Jungkook arrived at Jin’s private clinic, his car brakes screeching to a stop. He didn’t even bother locking the door, just stormed inside.

Jin was already waiting for him in his office, sleeves rolled up, a thick file spread across the desk. The seriousness in his eyes made Jungkook’s gut twist.

“Hyung,” Jungkook snapped, breath still uneven. “Talk. Now.”

Jin gestured for him to sit, but Jungkook remained standing, fists clenched. Jin sighed, opening the file.

“There are two possible methods,” Jin began carefully. “One is traditional therapy—slow, safe, maybe over years. But given how deep the trauma is, progress will be glacial. The other…” He tapped a page with scans and notes. “…is a neurological stimulation procedure. A controlled trigger therapy. In simple terms, we shock her brain into reactivating the locked pathways where her memories are buried.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “Shock her brain? Are you insane—”

“Listen first,” Jin cut in sharply. “It’s not physical harm. It’s targeted. The process uses certain audio-visual triggers, hypnotic regression, and mild neural stimulation. It can force suppressed or erased memories back to the surface.”

“And the risk?” Jungkook bit out.

“The memories might not come back clean. She could relive the trauma too vividly. Panic attacks. Seizures. Psychological break.” Jin looked him dead in the eyes. “That’s the forty percent. If it fails… she may never recover the full truth. Or worse—she could mentally collapse under the weight of it.”

The air went cold. Jungkook’s throat dried, but his voice was steel. “And if it succeeds?”

“She’ll remember everything,” Jin said softly. “Her past, the attack on her mother… the face of the woman you’re hunting.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. His nails dug crescents into his palms.

“You’re telling me I have to choose between leaving her in the dark—broken but safe—or risking her life just to rip the truth out?”

Jin didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Jungkook turned away, staring at the city lights through the window. His chest heaved, rage and helplessness twisting inside him. “Fuck…” He slammed his fist against the glass, the sound echoing.

For a long moment, he stayed like that, shoulders trembling. Then, quieter, almost to himself—

“She trusts me. She depends on me. How the fuck can I gamble with her like this?”

Jin’s voice softened, though it still carried weight. “Sometimes, Jungkook, the truth costs blood. The question is—whose blood will it be? Hers… or the one who destroyed her life?”

Jungkook turned back, his eyes darker than ever. “Give me time. Don’t prepare anything until I say so. I need to decide if I’m ready to put her through hell… just to burn the one who did this to her.”

Jin nodded slowly. “Take your time. But not too much. That woman who haunts her dreams? She’s still out there. And she won’t stop.”

Jungkook was driving back home after the meeting with Jin, his mind still heavy with the choice hanging over him. The streets blurred past his window as he gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, jaw locked.

When the traffic light ahead turned red, he slowed to a stop. His gaze wandered absently to the car that pulled up in the lane beside him. And then his eyes narrowed.

Mrs. Kim.

She sat in the passenger seat, sunglasses perched low, her face carrying a subtle smugness. But she wasn’t alone. A man drove the car—a broad-shouldered man with tattoos running down his arm. His aura screamed danger. Not the type of man any woman from Mrs. Kim’s circle should be associating with.

Jungkook’s gut twisted. He knew enough about people to recognize filth when he saw it.

The light turned green. Both cars rolled forward. Jungkook’s foot pressed the accelerator a little harder, his gaze locked on the black sedan ahead.

Where the hell are you going with him, Mrs. Kim?

He tailed them discreetly through winding streets until the car finally stopped in front of an abandoned building at the edge of the city—half-broken windows, rusting gates, weeds growing wild. No reason a woman like Mrs. Kim should be here.

Jungkook parked a safe distance away and slipped out of his car. His steps were silent, his presence masked. Years of learning how to stalk shadows came back to him like instinct.

He followed her inside.

Through a crack in the doorway, he saw Mrs. Kim sitting at a dust-stained wooden table. Across from her was another man—not the driver this time, but someone worse. His hair was slicked back, his hands covered in rings, his grin feral.

“You know what you have to do,” Mrs. Kim said coldly, her voice laced with venom.

“Sure I do,” the man replied lazily, leaning back in his chair.

She snapped her fingers. The driver set a heavy briefcase on the table. When it clicked open, stacks of cash gleamed under the dim light.

