The thick tension in the room could’ve sliced through flesh.

Everyone was there—Yoongi, Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, Hoseok, Taehyung—standing frozen by the entrance.

The room echoed with the brutal sound of fists slamming against punching bags and breathless grunts.

And there she was—YN—her knuckles raw, blood staining the tape wrapped around her hands.

She hadn't spoken a word to any of them all day.

Cold. Silent. Obsessed.

Until the silence shattered.

"Six months," she muttered, eyes locked on the punching bag.

"Six fucking months of training, bleeding, breathing this place... and nothing."

She turned.

Her eyes met Jungkook’s. The air turned colder.

“You already know where that motherfucker is, don’t you?”

“YN—” Namjoon started but stopped when she pulled out her gun.

The sound of the safety clicking off was deafening.

Gasps.

Hands twitched toward their own weapons—but none dared move.

She pointed it straight at Jungkook’s chest.

“Jeon Jungkook,” her voice shook, but her hand didn’t. “If you’re playing a fucking game with me… if this is all just some twisted plan to keep me in check…”

“I swear on my parents" it won’t be good for you.”

“Tell me what’s in your head,” she spat. “Or else—”

Jungkook didn’t flinch.

He stepped forward. Slowly. Calmly.

Until the barrel of the gun pressed directly over his heart.

“Or else what?” he said, voice low, cold. “You’ll kill me?”

He grabbed the barrel, pushed it harder into his chest.

“Do it.”

“C’mon. You’ve been aching to hurt someone. Let it be me.”

She didn’t lower it. Didn’t blink.

They just stared.

“What happened, YN?” he said, smirking bitterly. “Did your heart soften?”

“Or are you realizing... you still need me?”

And in a blur—her finger twitched. But not to fire.

She went for his arm, twisting. He grabbed her wrist.

And just like that—they exploded.

Fist. Block. Kick. Swing. Elbow. Duck.

Her movements were lethal. Years of rage, pain, and trauma molded into each strike.

Jungkook matched her, blow for blow.

Even Yoongi muttered in disbelief:

“No one ever dared fight him like that.”

Until—

THUD.

He slammed her against the training mat, caging her beneath him.

His hand gripped her wrist tightly. The other on her shoulder.

Her breathing was wild. Her eyes darting—panicked.

And suddenly—

FLASHBACK: Sofia under Red Leader, trembling and screaming.

“LEAVE ME YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

She screamed, a tear escaping as pure rage and trauma consumed her.

The word “bastard” felt like a broken cry from the little girl still haunted inside her.

Jungkook's eyes widened.

His grip loosened instantly.

His breath caught in his throat.

“Yn…” he whispered.

But she shoved him off with a scream, scrambling back, trembling, her gun forgotten on the floor.

Everyone watched in frozen horror.

She curled into herself, fists clenched, eyes bloodshot.

“You’re all the same…”

Her voice cracked.

“Fucking monsters... every man... every goddamn one of you…”

That broke them.

Yoongi stepped forward, his mouth parted slightly—he'd seen trauma, lived through darkness—but this?

This was deeper.

Namjoon looked at Jungkook, who knelt on the floor in silence. His face pale. His chest still rising and falling fast.

Jimin moved to her slowly but stopped when she flinched.

“YN,” Taehyung murmured. “You’re safe.”

She didn’t hear him.

She just sat there, trembling. Drenched in sweat and fury and the pain of that moment.

It wasn't just a breakdown.

It was a collapse of everything she built to survive.

The moonlight bled through the curtains, casting long silver lines across the room. It was silent, except for the soft ticking of the clock. YN sat on the edge of her bed, still dressed in her training clothes, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

Her eyes were hollow.

Blank.

That moment… that scene she walked in on—Sofia, that monster, the helplessness—it kept replaying, over and over.

A soft knock.

She didn’t respond.

But the door creaked open anyway.

It was Jungkook.

He didn’t say a word as he stepped inside. For the first time ever, he looked unsure, even nervous. He closed the door behind him quietly and walked toward her, maintaining distance.

“I’m not here to lecture you,” he said, voice softer than she’d ever heard.

“I’m not here to train you, or fight, or argue.”

She didn’t look at him.

Her jaw clenched. Her fingers curled tighter into her knees.

“I’m here… because I saw the look in your eyes.”

“Because I know what it means to see something that breaks something inside you.”

He crouched in front of her, slowly—like approaching a frightened animal.

“You didn’t deserve to see that. No one does.”

