The mansion was lit up like a festival.

Balloons were strung across the halls, handmade decorations dangled from the ceilings — courtesy of Jin and Annie herself. The kitchen smelled like vanilla cake and melted chocolate. Laughter echoed through the corridors. For once, the place that often reeked of blood and danger was filled with joy and music.

Taehyung had dressed up as a ridiculous clown, Jimin had taught Annie a silly dance, Namjoon was taking photos with a polaroid, and Jungkook — even in all his cold glory — had a little paper crown placed on his head by Annie, which he didn’t dare take off.

And YN…

YN was smiling.

She helped Annie cut the cake, even let her smear a little cream on her cheek without flinching. She was laughing — genuinely laughing — when J-Hope pulled her into a dance circle. Her hair was loose. Her eyes softer.

For once, she let herself exist without fear.

Then night came.

The music softened.

The lights dimmed.

Everyone was gathered around the lounge area — drinks flowing, conversations loosening, even Yoongi cracked a rare smile while sipping his whiskey.

YN returned from the hallway after checking on Annie, who’d finally gone to bed — exhausted from the sugar rush and excitement.

She walked in, a faint smile still lingering on her lips.

Then, casually, she reached for the nearest glass on the table.

A sparkling amber drink.

She didn’t hesitate.

She’d never cared for alcohol. But tonight… tonight she felt light.

“What is this?” she asked, glancing at Jin.

“That’s not—”

Too late.

She threw back the drink in one gulp, not knowing it was pure bourbon — strong and burning.

Everyone froze.

“Y/N, wait—” Jungkook stood up halfway.

But her expression had already shifted.

Her body tensed.

Her throat burned.

Eyes widened.

“Shit,” she whispered, placing the empty glass down. “What the hell—?”

The warmth that spread through her stomach turned quickly into a rush. The room spun. Lights blurred into swirls.

“Why is the ground… moving?” she mumbled, trying to blink it away.

Jimin was already at her side.

“You okay?” he asked, worriedly placing a hand on her shoulder.

She didn’t answer. Her body swayed slightly, and before anyone could react—

She stumbled.

Jungkook caught her instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist to stop the fall.

“Damn it, Y/N,” he muttered. “You’ve never drunk before, have you?”

“Why… is it so hot in here?” she slurred, eyes unfocused. “Are you… are you spinning or is it me?”

Her head dropped to his chest.

Everyone stared in shock — YN, the cold, sharp woman who’d rather snap necks than smile — now clinging to Jungkook like a kitten high on whiskey.

“Okay,” Namjoon said awkwardly, “I think we’re officially entering the ‘oh no’ territory.”

“Should we bring her water?” Hobi asked.

“Water, food, maybe a priest,” Jin deadpanned.

“You smell nice…” YN murmured against Jungkook’s shirt, sniffing him.

Taehyung choked on his drink.

“Okay, she’s drunk. Officially.”

“Like... dangerously drunk,” Jimin whispered, amused.

“Shut up,” Jungkook growled, holding her tighter. “Don’t laugh.”

But even he couldn’t hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth as she squinted up at him with hazy eyes.

“Are you always this handsome?” she slurred.

Dead silence.

Jungkook stiffened.

Everyone else? Exploding.

“I CAN’T BREATHE,” Jimin cackled, rolling off the couch.

“We need to record this,” Taehyung whispered to Hobi.

“You better not,” Jungkook growled again, face turning slightly pink.

“You better put me down,” YN mumbled dramatically, “or I’ll punch you… in the heart.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That… makes no sense,” he said, trying not to laugh.

“You make no sense,” she retorted with a scowl.

“Well,” Jin chuckled, “she’s gone from deadly assassin to emotional drunk poet.”

“She’s going to murder us when she wakes up,” Suga added casually, sipping tea.

Later That Night

Jungkook gently laid her down in her bed, pulling the blanket over her. She’d passed out in his arms somewhere between saying “I don’t hate you that much” and “your eyes look like bad decisions.”

He stood at the edge of the bed, watching her — a soft expression melting into his features.

Even drunk and chaotic… she was his storm.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured under his breath. “You’ve terrified enough people tonight.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers paused for a moment.

“You’re not supposed to make me care,” he whispered.

But she was already asleep.

And maybe… maybe it was too late not to.

As Jungkook tried to steady her against his side, she suddenly pushed herself off him and pointed at the group dramatically.

“LISTEN UP, SNAKES!” she shouted.

Everyone blinked.

“Uh… what?” Jimin looked around. “Is she—talking to us?”

“Apparently,” said Suga, sipping his tea unfazed.

“I have SEEN things!” YN declared like a prophet, swaying slightly. “Blood, betrayal, broken bones—but THIS,” she pointed to the bottle, “this is the real demon!”

“I feel like we’re in a theatre play now,” Hobi whispered, entertained.

Jungkook moved to grab her arm, but she spun toward him.

“YOU!” she said, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Why are you so... built?”

“...What?”

“It’s distracting, Jeon Jungkook,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes. “And unnecessary. Who asked you to look like a walking sin?”

Jin started choking on air.

“I think I just died and came back to life,” Jin wheezed.

“Oh we are SO recording this,” Taehyung whispered gleefully, pulling out his phone.

But before he could press record, she turned to him with deadly precision.

“And YOU,” she said to Taehyung, “why do you smell like vanilla and heartbreak? Are you plotting something?”

“I—what? No?”

“Hmm. Suspicious.”

Then she whirled on Namjoon.

