Task 1: Namjoon set a sand timer down.

“This is a real-life ambush case. A member is trapped in a warehouse, two exits are guarded, there are drones scanning above. You have five minutes to tell us how to get him out alive.”

YN scanned the map. Heart pounding. She scribbled. Thought. Changed it. Thought again.

By the time the timer ran out, her solution was messy, but close. One wrong turn.

Jungkook simply said, “Dead.”

She flinched slightly.

“Again,” Namjoon said.

TASK 2: DANGER SENSE

They blindfolded her. Her ears were covered.

Namjoon whispered, “I’ll test your instinct. Sense me. Listen not with ears, but with awareness.”

Silence.

Then a faint movement.

She turned—and ducked just in time as Namjoon’s arm sliced the air beside her cheek.

“Good,” he murmured.

Another move—this time behind her—and she failed. Hit in the ribs.

“Feel the shift in energy,” Jungkook instructed. “Your body knows. Trust it.”

Again. Again. Again. She failed some, passed others. Her breathing rough. Palms sweaty. But her eyes? Determined.

Task 3: Three riddles. Three locks. One escape.

They locked her in a small room—timed, monitored. She had to solve clues on the wall, piece symbols together, and break out in 15 minutes.

8 minutes in, she froze.

Then she whispered, “No. Don’t panic. Think.”

She started again. Her brain catching fire with deduction. She connected the colors. Matched the symbols.

2 minutes left — the final lock clicked.

The door swung open and Jungkook stood there, watching.

He said nothing. Just smiled slightly.

Later That Night – Rooftop

YN sat alone, legs crossed, staring up at the moon. Her fingers rubbed the bruises on her ribs from earlier.

She didn’t hear Jungkook walk up.

“You passed,” he said, sitting beside her.

“I failed some,” she murmured.

“And that’s what made you learn faster.”

She looked at him, unsure if he was mocking or praising her.

He glanced sideways, voice softer now. “You’re becoming something dangerous, YN. Not just strong. But smart. Focused. Strategic.”

He leaned closer, so their shoulders brushed. “And that terrifies me—in the best way.”

A soft smile played on her lips. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel broken. She felt... capable.

Black Serpent HQ - Briefing Room

Jungkook stood at the table, unreadable as always. The rest of the team lingered in the room, silent but watching her.

He slid a black folder toward YN.

“Your first solo mission,” he said, his tone calm but cool. “We got intel that a middleman from the Wolf Syndicate is doing a handover tonight. Small port, 3 hours from here. You’re to intercept the exchange and extract any information you can.”

YN blinked, processing fast. “Just me?”

Jungkook nodded once. “No backup unless it goes south. Use your instincts.”

She opened the folder. Maps. Target details. A coded USB location. It looked real.

No one told her it wasn’t.

What YN didn’t know was that Jungkook had created everything—the mission, the fake targets, the “USB.” The people she’d face were their own men, disguised and instructed to react like real threats. A full simulation. Brutal. Precise. Secret.

It wasn’t just a test.

It was a mirror—to show Jungkook how far she’d come... and to show YN who she had become.

That Night – At the Port

The place was dim. Fog curled along the cracked cement.

YN crept through shadows, crouched behind crates. She’d studied the map, memorized the times, observed every movement.

She was a ghost.

Two men appeared, whispering. Her hand hovered near her blade.

She moved.

Knocked one out. Silenced the other with a needle to the neck Jungkook had once given her. Fast. No hesitation.

She scanned the area. Noticed one extra man—the one NOT on the file.

Her mind clicked. A planted trap. She smirked faintly. “Nice try,” she muttered.

She laid low and threw a rock—distraction. The man flinched, moved, and she struck from the back.

One hit to the pressure point. Down.

She took the USB and melted into the shadows.

Mission time: 12 minutes flat.

Back at Base

Jungkook stood in the control room, arms folded, watching every second through hidden cams.

Namjoon exhaled quietly. “She’s surgical.”

“Better than I expected,” Taehyung muttered with a grin.

“She’s terrifying,” Yoongi added, sipping his coffee.

When she returned, there was no fanfare. She tossed the USB on the table.

“Done,” she said. Calm. Steady. Confident.

Jungkook stared at her in silence. Then leaned forward.

“You were never in danger,” he said finally.

