Jungkook’s POV

A sharp knock on the door.

It creaked open, and Mira stepped inside, holding a thick manila folder with red tabs sticking out like angry warnings.

“Kang’s HR file,” she said, placing it on my desk. “And… a few things I wasn’t supposed to see.”

My eyes flicked up.

“I made some calls. Anonymous favors. You're going to want to read it yourself.”

She turned and left without another word.

I opened the file.

First page: spotless. Resume. Degrees. Awards.

Second page: warnings—buried in HR jargon.

“Inappropriate proximity with a female intern.”

“Handled internally. Resolved with confidentiality agreement.”

Then the next tab.

“Verbal misconduct in the elevator – female staff refused to return to night shifts.”

“Unsubstantiated claim – employee resigned the following week.”

Another one.

“Security report: Janitor saw Kang in parking lot late at night with junior analyst – girl crying. She later recanted.”

Every entry was quietly closed. Sealed.

Paid.

I slammed the file shut, chest heaving.

This wasn’t a man who snapped once. This wasn’t a one-time mistake.

This was a predator. A pattern. A monster dressed in a silk tie.

And YN?

She was the one who fought back.

The first who didn’t run. The one who refused to stay quiet.

I stood from the desk so fast the chair rolled back and hit the wall.

This wasn’t just about court anymore.

This was about justice. For every girl in that file. For YN. For the blood on her hands that should never have been hers to begin with.

I stared down at the folder, my jaw locked tight.

“You picked the wrong woman to break, Kang,” I muttered under my breath.

“And it was your last mistake.”

Police Holding Room – Night Before Trial

Jungkook’s POV

The guard unlocked the door with a metallic clank, then gave me a short nod.

“She hasn’t spoken much all day,” he muttered. “Didn’t touch her dinner either.”

I nodded back without looking. My heart had already walked through the doorway.

There she was.

YN.

Curled in the corner of the cot, knees drawn up, her eyes dim and far away. She looked smaller in this room. Fragile. Her once-strong presence buried under layers of exhaustion, pain, and silence.

The moment I stepped inside, her head lifted slightly—just enough to recognize me.

“Jungkook,” she whispered, as if even saying my name took effort.

“Hey,” I said softly, pulling the chair closer, sitting in front of her. “I didn’t come as your lawyer tonight.”

Her lips trembled. “Then why…?”

“I came as someone who never stopped giving a damn.”

She blinked, and her throat worked around the tears she wouldn’t let fall.

“I’ve read everything. Watched every frame of CCTV. And I got his HR file.” I paused, watching her closely. “He did it before. To other women. Silenced them with money, fear, and power. You weren’t the first.”

Her breath hitched.

“But you were the first to fight back.”

She closed her eyes tightly. “I didn’t want to kill him, Jungkook. I just wanted him to stop.”

“I know,” I said immediately. “I know. And now I’ll make sure everyone else knows too.”

She opened her eyes then—wet, terrified, but slowly refocusing.

“You really think I’ll walk free?” she asked. Her voice was so small it broke something in me.

I leaned forward, resting my hands on hers—cold fingers that hadn’t felt warmth in days.

“I don’t think,” I said softly.

“I swear.”

Her lips parted slightly in shock.

“I’m going to fight for you, YN. With everything I’ve got. Not just because I’m your lawyer—but because I couldn’t live with myself if I let you be punished for surviving.”

Tears escaped her eyes silently this time. She tried to wipe them away, but I held her hand firmly.

“You're not alone in this,” I said, voice firm now. “Not anymore. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

She looked at me then—really looked at me—for the first time since that night. And for a moment, it felt like the walls of that holding room melted away.

There was only us.

The boy who once asked for her heart.

And the woman who now needed his protection.

Morning of the Trial

The room was packed.

Reporters lined the back wall like vultures. Whispers buzzed like flies. Cameras weren’t allowed inside, but their presence was still suffocating.

To them, it was a scandal.

To me—it was war.

I stood beside the defense table, my black suit crisp, notes in order. My expression blank. Controlled. But inside, my blood was fire.

