Years had passed.

The little girl with hollow eyes and a broken voice had grown into a woman carved from pain. Yn, now sixteen, stood tall and poised—beautiful, but cold. The kind of beauty you don’t dare to touch. The kind you bleed for if you get too close.

She smiled less. Spoke less. But behind her eyes, storms brewed. Quiet, calculated, and waiting.

She had asked Mrs. Kang once—Please try to find my parents.

The woman had tried. With her heart in her hands, she knocked on every door, filed every paper, even walked into the cold halls of the police station.

But every path led to nothing.

And one rainy afternoon, while Yn waited outside, she heard two officers laughing behind the closed door.

"The case was shut down."

"Powerful man. Paid us good money to forget it even happened."

"What do you expect? Justice doesn’t exist for the poor and forgotten."

That day, something inside her snapped.

She walked out of the station, her fists clenched so tight her nails cut into her palms.

She never believed in angels. But now she didn’t believe in law either.

From that moment on, her only god was revenge.

---

At sixteen, she found tutors in alleys and underground rings. Boxing. Blades. Guns. Swords. She learned to move without sound. To strike without hesitation. Every bruise was a reminder. Every drop of sweat was her vow:

I will find him.

I will bury him.

Mrs. Kang never questioned her.

She noticed the scars, the way Yn’s knuckles were always bandaged, the haunted look in her eyes that only deepened with time. But she said nothing. Only offered warm food, a soft place to land, and unconditional love Yn never asked for—but always received.

But he—the man in that house—was always watching.

And his stares? They weren’t the kind a father gives a child.

They were hungry. Predatory.

Like a wolf watching a lamb grow into a lioness… and wanting to break her before she got too strong.

That day, the house was quiet.

Mrs. Kang had gone out for groceries. Yn stood in the kitchen, the smell of sautéed garlic rising around her as she stirred the pot. Her hoodie was old and her hair in a messy bun. Just another day. Just another dinner.

Until two arms wrapped around her from behind.

She froze.

His breath hit her neck—hot and sour with alcohol.

“You’ve grown up so well,” he murmured, voice thick and low. “Pretty little thing. Just like your mother must’ve been.”

His hand slipped under her shirt.

And in that moment, everything went silent.

Then—

CRASH!

The pan dropped.

Yn spun around and shoved him so hard he stumbled back, slamming into the counter.

Her face was pale with fury. Her breath ragged. Her eyes wide.

“Don’t touch me,” she snarled.

He chuckled. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t want it. You wear these tight clothes, walk around like you own the house—”

She grabbed the knife.

The blade glinted under the light.

“Touch me again and I swear—”

But he lunged. He try to hold her shoulder but she dodged him and her shirt torn exposing your skin.

And she didn’t hesitate.

The knife went in.

Deep.

His eyes widened in shock as blood soaked through his shirt.

He staggered, groaning in pain—and then Mrs. Kang walked in.

Groceries dropped to the floor.

Time stopped.

She saw everything.

The torn shirt. Yn’s trembling frame. Her hair in disarray. The tears streaming down her cheeks.

Mrs. Kang didn’t need an explanation.

She knew.

Her heart cracked. Her rage boiled.

The girl she had raised. The daughter she never bore—but loved more than life.

And that man… that monster…

She stepped forward, snatched the knife from Yn’s shaking hand—

—and stabbed him again.

And again.

And again.

Screaming with every thrust.

“For the bruises!”

“For the nights I cried alone!”

"For the things you did with me!"

“For the girl I love more than my own blood!”

His body slumped to the floor.

His eyes wide, mouth agape, blood spreading across the tiles like spilled ink.

Mrs. Kang dropped the knife and collapsed to her knees beside Yn, wrapping her arms around the girl who had never let anyone see her break.

Yn sobbed.

Not just from fear.

But because someone had finally fought for her.

It took hours.

The cold night wind sliced through their skin like razors, but neither Mrs. Kang nor Yn flinched. Silence hung between them like a ghost as they dragged his body—limp, lifeless, bleeding still—through the overgrown backyard.

No words were spoken.

No tears were shed.

Only the sound of shovels digging into wet soil, and the faint rustle of trees, as if the world was watching but dared not speak.

Mrs. Kang’s hands bled from the effort, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even blink when she tossed her husband’s body into the shallow grave. The man who abused her. Who tried to break Yn.

Now he was just another secret swallowed by the earth.

They buried him beneath the cold moon, the dirt covering not just a corpse, but years of suffering.

When they finished, Mrs. Kang turned to Yn, covered in dirt and blood, and said in a low whisper, “From today… this house belongs to us. No fear. No chains. No more looking over your shoulder.”

Yn nodded.

She didn’t feel relief. Or regret.

Only resolve.

The days passed. People knocked, asked questions—Where is your husband? What happened?

Mrs. Kang smiled politely. “He left me,” she’d say with a hollow laugh. “Said he never loved me. Good riddance, I say.”

And the world, drunk on gossip, nodded and moved on.

Some whispered.

Some suspected.

But no one looked deep enough to find a body beneath the roses.

And Yn?

She didn’t flinch at the whispers.

Because her mind was far away, locked in one place:

Vengeance.

Every night, after Mrs. Kang fell asleep, Yn sat in front of her old laptop. The glow of the screen lit up her face—sharp, beautiful, haunted. She scoured forums, hacker networks, social platforms, black market message boards.

Names. Faces. Crimes.

All in search of him.

The man who will help her to take her revenge.

The man she still saw every time she closed her eyes. She want to kill him brutally.

She didn’t even know his name. Just the cold glint in his eyes. The way he smiled as he killed. The tattoo on his wrist- a black Panther. She knows it's not easy to find him so she enter in deep dark web. And she don't know about it anything so she start to search for the person who knows everything about mafia world.

