruthless efficiency, their bodies falling to the ground as he pressed on.

“where is your leader?” he demanded, his voice cold and commanding. when he received no reply, he growled in frustration. “is there no one here who can speak?” a burly man, his face concealed by a demon mask, charged at him. with a practiced swing, namjoon cut the man’s throat, the blood spraying in a grotesque arc. the temple’s interior was now a scene of carnage, the floor slick with blood and littered with the fallen bodies of the monks. namjoon’s sword flashed through the darkness, his movements a deadly dance of precision and power.

the fight was brutal, each clash of steel and every cry of pain adding to the growing chaos. namjoon’s dexterity with both the long sword and short dagger was apparent, his skill honed through years of training and combat. the battle seemed to stretch on endlessly, but namjoon’s resolve never wavered. his efficiency was such that within minutes, the last of the monks lay defeated on the cold stone floor.

the silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of flames. namjoon stood alone amid the carnage, his breath coming in heavy, labored gasps. just then, the doors to a nearby building burst open with a deafening crash, and a lone monk stepped out, his eyes cold and calculating. he bowed to namjoon, his expression inscrutable.

“are you the one responsible for this?” namjoon asked, his voice laced with steel. the monk’s gaze was unwavering. “these men had their tongues removed as punishment for their grave sins,” he said. “i have looked after them.”

namjoon’s face hardened. “then all i have to do is get rid of you.” the monk’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—fear, perhaps. “for whom are you doing this?” he asked. “does your mother know?”

namjoon’s smile was cold and dangerous. “a place of no speech, yet someone here has a lot of words,” he replied. he raised his sword, the blade gleaming in the flickering light. “you’ll die for her sake.” the monk’s defense was swift but ultimately futile. namjoon’s first blow was deflected, but he pressed on with a series of quick, lethal slashes. the monk fell to the ground, the life draining from him as namjoon’s sword pierced his gut. as the man gurgled out his final breaths, namjoon leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper. “you’ve lived off the queen, so now you die for her.”

with that, namjoon turned and walked away, the weight of his bloody sword heavy in his hand. the temple was already beginning to burn, the flames consuming the ancient structure in a brilliant, destructive blaze. the night was filled with the crackling of fire and the distant wail of sirens as he made his way down the hillside. as he staggered away from the burning temple, the sight of the inferno lighting up the dark sky, he found himself near the palace. his heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. he needed to confront his mother, to make her understand the cost of her machinations.

in the dead of night, he slipped into the palace unnoticed, his steps silent on the cold marble floors. he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors until he reached queen jiyoung’s chambers. the door was slightly ajar, and he could see the queen sleeping soundly within. without hesitation, namjoon pushed the door open and stepped inside. his bloodied sword still dripping, he approached the bed where his mother lay. queen jiyoung stirred, her eyes opening in shock as she saw the figure looming over her. she shrank back, her face a mask of fear.

namjoon’s smile was a mix of sadness and resolve. “you will remember this night,” he said softly, his voice carrying a bitter edge. “you abandoned me, but i shall not leave. i ask only that you see me.”

the night air was still, heavy with the smoke from the burning temple. namjoon, covered in blood and soot, wandered through the quiet, his mind a tumultuous storm of rage and pain. his steps led him to a small, serene area by a river, where prayer stones were meticulously stacked by mothers who sought divine protection for their children. the sight of these humble offerings, imbued with the hopes and fears of countless families, was like a cruel reminder of the normalcy and peace he had been denied.

with a sudden, violent motion, he lashed out at the prayer stones. his sword, still slick with the blood of the monks, sliced through the air and sent a stack of stones toppling over. they tumbled and scattered across the ground, the delicate balance of their arrangement shattered. his face twisted into a mask of fury as he watched the chaos he had wrought, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

you had been trailing on a path of your own, yet his distress and desperation were in reach. as you saw the destruction and the storm of emotions on namjoon's face, you rushed forward to try and stop him. but as you neared, he turned and roughly shoved you away, his strength surprising and painful. you stumbled, barely catching yourself as you fell to the ground. when you looked down, your hands were smeared with the remnants of the toppled stones and, to your horror, the blood that had transferred from his.

hia laughter came out in a jagged burst, a chilling sound that reverberated through the night. “it’s the blood of those i killed today,” he declared, his voice a mix of derision and anguish. he looked at you with a wild, unhinged expression, his eyes alight with a manic energy. the laughter died in his throat as he glared at you, his anger and despair mingling in a volatile mix.

“why do you even care about these prayer stones?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space. “my mother shouldn’t be here praying. she should come to me and beg for mercy instead.”

you tried to hold him back, your voice trembling but resolute. “you’re injured,” you said, hoping to redirect his attention. you meant his hand, which was gripping the sword with a force that must have caused him pain. but instead of heeding your concern, namjoon grabbed you by the collar, his grip tight and unyielding. his eyes, though fierce, held a flicker of surprise at your lack of fear.

“i told you,” he warned, his voice low and intense, “i killed people.” his words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze with calm understanding rather than the fear he seemed to expect. you did not flinch or recoil but remained steady, sensing the torment within him.

“i understand,” you said softly. “tell me what happened. why did you do it?”

the vulnerability in your tone seemed to reach him, and for a moment, his fierce grip loosened. he stared at you, confusion and a touch of something like relief crossing his features. he shook his head, as if trying to dispel the emotions swirling within him. “go,” he said, his voice cracking. “you don’t need to be here.”

but you stood firm. “no,” you said. “i understand more than you think. you grew up in a world where wielding a sword was a necessity, where killing was not a choice but a survival tactic. what you did today—what you’ve done—was driven by what you were taught.”

namjoon’s face was a mask of conflicted emotions, his eyes searching yours for judgment or pity. instead, he found only empathy. “but what can you do?” you continued, your voice steady and kind. “what can anyone do in a world like this? you must be feeling so miserable right now. i think i understand.”

his grip on your collar finally released, and you took a step back, giving him space. he remained where he was, his body slumped slightly as if the weight of his actions was beginning to sink in. he stared at the scattered prayer stones, his breathing ragged and uneven. you turned and began to walk away, leaving him to grapple with his grief and anger amidst the ruins of the prayer offerings. the night air was cool against your face, and the distant sounds of the village were muted. as you walked away, you glanced back once, seeing namjoon standing alone in the moonlight, the broken stones a mere reminder of the cost of his struggles.

the punishment for namjoon’s reckless act of burning down the temple had been swift and severe. though his role in thwarting the assassination attempt had earned him some leniency, the king had ordered him to be isolated from the other princes for a time—enough to reflect on his actions and the consequences they might have had. he had fulfilled his promise and did all he could to protect tae, which did not go unnoticed. he was given the right to stay. in fact, he was given the right to stay at the palace, but with rewards came consequences. he was to remain confined to a small, remote building on the palace grounds, away from the eyes of the court and the whispers that followed his every move.

the morning had been uneventful, a silence hanging heavy in the air as namjoon spent his hours alone, the weight of solitude pressing down on him. the palace, so full of life and noise, felt a world away from where he now sat, by the stream that bordered the isolated quarters. the water moved slowly, mirroring his own sluggish thoughts as he stared into the distance, lost in the turmoil of his mind.

inside the palace, the maids were gathered in a small cluster, their voices low but urgent as they debated amongst themselves. “i’m not going,” one of them whispered harshly. “i heard what he did. he’s dangerous.” another shook her head, her hands trembling as she twisted the fabric of her apron. “but someone has to take him his lunch. he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

“then you take it,” the first maid retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “i’m not risking my life.”

“i’ll go.” the maids turned, surprised at the sound of your voice. you stood at the edge of the group, having overheard their conversation as you approached. your expression was calm, resolute, as you looked at the tray of food they were hesitating over. “i’ll take it to him,” you repeated, stepping forward and reaching for the tray. the maids exchanged uneasy glances but made no move to stop you.

“are you sure, my lady?” chaeyeon asked, her voice laced with doubt. “they say he’s not right in the head after what happened.” you met her gaze steadily. “i’m sure.”

with the tray in hand, you made your way to the stream, your footsteps light and measured. the closer you got to namjoon’s solitary retreat, the more you could feel the tension in the air, like the calm before a storm. you found him sitting at the very end of the stream, where the water pooled in a small, quiet basin before continuing its journey downstream. he was alone, as you had expected, his figure tense as he sat with his back to you, staring into the distance.

for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if he had heard you approach. but then you gathered your resolve, stepping forward and setting the tray down on the ground beside him. the sound of the plate touching the stone was a soft, delicate clink that seemed to echo in the silence. “eat while it’s warm,” you said gently, your voice breaking the quiet.

namjoon didn’t respond, didn’t even turn to look at you. his silence was heavy, but you could sense the conflict within him, the battle between pride and despair waging just beneath the surface. you turned to leave, respecting his need for solitude, but as you took a step back, something stopped you. a frown creased your brow, and before you could think better of it, you sat back down beside him. the water flowed softly beside you, a soothing presence amidst the tension.