The prosecutor, a smug man in his fifties, gave me a nod from across the courtroom. I didn’t return it.

He thought this would be easy.

He thought a young woman with blood on her hands meant guilt.

Let him think that.

It would make the fall worse.

The judge entered. “All rise.”

Everyone stood. I barely blinked.

Then the bailiff’s voice echoed through the room:

“Defendant, Y/N, entering the courtroom.”

YN’s POV

The door opened.

My legs felt like stone. My heart thundered inside my chest as if it were trying to escape. Cold cuffs circled my wrists. All eyes turned to me. I felt like prey being thrown into a lion’s cage.

For a second, I almost stumbled.

But then I saw him.

Jeon Jungkook.

Standing at the defense table, tall and sharp in that suit, his hands folded in front of him, his jaw clenched.

But when his eyes met mine—everything stopped.

There was no judgment there. No fear. Just… fire.

He gave me a small nod. A promise.

I held onto that.

As I sat down beside him, he leaned over and whispered without looking at me.

“You’re not going to prison today, Y/N. Watch.”

Jungkook’s Opening Statement

Jungkook’s POV

I stood and buttoned my suit jacket slowly. The courtroom fell quiet. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

I walked to the center and turned toward the jury—twelve strangers who would decide her fate.

“My client,” I began, voice calm but razor sharp, “has already suffered more than anyone in this room can imagine.”

I paused, letting the weight of my words settle.

“She went to work. She stayed late to do her job. And in return, she was hunted.”

Gasps stirred, but I continued.

“Mr. Kang—senior employee, mentor, and so-called professional—was not a victim. He was a predator with a documented pattern of harassment. Records hidden behind closed HR doors, silenced by bribes and threats. He preyed on women. He violated trust. And that night…” I pointed to the defense table. “He tried to do it again.”

My voice dropped.

“But she fought back.”

I turned slowly to the jury.

“She didn’t walk into that room planning violence. She walked in planning to finish a report. The only one who crossed a line was the man who’s now being mourned.”

“Self-defense is not murder. It is survival. And today—so help me—you’re going to understand the difference.”

I returned to my seat.

The courtroom was dead silent.

I didn’t look at the prosecutor. I didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, I didn’t just speak for her.

I declared war.

The moment Jeon Jungkook sat down, calm and controlled after his lethal opening, the prosecutor rose slowly with a confident smirk.

Mr. Park. A man seasoned by courtroom battles and media scandals. He wore a subtle red tie—a quiet statement of aggression. A vulture dressed in silk.

He stepped toward the jury with practiced ease.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, with a sympathetic tilt to his voice, “this is not a case about self-defense. This is a case about control. About a woman who snapped.”

He turned to glance briefly at YN, who sat beside Jungkook—her shoulders tense, her eyes low.

“Mr. Kang was a respected corporate executive. A man who contributed years of his life to the company. He was Y/N’s senior. Her superior. And on the night in question, he stayed late… to help her with work.”

Jungkook’s jaw visibly tensed, but he didn’t move. Not yet.

Mr. Park continued.

“The defense will try to sway you with emotion. With speculation. With records that may not even directly link to this event. But what the evidence will show—what the autopsy will prove—is that Mr. Kang was struck five times in the head with a ceramic object.”

He held up a photograph of the broken pot.

“Not once. Not twice. Five. A level of force far beyond what was necessary to ‘escape’ or ‘survive.’”

He paused, then turned to the jury again.

“This was not fear. This was rage.

And it cost a man his life.”

He looked toward YN again, this time letting the pause linger. The implication was heavy. Accusatory.

“You may feel pity for the defendant. But your job… is not to feel. It is to see the truth.”

He gave a small, dignified nod and returned to his table.

The courtroom buzzed.

It was subtle, but Jungkook noticed it. Doubt. Floating through the air like poison. That was the prosecutor’s weapon: not truth. Perception.

He glanced sideways at YN—she hadn’t moved.