Mrs. Kim leaned forward, her lips curling. “Do it as soon as possible. I want her—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing.

Jungkook froze.

He glanced down. Beneath his boot, a rotten piece of wood had cracked loudly against the cement floor.

“Someone’s here,” Mrs. Kim hissed. She straightened immediately, her cold aura sharpening. “Check it. Now.”

The guards moved instantly, weapons drawn.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. He was ready to fight his way out, muscles tensed. One against five. Fine. I’ll cut my way through if I have to.

But then—

A hand clamped onto his wrist from the shadows. Before he could react, a low familiar voice hissed in his ear.

“Not here. Run.”

Yoongi.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock, but he had no time to question. Yoongi yanked him back, dragging him silently out through a side door, their footsteps muffled against the dirt. The guards’ shouts echoed behind them, boots pounding as they searched the corridors.

By the time Mrs. Kim’s men spilled out into the alley, the two were already in Yoongi’s black car. Tires screeched, the vehicle darting into the night.

Inside the car, Jungkook’s chest heaved. His knuckles were white, still clenched tight. He turned his head slowly toward Yoongi, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

“You—” Jungkook’s voice was rough, strangled with shock. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Yoongi didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes on the road, his face unreadable, calm as ever.

“Saving your reckless ass,” he finally said coolly. “You almost got yourself killed… Mr. Husband.”

The silence in the car was razor-sharp, cut only by the engine’s low growl. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell harshly, his veins still buzzing with the adrenaline of almost being caught.

"My car it was there"He turned on Yoongi, voice sharp, " Don't worry I already got it" Yoongi said.

“What the fuck was that, hyung? How do you know about this? Why were you even there?”

Yoongi didn’t flinch. His grip on the steering wheel was relaxed, one hand tapping idly as if Jungkook’s anger meant nothing.

“You’re welcome,” Yoongi replied dryly.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “Don’t play games with me.” He leaned closer, eyes dark, voice deadly. “Tell me why you were following her.”

At that, Yoongi’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. His eyes flicked to Jungkook briefly before returning to the road.

“Because you’re not the only one who noticed her stench,” Yoongi said, his tone calm but edged. “Mrs. Kim isn’t clean. She’s been moving quietly for a while now… too quietly. And tonight, she got bold. You just happened to step into the lion’s den at the wrong time.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, anger and suspicion clashing in his gaze. “You’ve been watching her?”

“Of course,” Yoongi said simply. “You think I’d leave something like this unchecked when it concerns her?”

The way Yoongi said “her” made Jungkook’s stomach twist. He knew exactly who he meant—you.

“Why?” Jungkook demanded, his voice sharp but shaky at the edges. “Did you find out something? What the hell do you know?”

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, almost amused at Jungkook’s desperation. “Calm down, kid. I don’t know everything yet. But I know enough to see Mrs. Kim’s hands aren’t clean in this mess. She’s hiding more than you can imagine.”

Jungkook’s fists tightened. He stared at Yoongi, his throat dry, pulse racing. “So what—she’s the one? The one who—” He stopped himself, rage flickering in his eyes.

Yoongi gave him a side glance, his smirk fading into something sharper, colder. “Don’t jump to conclusions. But if you want the truth…” He tapped his temple. “You’ll need more than your fists and suspicions. You’ll need patience.”

Jungkook turned away, staring out the dark window. His reflection looked back at him—jaw clenched, eyes haunted. Patience. It felt like poison on his tongue.

“Patience won’t protect her,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

Yoongi heard it anyway. His smirk returned, faint but certain. “You care more than you admit.”

Jungkook snapped his head back toward him, eyes blazing. “Shut up.”

But Yoongi only chuckled, his calm voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Face it, Jeon. You’re already gone for her.”

The drive back was suffocating. Even after Yoongi dropped him off a few blocks away, Jungkook’s head still pulsed with the memory of Mrs. Kim sliding that briefcase across the table. The image wouldn’t leave him—her cold, calm expression, the casualness of ordering something horrific.

By the time Jungkook stepped through the front door of the Jeon residence, his face was carved into neutrality. Not a trace of what he had just witnessed could be read, though his heart still thundered.

You were in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket. Your phone was in your hand, but your eyes lit up the second you saw him.

“You’re back,” you said softly, almost relieved.