“i won’t say a word about what i saw,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the stream. you didn’t need to elaborate; you both knew what you were referring to—the prayer stones, his confession, the blood on your hands. namjoon finally turned to you, his eyes dark and intense as they searched your face. “i know,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur.

you tilted your head slightly, studying him. “how do you know? because you’ll kill me if i do?” to your surprise, namjoon’s lips curved into a small, almost incredulous smile. it was the first sign of softness you had seen from him since your encounter by the prayer stones.

“i can’t believe you’re not afraid of me,” he said, a hint of wonder in his tone. there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you, as if he couldn’t quite understand why you weren’t running from him like the others. you returned his smile, though yours was softer, more reassuring. “why would i be afraid of you?”

namjoon’s gaze faltered, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. “you saw me without my mask,” he began, his voice tinged with a sadness that made your heart ache, “you should be afraid of an ugly face like that.” you shook your head, your expression earnest. “i could never be afraid of you,” you said softly, the sincerity in your voice undeniable. “besides, you were never ugly.”

the silence between you was thick with unspoken emotions, the air around you charged with the weight of what wasn’t said. namjoon studied you, as if searching for any hint of deceit in your words, but finding none. then, as if realizing the futility of his own brooding, he released a small sigh. “you should go,” he said, though there was no force behind his words. “this isn’t a place for you.”

you forced yourself to feign seriousness, though your heart ached for him. “eat the food,” you said, trying to bring some normalcy back to the moment. “i have to take the plates back.” his lips twitched into a faint smile, the closest thing to real warmth you had seen from him in a long while. “all right,” he conceded, reaching for the plate. you watched as he began to eat, your heart heavy with the knowledge of his pain, but also with a sense of hope that led him to think that he wasn’t as alone as he felt.

lady ja lay in her bed, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps as the illness that had ravaged her body slowly drained the life from her. the once vibrant, commanding presence of the lady of the house was now reduced to a frail figure, barely recognizable beneath layers of quilts. her face, once full of warmth and intelligence, was pale, her skin translucent like fragile porcelain, and her eyes were dull, clouded with the pain she could no longer voice.

beside her, hansol knelt, his tall frame bent low as he held her hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they clasped hers. he had seen her strength, her will to survive, but now all of that was slipping away, and he was powerless to stop it. the room was dim, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows on the walls, as if the darkness itself was encroaching upon her. “my lady, please hold on,” he whispered, his voice thick with the desperation he could no longer contain. he squeezed her hand gently, trying to offer her whatever strength he had left. the weight of what was happening, of what he was about to lose, pressed down on him like an unbearable burden.

lady ja’s lips curled into a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as she gazed at him with a mixture of tenderness and resignation. “your highness,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room. “i know you don’t love me.”

her words struck him worse than a physical blow, and his eyes widened in shock, tears welling up and spilling over before he could stop them. he opened his mouth to protest, to tell her she was wrong, but the words caught in his throat, choking him with their falseness. he couldn’t lie to her, not now, not in those final moments. seeing the truth in his eyes, lady ja’s smile grew sadder, her hand—a mere shadow of its former strength—reached up to brush a stray tear from his cheek. the touch was feather-light, but it burned with the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

“i’ve seen the way you look at her,” she continued, her tone gentle, free of any bitterness or accusation. “i know you’ve grown to care for her.” haneul’s chest tightened painfully, guilt and sorrow warring within him as he struggled to keep his composure. the truth in her words was undeniable, and it tore at him to know that she had been aware of it, even as she lay dying.

“take care of her,” lady ja whispered, her voice growing weaker with each word, as though even speaking was now too great an effort. “If you can, marry her.”

the tears flowed freely now, silent but unrelenting, as hansol held her hand, feeling the life slipping away from her with each passing second. her breathing grew fainter, her chest rising and falling in a barely perceptible rhythm until, finally, it stopped altogether. her eyes fluttered shut, the last remnants of life leaving them as she passed into the silence that awaited her. for a moment, hansol was frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend that she was gone. the room seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself had paused in reverence of her passing. he leaned over her, pressing her hand to his lips, the weight of his grief pressing him down until it felt as though he might be crushed beneath it.

it was then that you entered the room, returning home after what you had expected to be just another day. you stopped short in the doorway, your eyes landing on the scene before you—lady ja’s lifeless form on the bed, hansol hunched over her, tears staining his cheeks. panic surged through you, a cold, sharp terror that clawed at your chest and left you gasping for breath. the sobs began to tear from your throat uncontrollably, your mind refusing to accept what your eyes were seeing. you stumbled forward, your hands reaching out as if to pull her back from the brink, to undo what had already been done.

hansol turned at the sound of your cries, his expression weary and etched with sorrow, but there was something else there too—a deep, all-consuming sadness that made your heart ache. his voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he spoke to you. “be quiet,” he said, his tone gentle yet firm, the words laden with a grief that was beyond anything you could imagine. “let’s not wake my wife.”

the absurdity of his request, of the idea that she could be woken, struck you like a physical blow, and for a moment, you stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief. the reality of the situation, the finality of her death, slowly sank in, and the sobs caught in your throat, leaving you breathless and trembling. you collapsed to your knees beside the bed, your hands covering your face as you wept, the sound muffled but filled with a raw, unfiltered pain that echoed through the room. hansol remained by lady ja’s side, his hand still holding hers, as he watched you with a look of profound sorrow. there were no words left to say, nothing that could ease the pain or make the loss any less devastating.

lady ja’s funeral was a somber affair, the sky overcast and heavy with unshed rain, as if the heavens themselves mourned her passing. the courtyard was filled with mourners, all dressed in white, the traditional color of mourning. the air was thick with the scent of incense, its curling tendrils rising like prayers to the gods above, carrying with them the sorrow and grief of those left behind. you stood among the sea of mourners, your heart a leaden weight in your chest, eyes fixed on the simple wooden casket that held lady ja’s body. it was adorned with white lilies, their delicate petals trembling in the light breeze, a cold contrast to the cold, unyielding wood that now encased her. the image of her peaceful face, so serene in death, was etched into your mind, and the tears you had fought so hard to contain began to blur your vision.

beside you, hansol was a figure of quiet devastation. his usually composed demeanor had crumbled in the face of such overwhelming loss. his eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, were fixed on the casket, his hand gripping yours with a desperation that belied his outward composure. you could feel the tremors that ran through him, the silent sobs that shook his frame as he struggled to keep his grief in check. chaeyeon stood on his other side, her small frame trembling with barely restrained emotion. her usually bright eyes were dulled with sorrow, and she clutched a small white flower in her hands, her knuckles white from the intensity of her grip. her gaze never left lady ja’s casket, and you could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving glistening tracks in their wake. she had been so close to her, and now the loss of her was a wound that would take a long time to heal.

the princes had gathered as well, all of them standing in a line of solemnity. each one wore the same expression of respect and sorrow, but there was something different about the thirteenth prince, younghyun. his usually vibrant, youthful face was marred with an anguish that went beyond the collective grief of the others. his hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and you noticed how he seemed to shy away from the others, as though the weight of his emotions was too much to bear.

the ceremony passed in a blur, the priest’s words of blessing and farewell barely registering in your mind. all you could focus on was the sight of lady ja’s casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground, the finality of it hitting you with a force that nearly brought you to your knees. hansol squeezed your hand harder, as though grounding himself through your presence, and you held on just as tightly, a silent promise that you would face this together.

after the ceremony, the crowd began to disperse, each mourner paying their final respects before departing. you saw younghyun slip away from the others, his shoulders hunched, and you felt an urge to follow him. something about the way he carried himself, the way his steps faltered, tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t leave him to his grief alone.

you found him sitting on the stone steps that led to the courtyard, his face buried in his hands. his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, and you hesitated for a moment before approaching, unsure of what to say. the last thing you wanted was to intrude on his pain, but you couldn’t stand to see him suffer alone.

“your highness,” you called softly, your voice gentle as you took a seat beside him. he didn’t look up, but his sobs quieted slightly, as though your presence alone was enough to offer some small comfort. “what’s the matter?” you asked, keeping your tone soft, hoping to coax him into opening up.

when he finally looked at you, his face was tear-streaked, his eyes red and puffy from crying. “i loved her,” he confessed, his voice breaking on the last word. you nodded, understanding the depth of his pain. “we all did,” you said, your voice filled with the same sorrow that weighed on your heart.

but he shook his head, his expression filled with a sorrow that went deeper than mere grief. “no,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “she was my first love.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to him, your frown deepening in confusion. “why didn’t it work out?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

younghyun let out a bitter, humorless laugh, the sound rough and full of pain. “because hansol had her heart from the start,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. “no matter how hard i tried, no matter how much i loved her, she was always his.” his words struck you like a blow, and you felt your heart ache for him, for the love that he had never been able to claim. he had loved her so deeply, and yet it had never been enough to win her heart.

he turned to you, his gaze filled with a raw vulnerability that made your heart clench. “she said i reminded her of you,” he said, his voice breaking once more. a tear slipped down your cheek, the weight of his words hitting you with a force you hadn’t expected. you reached out, placing a comforting hand on his, and he grasped it desperately, as though it were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

“she would have given you a chance if she had known,” you said softly, your voice filled with the sincerity of your words. you believed that, in another time, another place, lady ja might have seen the love that younghyun held for her, and perhaps things would have been different. he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening for a moment before he released it, letting out a shuddering breath. he was silent for a long time after that, lost in his thoughts, and you stayed beside him, offering what comfort you could with your presence.