Her knuckles were white from gripping her chair. Her lips tight.

He leaned toward her slightly and whispered without taking his eyes off the prosecutor.

“Let him dig his grave. We’ll bury his case in it.”

The prosecution had rested its initial foundation—repetition, manipulation, and a single narrative:

“She killed him out of rage.”

Now it was Jungkook’s turn.

He rose slowly from his seat, expression unreadable, sharp gaze fixed on the medical examiner seated on the witness stand.

“Dr. Lee,” Jungkook began, voice smooth and quiet, “you mentioned in your direct testimony that Mr. Kang suffered five blunt-force injuries to the skull.”

“Yes, correct.”

“And you stated that these injuries were consistent with a ceramic object, possibly a flower pot?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Doctor, were all five strikes delivered with the same force?”

Dr. Lee hesitated. “Not exactly. The first two were significantly more forceful. The later ones were—lighter. More erratic.”

“So you're saying… the initial strikes could’ve been made in panic. The others may have followed due to disorientation? Shock?”

“It’s possible,” he admitted.

“And did your examination show any defensive wounds on Mr. Kang?”

“No. None.”

“Meaning he did not attempt to shield himself, raise his arms, or escape?”

“Correct.”

“So if Miss Y/N had been the aggressor from the start, wouldn’t a grown man, taller and heavier than her, naturally try to defend himself?”

The courtroom was silent.

Dr. Lee’s voice was softer now. “Yes… logically, yes.”

Jungkook gave a small nod, then turned to the judge.

“No further questions.”

The jury was watching him now—more carefully than before. Their expressions shifting.

Next Witness – Security Guard

The next person on the stand was an older man—balding, nervous. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

Jungkook didn’t intimidate this one. He didn’t need to.

He used truth.

“You were stationed at the front desk that night, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What time did you leave for your usual rounds?”

“Just after midnight. Around 12:10.”

“And when you returned, what did you see?”

The guard swallowed. “I saw her. Miss Y/N. She was just sitting there. Frozen. Not moving. Covered in blood. And he… Mr. Kang, he was—already gone.”

“Was she holding anything? Any weapon?”

“No.”

“Was she panicking? Pacing? Laughing? Screaming?”

“No,” the guard whispered. “She looked… broken.”

Jungkook stepped closer, his voice soft.

“In your opinion, did that look like a person who murdered out of rage?”

The guard blinked rapidly. “No… it looked like someone who just… broke down.”

Silence.

“No further questions.”

Jungkook returned to his seat, calm—but inside, he felt it. The shift. He was winning them.

Judge’s Voice Echoed

“Call the defendant to the stand. Miss Y/N.”

YN’s POV – Inside the Holding Cell

A female officer stepped into the cell.

“It’s time.”

The coldness in the room seemed to seep deeper into her bones.

Her hands trembled slightly as she stood. Her legs felt weak. But she forced herself to take a breath.

Then she heard it.

Footsteps. And then a voice. His voice.

“Don’t be scared,” Jungkook said as he appeared at the door, waiting to walk her to the courtroom. “Just tell the truth. I’ll handle the rest.”

Her eyes met his, and for the first time in days… she nodded without shaking.

YN’s POV

The room felt colder when I sat down.

The jury watched me. The judge watched me. And from the prosecution’s table, Mr. Park’s stare pierced into me like I was already guilty.

I couldn’t breathe right.

But then I turned.

Jungkook was there.

He gave me the smallest nod. His fingers tapped once on the table—our silent signal: You’re not alone.

The judge gestured.

“Prosecution may begin.”

Cross-Examination Begins

Mr. Park stood with slow, measured steps. He approached YN like a hunter circling prey—masking his claws behind polite words.

“You say Mr. Kang cornered you.”

“He did,” YN replied, voice low.

“You say he… assaulted you. But there’s no video of him ripping your clothes. Only your word.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“Objection,” he snapped. “Victims aren’t required to be stripped on camera to be believed. This line is demeaning.”

“Sustained,” the judge said, eyes narrowing.