Jungkook swallowed, forcing a small nod. “Yeah.” His voice was low, controlled. Too controlled.

You tilted your head, studying him. Something was off. His shoulders were too stiff, his eyes darker than usual.

“Did something happen?” you asked gently.

For a moment, Jungkook froze. Images flashed in his mind—your nightmare, your trembling voice calling out for your mother, Mrs. Kim’s sinister deal, Yoongi’s words echoing You’re already gone for her.

He forced his lips into a faint curve. “No. Nothing.”

You frowned, not convinced, but you didn’t press. Instead, you shifted on the couch, patting the empty space beside you. “Sit. You’ve been out the whole evening.”

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, then moved to sit beside you. You handed him a pillow, almost like a silent offering of comfort.

But his mind wasn’t on the pillow or the couch. It was on you. On the way you looked at him with complete unawareness of the storm brewing around you. On the way Mrs. Kim’s words felt like a dagger at your back, and you didn’t even know it.

He couldn’t tell you. Not now. Not when you were still fragile, still trying to piece together the broken edges of your memory.

So instead, he reached over and tucked the blanket tighter around you, his voice softer this time. “Did you eat your medicine?”

Your lips curved into the faintest pout. “Yeah. You’re worse than the doctor.”

For the first time since that warehouse, Jungkook’s chest loosened just slightly. He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Good.”

You leaned back against the couch, yawning softly. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his presence lulling you toward sleep.

Jungkook sat there, staring at you. His jaw clenched again. I’ll protect you. Even if it means burning every person who comes near you. Even if it means going against everyone—including my own family.

His hand brushed lightly against yours on the couch, almost as if testing the boundaries. You stirred faintly in your half-asleep state, then relaxed, letting your fingers curl unconsciously around his.

That tiny gesture undid him. His chest tightened painfully. He leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closing, whispering only to himself—

“I won’t let her touch you again.”

The house was silent that night, everyone long asleep. Except Jungkook. He sat alone in the dimly lit study, staring at the glass of whiskey on the table but not drinking it. His thoughts kept circling—Mrs. Kim, Yoongi’s warning, Jin’s call, your fragile state. Everything tangled like barbed wire inside his head.

The soft creak of the door startled him.

“jungkook?”

Jungkook’s head snapped up. Jimin stepped into the study, hands in his pockets, his usual easy smile faint but still there.

“You could’ve told me you were drowning in your own brain,” Jimin said casually, pulling a chair opposite him.

Jungkook exhaled, trying to mask the storm. “What are you doing here this late?”

“Yoongi hyung told me a little.” Jimin leaned back, eyes sharp now. “So, talk.”

And for the second time that day, Jungkook broke his silence. He told Jimin everything—the rushed marriage to save you, how you were slowly breaking under the weight of missing memories, Mrs. Kim’s suspicious meeting, Yoongi’s words, and finally Jin’s discovery about the risky procedure. By the end, Jungkook’s fists were trembling on his knees.

“What if… what if she doesn’t survive it?” His voice cracked for the first time, raw fear slipping through. “What if I lose her completely? Jimin, I—”

“Stop.”

Jimin’s voice was firm, cutting off his spiral. His eyes locked on Jungkook’s with an intensity that shut him up.

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you? You’re ready to fight the whole damn world for her.” Jimin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Then stop thinking about the worst. Stop filling your head with fear. You’ve got enough enemies outside—you don’t need one inside your chest.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, blinking at him.

“Positive first, negative later,” Jimin continued, his voice softening now. “That’s how you survive, that’s how you protect someone you love. Believe she’ll come back stronger. Believe she’ll heal. And when the time comes, you take that risk because doing nothing is worse.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. He hadn’t realized until now how desperately he needed someone to say that.

“Jimin…” his voice was low, almost a whisper.

Jimin smirked faintly, reaching over to clap a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’re not alone, Kook. Not in this fight. You’ve got me, you’ve got Yoongi hyung, Jin hyung. And you’ve got her. Whether you admit it or not, that girl’s your strength. Stop doubting it.”

For the first time in days, Jungkook felt his chest unclench. His gaze softened, his head lowering slightly as if releasing a burden.

“…Positive first,” he muttered to himself.

Jimin smiled knowingly. “That’s my boy.”