eventually, you knew you had to return to hansol’s place, to be there for him in his time of grief. you rose from the steps, giving kyeom one last look of understanding before you turned to leave. as you walked back, your mind heavy with the events of the day, you were suddenly stopped in your tracks when a hand was clamped over your mouth.

panic surged through you, your eyes widening in fear as you screamed, the sound muffled by the hand that held you. you thrashed violently, struggling to break free, but strong arms held you fast, lifting you off your feet. you were thrown onto a horse, the guards surrounding you offering no explanation as they forced you into the saddle. your heart pounded in your chest, terror gripping you as you were carried away, the familiar surroundings of the courtyard disappearing behind you. the ride to the palace was a blur of fear and confusion. you tried to make sense of what was happening, why you were being taken in such a manner, but your mind was too clouded with panic to think clearly.

when you finally arrived, you were still thrashing, your attempts to escape growing more desperate as they dragged you inside. the guards were silent, their faces expressionless as they hauled you into the grand hall where king taejo sat upon his throne, his gaze cold and calculating as he watched your approach. you forced yourself to bow, your mind racing with fear and confusion. “your majesty,” you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady. “what is it that you needed?”

king taejo rose from his throne, his presence commanding and intimidating. he stepped down from the dais, his gaze never leaving yours as he approached, the weight of his authority pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“i’m glad you asked,” he said, his voice smooth, almost pleasant, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. you locked eyes with him, your fear growing with each passing second as he came to a stop before you. there was something in his gaze, something dark and possessive, that made your blood run cold.

“you will become my wife tonight,” he declared, his voice firm and unyielding.

the words hit you like a physical blow, your mind reeling in shock and horror. you had never imagined this, never considered that such a fate would befall you. the reality of it crashed down on you, a wave of dread that left you trembling. but there was no escape, no way to refuse. you were trapped, a pawn in the king’s game, and the realization of it was more terrifying than anything you had ever faced before.

✧.*

a/n: this will take a while since this is based on scarlet heart and ts has like 20 episodes

therapeutic (테라퓨틱) — lee taeyong (이태용)

✧.* 18+

the mind, a vast labyrinth, held within its delicate folds the secrets of every human experience. it was a realm both familiar and foreign, a place where memories danced like shadows on ancient walls, where emotions ebbed and flowed like the tides, and where thoughts wove themselves into the fabric of reality. in that particular domain, the boundaries between the conscious and the unconscious blurred, creating a landscape that was as treacherous as it was beautiful.

for centuries, humanity had sought to understand the mind's inner workings, to decipher the language of neurons and synapses that whispered the truths of existence. yet, despite all the knowledge amassed, the mind remained an enigma, a force capable of both creation and destruction. it could be a sanctuary, a place of solace where dreams flourished, or a prison, where fears and anxieties festered in the dark corners, unbidden and unwelcome.

why do i think the way i do? why do i behave the way i do? why do we find ourselves begging the question, that three-letter question—why? too long has it been a double-edged sword, that question. those who ventured too close to the edge found themselves lost in a labyrinth of their own making, searching for a way out that sometimes seemed impossible to find.

the mind was both a protector and a betrayer. it could shield one from the harshness of reality, crafting illusions and fantasies that soothed the soul. but it could also turn against its owner, unraveling the very threads of their being until they were left exposed, vulnerable to the relentless onslaught of their inner demons. the mind could be a gentle guide, leading one toward healing and self-discovery, or a merciless tormentor, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

the path to mental well-being was not a straight one; it twisted and turned, often doubling back on itself in a confounding maze. it required courage to traverse, or facing the darkest parts of oneself, the fears and doubts that lay hidden beneath the surface. it meant confronting the wounds of the past, allowing them to bleed so they might eventually heal. and it meant accepting that some scars would never fully fade, that they were as much a part of the self as the mind that bore them.

the office you called your own was a home of sorts, a place where the issues of the outside world were left at the door, and the echoes of troubled minds found solace. it was a space curated to ease the burdens carried by those who sought your counsel. the walls were painted in soft, muted tones—an earthy beige that mimicked the comforting embrace of nature. sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a gentle glow that softened the edges of the room and made it feel safe, inviting.

your desk, though functional, was devoid of the sterility one might expect in a clinical setting. instead, it was adorned with books—volumes on psychology, philosophy, and the occasional novel that you found particularly stirring. there was a small plant, a gift from a patient who had once come to you in a state of complete disarray, now thriving under your care much as she had under your guidance. everything in the room was carefully chosen to exude warmth, from the plush armchairs that encouraged relaxation to the subtle scent of lavender that lingered in the air, a calming presence in and of itself.

patients came to you from all walks of life, each bringing with them a story woven from the threads of their experiences, traumas, and desires. there were those who arrived at your doorstep with their defences up, their walls built high. but you had a way with people, a way that transcended the clinical distance that often characterized the relationships between psychiatrist and patient. you didn’t just listen to them—you heard them, truly, deeply. you took in not only their words but also the silences between them, the unspoken fears that hid behind carefully chosen phrases, the way their eyes darted away when a subject became too painful to confront.

your reputation had spread quietly, almost organically. it wasn’t that you were a miracle worker or that you possessed some mystical ability to cure what ailed them. rather, it was your presence, the way you made people feel seen and understood without judgment, that drew them in. you never approached a session with preconceived notions or diagnoses waiting to be confirmed. each patient was a blank canvas, and it was your role to help them paint the picture that best represented their truth, no matter how fragmented or abstract it might be.

pills had always been a contentious issue for you. the pharmaceutical industry, with its glossy advertisements and promises of quick fixes, had never sat well with you. to you, the mind was not a machine that could be fine-tuned with a simple dose of chemicals. it was a complex, ever-evolving entity, influenced by experiences, environment, and relationships. you believed that true healing came not from numbing the symptoms but from addressing the root causes, from understanding and untangling the web of emotions and memories that led to a patient’s distress.

when the need for medication arose—and it did, at times, arise—you approached it with the utmost caution. you prescribed only the smallest doses necessary, believing firmly in the principle of ‘less is more.’ and even then, you coupled any prescription with a robust plan of therapy, ensuring that the medication was merely a tool to assist in the journey, not the journey itself. the low dosages you recommended rarely led to backlash, and your patients appreciated your restraint, knowing that you were not one to dole out pills like candy but rather used them as a last resort.

it was in your interactions with your patients that your true skill shone. each session was a dance, a delicate balance of guiding and listening, of leading without forcing. you never rushed them, never pushed them to confront more than they were ready to face. instead, you let them set the pace, allowing the conversation to flow naturally. and when the time came to delve deeper, you did so with a gentleness that put them at ease.

park minhyuk, a man in his early forties who had walked into your office carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. his face was lined with the stress of a life lived under constant pressure, his eyes betraying a deep-seated weariness. he had been referred to you by a friend who spoke highly of your methods. the first time he sat across from you, he looked hesitant, almost skeptical, as if he didn’t quite believe that talking could help him.

“i’m not sure this is going to work,” he had said, his voice heavy with doubt. “i’ve been to therapists before. they all just tell me to take some pills and come back in a few weeks.”

you leaned back in your chair, studying him with a calm, measured gaze. “i’m not here to force anything on you, mister park,” you replied softly. “i’m here to listen, and we’ll move at a pace that feels right for you. there’s no rush.” he had looked at you then, really looked at you, as if searching for something, some sign that you were different. you met his gaze steadily, offering nothing but the quiet assurance that you were there to help, not to judge.

over time, he began to open up, slowly at first, testing the waters. he spoke of his job, the immense pressure to succeed, the constant fear of failure that gnawed at him day and night. he talked about his family, the wife and children he loved dearly but felt disconnected from, the guilt that weighed on him for not being more present in their lives. as he spoke, you listened—not just to his words but to the pain behind them. you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched when he talked about his work, the slight tremor in his voice when he mentioned his children. and when he finally began to talk about the darker thoughts that sometimes crept into his mind, the moments when he wondered if it would be easier just to disappear, you didn’t react with shock or alarm. instead, you nodded, acknowledging his feelings without judgment.

“i understand that it feels overwhelming,” you said gently. “but it’s important to remember that these thoughts, as heavy as they are, don’t define you. they’re part of what you’re going through, but they don’t have to be the end of your story.” he looked at you then, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. “you really think i can get through this?”

