The air was thick with blood. The room reeked of iron and smoke.

YN stood above Jung Minho, her blade soaked in crimson. Her breathing was ragged, lips trembling—not from weakness, but from fury still caged inside her chest.

She hadn’t killed him yet.

But she had hurt him. Crippled him. Broken him.

Every time her knife tore through his flesh, her mind screamed with the memory of her mother’s final cry. Of her father’s body. Of Mrs. Kang’s blood pooling beneath her hands.

“You took everything from me,” she said, yanking him to his feet.

He could barely stand, dragging one leg, coughing up blood.

“You burned my family alive,” she whispered. “So now… I’ll show you what that feels like.”

On the other side jungkook...

His fists were already soaked in blood. His breathing uneven. His vision blurred.

His father was on the ground, coughing, begging. But Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore.

He saw his mother.

He saw himself as a child, crying alone.

He saw YN, broken and bleeding in the shadows of every war she never started.

“You ruined everything you touched,” Jungkook whispered, voice low—cold.

“And I was always afraid to become like you…”

He raised the gun slowly. His finger curled around the trigger.

“But I’m nothing like you.”

BANG.

The shot echoed like thunder.

Jungkook didn’t move.

He just stared.

Eyes blank. Body shaking.

Until Yoongi rushed forward, pulling the gun from his hand before he did something else.

“It’s done,” Yoongi muttered.

But for Jungkook… it was never just about killing the man.

It was about burying the pain.

And he wasn’t sure that would ever go away.

Back to YN.

The mansion loomed before her like a monster—his empire, his castle of rot and blood. She poured gasoline with cold calculation.

Every step. Every wall. Every stone.

She dragged him through the doors, letting his own legacy witness his end.

“You called yourself my father,” she said, dousing him in fuel.

“You ordered my mother’s death. My father’s. You laughed when Mrs. Kang burned alive.”

He whimpered—broken, bloody.

She didn’t flinch.

She stepped outside, her boot crunching on gravel, wind licking her face like a ghost.

The lighter in her hand flicked open.

Flame.

She stared at the spark.

Then at the man tied to the pillar, fuel dripping from his clothes.

And then… the house.

“You’ll burn with the life you destroyed,” she whispered.

And she tossed it.

WHOOSH.

The fire roared instantly, an angry beast swallowing the mansion whole.

She didn’t turn away.

Didn’t blink.

The fire reflected in her eyes, wild and furious.

Her fists clenched. Her body stiff.

“You were never my father,” she said to the inferno.

“You never will be.”

No tears came.

No screams.

Just silence.

She walked away, shadows curling behind her as the past burned to ash. The flames did not warm her. They never could.

Because now… she was free.

But she was alone.

The only family she had ever known—her real parents, Mrs. Kang—were gone.

She wasn’t his daughter.

But she was no one else’s either.

She was an orphan again.

The sky above was cloudless, moonlight swallowed by the fire devouring Jung Minho’s empire. It burned like hell itself had risen to the surface—and in the middle of that inferno stood her.

YN.

Motionless. Silent.

Her eyes blank, glowing dimly from the reflection of the flames.

Smoke curled in the air like ghosts of everything she’d lost. Everything that ever mattered.

She stared at the pistol in her hands.

Stared at it like it was the final door in a world full of locked ones.

Her grip tightened around the gun.

Her finger hovered over the trigger.

"What now?" she whispered, voice so low the fire almost swallowed it.

"There’s no reason left. No more justice. No more vengeance. No more... me."

Her knees trembled, but she stood like stone. Her face was unreadable—no sadness, no rage. Just a silence so hollow it hurt.

Then—

“YN!!”

A voice, desperate. Hoarse. Familiar.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn.

But her hand shook.

Jungkook stood there, panting, eyes wide—completely still, as though moving would break the world.

The gun was still pointed at her temple.

“Don’t.”

His voice cracked.

“Please, don’t.”

She didn’t look at him. Just stared straight ahead, flames dancing in her vision.

“It’s over, Jungkook,” she whispered.

“No, it’s not.”

He took a step closer. “Not if you pull that trigger. Not if you leave me behind like this.”

“There’s nothing left for me. No family. No purpose. No home.” Her voice cracked now, trembled.

“Who am I even living for?”

He was close now. But not too close. Not close enough to scare her.

“You’re living for the girl who swore she'd never become like them.

For the little girl who ran from fire and built herself into a storm.

For Annie. For us. For me, dammit.”

She slowly turned her head, tears in her eyes—but not falling.

“I don’t deserve anything. I’ve killed. I’ve become—”

“—One of us,” he cut in. “You became one of us, YN. You fought. You survived. You protected.”

He reached forward, slowly. His fingers ghosted over the barrel of the gun.

“Let me be your reason,” he whispered. “Just for tonight. Just for now.”

Silence. The flames crackled behind them like dying screams.

Her hand shook more violently now.

“Don’t make me live this life without you,” he breathed. “I can’t.”

Her hand finally lowered.

And then—

She collapsed.

Her knees gave out. The gun clattered to the ground.

Jungkook caught her mid-fall, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

And finally—she cried.

Not a scream. Not a roar.

Just silent sobs buried in his chest.

His arms held her like she was breaking in pieces, like if he let go even once—she’d vanish.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

They stayed like that—two souls scorched by war, stitched together by grief and pain and something more.

The flames behind them hissed as raindrops began to fall—soft at first, then heavier. The sky, perhaps, was trying to help wash away the blood and sins that clung to their skin.

YN collapsed fully into Jungkook’s chest, fists clenched in his soaked shirt, her body trembling with the weight of everything. Her scream was muffled against him—a raw, painful cry of someone who had been holding back for far too long.

And Jungkook just held her, his jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, letting her soak him with her pain.

“I hate him,” she sobbed. “I hate what he did to me, to them—to me!”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered into her hair, kissing her temple as the rain soaked through his clothes. “I know, baby… I hate him too.”

His own voice cracked. His own shoulders trembled.

Because he had done it too. He had killed the man who gave him life—the man who destroyed everything good in it.

Two broken hearts. Same blood on their hands. Same ghosts in their shadows.

“They were our fathers,” she whimpered bitterly, “and they ruined us.”

“But they don’t define us,” he whispered, brushing her wet hair away from her face.

“They don’t get to win, YN.”

Her tear-soaked eyes looked up at him.

“Then why does it still hurt this much?”

Jungkook’s hand rested over her chest, where her heart beat frantically beneath the pain.

“Because you still feel. Because you’re not a monster. You’re human.”

The fire was dying behind them. The mansion slowly collapsing.

Ash floated in the air, mixing with the rain—like the universe was burning down the past, while trying to cleanse what was left.

And they stood there, together. Two children who lost everything.

Two souls who survived hell.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses touching. Her tears still fell. His thumb caught them with soft strokes.

“We can’t erase what we did. What they did to us,” he whispered.

“But we can start again. Piece by piece. Even if it’s broken, we can still call it ours.”

She nodded slowly, brokenly.

“But I don’t know how to live without revenge anymore.”

“Then live for me,” he said, voice trembling. “Just for a little while.”

Their lips didn’t meet. Not yet.

But their foreheads stayed pressed, breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat.

And above them, the rain kept falling, washing away the blood on their hands.

Just a little.

To be continued...