The two sat in silence after that, not heavy but comforting. For once, Jungkook’s head wasn’t echoing with worst-case scenarios. Instead, a fragile thread of hope began weaving through his thoughts.

The morning sunlight spilled gently through the curtains when Jungkook stepped out of your room. He had been awake before you, restless, his mind echoing with Jimin’s words from the night before. Positive first. Negative later.

He dialed a number and waited.

“Maria,” his voice was low but steady, “come to the mansion. I need you here. It’s about YN… and something Jin found.”

Within an hour, Maria arrived. Soon after, Sera, Mrs. Jeon, and even Jimin gathered in the living room. The air was heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Jungkook finally led you down, his hand resting lightly on your back as though he knew you might falter.

Once everyone settled, Jungkook explained everything Jin had told him—the possibility of recovering your memories through the risky procedure. He didn’t sugarcoat it. “It’s… not safe. There’s a chance it might not work. But it could bring everything back.”

Silence fell like a stone in water.

You sat frozen, staring down at your hands. “So… it’s dangerous.” Your voice was small, trembling. “What if I lose myself completely? What if I…” you swallowed hard, unable to finish.

Jungkook instantly leaned closer, his eyes burning. “Don’t say that.”

But Maria was quicker. She reached for your hand, warm and firm. “YN, listen to me. You’re stronger than you think. And you’re not walking into this alone—you’ve got us, all of us, right here. Even if it’s scary, we’ll be with you through every step.”

Mrs. Jeon nodded immediately. “She’s right, sweetheart. Fear is normal, but don’t let it cage you. You’ve already survived so much.”

Sera, unusually gentle, added, “ynnie, I believe in you. You’ve always had this fire inside you… this won’t break you.”

Jimin smiled softly, leaning forward. “And remember—positive first. If you go into this believing in yourself, in us, you’ll come out stronger. We’ll make sure of it.”

Tears welled in your eyes. You hated feeling weak, hated being the center of worry, but their voices—one after another—wove a safety net around you. And Jungkook’s gaze never left you, fierce yet tender, silently begging you to see what he couldn’t say out loud: I need you to fight. I can’t lose you.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you nodded. “Okay… I’ll do it. I’ll take the risk.”

Relief spread through the room. Maria squeezed your hand tighter. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook exhaled deeply, a weight lifting from his chest as he reached over, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. For the first time in days, hope no longer felt like a distant dream—it was here, fragile but real.

Later that evening,  Jungkook slipped out of the room with his phone in hand. He stepped onto the balcony, the night air cool against his burning thoughts.

He dialed. It didn’t take long.

“Hyung,” Jungkook’s voice was rough but certain, “she’s ready.”

On the other end, Jin paused. “Are you sure?”

“She agreed herself,” Jungkook replied. His jaw tightened, but there was no hesitation in his tone. “I don’t care how risky it is. She wants her past back, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help her. Prepare everything… we’ll come in the morning.”

Jin exhaled audibly, the sound of pages flipping in the background. “Alright. I’ll set up everything tonight. Make sure she’s calm tomorrow—she’ll need all the strength she has. And Jungkook…” his voice lowered, serious. “…you need to be ready too. Because if anything goes wrong—”

“Nothing will,” Jungkook cut him off firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He clenched his fist around the railing, eyes hard. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Jin didn’t press further. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

The line clicked dead.

Jungkook lingered there for a long moment, staring into the darkness. His chest rose and fell heavily, his mind screaming with what ifs. But then, when he turned back inside and saw your sleeping form—so fragile, yet stubbornly unbroken—his fear twisted into something sharper. Resolve.

Tomorrow, everything could change.

The house was quiet, but your heart wasn’t. You tossed and turned beneath the sheets, the weight of tomorrow pressing down on your chest. Every time you closed your eyes, the same thoughts clawed at you—

What if it hurts? What if I can’t handle it? What if… I don’t survive it?

Your breath hitched, and you sat up abruptly, hugging your knees. The darkness of the room felt suffocating, and your mind spun faster, panic threatening to consume you.

That’s when the mattress dipped.

You flinched, only to see Jungkook sliding closer, his face shadowed but his eyes sharp—watchful, soft, and unshakably steady.

“Couldn’t sleep?” his voice was low, like he already knew the answer.