“i do,” you replied, your voice steady and sure. “and i’m here to help you find the way.” his journey wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks along the way. but he returned week after week, drawn not just by your words but by the genuine care you showed. and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to heal. he started taking more time for himself, reconnecting with his family, finding ways to manage the stress that had once consumed him. the transformation wasn’t immediate, but it was real, and it was lasting.

your practice grew, not because you advertised or sought out patients, but because word of mouth spread. people spoke of you with a kind of reverence, not because you were a miracle worker, but because you offered them something rare in the world of mental health—a safe space where they could be themselves, where they could speak without fear of judgment, where they knew they would be heard.

even those who had been through the harshest of environments—prisoners, veterans, people who had been hardened by life—found solace in your office. they recommended you to others, saying, “you should see her. she’s different. she cares.” and they weren’t wrong. you had found your calling, not in the pills or the textbooks, but in the people who sat across from you, day after day, baring their souls in the hope of finding some relief from the burdens they carried. and you met them with compassion, with understanding, with a quiet strength that reassured them they were not alone.

despite your skill in navigating the landscapes of other’s minds, there was a vast, uncharted territory within your own that you could not seem to traverse. you could guide others out of their darkness, yet when it came to your own, you were perpetually lost, stumbling through a fog that only seemed to thicken with time. it was a darkness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to have no origin, no clear beginning. you often wondered when it had all started, but the truth was as elusive as the peace you sought.

perhaps it began when your father left. you could still remember the day he walked out, his shadow stretching long across the floor as the door closed behind him. the silence that followed was deafening, a silence that you had been trying to fill ever since. you were young then, too young to understand why he was leaving, too young to grasp the implications. but the abandonment had left a scar, a deep, festering wound that never quite healed. you wondered if that was where it all began, this relentless feeling of being untethered, of floating aimlessly in a vast, empty space.

maybe it was when your mother overdosed, her lifeless body found slumped over in the bathroom, surrounded by the remnants of a life that had spiraled out of control. you had been the one to find her, a memory that still haunted you, that still woke you in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. the sight of her pale, lifeless face was seared into your mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life, of how easily it could slip through your fingers. you had been left to pick up the pieces, to make sense of the senseless, and in doing so, you had buried your own grief, your own pain, deep within you, where it festered in the dark.

there were your grandparents, the last anchors in your life, the last semblance of stability. their deaths had come like a storm, sudden and unforgiving, leaving you alone in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. they had been your safe haven, the only ones who understood the weight you carried, and when they were gone, it felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you. alone. that word echoed in your mind, reverberating off the walls of your empty apartment, a constant reminder of your isolation.

you hated being alone. it wasn’t just a dislike; it was a deep-seated fear, a terror that clawed at you from the inside. when you were alone, your mind became a labyrinth of dark thoughts and memories, each corner hiding another shadow, another demon waiting to pounce. the silence was unbearable, suffocating, so you filled it with noise, any noise that could drown out the voices in your head. you couldn’t stand the short sessions with your patients, craving more time with them, more connection, more distraction from the void inside you. the hour would pass, and you would find yourself wanting to reach out, to extend the session, to hold on to the connection a little longer, just a little longer. but you never did. you were their healer, not the other way around.

housework became a ritual of distraction, each chore accompanied by the blaring sound of music that reverberated through the walls, filling the empty spaces with melodies that drowned out the silence. without music, the house felt too big, too empty, too full of memories you didn’t want to confront. you couldn’t sleep without a movie playing in the background, the flickering light and the familiar voices lulling you into a false sense of security. the thought of lying in bed in complete silence, left alone with your thoughts, was unbearable. so, the movies played, one after another, their comforting narratives keeping the darkness at bay for just a little while longer.

but at the end of the day, when the music stopped, when the movies ended, you were left with nothing but the quiet hum of the empty apartment and the stark realization that you were alone. no parents to comfort you, no friends to lean on, no boyfriend to share your life with. just you. and it wasn’t enough. you had poured so much of yourself into your work, into helping others heal, that you had neglected your own wounds, your own needs. you had become a vessel, emptying yourself for the sake of others until there was nothing left for you.

your patients were the only ones who filled that void, the only ones who made you feel needed, wanted. they confided in you, trusted you, relied on you, and for a while, it was enough. but they were temporary, each one coming to you broken and leaving whole, while you remained the same, a healer who couldn’t heal themselves. when they got better, when they no longer needed you, it broke your heart a little more each time, even though you knew it was coming. it was the nature of your work, after all, to help them, to guide them, and then to let them go. but the letting go was the hardest part because it meant returning to the silence, to the emptiness, to the loneliness that gnawed at you, growing stronger with each departure.

you were sitting in your office, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room as you sifted through patient files and prescription bottles. the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, but you barely noticed. the weight of the empty office felt like a cocoon, enclosing you in a familiar, if not comforting, solitude. the sterile smell of paper and faint traces of disinfectant mingled in the air, a scent that had become as much a part of your life as the darkness that you couldn't seem to shake.

the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder as they approached your door. you knew who it was before she even knocked—a gentle, almost tentative rap on the door, followed by the soft creak as it swung open. “still here?” your manager’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying note of concern that she couldn’t quite mask. hara stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the scattered files and the bottles of pills lined up in neat rows on your desk. the look she gave you was one you’d seen many times before—a mix of empathy, perhaps a touch of pity, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

you didn’t look up immediately, your eyes fixed on the file in front of you as you made a show of scribbling a note in the margins. “just wanted to get as much work done as i could,” you said, finally glancing up with a smile that felt foreign on your lips, a practiced expression that you’d perfected over the years. she didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with those knowing eyes of hers. then she moved closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. the touch was warm, grounding in a way that made you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and let the world fall away. but you didn’t. instead, you stayed still, your smile frozen in place.

“you need to rest,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. she squeezed your shoulder gently before letting her hand drop back to her side. “i will,” you assured her, the lie slipping out as easily as all the others. it was what you were supposed to say, after all, what she expected to hear. but you both knew the truth, didn’t you? you weren’t planning on resting, not anytime soon. rest meant being alone with your thoughts, and that was something you couldn’t bear.

she sighed, a soft sound of resignation, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. she knew she should insist, should tell you to go home and take care of yourself. but she also knew what you would say, how you would deflect with that same smile and those same empty promises. so she didn’t push. instead, she gave you a small nod and fished a set of keys out of her pocket. “lock up when you’re done, alright?” she said, holding the keys out to you.

you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment before she pulled her hand back. “i will,” you said again, and this time she didn’t bother to respond. she just nodded, casting one last glance around your barren office—the empty desk devoid of personal touches, the phone that never rang—before turning and walking out of the room. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone once more. the silence was palpable, pressing in around you, but you welcomed it. it was better than the alternative. you turned back to the files, flipping through them with the pretense of work, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the fog that seemed to constantly hover just at the edges of your consciousness.

you let the minutes tick by, the hours bleeding into one another as you went through the same files, the same bottles, over and over again. you knew there was nothing left to do, nothing left to distract yourself with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. not yet. not when you knew what awaited you outside—the cold, unwelcoming night, the empty apartment, the silence that you couldn’t drown out. but eventually, the futility of your actions became impossible to ignore. the same patient files stared back at you, the same labels on the bottles mocking you with their uselessness. you sighed, a long, drawn-out exhalation of breath that carried with it all the weariness you felt but couldn’t show. there was nothing left to do, no more excuses to stay.

reluctantly, you gathered the files and put them back in their proper place, the routine motions bringing you no comfort. the click of the lock on the file cabinet echoed in the empty room, a finality that made your heart sink. you picked up the keys your manager had left you, your fingers curling around the cool metal, and stood up. the room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. you turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and made your way to the door. the hallway was just as empty as it had been when she left, the building silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. you locked the door behind you, the keys jingling in the quiet as you slipped them into your pocket.

the night air was cool when you stepped outside, unlike the stale, sterile atmosphere of the office. you tucked your hands into your pockets, your breath misting in the air as you stood there for a moment, letting the city’s sounds wash over you. it was late—nearly two in the morning—but the city was still alive, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from a passerby reminding you that you weren’t completely alone.

but it didn’t bring you any comfort. if anything, it made the emptiness inside you more acute, unlike the vibrancy of the world around you. you weren’t tired, though you wished you were. exhaustion would have been a mercy, a way to escape the thoughts that clawed at you in the quiet. but sleep was as elusive as peace, and you knew that returning to your empty apartment would only make things worse.

so you let your feet carry you down the street, the familiar route to the small bar that stayed open late. it wasn’t much, just a hole-in-the-wall with dim lighting and a jukebox that played old songs, but it was something. a place where you could lose yourself for a little while, where the music and the people could drown out the noise in your head. the bar was nearly empty when you walked in, just a few regulars nursing their drinks and the bartender wiping down the counter. you slipped onto a stool at the far end, nodding in acknowledgment as the bartender approached.