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“It wasn’t real,” he replied, eyes locked on hers. “It was me. All of it. I needed to see what you’d do when no one was watching.”

Her jaw clenched. “So it was a test?”

He nodded once. “And you passed beyond what I imagined.”

She said nothing.

Until he stepped closer. Just inches away.

“I told you... you’d become something dangerous. Tonight proved it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So what now?”

Jungkook leaned in, voice low.

“Now... the real mission begins.”

The hum of the dim fluorescent lights above echoed faintly as Jungkook sat on the edge of the table in the armory, surrounded by half-assembled guns, knives, and sharpened steel.

He stared at nothing—his hand resting over a familiar dagger. The one YN used in her “solo mission.” The one she returned without a scratch.

His jaw clenched.

"She’s changing," he muttered under his breath. “Faster than I thought she would.”

More dangerous. More composed. Sharper in every way.

And he hated that he was proud of it.

Because with every step she took into his world… she was losing pieces of herself.

He had watched her bleed. Break. Burn with rage. Push through trauma that would destroy most people. And still... she rose.

He saw her become cold. Tactical. Unshakable.

And yet, behind her eyes—he still caught it. That flicker of pain. Of a girl trying to bury her softness to survive.

It should’ve made things easier. Cleaner.

But instead…

He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.

Why the hell does it bother him so much?

Why does it get under his skin when someone else talks to her for too long?

Why does he remember the way her voice cracked when she called him a monster?

And why… out of everyone… does her pain haunt him the most?

He rubbed a hand down his face, letting out a deep exhale.

“Get it together,” he growled to himself.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Not about her. Not about anyone.

She was just a recruit. A weapon he was crafting for vengeance. That was the deal.

Not this.

Not these restless nights where her face lingers in his mind.

Not this ache in his chest when she’s hurting.

Not this fear—deep, hidden, primal—that someday, she’ll walk into a mission and never come back.

He shut his eyes tightly.

“She’s not yours,” he muttered. “She never was.”

But even as he said it… his hand subconsciously curled around the dagger she left behind.

As if holding on to the last piece of her she didn’t take with her.

YN, Alone on the Rooftop, Late Night

The wind bit at her skin as she stood on the rooftop, hood pulled over her head, hands tucked inside her jacket sleeves. The city lights below blinked like scattered memories, blurred and far.

Her eyes weren’t focused on the skyline though.

She was replaying everything.

The missions. The training. The fights.

The moment she pointed a gun at Jungkook.

The moment he told her to pull the trigger.

And the way… he didn’t even flinch.

She clenched her jaw.

He made her stronger. No doubt.

Every bruise. Every cut. Every order he barked at her—it turned her into someone who could survive.

Someone she didn’t recognize sometimes.

Someone colder.

Faster.

Deadlier.

But not emptier.

No matter how hard she tried to shut everything off—there were still nights like this.

Where she remembered things.

Where his voice lingered in her ears long after he was gone.

That smirk. That cold gaze. The way he looked at her during training… like she was just another mission.

But then there were other moments too.

When she caught him staring.

When he stepped in without a word when someone touched her.

When his anger wasn’t about control—it was about protection.

And that confused her more than anything.

She crossed her arms tighter, lowering her head.

What the hell is this?

She didn't ask for his concern. She didn’t want it.

Yet, it stirred something inside her every time his voice softened for her. Every time his gaze lingered just a second too long.

She hated it.

She hated him.

No, not him. She hated the hold he was starting to have on her without even trying.

He made her feel like she was standing on a cliff’s edge—one wrong step and she’d fall. Not into danger. Into something worse.

Attachment.

She couldn’t afford that. Not with him. Not with anyone.

He’s your leader. Your trainer. Your weapon maker.

Not your anchor.

Not your safe place.

And yet…

Her eyes fluttered closed as the image of him fighting her came back.

His grip on her. The way she fought back with every ounce of fury.

And the way his hands loosened—not out of weakness—but out of something like… guilt.

Something like care.

Her heart thudded. Unwelcome.

“He’s not yours,” she whispered to herself. “He never will be.”

Just like she never belonged to anyone.

And yet when she turned to leave the rooftop, her steps slowed at the hallway that led to the armory.

Because even without seeing him—she could feel it.

That he was thinking of her too.

To be continued...