You shook your head. “…I’m scared, Jungkook. What if something goes wrong? What if I—”

“Stop.” His hand reached for yours, firm but gentle, pulling it away from your clenched knees. His thumb brushed your trembling fingers. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

“But—”

“No buts.” His tone deepened, carrying that commanding edge that always silenced you. But this time, there was no coldness—just a fierce desperation. “You’re not alone in this. I’ll be there every damn second. Nothing’s going to happen to you, Yn. Do you hear me? Nothing.”

Your chest tightened at the raw certainty in his words.

Then he pulled you closer until your head rested against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steady beneath your ear, grounding you. “I don’t care if I have to fight the whole world tomorrow,” he whispered into your hair, “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll bring you back to me, no matter what.”

You closed your eyes, tears stinging. Slowly, your breathing evened out, his warmth wrapping around you like armor. The fear didn’t vanish completely, but it dulled—muted beneath the steady rhythm of his arms holding you, refusing to let go.

For the first time that night, you felt safe enough to sleep.

The morning came too soon.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, only the hum of the car filling the space. Your fingers twisted nervously in your lap, and Jungkook’s hand slipped over yours without a word, squeezing it tight like an anchor. He didn’t look at you, but you could feel his silent vow in that touch—I’ve got you.

Maria was already waiting by the entrance when the car pulled up. She hurried to you immediately, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “Breathe, sweetheart,” she whispered, “you’re stronger than you think.” Her warm tone almost cracked the dam inside you, but you nodded, holding yourself together.

Jimin arrived a moment later, his usual bright grin softened into something gentler, more serious. He crouched slightly so his eyes could meet yours. “Hey, no frowning, okay? You’re not alone in this. Think of this as… taking back what was stolen from you.”

You gave a weak laugh at his attempt, but it was enough to steady your shaking hands.

Then Jungkook spoke, his deep voice grounding everyone. “No one tells Taehyung.”

Maria blinked. “But why—”

“She doesn’t want him to know.” Jungkook cut in firmly, his eyes flickering to you for just a second. “And we’ll respect that. Not until it’s done.”

Jimin sighed but nodded. “Fine. But he’s gonna explode if he finds out later.”

You swallowed hard, guilt pressing on your chest, but you stayed silent. The thought of Taehyung pacing, worrying himself sick, made your heart ache. You couldn’t bear to put him through this—not yet.

Jungkook slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the four of you entered the hospital. His lips brushed your temple in a fleeting, grounding gesture that no one else seemed to notice.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear. “I’m right here. Every step.”

And with that, the doors of the hospital closed behind you, sealing the moment where fear met fate.

The sterile scent of disinfectant clung to the air as you walked through the wide, cold corridors. Every step made your heart thud faster. Jungkook’s arm stayed firm around your shoulders, guiding you like he was afraid you’d crumble if he let go.

Jin was already there, standing in a crisp white coat, calm as ever. He greeted you with a professional smile, but his eyes softened when they landed on your pale face.

“Yn,” he said gently, “it’s good you came. The sooner we begin, the sooner you’ll be free from this fog.”

You gave a small nod, but your voice caught in your throat.

Maria rubbed your back reassuringly while Jimin muttered, “Don’t worry, he’s the best in this whole country. If anyone can do this, it’s hyung.”

Jin motioned toward the room behind him. Through the glass, you could see the setup—machines humming quietly, a narrow bed in the center, wires, monitors. The sight made your stomach twist.

“The procedure,” Jin began, tone steady, “involves a mild sedative. We’ll use neuro-stimulation to access the locked parts of your memory. It may bring them forward… or it may not. As I told Jungkook, success rates are about sixty percent.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched at the number. His hand tightened around yours until it almost hurt. “What about the other forty?” his voice was sharp, dangerous.

Jin sighed. “Worst case… she may experience migraines, disorientation. And if the brain resists too hard—”

“Stop.” Jungkook cut him off, his voice low but shaking. He couldn’t hear the rest.

Your lips trembled. “Will it… hurt?”

“Not physically,” Jin said softly, “but emotionally—it may feel like reliving everything at once. Pain, fear, trauma. That’s why you need to be strong, and why he—” he nodded at Jungkook—“needs to stay close.”