“just a whiskey,” you said, your voice low, and he nodded, pouring you a glass without a word. you downed the first drink quickly, the burn of the alcohol a fleeting comfort, and ordered another. the jukebox played a song you didn’t recognize, the melody soft and haunting, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it. the chatter around you faded into the background, the clink of glasses and the murmur of voices becoming nothing more than white noise.

but the comfort was temporary, as it always was. the bar was closing, the bartender giving you a sympathetic look as he handed you your tab. you paid it without complaint, sliding off the stool and making your way to the door with a wave of thanks. the night was colder now, the wind biting at your skin as you walked back to your apartment. the streets were emptier, the city slowly falling asleep, and you found yourself wishing you could do the same. but as you reached your building, the familiar weight of dread settled in your chest. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence immediately enveloping you, as it did every night.

you moved through the motions mechanically—kicking off your shoes, tossing your keys on the table, flicking on the lights. but the apartment felt as cold and lifeless as you did, the emptiness pressing in on you from all sides. you thought about turning on the television, letting the sound fill the void, but you couldn’t muster the energy. instead, you stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of the silence bear down on you.

it was suffocating, this loneliness, this isolation. it was a constant companion, one that you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. and as you finally collapsed onto the couch, pulling a blanket around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. if you were destined to live your life in this void, surrounded by silence and shadows, with no one to share it with. the night stretched on, the city outside your window slowly quieting as it finally succumbed to sleep. but sleep didn’t come for you, not easily, not with the thoughts that swirled in your mind, the memories that haunted you. so you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the darkness close in around you, wondering if there would ever be a way out.

the morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap in your curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you stretched awake, the familiar feeling of weariness hanging heavy in your limbs, but there was something different about today. it was as though a thin veil had lifted, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. you had always been a person of routine, and the thought of returning to your office, of delving back into the rhythm of your work, brought with it a semblance of comfort, a fleeting escape from the solitude that plagued you.

you moved through your morning routine with efficiency, the motions almost automatic. the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you prepared a simple breakfast—toast and jam, with a cup of strong coffee to wake your senses. the radio hummed softly in the background, a familiar companion that provided a semblance of normalcy. you dressed with deliberate care, choosing a crisp, tailored suit that made you feel professional and polished, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

the trip to the office was a brief but pleasant ritual, the city streets bathed in the soft morning light, the air carrying the promise of a new day. you relished the routine, the predictable patterns that offered a sense of control. as you approached your building, you caught sight of the familiar facade, the reassuring solidity of it grounding you.

but as you walked through the entrance, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. hara stood waiting in the lobby. her presence was unusual at this hour, and her expression was more serious than usual. you offered her a friendly smile, but she didn’t immediately return it. instead, she gestured for you to follow her to a quiet corner of the building. “you’ve been working hard,” she began, her tone carrying a note of cautious warmth. “and i wanted to have a word with you.”

you paused, a twinge of apprehension flickering in your chest. “am i in trouble?” you asked, the question escaping before you could second-guess it. hara shook her head, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “no, not at all. well, not yet,” she said, inhaling deeply as if gathering her thoughts.

your heart skipped a beat. “what do you mean?” the uncertainty in her voice sent a ripple of unease through you. “what’s wrong?” she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a look of barely concealed concern. “you have a new patient,” she said finally, her tone shifting to one of subdued excitement as she watched your eyes light up at the news.

“really?” you asked, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. it had been a while since you had taken on a new case, and the prospect of diving into a fresh challenge was invigorating.

hara held up a hand, her expression turning more serious. “don’t get too excited,” she said, her tone taking on a warning edge. “he’ll be your project patient for your internship at the asylum.” the words hit you like a cold splash of water. “the asylum?” you repeated, the dismay clear in your voice. “but i love working here. this office, this environment—i don’t want to leave.”

hara’s face softened, and before you could fully process what was happening, she stepped forward and enveloped you in a hug. the gesture was unexpected, her arms wrapping around you with a warmth and sincerity that contrasted sharply with her usual professional demeanor. for a moment, you let yourself sink into the embrace, the human contact a rare and precious balm against the isolation that had become your constant companion.

“i know,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “i know how much you love it here. but this is something you have to do for your career. it’s a good opportunity, and it’s important for your development.”

you barely registered her words, too caught up in the comforting proximity of another person. the embrace lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to stir something deep within you—a longing for connection, for understanding, for more than just the superficial interactions of your daily life. when she finally pulled away, you nodded, a sense of reluctant acceptance settling over you. “okay,” you said softly, the word carrying more resignation than agreement.

she gave you a reassuring smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and encouragement. “i’ll call a taxi for you,” she said, guiding you toward the building’s entrance. “it’s best if you head over there now. and remember to keep an open mind. this could be a valuable experience.” you followed her outside, the cool morning air brushing against your face. she hailed a taxi and handed you the keys to the office, reminding you to lock up when you finished. you took the keys with a grateful nod and watched as she walked back inside, her figure disappearing into the building.

the ride was a blur of anxious anticipation and reluctant acceptance. the city passed by in a series of shifting scenes, the familiar streets giving way to more industrial landscapes as you neared the asylum. it was a place you had heard about in passing but had never visited—a cold, imposing structure that seemed to loom on the horizon, its architecture stark and unwelcoming.

the asylum loomed before you like a cold, implacable sentinel against the sky, its grim, grey façade cutting through the morning mist. you stood before it for a moment, taking in the sheer scale of the structure—an imposing monolith that seemed to absorb the light, casting long shadows that stretched over the cracked pavement. the windows were narrow, barred, and the walls bore the harshness of age and neglect. there was something distinctly unwelcoming about it, so unlike the warm, inviting atmosphere of your office.

you pushed open the iron door, and a chill seemed to emanate from the very core of the building. the foyer was austere and utilitarian, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and something else—a faint hint of despair that clung to the walls and floors. the reception area was starkly lit, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the sterile surroundings. it was a far cry from the soft lighting and cozy furnishings you were accustomed to.

the receptionist sat behind a high counter, her demeanor as frosty as the environment. she looked up as you approached, her gaze assessing you with a detached scrutiny. her uniform was crisp and immaculate, adding to the air of clinical precision that pervaded the space. “name and business?” she asked, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the chill that seemed to penetrate your bones. “i’m (y/n) (l/n), here for an internship as the asylum’s psychiatrist,” you said, your voice steady despite the uneasy flutter in your stomach. the receptionist’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips twisted into a thin, humorless line. there was something almost predatory in her gaze, a faint glimmer of disdain or perhaps even pity. “follow me,” she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

you trailed behind her as she led you through the labyrinthine corridors of the asylum. the hallways were long and narrow, lined with peeling paint and heavy metal doors. the air was heavy, laden with the echoes of distant voices and the occasional clank of metal on metal. you could hear the shuffling of feet, the murmurs and cries of the patients—a cacophony of sounds that was jarringly different from the calm and composed demeanor of your previous office.

as you walked, you noticed the guards stationed at regular intervals. they were stern-faced and vigilant, their uniforms dark and imposing. their presence was a constant reminder of the control and surveillance that permeated every corner of the asylum. you felt their eyes on you, a silent assessment that made you self-conscious. you passed by several cells, their occupants visible through the narrow windows set into the doors. the patients inside were much unlike the composed individuals you were used to. they paced restlessly, their eyes darting with a wildness that spoke of untamed thoughts and unspoken fears. some shouted incoherently, while others simply stared blankly at the walls. the sense of chaos was eerie, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

eventually, the receptionist stopped in front of a heavy door marked with a simple brass plate that read “psychiatrist.” she unlocked it with a practiced twist of the key and pushed it open, revealing a small, spartan office. the room was a stark departure from the warm, inviting space you were used to. the walls were a dull, institutional green, and the furniture was minimal and functional. there was a plain wooden desk with a single chair behind it and a couple of metal filing cabinets against one wall. a solitary window, heavily barred, provided a view of the bleak courtyard outside. the light that filtered through was cold and uninviting, casting long shadows across the room.

the receptionist stepped inside and placed a folder on the desk. “this is your workspace,” she said, her tone as unfeeling as ever. “you’ll be lucky to make it out alive.”

her words were delivered with a chilling finality, and before you could respond, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the sterile, unwelcoming space. the door clicked shut behind her, and you were left standing in the midst of the clinical bleakness that surrounded you. you stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of your new environment. the emptiness of the room mirrored the uncertainty that was swirling within you. the asylum was a world apart from the comforting familiarity of your office, a place where every detail seemed designed to unsettle and disquiet. as you took in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for the warmth you had left behind and a growing apprehension for what lay ahead.

you turned your attention to the stack of files on your desk, organizing them with methodical precision. the papers were a jumble of case histories, treatment plans, and patient backgrounds. as you sorted through them, the muted rustle of paper was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. you had just begun to lose yourself in the paperwork when a sharp knock on the door startled you. the sound echoed in the otherwise still space, cutting through the quiet like a sudden gust of wind. you looked up, but before you could respond, the door swung open with a slow creak, revealing two guards.

the guards were as imposing as their environment, their uniforms sharp and unyielding. they moved with an air of efficiency, each holding an arm of the man who followed them into the room. your gaze fell upon him, and despite your initial wariness, you were struck by an unsettling calmness that seemed to envelop him. he didn't resist; instead, he walked with an eerie composure, his movements measured and deliberate.

the man was restrained in a straitjacket, his arms bound tightly and secured with a belt around his torso. the sight of the straitjacket, with its bold white fabric and heavy buckles, seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the dull office. the restraints were a harsh reminder of the severe nature of his condition, yet his demeanor was unexpectedly serene. as he was guided to the chair across from your desk, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. he was a tall man, his frame lean but solid. his features were striking—a sharp, prominent jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a distinctly aristocratic appearance. his brown eyes, though calm, carried an intensity that seemed to pierce through the confines of the straitjacket, a depth that hinted at complexities beneath the surface.

there was an unsettling grace to his presence, an almost magnetic quality that drew your attention despite the circumstances. his hair was dark and neatly styled, falling in soft waves that framed his face. the contrast between his physical appeal and the harsh restraints was jarring, creating a dissonance that was difficult to ignore. the guards remained by the door, their expressions guarded and unreadable. they exchanged a brief, knowing look before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with the restrained man. their departure was marked by the soft click of the door as it closed behind them, and the silence that followed was thick and heavy.

you were left in the room with the man, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. the office, with its cold, clinical ambiance, seemed suddenly smaller and more confining. you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself as you prepared to begin the session. the man’s calmness was a definite contrast to the environment of the asylum. he patient’s eyes remained fixed on you, a quiet challenge in their depths, as if he were assessing you as much as you were trying to understand him. you could sense a subtle tension in the air, an undercurrent of anticipation that was almost overwhelming.

you took a deep breath, the silence in the room amplifying the subtle rustle of papers as you mentally prepared yourself for the interaction. the restrained man sat calmly in front of you, his demeanor a striking contrast to the harsh confines of his situation. you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice as you introduced yourself.