She finally looked at him.

Her eyes were full of unshed tears and bottomless rage.

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” she whispered, broken.

“You knew what was happening… You could’ve warned me.”

Jungkook looked down, guilt ripping through his features.

“I didn’t know she was in danger, YN.”

“She wanted to be there. She chose it. I didn’t think—”

He stopped himself.

“But the moment I saw your face, I knew…”

“I knew I failed you.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

“I should’ve protected you from that.”

She looked away, her voice barely audible.

“It’s not just her. It’s what it reminded me of.”

“How powerless I was when they killed my parents. When I hid in hat Cupboard and listened to every scream.”

“It’s how… all these men take what they want. And no one stops them.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them.

Jungkook reached out, slowly, and placed a hand on her clenched fist. His palm was warm—steady.

“You're not powerless anymore, YN.”

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“But even the strongest people... break.”

She finally whispered:

“Then why do I still feel weak?”

He leaned in gently, touching his forehead to hers.

“Because you still care. You still feel. That’s not weakness.”

“That’s what makes you human.”

LIVING ROOM – NEXT MORNING

The rest of the members sat in silence. They had all seen what happened. All of them had fought battles, faced horrors, but nothing prepared them for how shattered YN looked last night.

Jimin was the first to speak.

“She doesn’t need training anymore. She needs peace.”

Yoongi, surprisingly, nodded.

“This isn’t something she’ll punch her way through.”

Namjoon leaned back, arms crossed.

“We’ve let her become a weapon. Now we need to remind her she’s still a person.”

Jin got up and quietly walked to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned with a tray—soup, toast, and a small note.

“I’ll take this up,” he said.

“And I don’t care if she throws it at my face.”

YN’S ROOM – MOMENTS LATER

A soft knock again.

YN tensed, but the voice was familiar.

“It’s Jin. I brought food. I won’t say a word.”

She opened the door a crack, just enough to see him.

He held up the tray with a forced smile.

“No fighting today. Chef’s orders.”

She opened the door, silent.

Jin placed the tray down on her table and handed her a folded note.

She opened it.

“You’re not alone. We’ll help you carry the weight. – Namjoon”

Her fingers trembled around the paper. A lump formed in her throat.

And for the first time since that night, she cried.

Not in anger.

Not in silence.

But because maybe… just maybe… she didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

DAYS LATER...

The house wasn’t the same.

Laughter had quieted.

Jokes faded into awkward silence.

Even the sound of boots on the floor seemed heavier.

YN no longer trained with them.

She didn’t eat at the table.

She didn’t talk. Not to Jungkook. Not to anyone.

And perhaps the most noticeable change—

She covered herself.

Long sleeves. Gloves. High collars. Even in the summer heat.

Every inch of her skin hidden—not for fashion, but for armor.

GYM – DAY

Jungkook stood in front of the punching bag, fists wrapped, but his knuckles unmoving.

Across the room, YN trained alone. Meticulously. Silently.

He watched her, every jab and kick mechanical—robotic.

But when Hoseok passed by her too closely—even accidentally brushing her shoulder—she flinched like she’d been burned.

She turned away instantly, eyes wide in panic.

Pulled her sleeves tighter.

Hoseok just froze, lips parted.

“I didn’t mean to—”

She walked out without a word.

Hoseok turned to Jungkook, guilt in his eyes.

“She’s not okay, man…”

LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

Everyone sat scattered, a heavy silence pressing on them.

“She’s covering herself because she doesn’t want to be touched,” Jimin said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She doesn’t even let her shadow fall near us,” Taehyung added, rubbing his face in frustration. “She’s scared. Or… disgusted.”

Namjoon looked down.

“She saw what no one should ever see. And now… we’re reminders of that.”

“Even me,” Jungkook muttered bitterly.

YN’S ROOM – SAME TIME

She stared at herself in the mirror.

The girl staring back looked nothing like her.

Layers of clothes wrapped around her frame. Her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her gloves again.

“You’re fine,” she whispered to herself.

“You’re safe. They won’t touch you. You’re not weak.”

But her eyes shimmered with fear… and exhaustion.

She tried to train harder.

Sleep longer.

Think less.

But nothing worked.

She was drowning, silently—

And they all saw it.

DINING TABLE – MORNING

A tray of untouched food sat in front of her. Everyone else just quietly ate.

Jin slid a cup of warm tea near her. Their hands didn’t touch. He made sure of that.

“It’s chamomile,” he said softly. “Good for nightmares.”