She searched for that person ike it was her compass.

And then—

One night.

One article.

A headline in a buried, encrypted corner of the deep web.

> "Mafia Bloodline: Jeon Jungkook, The Silent Ghost of Seoul."

Her heart stopped.

She clicked.

The article was heavily redacted. But what she read made her breath hitch:

> “Feared by many. Known by few. Jeon Jungkook—code name Ghost—is one of the youngest mafia lords in Korea’s underworld. Ruthless. Clean. And unstoppable. It's said he doesn’t speak unless he has to. But when he does… it’s always the last thing you’ll hear.”

Scroll.

> “Rumored to be connected to over 30 disappearances. Several underworld leaders believe he was raised by the Black Serpent Clan. Their mark—a snake with blood-red fangs—is seen only by those about to die.”

The tattoo.

Her blood went cold.

Her fingers shook.

Black Serpent Clan.

That was it.

She didn’t care if Jungkook was a monster. She didn’t care if he drowned the world in blood.

He was her way in.

She leaned back in her chair, the screen casting shadows across her face.

A smirk slowly curved her lips.

“I found you,” she whispered. “Let’s see if the devil will make a deal with me".

The path to the underworld wasn't carved in gold or brimstone.

It reeked of piss, gunpowder, and sweat. It was in the slums, the forgotten alleys, and abandoned buildings where law was a joke and bullets were currency.

And Yn walked through all of it.

Alone.

Unflinching.

She slipped into bars drenched in cigar smoke and secrets. Places where names were spoken in whispers, and even rats didn’t dare squeak too loud. She watched. She listened. She paid with stolen money and bruised fists. Her blade kissed the throats of those who lied.

Every step closer brought her deeper into hell.

And then she started to hear it.

“Ghost.”

“He doesn’t talk.”

“He sees everything.”

“You don’t find him. He finds you.”

But Yn was different.

She wasn’t looking for survival.

She was looking for war.

After weeks of blood, threats, and coded language, a drug runner slipped—just enough.

A rumor. A whisper.

A mansion. Buried in the forest. Off any map. Off any grid.

No one knew the exact route.

Only his men did.

So she followed them.

Watched from rooftops. Tracked license plates. Waited in shadows until finally—she saw it.

One black car. Unmarked. Driving a twisted, concealed road deep into the eastern woods.

She followed. On foot. Silent as death.

It took two hours.

Branches clawed at her arms. Mud stained her boots. But she didn’t stop. Not even when the path vanished and trees became walls.

And then—

There it was.

Like a goddamn mirage in the darkness.

A mansion.

Vast. Black stone and steel. Iron gates with no visible entry pad. Surveillance cameras that blinked like dead eyes. And silence—unnatural and absolute.

No birds.

No wind.

Just the weight of something ancient and dangerous watching from behind glass.

Yn crouched behind the treeline, breath shallow, heart a steady drum of fury and anticipation.

So this is where you hide, Jeon Jungkook.

Ghost of Seoul.

She didn’t know how yet.

Didn’t know when.

But one thing was certain:

She would stand in front of him. Look him in the eye. And make him choose.

Help me burn the man who took my happiness-

Or try to stop me. And burn with him.

She knew it's risky but still she didn't stop. Because he is the only person who can help her.

The forest was alive.

Howls echoed in the distance, low and hungry. The wind hissed through the trees like a warning.

But Yn didn’t stop.

Her boots crushed fallen leaves. Her hoodie was soaked from dew. A black mask covered her mouth. Her eyes—those cold, unflinching eyes—were the only thing visible.

Two guards stood in front of the mansion’s iron gate.

Armed.

Trained.

But not ready for her.

They tensed immediately, raising their guns. The red dots of their scopes painted her chest.

"Stop right there," one barked. "Who the hell are you?"

She didn’t even blink.

Her voice cut through the night like a blade.

> “I want to meet Jeon Jungkook.”

There was no fear in her tone. No hesitation. Just cold fire.

The guards exchanged glances.

One reached for his comm, whispering something in code.

High above, behind bulletproof glass, a man stood watching.

The room was dark. Lit only by the dim glow of security screens and a burning cigar between his fingers.

Jeon Jungkook.

The Ghost of Seoul.

Dressed in all black—no chains, no flash, no distractions. Just silent power wrapped in sin.

His sharp jaw was Clenched and a wicked smirk playing on his lips. Tattoos snaked up his arms like war stories. And those eyes—dark, heavy-lidded, and unreadable—never left the screen.

He watched the girl. Watched the way she didn’t flinch under red laser sights. The way her posture didn’t scream recklessness—but purpose.

> “So,” he murmured, lips curling into a quiet smirk, “you’ve finally found me.” he knew of course he knows everything related to him. Even a leaf moves from his permission because it's his world and you dare to enter in his world.

He took a slow drag of his cigar and exhaled, the smoke curling like whispers around him.

> “Let’s see who you really are… and what burns inside you.”

He snapped his fingers.

"Bring her in."

Two guards stepped forward, guns still trained on her.

“Hands,” one said. “We take you in blindfolded. Non-negotiable.”

Yn raised her hands slowly, controlled.

She didn’t resist as they cuffed her.

Didn’t flinch when they tied a black cloth over her eyes.

Because this was exactly what she wanted.

Let them think she’s vulnerable.

Let them bring her to the devil himself.

Because tonight—she’d face him.

And if he didn't agree to help her burn the past to the ground—

She’d burn his world first.

To be continued... Their story begins let's move forward and see what will happen next? Will jungkook listen to her story?? Like and comment my pretty readers🥺💗