“hello, i’m doctor (y/n) (l/n),” you said, your tone measured and professional. “i’ll be working with you during this internship.” as you spoke, the man’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. it was a smile that seemed to hold secrets, one that both intrigued and unsettled you. Hhs eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“lee taeyong,” he said, his voice smooth and articulate. the name struck you with the force of a thunderclap. you hadn’t recognized his face immediately, but his name was unmistakable. lee taeyong—an infamous figure known for his involvement in shootings and robberies. his notoriety had led to his confinement in a correctional facility after being deemed mentally unwell. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your face go pale, the realization dawning with a cold, unwelcome clarity. taeyong’s keen eyes caught the shift in your expression, and a dry chuckle escaped his lips.

“have you heard of me?” he asked, his tone laced with a subtle taunt. you nodded slowly, trying to mask the tension that was creeping into your chest. “yes, i have.”

his laughter was dry and devoid of genuine mirth, a sound that seemed to echo with a dark undertone. “so, are you gonna cure me, doctor?” he asked, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you squared your shoulders, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a confidence you didn’t entirely feel. “there isn’t anything i can’t cure.”

his response was immediate, and he leaned in abruptly, causing you to flinch involuntarily. the sudden movement was unsettling, and you found yourself instinctively retreating. taeyong smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “are you afraid, doctor?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you steadied your breathing, forcing a calmness into your voice as you responded, “i’m not.”

his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor,” he remarked, the compliment carrying an edge of mockery. you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track. “why do you think you’re unstable?”

taeyong’s expression shifted slightly, his demeanor becoming more contemplative. “i don’t think i am,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “but everybody else does. they think my urges are abnormal.” intrigued, you leaned forward slightly. “what kind of urges?”

his eyes darkened with a certain intensity as he spoke. “i like the fear and the thrill,” he said, his voice carrying a chilling calm. “the screams, the way everyone is powerless against me. it’s exhilarating.”

your mind raced as you processed his words, but you decided to take an unexpected step. you reached for the straps of his straitjacket and began to unfasten them, freeing his arms. taeyong’s eyes widened in surprise. “what are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

you smiled, trying to project a sense of ease despite the underlying tension. “i thought you might be more comfortable without the restraints.” his gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a blend of astonishment and wariness. “aren’t you afraid i’ll kill you?”

you met his gaze steadily, feeling a strange sense of calmness despite the gravity of the situation. “i don’t think you will.” his brows knitted together in confusion. “how do you know?”

“because,” you said softly, “i don’t believe you’re a bad person.” the sincerity in your voice seemed to take him aback. his eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked genuinely disoriented by your kindness. the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, a tentative bridge forming between the two of you.

taeyong leaned back, his posture relaxing slightly as he began to open up in a way that was both fascinating and ominous. he spoke of his past, his thoughts, and his perceptions with a raw honesty that was unsettling yet compelling. his words were a tapestry of dark desires and twisted logic, but there was an underlying vulnerability that made it clear he was grappling with his own demons.

as the session drew to a close, he looked at you with an unsettling blend of anticipation and something akin to respect. “i look forward to seeing you again, doctor.” he said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. to your surprise, you found yourself looking forward to it as well. there was something about the interaction, the unexpected connection, that left you both unsettled and intrigued. as you watched him being escorted out by the guards, the weight of the session settled on your shoulders.

the morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm, gentle glow over the room. yet, despite the comforting start to your day, your mind was occupied with a singular thought—your next session with taeyong. the anticipation was a new and curious sensation, one that both thrilled and unsettled you. there was something compelling about his presence, a magnetic pull that made you eager to continue your interactions with him.

as you prepared for work, you found yourself contemplating how to make the next session more engaging, more comforting for him. the idea of a small gesture—something that might break through the cold walls of the asylum and create a connection—seemed to be the right approach. you decided to get him a gift, a symbol of the positive interaction you hoped to foster.

you ventured out to a small, quaint shop that morning, one filled with charming trinkets and comforting knick-knacks. your eyes scanned the shelves until they fell upon a small, stuffed kitten, its plush fur a soft, inviting shade of cream. it was delicate and unassuming, a small source of innocence amidst the reality of the asylum. you picked it up with a sense of purpose, imagining how such a simple object might ease the harshness of taeyong’s environment.

when you arrived at the asylum, the day’s routine felt different. the walls seemed colder, the atmosphere more oppressive, but the small stuffed kitten in your bag provided a small spark of warmth. as you approached your office, you were taken aback to find taeyong already seated in the chair, an unexpected sight. his presence there, so much earlier than anticipated, stirred a peculiar flutter in your chest. “you’re early today,” you remarked, trying to keep your tone light and neutral.

taeyong looked up at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “i couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement that made your heart skip a beat. the sincerity in his words resonated deeply with you, and a small, inexplicable connection seemed to click into place. you felt a warm flush creep up your neck, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your planned gesture.

“i have something for you,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out the stuffed kitten. taeyong’s eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. “what’s this?” he asked, his tone a mix of intrigue and amusement.

you extended the kitten towards him, a smile playing at your lips. “it’s a little gift. i thought it might help make things a bit more comfortable here.” he took the kitten from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electrifying moment. as he cradled the stuffed animal in his hands, a look of genuine appreciation crossed his face. “i’m honored,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the kitten.

you watched as he examined the plush toy with a sense of fascination. “i want you to take good care of it,” you said, your voice gentle. “if you can fight the urge to hurt it, then maybe you can fight the urge to hurt anything.” his lips curved into a mischievous smile as he toyed with the kitten, his fingers brushing over its soft fur.

“is that your way of challenging me, doctor?” he asked, his tone light but edged with an underlying seriousness. you nodded, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “something like that,” you replied.

the session began in earnest, the conversation flowing with a new ease as taeyong’s attention seemed drawn to the small stuffed animal. he spoke of his past, his feelings, and his thoughts with a candor that was both unsettling and revealing. his insights were intertwined with moments of dark humor and cryptic reflections, making it clear that he was a man of contradictions. at one point, as you listened intently, his hand, still holding the kitten, brushed against a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face. the touch was fleeting but intimate, a gesture that caught you off guard. you looked up to meet his gaze, finding a depth in his eyes that was both intense and vulnerable.

“i meant what i said earlier,” taeyong said, his voice softening. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor.” you blinked in surprise, trying to process the compliment amidst the complexity of the situation. “what do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

his expression remained earnest, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that was rare in such an environment. “you just don’t seem like someone who should be confined to this place. there’s something different about you.”

the moment lingered between you, charged with an emotional undercurrent that was difficult to define. despite the oddity of the situation, you felt a surprising warmth in his words. it was an acknowledgment of your humanity amidst the dehumanizing environment of the asylum. as the session drew to a close, you gathered your things, the small stuffed kitten resting on the desk between you. taeyong’s gaze followed you with an almost reluctant admiration, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air as you prepared to leave.

“i look forward to seeing you again,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine hope. you nodded, a small smile touching your lips. “i look forward to seeing you too.”

with that, you watched as taeyong was escorted out by the guards, the connection between you both lingering like a faint but persistent echo. the asylum, with all its harsh realities, seemed momentarily softened by the unexpected bond that had formed. as you left for the day, the small stuffed kitten seemed to symbolize a fragile bridge between your world and his. you just weren't aware of how sturdy, nor how fragile, the bridge really was.

the weeks that followed your initial session with taeyong felt like a delicate dance, a precarious balance between professional distance and the growing, unspoken connection that had begun to develop between you. each session became a complex interplay of emotions and revelations, and you found yourself increasingly invested in his progress.

you had begun to believe, with a cautious optimism, that taeyong was making strides. the sessions were marked by moments of genuine insight and self-reflection from him, which seemed to indicate that he was grappling with his inner turmoil in ways that were both constructive and revealing. there was an undeniable progress, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope every time you saw him approach with that enigmatic smile.

during one particular session, you found yourself immersed in a conversation about his past, his regrets, and his aspirations. taeyong, with his characteristic curiosity and sharpness, suddenly shifted the focus of the conversation. “what about you, doctor?” he asked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine interest. “what do you struggle with?”

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated. it was unusual for a patient to turn the spotlight onto you, especially someone like taeyong, whose own issues seemed so consuming. you took a deep breath, searching for the right words to encapsulate the truth.

