The rain came down hard—sheets against the windows, the echo of thunder rolling across the sky like a warning.

YN sat on the edge of her bed, curled in her oversized hoodie, legs pulled up, fists clenched. The lights were dim, her room barely illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. Her eyes were locked on the glass, rain streaking down like tear trails.

Another rainy night.

The kind she hated.

The kind that ripped open her chest with panic she could never tame.

The night it all happened. Her parents. Blood. Screams.

She could already feel her breath shorten.

And just when she thought she’d have to suffer through it alone again—again—

a knock echoed.

knock knock.

She froze.

Slowly, she stood up, hesitant fingers reaching the door. Her heart beat a little faster.

When she opened it—

There stood Jin, holding a tray with steaming ramen bowls in his hands.

And right behind him—Hobi, grinning with two takeaway cups of coffee.

Taehyung and Jimin, already bickering.

Yoongi, arms crossed but eyes softer than usual.

Namjoon, calm and observant.

And then—Jungkook at the back. Silent. Watching her.

Jin was the first to speak, “We’re not leaving you alone tonight.”

His smile was warm, not forced. Not pitiful. Just... reassuring.

“Not again,” he added quietly.

Hobi stepped forward. “We come bearing caffeine and noodles. Two things that solve at least half of life’s problems.” He winked.

YN opened her mouth to say something—but the words didn’t come.

Not denial. Not acceptance. Just... nothing.

But she stepped aside.

She let them in.

That was enough.

Jin instantly made himself at home, setting the tray on the bed. “No way I’m letting you suffer with that canned soup you pretend to like.”

Jimin jumped on the opposite side of the bed dramatically. “You hear that? Worldwide Handsome just called you out.”

Taehyung snorted. “Please, he’s just trying to distract from the fact that he can’t cook without burning rice.”

“I burned it once!” Jin shouted.

“Twice,” Yoongi corrected from the chair in the corner, taking off his jacket and tossing it over the back. “And you made Namjoon eat it.”

Namjoon gave a half-smile. “Still recovering.”

YN stood frozen for a moment as they all... just existed. Loud. Annoying. Familiar.

The kind of noise that would’ve irritated her before—but now, it filled something in the silence that haunted her.

Taehyung leaned over, stealing a sip from Hobi’s coffee and yelped. “Hyung, what did you put in this?! Battery acid?!”

“It’s espresso, genius,” Hobi laughed.

Jungkook didn’t say much.

He was standing near the bookshelf, arms crossed, his eyes flickering to her from time to time. Not pushing. Just... making sure.

Then came a voice beside her.

“You okay?” It was Namjoon, quiet. He offered her a seat and when she sat, he didn’t press further. Just passed her the coffee Hobi brought.

“We don’t know what to say,” Jin finally said. “But we want you to know… that we’re here.”

“You don’t have to talk,” Yoongi added. “Just... don’t suffer alone. Not anymore.”

They didn’t say the word trauma. They didn’t tiptoe.

They made space.

When Jimin started showing her horrible meme drawings, and Taehyung tried to impersonate Jin’s cooking show voice, something tugged at her lips.

A ghost of a smile.

“Is this some sort of group intervention?” she muttered dryly.

Jin gave her a wide-eyed look. “She speaks!”

Taehyung threw a pillow in the air dramatically. “I saw that! She almost smiled!”

“She did smile!” Jimin gasped. “Mark the calendar!”

They erupted into fake cheering.

She rolled her eyes. But it wasn’t angry. It was something else.

Warmth.

She didn’t laugh. Not yet. But the panic? The tightening in her chest? It loosened.

Bit by bit.

They didn’t leave after dinner.

Jungkook stayed near the window, watching the storm in silence, glancing at her every so often.

Yoongi was already asleep on the chair.

Jin and Hobi lay on the rug arguing about ramen ingredients.

Jimin and Tae whispered jokes under the blanket like kids at a sleepover.