She didn’t look at him. But her fingers wrapped around the cup slowly.

Yoongi cleared his throat, looking anywhere but her.

“I made new gloves,” he said gruffly. “Extra padding. You were bleeding last time.”

Still no words. But she looked down at her gloved hands.

Namjoon finally said:

“You don’t have to speak, YN.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. Just… let us stay near.”

A long pause.

“Let us exist beside you… until you can feel safe again.”

Her fingers trembled around the cup.

But she didn’t leave the table.

She stayed.

And for them, that was enough for now.

The living room was filled with soft laughter and the quiet thumps of Annie’s bare feet hitting the floor.

She was playing with Taehyung and Jimin, chasing a plush toy between them. For a moment, it felt like there was no blood, no missions, no war.

Just family.

YN stood by the hallway, half-hidden in the shadows—watching.

She hadn’t spoken much for days. Her body still wrapped in layers. Her eyes dull and distant.

But then it happened—Annie tripped.

A sharp yelp. A thud. And then—

“Annie!” Taehyung called, rushing to her side.

“Shit—did she hit her head?” Jimin dropped down next to her.

Namjoon and Jin were already moving, Jin bringing the first-aid kit, Namjoon checking her knees, her elbows, gently brushing her hair back.

Even Yoongi, who barely showed emotion, stood behind them, clenched jaw and tense shoulders.

Annie was sniffling, not from pain—but from shock. The small scrape on her knee bleeding a little.

“It’s okay, baby, just a little scratch,” Jin said gently, putting on gloves and disinfecting the wound.

“I’ll kill the floor,” Taehyung declared dramatically, making Annie giggle through her tears.

Jungkook crouched beside her, his thumb wiping away a tear from Annie’s cheek.

“You scared me, little one.”

“Sorry, Kookie…”

And something shifted inside YN.

She felt it—the fear she had bottled for so long now whispering a different truth.

They weren’t monsters.

They cared.

They panicked.

They protected.

If they were monsters… then what was this warmth?

A breath escaped her lips.

“It’s not them,” she thought.

“It’s me. It’s what he did to me… not what they did.”

ANNIE’S ROOM – NIGHT

The door creaked open softly.

Annie was curled in bed, clutching her little bunny plush when she heard the sound. She turned—and her big eyes lit up.

“Ynnie?”

YN stepped in slowly, hands tucked into her sleeves, voice low.

“I… I saw you fell earlier. Are you okay?”

Annie nodded.

“It hurt, but everyone was so fast. I didn’t even cry much.”

YN hesitated, then slowly knelt beside the bed.

“They care about you a lot.”

“They care about you too,” Annie said with a small smile.

YN blinked.

“They don’t hate you. Even when you scream… even when you’re angry. They still love you.”

Silence.

“How do you know?” YN whispered.

Annie reached out and touched her arm gently—carefully, not to scare her.

“Because when I cry, they never leave.”

“And when you cry… they wait outside your door.”

That hit something inside her.

Hard.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them.

“I’m sorry I scared you that day… I didn’t mean to—”

“I know, Ynnie.” Annie interrupted gently, cupping her cheek.

“You’re not scary. You’re just sad. And that’s okay.”

YN broke.

She leaned forward slowly, pressing her forehead to Annie’s.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

Annie whispered back:

“Then don’t be alone anymore.”

OUTSIDE ANNIE’S ROOM

Jungkook stood by the door.

He had heard it all.

And when YN stepped out minutes later, eyes red but softer—he didn’t say a word.

He just smile at her.

And this time…

She smile softly Apologetically.

Not because she had to.

But because she wanted to.

The air was thick with silence. Plates clinked. Forks scraped lightly. No one dared to speak—not out of anger, but because they didn’t know how.

YN sat at the edge of the table, wrapped in a light hoodie, her head slightly lowered, eyes tracing the rim of her coffee mug.

And then… she spoke.

Soft.

Unsteady.

But clear.

“I’m sorry.”

The room stilled. Everyone turned toward her.

She lifted her eyes. Voice trembling but firm.

“I’m not proud of the way I acted… the things I said… how I pushed you all away.”

“It wasn’t me,” she admitted. “It’s something inside me… my demons… that part of me that won’t shut up and won’t let me breathe. It took over. I let it take over.”

She looked down again.

“But I saw something yesterday. You all care. You rushed for Annie like she was your own. You didn’t ignore her pain. You didn’t walk away from her like… like she doesn't matter.”