“I trust you. You look like someone who reads about consent.”

“Thank you?” Namjoon blinked, unsure if he should feel honored or afraid.

Suddenly, she gasped and held her head dramatically like a telenovela actress.

“Wait. Did anyone feed my cat?”

“...You don’t have a cat,” Yoongi said dryly.

“That’s tragic.”

She looked genuinely heartbroken.

She then attempted to sit on the arm of the couch and missed completely, flopping like a ragdoll onto Jimin, who yelped.

“SHE’S TOO POWERFUL!” Jimin squealed as her full weight slammed into him. “SAVE ME.”

She sat up on his lap, grabbed his face between her hands and peered into his soul.

“Your eyes are too soft for this world.”

“Thank you, I—?”

“Never trust a man with a babyface. Except you. You're acceptable.”

Then—just when Jungkook tried to pull her back—she whipped around and stood on the coffee table, arms raised like a war goddess.

“I AM THE NIGHT,” she proclaimed.

“Oh God,” Jungkook groaned.

“I HAVE KILLED MEN FOR LESS THAN INTERRUPTING MY PEACE!”

“We know,” Yoongi mumbled. “You nearly stabbed Jin for sneezing during training.”

She paused.

“He sneezed too suspiciously.”

“It was allergies,” Jin argued.

“Or betrayal.”

Jungkook had enough.

He stepped forward and grabbed her by the waist—lifting her right off the table.

“No more whiskey for you, ever,” he muttered, carrying her bridal style like a hostage.

“You smell nice,” she mumbled again, her head slumping against his shoulder.

“I SWEAR,” Jungkook growled at the others, “if any of you bring this up later—”

“Oh don’t worry,” Jimin grinned, “we’ll never forget this.”

“Ever,” added Taehyung proudly, holding up the phone (yes, he did record a bit after all).

“Blackmail material for life,” whispered Hobi.

“Kill me now,” Jungkook muttered.

“WAIT!” YN suddenly shouted from his arms.

He froze. The others went quiet.

“Did… did anyone ever tell me I’m terrifying?”

“Every day,” Suga nodded.

“Good,” she whispered, then passed out instantly.

Back in Her Room...

Jungkook stared at her knocked-out form on the bed, hair messy, cheeks flushed, limbs everywhere.

“Terror in combat,” he whispered, “but give her one drink…”

He pulled the blanket over her.

“You're lucky you're cute when you’re drunk,” he added before quietly shutting the door.

The sun filtered through the curtains, landing right on YN’s face. Her head pounded like a drum, and her entire body felt like it had been hit by a train.

“Ugh…” she groaned, sitting up and holding her head.

“Why does my skull feel like it fought a war without telling me?”

She looked down—still in the clothes from last night, blanket half off her, shoes missing. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What… the hell happened?”

Then came the realization—a faint memory of whiskey, yelling, standing on something high…

“Wait—did I… stand on the coffee table?”

“No. No, no, no. Please tell me I didn’t say anything stupid—”

A knock on her door.

Before she could answer, the door burst open—Taehyung, Jimin, and Jin strutted in like a comedy troupe.

Taehyung held a tray with a black coffee, toast, and painkillers.

“Good morning, mighty warrior of the whiskey realm,” he grinned.

“How’s the Queen of Chaos feeling?” Jimin teased, plopping beside her.

“Hungover,” she mumbled.

“Understandable. You declared yourself ‘The Night’ and accused Jin of ‘treacherous sneezing’,” Taehyung said, placing the tray in front of her.

“You also tried to recruit us into your imaginary gang called the Period Avengers,” Jin deadpanned.

YN froze mid-sip of coffee.

“...What?”

“Yeah,” Jimin grinned. “You even knighted Yoongi as Sir Bleeds-a-Lot.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered, facepalming.

And then… the final blow.

“Also, just so you know…” Taehyung pulled out his phone.

“DON’T,” she warned.

“Too late,” he smirked—and pressed play.

Her own voice came out loud and slurred:

“YOU! Jeon Jungkook! Why are you so built?! It's distracting! You look like a—walking sin!”

YN’s soul left her body.

She shoved her face into a pillow and screamed.

“Kill me. Please. Just kill me now.”

Jin patted her back.

“You were iconic. Insane. Scary. A literal fever dream.”

“Jungkook carried you bridal style and looked like he was going through a moral crisis,” Jimin laughed.

You also said Namjoon ‘looked like a man who reads about consent,’ which was very weirdly specific.”

“...I do read about consent,” Namjoon said from the doorway, holding a book.

She peeked out of the pillow, mortified.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“Good call,” Yoongi added, walking in with a heat pack. “But you were hilarious. Scary. But hilarious.”

And then, right on cue—Jungkook appeared, leaning casually against the doorframe. Arms crossed. Blank face. Eyes locked on her.

“So,” he said slowly. “You think I’m a walking sin?”

The room went dead silent.

YN stared. “I was drunk.”

“Mm. So that wasn’t the truth?” he asked, head tilting slightly.

“It was the alcohol talking,” she muttered, cheeks flushing crimson.

“Ah. Shame,” he smirked and walked away.

The others lost it.

“SHE’S RED. SHE’S BLUSHING,” Taehyung screamed.

“The stone-cold killer has a crush,” Jimin teased.

“You all suck,” she growled, chucking a pillow at Jimin’s head.

But her lips twitched slightly, a tiny smirk breaking through.

For once… it wasn’t a bad kind of chaos.

It felt like family.

To be continued...