And YN sat on the bed, cup in hand, staring out the window—rain still falling.

But for the first time...

The rain didn’t sound like screams.

The night didn’t feel suffocating.

She wasn’t alone.

Annie’s words from before rang in her ears:

“They love you, Yniiee. They’ll never hurt you.”

Maybe this was what family felt like.

Not the one you’re born into.

The one you bleed with.

She glanced toward Jungkook.

He didn’t say a word.

But she didn’t need him to.

The others had slowly dozed off one by one, scattered like lazy cats across her room. Jin snored softly on the rug, half-covered by a blanket Hobi had thrown over him. Jimin and Taehyung were curled up near the window with empty coffee cups beside them. Yoongi hadn’t even bothered with a pillow—his head tilted back in the chair, arms crossed, peaceful for once.

The rain still whispered against the windows, softer now. A lullaby.

YN sat in silence, her back resting against the wall. Eyes half-lidded. Calm, but not asleep. She’d never imagined she'd feel this much… peace after a storm.

And then she felt it.

A presence.

Quiet. Familiar.

Jungkook.

He sat beside her without a word, his back also pressed to the wall, just enough space between them to not overwhelm her—but close enough that she felt his warmth.

They sat in the hush, listening to the rhythmic drops of water, the low breathing of sleeping boys, the hum of a world far removed from war and blood—for tonight at least.

Jungkook didn’t speak at first. But then, with a voice softer than she’d ever heard from him, he said,

“You handled it better than I ever could.”

She turned to look at him, brows gently furrowed.

“The storm,” he added, nodding toward the window. “Everything. All of it.”

Her lips parted slightly. “I didn’t really ‘handle’ it,” she whispered. “I just... survived it.”

He glanced at her sideways. “That’s what handling it means sometimes.”

A silence passed. A calm one.

Then she asked, “Why didn’t you leave? With the others?”

He looked away for a second, jaw clenching slightly.

“Because I knew this night might still get hard. And I didn’t want you to go through it alone.”

A beat.

“Again.”

Her breath caught for a second.

He turned his face to her, eyes meeting hers. There wasn’t the usual fire. No command. No cold mask.

Just something raw. Human.

“I’m not good at this, YN,” he admitted. “I can fight. I can kill. I can lead. But… when it comes to people like you—who’ve seen the worst and still stand? I don’t know if I’m supposed to protect you or let you burn everything in your path.”

She blinked at him. Slowly.

“So I’m doing the only thing I know how to do,” he said with a breathless laugh. “I’m staying.”

Silence again.

But her throat tightened.

Not because of pain—but because something warm started to build behind her ribs. A kind of grief she didn’t know she’d buried. A kind of longing for someone to just stay.

She looked down at her hands in her lap.

“I don’t know how to let people in,” she murmured. “Even when I want to.”

“That’s okay,” he replied gently. “I’ll wait at the door.”

Her eyes snapped to his. His face was calm. Serious.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t pity.

It was real.

And in that moment, without asking, without touching—he gave her something she hadn’t had in years.

Safety.

She nodded slowly. Her voice was barely a breath.

“…Thank you.”

Jungkook looked away, lips twitching into the smallest smile.

“Now go to sleep before Taehyung starts snoring like a dying bear.”

She laughed. A quiet, breathy laugh—but it was real.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

They stayed like that—side by side, listening to the rain, watching the first cracks of dawn appear on the horizon.

Several days after the rainy night

The days bled into each other with a rhythm that was almost military. Wake. Train. Test. Eat. Mission. Repeat.

But beneath the mechanical routine, something had shifted—especially in her.

YN wasn’t the girl who used to freeze at every nightmare.

She wasn’t the woman who clenched her fists just to keep herself from crumbling.

Now—she thought before she moved.

She read rooms. Anticipated body language. Not just brute strength anymore—her mind had become a blade, and Jungkook noticed it.

"You're early," Namjoon said one morning, watching her enter the strategy room before sunrise.