A shaky breath.

“And I realized... maybe not everyone is a monster.”

Silence.

And then—

Jin put his chopsticks down and leaned forward with a soft smile.

“YN, you don’t need to apologize.”

“You lived through hell,” he said gently. “You’re still fighting it. What you saw, what you experienced—anyone would be traumatized.”

Namjoon nodded, his eyes kind.

“Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it makes you bleed all over people who didn’t hurt you. But we’re not mad.”

Taehyung spoke next, grinning softly.

“We get it. You’ve got walls. So did we. But if you let us in… we’ll help you patch the cracks.”

Yoongi, arms crossed but voice sincere, added:

“You’re stronger than you think. You’ve fought worse than us. But don’t forget, it’s okay to lean on someone sometimes.”

Jimin pushed a bowl of soup toward her.

“Start with this. It’s warm. Like us.”

That made her chuckle softly.

Then came the smallest voice.

“I like your hugs better now,” Annie said, seated beside her with a toothy smile.

The lump in YN’s throat swelled. She reached for Annie’s hand.

Jungkook, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke.

His voice low, raw.

“You don’t need to be perfect, YN.”

“You just need to be honest. With us. With yourself.”

She met his eyes—and for the first time in days, there was no fury. No fear.

Only an unspoken understanding.

This was her family.

Broken. Bruised. Bloodstained.

But real.

And maybe, just maybe… she was allowed to be loved too.

TRAINING ROOM – MIDDAY

The mat was laid out.

Jin stood with his hands on his hips. “Today we learn how to throw Yoongi to the floor,” he grinned.

Yoongi, stretching his arms with a scowl, muttered, “Why me?”

“Because you’re light and annoying,” Taehyung replied helpfully.

YN watched from the side, arms crossed.

“You’re making it sound like WWE,” she muttered dryly.

Jimin walked to her with a smile, holding out a pair of gloves.

“Come on. Just for fun. No pressure.”

She hesitated, but then slowly took the gloves.

As she stepped onto the mat, Jungkook was there, kneeling beside her, adjusting her stance.

“Use your strength, not your anger. It’s there. You just forgot how to feel it.”

She looked at him—this time, no rage in her gaze.

Only a nod.

She sparred with Yoongi, not to win, but to feel in control. He didn’t go easy on her, but he didn’t push her too far either.

Her muscles screamed, but her heart felt something new.

Pride.

KITCHEN – LATE AFTERNOON

“Watch and learn, rookie,” Namjoon said confidently.

The pan sizzled.

Then smoked.

Then—“Shit, shit, shit!” he shouted, dropping the spatula and fanning the smoke.

Annie and YN laughed—really laughed—for the first time in weeks.

Jin burst in like a dramatic chef.

“I swear if you ruin another pan I’m gonna sell you on Craigslist.”

Taehyung passed a spoon to YN.

“Try this soup instead. I made it. Tastes like friendship and daddy issues.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Tastes like salt and regret.”

They all laughed.

And she didn’t feel like an outsider anymore.

LIVING ROOM – EVENING

They sat in a circle, scattered on couches and bean bags. Annie lay with her head on YN’s lap, doodling in a notebook.

Jimin played guitar gently. Taehyung hummed. Namjoon read bad poetry out loud.

“Roses are red… Jungkook’s a simp… He flexes his jaw, but cries when it’s dim.”

Jungkook threw a pillow at him.

“Lies.”

Yoongi, sipping his tea, smirked.

“Not all lies.”

YN smiled.

Just smiled.

And the boys noticed. Every single one of them. That spark, that softness returning to her gaze.

Jungkook sat beside her, silent but close. She didn’t pull away.

She leaned, slightly.

Enough to be felt.

HER ROOM – NIGHT

There was a knock. Not loud. Careful.

“Come in,” she said.

Jungkook stepped inside. Not with dominance. Not as a boss. Just… as a boy who cared too much.

He handed her a small folded note and a key.

“What’s this?”

“A key to the rooftop. I fixed the gate lock. It’s quiet there. You’ll like it.”

“And the note?”

She opened it.

You’re not broken. Just bruised. And bruises fade, YN.

She looked up at him. And something cracked inside her chest. Not painfully—softly. Like light getting in.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just gave her a nod and left.

That night, YN stood on the rooftop—cold wind against her face, a blanket over her shoulders, and for the first time in forever, her breathing was steady.

She still had demons.

But now… she had hands ready to help her fight them.

To be continued...