“i suppose,” you began, struggling to find a way to articulate your feelings. “i've been lonely my whole life.” taeyong’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in his gaze seemed to melt away. “no woman like you should ever feel lonely,” he said softly, his tone laced with an unexpected gentleness.

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you felt a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of emotion. you looked up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity. before you could fully process the weight of his statement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “do you feel lonely with me here?” he asked, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as if to drown out the rest of the world. the proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his breath combined to create a heady cocktail of sensations. you fought to maintain composure, but the answer came out more as a breathless confession. “no,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

taeyong’s fingers, moving with deliberate slowness, traced a path along your neck. the touch was light but electrifying, a sensation that left your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat. “you shouldn’t,” he said, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible note of possessiveness.

the weight of his touch, the intimacy of the moment, and the raw honesty in his words created a potent mix of emotions that overwhelmed you. as the session drew to a close, you found yourself grappling with a tumult of conflicting feelings. the professional boundaries that had once seemed so clear were now blurred, and you were left with a gnawing sense of guilt for finding comfort in a connection that was fundamentally inappropriate.

the room seemed colder as you watched him leave, the reality of the asylum returning with its harsh, unyielding presence. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the echo of his breath in your ear, and the weight of his words in your heart. the session had brought a confusing mixture of warmth and unease, and as you locked up your office and walked out into the night, the loneliness you had tried so hard to combat felt more intense than ever.

as the days turned into weeks, the asylum’s sterile corridors and echoing chambers seemed to shrink in comparison to the burgeoning world of emotions you experienced during your sessions with taeyong. each encounter with him became a delicate interplay of professional duty and personal connection, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that you struggled to fully comprehend.

the sessions grew more intense and revealing, both for you and for taeyong. you could no longer ignore the way your heart would race in anticipation of each meeting. the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his presence seemed to fill the room with a bright energy—it was impossible to deny the deepening bond between you.

in one particular session, taeyong sat across from you, the small stuffed kitten now a constant companion in his hands. the stuffed animal had become a symbol of the connection you shared, its presence a silent witness to your evolving relationship. “you know,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of introspection, “i’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve talked about. you’ve managed to get me to see things differently. i never thought i’d say this, but i think i owe you more than just my progress.”

you looked at him, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected confession. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice steady but filled with curiosity. his gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that was both disarming and endearing. “you’ve been patient with me, more patient than anyone else ever has. i think,” he paused, choosing his words with care. “i think you’ve made me feel things i didn’t know i could still feel.”

you could feel the weight of his words settling over you, a mix of excitement and apprehension. “and what is it that you feel?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. he took a deep breath, his fingers absently stroking the kitten. “i feel understood. cared for, in a way I never thought i’d experience again. it’s strange, but i think i’m beginning to look forward to these sessions more than i should.”

the admission struck a chord within you, and you felt a mixture of joy and sadness. joy at the progress he was making and sadness at the realization that your growing affection for him might blur the lines of your professional role. during another session, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure as taeyong’s attention shifted to you in a way that felt increasingly personal. he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

“you know,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “i’ve noticed something about you. you seem different when we talk. there’s something in the way you look at me. something more than just concern.” you felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

his eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “i think you care about me more than you let on. and i can’t help but feel the same way.”

the admission hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that was impossible to ignore. you felt a surge of emotion, a tumult of conflicting feelings as you tried to process his words. it was both thrilling and terrifying to acknowledge that your feelings for taeyong had grown beyond the boundaries of professional detachment.

as the session continued, his demeanor shifted. he seemed more relaxed, more open, and the connection between you felt more tangible than ever. the way he would smile at you, the way his eyes would linger on yours—it was clear that the emotional bond between you was deepening. you struggled with the guilt and the moral conflict of your growing affection for him, knowing that it was inappropriate yet feeling a profound, undeniable connection.

the day you arrived for your next session with taeyong, you felt an unusual sense of anticipation. the asylum's cold corridors seemed to blur as you walked briskly toward your office, your mind already filled with thoughts of the conversation you hoped to have. but as you reached the familiar door, a pang of anxiety hit you when you noticed the room was empty.

your heart sank as you turned to the guards stationed outside the office. “where’s taeyong?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the growing concern. the guards exchanged uneasy glances before one of them responded. “they’ve decided to test their luck with another psychiatrist today. wanted to see how he’d react.”

a cold wave of dread washed over you, and you felt a sharp pang of heartache. before you could ask for more details, the silence of the corridor was shattered by a deafening crash. your heart raced as the sound of shattering furniture and frantic shouting reached your ears.

without a second thought, you sprinted down the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the sterile space. as you rounded the corner, you saw the scene unfolding in your office. taeyong, his face a mask of determination, was wielding a chair above his head, his muscles tensed in a show of raw strength. the psychiatrist lay sprawled on the floor, his face a picture of shock and pain. the guards were shouting, their voices a blur as they rushed toward taeyong. “what happened?” one of them demanded, their tone filled with both anger and concern.

his gaze, sharp and intense, found yours amidst the chaos. “i told you,” he said, his voice carrying a fierce determination, “i wanted to see doctor (l/n).”

the room seemed to freeze for a moment as his words sank in. he was swiftly restrained and escorted back to his cell, leaving you standing in the doorway of your office, your heart aching at the sight of the broken scene before you. the guards, now dealing with the aftermath of his outburst, left you waiting alone in the hallway. time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stood there, your mind racing with a tumult of conflicting emotions. when taeyong was finally brought out again, his demeanor was calmer, though his eyes held a deep, unfathomable intensity.

he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and something more personal. “what were you doing there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of disbelief. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “i was waiting for you,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest.

his eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “seriously?” you nodded, feeling a strange blend of relief and apprehension. “yes, seriously.”

once back in your office, the atmosphere felt charged with an electric tension. you sat across from him, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the events. “why did you crash out like that?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady. “you were making so much progress.”

taeyong’s expression softened slightly as he reached for the small stuffed kitten that had become a symbol of your sessions. he held it up, its soft fur unmarred by the recent issues. “because,” he said, his voice softening with an intensity that made your breath catch, “i’m in love with you.”

the confession hung heavy in the air, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, confusion, and a deep, aching resonance. you stared at him, unable to fully process the gravity of his words. “i am too,” you said finally, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission.

without another word, he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on you with a fierce, unyielding intensity. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. it felt wrong, a violation of every professional boundary you had sworn to uphold. yet, the raw, desperate need to connect, to feel something beyond the crushing loneliness that had plagued you, overpowered your sense of propriety.

the kiss was intense, filled with a mix of longing and desperation that made your heart race. his lips were warm against yours, his touch both gentle and insistent. every brush of his mouth, every caress of his fingers, seemed to echo the depth of the emotions you had both been struggling to contain. as the kiss deepened, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions—guilt and exhilaration, fear and desire. the world outside faded away, leaving only the overwhelming intensity of the moment. the walls of the asylum, the rules you had so carefully adhered to, and the boundaries you had maintained all seemed to crumble in the face of the unexpected connection.

taeyong’s hands slid up your body, cupping your tits over your blouse. his thumbs brushed against your nipples, which hardened immediately under his touch. you gasped into his mouth, your body responding with a fiery hunger that was impossible to ignore. his touch was rough, yet tender, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile bond that had formed between you. his words from earlier played in your mind, and you felt a thrill of arousal that was as surprising as it was undeniable. you pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor as you stood to face him. your hands found the hem of your blouse, lifting it over your head to expose your bra. his eyes raked over your body, dark with desire. “you have no idea,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “how long i’ve wanted this.”

you stepped closer to him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. it fell away, revealing your full, round tits. taeyong’s gaze was glued to them, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight. he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he licked one nipple, then the other, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning with need. your hands found his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard.

his hands moved to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he unzipped them. you stepped out of them, feeling a sense of vulnerability that was both terrifying and thrilling. he pushed you back onto the desk, his mouth moving down your body as he kissed and licked a trail to your center. his fingers found their way inside your panties, stroking your wet folds.

his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. you moaned, arching your back as he explored you with a fervor that left you breathless. he was rough, yet precise, his touch speaking of a hunger that matched your own. you could feel his erection pressing against you through his pants, and the thought of his big dick inside you made you wetter still. his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had you panting. your hips rocked against his face, desperate for more. “please, taeyong,” you begged, your voice needy and wanton. “fuck me. make me feel alive again.”

his only response was to stand up, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. he stepped closer, positioning himself between your legs, and without preamble, he pushed into you.

the sensation was overwhelming—he was so much bigger than any man you had ever been with. it was a stretch, a burn that bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense that you didn’t care. you gripped the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood as he began to thrust, hard and deep. his strokes were punctuated with dirty talk that made you feel like a whore, but it only served to make you wetter, to make you want him more.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, feeling his cock fill you completely. his breath was hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “you’re mine, doctor,” he growled. “no better cure than this pussy, fuck.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was a line you could never uncross. but in that moment, as you felt him thrust inside you with a roar of pleasure, you didn’t care. he was close, his thrusts sloppy as his fingers pulled your hair, your whimpers making his dick twitch.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. your tits bounced with every impact, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he whispered obscenities in your ear. it was a symphony of degradation and lust, and you were the eager conductor, urging him on. your pussy was tight around his cock, gripping him with every stroke, and you knew you were close to the edge.

suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and needy. you looked up at him, your eyes glazed with passion, and he smirked. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice gruff. you complied, turning onto your stomach and spreading your legs, the cool desk against your burning skin. he stepped behind you, his cock nudging at your entrance again. without warning, he slammed back into you, making you cry out.

the new angle was exquisite, his cock hitting deeper, reaching parts of you that had never been touched before. you pushed back against him, your body begging for more. his hands gripped your hips, his nails digging in as he picked up the pace. “yeah, take it like that, like the slut you are,” he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command. your cheeks flushed at the words, but you found yourself pushing back even harder, eager to prove his words true. with every thrust, he whispered filthy compliments about your body, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you like he owned you.

his hand reached around to play with your clit, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. your moans grew louder, filling the room. the sound of skin slapping against skin was the only music in the air, a rhythmic crescendo that grew more intense with every second. you felt your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his cock. “that’s it, doctor. cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse with lust. and with a final, brutal thrust, you did, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. he followed shortly after, his seed spilling into you, marking you as his.

once the tremors had subsided, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. you felt the stickiness between your legs, a reminder of what had just transpired. as you looked back at him, you saw the smug satisfaction on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger. but it was quickly drowned out by the addictive thrill of the power exchange. you had never felt so alive, so desired. it was therapeutic. and as he stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, you knew that this was far from over. there was an unspoken promise in his eyes, a challenge for you to come back for more. and you knew, without a doubt, that you would.

as taeyong straightened his clothes, his gaze never left you, the intensity in his eyes as present as ever. he was murmuring something under his breath, and you had to strain to hear his words amidst the whirlwind of emotions you were trying to process. “i feel as if you’ve cured me,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of genuine relief.

you blinked, taken aback by his declaration. “are you serious?” you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and hope. he nodded slowly, a small, almost serene smile playing on his lips. “yes, i am.”

the room seemed to hold its breath as he began to dress himself, each movement deliberate and composed. your own heart raced as you grappled with the weight of his words. the promise of cure and the possibility of something more twisted together in your mind. he turned to you, his expression serious yet tender.

“i need you to do something for me,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “anything,” you replied without hesitation, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions brewing within you.

taeyong’s gaze softened slightly, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “i need a machine gun.” the request hit you like a jolt. “a machine gun?” you repeated, trying to comprehend the gravity of what he was asking.

“yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “if you don’t want to help me, i understand, but i need one.” you were silent for a moment, the enormity of his request settling over you. the ethical and legal implications were enormous, yet the urgency in his tone and the trust he placed in you compelled you to respond. shaking your head, you met his gaze with determination. “i’ll do it.”

taeyong’s eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “thank you for curing me.”

the warmth of his touch lingered long after he had left. that night, the enormity of hia request weighed heavily on you, but you were resolute. if this was what he needed, then you would find a way. the loneliness that had plagued you seemed to intensify with the knowledge of his needs, but it also spurred you into action. you spent the evening making discreet, cautious inquiries, your mind racing with worry and determination. you knew the gravity of what you were doing, the potential consequences, but the promise of alleviating your own profound sense of loneliness and his plea drove you forward. finally, after hours of careful navigation through back channels and clandestine meetings, you acquired the machine gun. it was a heavy, ominous object, wrapped in layers of secrecy and dread.

you stored it securely in a hidden compartment of your bag, the weight of it pressing down with a disquieting sense of finality. the next morning, you arrived at the asylum with a mix of dread and anticipation, knowing that the day’s session would be unlike any before. entering your office, you saw taeyong already seated, a patient yet expectant look on his face. your heart skipped a beat as you approached him, the hidden weight of the machine gun in your bag seeming almost to pulse with your anxiety.

“good morning,” you said, forcing a smile. “good morning,” he replied, his eyes immediately catching the glint of anticipation in yours.

you sat down across from him and carefully extracted the machine gun from your bag. his eyes widened in surprise and then satisfaction as you laid the weapon on the desk before him. “i didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and approval. “you said you needed it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “i wouldn’t let you down.”

taeyong’s gaze softened as he reached out to touch the machine gun, his fingers brushing over the cold metal with a sense of reverence. “thank you,” he said quietly. “i knew you were the right fit for me.” the session continued with a shift in atmosphere. taeyong seemed more at ease, his demeanor less guarded and more open. the conversation flowed with a new ease, and you felt a strange sense of fulfillment. the machine gun, despite its ominous presence, seemed to be a catalyst for something deeper between you.

as the session drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave, savoring the brief moments of connection and understanding. you had made significant strides with taeyong, and the realization that he trusted you so deeply was both exhilarating and unsettling. the rest of the day was spent in a haze of reflection. you sorted through files and paperwork, your mind frequently drifting back to him and the connection you shared. the solitude of your office seemed less oppressive, the quiet punctuated by thoughts of him. each task felt like a distraction from the growing realization that, in taeyong, you had found a source of profound connection.

in the quiet of your office, surrounded by the mundane tasks of your work, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted. the loneliness that had once felt so encompassing now seemed to have been touched by the fleeting moments of intimacy and connection you had shared with him. you were less alone than you had been before, and yet, the path you were on was fraught with moral and emotional complexity.

the night fell over the asylum with a chilling, almost suffocating stillness. you were at your desk, sorting through a mountain of paperwork, the dim light casting shadows over the piles of files. the routine of your task offered a semblance of normalcy, a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that had consumed you lately. you were lost in the monotony of sorting and filing when an unsettling noise shattered the silence.

the distant sounds of gunshots, crashing furniture, and frantic screams pierced through the walls. your heart leapt into your throat as the reality of what was unfolding outside became painfully clear. Instinctively, you ducked under your desk, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to stifle the rising panic. the noises outside were chaotic, a cacophony of violence and fear that seemed to grow louder by the second.

taeyong’s plan had taken shape, and the asylum was in disarray. he had enlisted the help of several other inmates, each fueled by the same chaotic energy that defined taeyong himself. the sound of gunfire rang out intermittently, each shot a reminder of the danger that now surrounded you. the air was thick with tension, and you could hear the muffled sounds of struggle and conflict as the inmates carried out their rebellion.

the commotion grew closer, and suddenly, two figures burst into your office. your heart pounded in your chest as they grabbed you roughly by the arms. you struggled against their grip, your cries of protest barely audible over the tumult outside. they dragged you to your desk and, despite your frantic attempts to break free, began restraining you with the belts from straitjackets. the leather straps cut into your skin as they bound your arms and legs to the desk, rendering you immobile.

you pleaded with them, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. “please, don’t do this. let me go. i’ll do anything.”

the inmates remained silent, their faces impassive as they completed their task. the office, once a place of calm and control, was now a prison, its familiar surroundings now oppressive and alien. as the last of the restraints were secured, the door creaked open, and taeyong stepped into the room. his appearance was striking against the backdrop of screams. he was calm, almost serene, despite the mayhem that had unfolded. the sight of him brought a mix of relief and dread. you gazed up at him, your eyes wide with terror as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“taeyong,” you said, your voice quivering. “are you really gonna kill me?”

he walked towards you with an unsettling calm, his expression unreadable. as he neared, he paused, his gaze locking with yours. “i’m not going to kill you,” he assured, his voice soft but carrying a chilling edge. “i just need to hurt you enough to make sure you’ll be mine.”

the words hung heavy in the air, and your heart raced as you watched him produce a small metal device from his pocket. the sight of the electric shock equipment made your blood run cold. it was an instrument of pain, and its presence signaled a new level of cruelty.

to your surprise, taeyong’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “i know you thought you were helping me,” he said, his tone almost apologetic. “but now it’s my turn to help you.”

the device was cold against your skin as he pressed it to your head. a jolt of electricity surged through you, and your body convulsed involuntarily. the sensation was overwhelming, a harsh intrusion into your consciousness. you felt your mind slipping away from the present, a series of fragmented images and memories flashing before your eyes.

your mother’s face appeared, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. then, your father, followed by your grandparents, each visage a poignant reminder of loss. the images shifted and morphed, replaced by a vision of yourself with taeyong. you were working together, your roles reversed, with him now a cured man, living with you in a semblance of normalcy. the visions continued, showing a future that was both alluring and terrifying. you saw yourselves speeding down a highway, the police in hot pursuit. the trunk of your car was filled with money, a symbol of the danger and thrill that had become intertwined with your relationship. the exhilaration of the chase was intense, but it was overshadowed by an undercurrent of dread.

the final image was the most haunting. you saw yourself detached, your love for taeyong twisted into something unrecognizable. the thrill had turned into a grim reality, the danger of your actions reflected in the cold, hard truths of your choices. the vision was a cruel reminder of the consequences that awaited you, the stark reality of a future bound by the darkness you had embraced.

as the electric shock subsided, your body trembled uncontrollably. your mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions and revelations. you felt a profound sense of numbness, the shock leaving you disoriented and frightened. the room seemed to close in around you, what used to be a familiar space now a prison of your own making. in the end, you wished it had killed you. death seemed more reasonable, more promising, than what the future had in store for you.

✧.*

a/n: requested fic!!! the smut part at least i really dk where i was going with this plot lol