“So is the next ambush we’re simulating,” she replied, eyes sharp, already scanning the map.

He smirked. “Didn’t take you for a morning person.”

“Didn’t take you for someone who underestimates me,” she countered, smirking back.

Every training session, every puzzle, every mission—she completed most of them with precision.

She failed some, but never repeated her mistakes.

Yoongi, the quiet observer, began to test her reflexes mid-conversation.

Taehyung threw unexpected logic bombs in the middle of drills.

Jin pushed her endurance, even jokingly timed her coffee breaks.

J-Hope made her decode encrypted files under stress—like blaring music or fake explosions.

Namjoon taught her the power of silence: how to sense when a trap was more than just a bomb.

And Jungkook—he said little.

But he watched everything.

The way her shoulders no longer trembled.

How she handled her weapons.

How her gaze didn’t flinch—not even under pressure.

One night, he called her to the strategy hall.

“You’ve become something else,” he said, walking around the desk slowly.

“Not just dangerous… but unpredictable. That’s rare.”

She met his eyes steadily. “You think I’m ready for anything?”

He paused.

Then slowly nodded.

“I think you’re becoming the kind of person others need to prepare for.”

That… meant more than a medal.

Missions came and went.

Quick hits. Silent takedowns. A few scouting jobs.

One intel-retrieval where she had to dress like a civilian and manipulate the target. She passed—barely.

And when they got back to base, Jungkook didn’t praise her.

He handed her a mirror.

“You did well,” he said. “But your eyes gave too much away.”

She studied herself, then gave a small, crooked smile.

“Then I’ll make sure they lie next time.

Everything seemed steady.

Almost too steady.

But that’s when the tension began to ripple again—because Kura hadn’t left.

And soon, something darker was coming from the Wolf Syndicate… a storm building that not even the Black Serpent could see yet.

Black Serpent Gym → YN’s Room

Time: Late morning

The metallic clang of dumbbells echoed through the gym.

Sweat coated YN’s back as she finished another set, her body stronger, sharper than ever.

But then—

A sharp pinch twisted in her lower abdomen.

She paused.

Another jolt.

> Ignore it, she told herself.

She bent to lift again—

and that’s when she felt it.

The unmistakable warmth, the wetness that made her freeze.

Her fingers slowly reached down the side of her thigh. She touched something.

Her breath caught.

No words.

No thought.

Just instinct—

she dropped the dumbbells and walked out fast, without looking back.

“What the hell?” Taehyung asked, blinking as he watched her walk out stiffly.

“She didn’t even finish her set,” Jimin added.

“Something’s off,” said Namjoon, concerned.

They waited.

Five minutes. Ten. Twenty.

But she didn’t return.

Inside YN’s room:

She shut the door with a trembling hand and leaned her forehead against it.

Her breaths were uneven now.

The cramps had grown worse, spreading down her thighs and up her back.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

Stripping out of her workout clothes, she stepped into the shower, letting the warm water soothe her cramping muscles.

She stood there, motionless, arms resting against the wall, forehead lowered as the pain throbbed.

When she came out, wrapped in a towel, her feet dragged with exhaustion.

She reached into her drawer.

Empty.

No pads. No tampons. Nothing.

“Of course,” she hissed under her breath, dropping back against the bed.

Her body ached like she’d been beaten.

Her jaw clenched. This wasn’t the type of pain she could train through.

She hated this.

She hated needing something.

Hated the idea of asking for help—especially for this.

But she also knew there was no way she could go out like this and pretend nothing was wrong.

Meanwhile, outside her room...

Jin was already halfway down the hall, holding a water bottle and an energy bar.

“She’s been gone too long,” he murmured.

“Let me check,” J-Hope said, knocking on her door.

No response.

Taehyung, growing impatient, looked at Jungkook.

“You’re closest to her. You go.”

Jungkook didn’t answer, but the second knock from Hoseok went unanswered again, he stepped forward.

To be continued...