But Mr. Park only smiled like a viper.

“You struck Mr. Kang multiple times. Even after he fell. Why?”

“I panicked,” YN said. “I was scared.”

He leaned closer. “Or maybe… you were angry he rejected you. Maybe this wasn’t defense—it was revenge?”

“Objection!” Jungkook was out of his chair now, voice booming. “That is a gross fabrication and character assassination!”

“Sustained. Watch yourself, Mr. Park.”

But the prosecutor wasn’t done.

“You claim to be a victim. But isn’t it true you stayed quiet? Never reported it until after he was dead?”

That’s when something inside YN snapped.

She didn’t wait for the next question.

She didn’t need protection anymore.

YN’s POV

“You want to know why I didn’t report it?” I said suddenly, my voice shaking—but loud.

Mr. Park blinked.

The judge shifted. “Miss Y/N—”

I turned toward him. Toward all of them.

“Because no one listens. Because every woman who came before me in that company got paid off, silenced, or told they ‘misunderstood.’ Because he was powerful. Rich. Respected.”

My voice grew stronger.

“You want to know why I kept hitting him?”

I leaned forward, hands gripping the edges of the witness box.

“Because he wouldn’t stop. Because he had my wrists. Because his mouth was on my neck and his hands were under my skirt. Because he didn’t care if I screamed.”

Dead silence.

“And yes,” I said, eyes burning, “maybe I lost control. Maybe I broke. But I would do it again. Because being in prison… is far better than being raped.”

The words echoed like thunder across the courtroom.

Someone gasped.

The judge’s gavel froze mid-air.

Even Mr. Park… fell silent.

The courtroom was stunned.

No more whispering.

Just silence.

My silence, broken

Jungkook’s POV

She had never looked stronger.

Tears glistened in her eyes, but her spine was straight. Her voice, steady. She didn’t need me to protect her anymore.

But still, I stood beside her like a fortress.

I turned to the judge.

“Defense rests.”

And for the first time in a long, brutal trial…

Everyone in that room finally saw her not as a killer—

But as a survivor.

Silence lingered like smoke after a fire.

The jury didn’t whisper. The media didn’t shift. Even the judge hadn’t spoken for several heartbeats.

Because they had all heard it.

Her words.

“Being in prison is far better than being raped.”

It wasn’t just a defense.

It was a declaration.

And no one in that room—not even the prosecution—dared say another word.

The judge looked down, his hand frozen on the gavel, his throat working against the emotion sitting in his chest. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower than before. Less of a judge. More of a man.

“This court has heard the truth. Not the polished truth of power or reputation. But the raw, painful truth of a woman who was cornered, violated, and did the only thing she could to survive.”

He paused.

“Miss Y/N… what happened to you was not justice. But I hope this verdict helps you begin to reclaim it.”

He turned toward the jury.

“Is the jury ready to present its decision?”

A nod.

Tension swelled.

The bailiff stood and took the paper.

“In the matter of The State vs. Y/N…”

A breath.

“…we, the jury, find the defendant—not guilty.”

The words slammed through the courtroom like thunder.

Outside the Courtroom

YN’s POV

The fresh air hit my face like I hadn’t breathed in years.

People were everywhere—press, flashing lights, voices. But I couldn’t hear any of it.

Because the only person I could see was him.

Jungkook.

Standing at the courthouse steps, jacket draped over one shoulder, eyes locked on me as if he’d waited lifetimes just for this one moment.

I stepped toward him.

And without a word, he opened his arms.

I fell into them.

No speeches. No promises. Just warmth. Just safety. The first real thing I’d felt in what seemed like forever.

“I told you,” he whispered into my hair, his hand at the back of my head. “You weren’t going to prison.”

I clutched his shirt. “And you kept your promise.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me.

“I’ll always keep my promises to you.”

There it was again—that look in his eyes. The one I once turned away from years ago.

But now?

Now I saw what I didn’t see back then.

He wasn’t just a man who loved me.

He was the one who saved me—

And stood with me while I saved myself.

The end...