Your eyes welled as you whispered, “I-I don’t know if I can do this…”

Jungkook immediately crouched in front of you, cupping your face in both hands, forcing your eyes onto his. His dark gaze burned with fierce determination. “Yn. Listen to me. You’re not doing this alone. I’ll be right here. If you cry, I’ll hold you. If you scream, I’ll be the one to calm you. If you break, I’ll carry you through it. You just… trust me.”

Maria sniffled at the words, Jimin turned away to hide his expression, but Jin only nodded approvingly.

You tried to smile through your tears, whispering, “I’m scared.”

Jungkook leaned his forehead to yours. “So am I. But we’ll be scared together, alright?”

Maria took your trembling hands, squeezing them tight. “Yn, don’t let fear eat you. You’ve already survived so much—you’re stronger than you think.” Her voice was gentle but firm, the kind of voice that didn’t allow room for doubt.

Jimin, trying to lighten the mood, ruffled your hair softly. “Hey, don’t overthink, okay? Just imagine it’s like rewinding a movie. You’ll get through this, and when you open your eyes—you’ll have us, and him—” he shot Jungkook a look, smirking a little, “hovering like an annoying bodyguard.”

“Yah,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, but you caught the flicker of gratefulness in his eyes.

Then Jin appeared again, clipboard in hand. “It’s time. We shouldn’t delay further.”

Your heart sank to your stomach. The words felt final.

Jungkook immediately noticed your panic and whispered in your ear, “I’m right here. Every second. Every breath. Just look for me.”

Inside the procedure room, the air was colder. The machines beeped quietly, sterile wires coiled neatly on trays. The bed in the center looked far too clinical, far too exposed.

You hesitated at the threshold, your body locking in place.

Jungkook gently guided you forward. He helped you sit on the edge of the bed, his large hands steadying your shoulders. “Breathe,” he murmured. “One at a time.”

A nurse slipped the monitoring bands onto your wrists, stuck patches on your temples. The adhesive felt strange, foreign. You flinched, and Jungkook immediately grabbed your hand, threading his fingers with yours.

“I don’t like this,” you whispered, staring at the wires.

“Neither do I,” he admitted, voice low. “But if it means giving you back what was stolen, then I’ll sit here all day, all night, until it’s done.”

As Jin adjusted the machine settings, he explained, “She’ll start with light sedation. Memories may surface in fragments—images, voices, sounds. We need to monitor carefully.”

Jungkook nodded tightly, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Close your eyes if it gets too much. Just remember—I’ll be the first thing you see when you open them.”

You turned to him, eyes wet. “Promise?”

His gaze softened, though his heart was racing like thunder. “Promise.”

The room went quiet at Jungkook’s defiance. Jin had paused mid-adjustment, brows knitting as his eyes flicked from Jungkook’s firm grip on your trembling hand to the determination burning in his face.

“Jungkook,” Jin said quietly, “if you hold her while the sedation and memory currents hit, it might transfer—you might feel what she feels. Pain, confusion, even fragments of her memories. It’s dangerous.”

But Jungkook didn’t even hesitate. His jaw clenched, his thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. His voice was low, steady, unyielding:

“I don’t care. No matter what, I don’t leave her hand. Even if it hurts me.”

You turned your head slightly, eyes wide at him, lips parting like you wanted to protest—but the words wouldn’t come.

Jin sighed, shoulders slumping, realizing it was useless to argue. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jungkook leaned closer to you, his forehead almost touching yours, his dark eyes soft but unbreakable. “If it hurts you,” he whispered, “then it hurts me too. I’ll take it with you. I’ll tolerate everything… but I won’t let you go through it alone.”

Your chest tightened, breath hitching as a small tear slipped out. His grip on your hand was strong, grounding, making you feel less like a patient on a hospital bed and more like… someone who mattered, someone he refused to abandon.

Jin gave a final nod to the nurses. The machines began to hum louder, the sedative already in your veins starting to drag your consciousness under.

And the last thing you felt before the memories pulled you away—was his hand, warm, steady, and unshakable in yours.

The hum of the machine deepened, a low vibration crawling through the sterile air. You felt the sedation tugging at your body, but the sharp bite of electricity shot through you—jolting your nerves like fire beneath your skin.

Your back arched against the bed, breath breaking into ragged gasps. “A-ah—!” A cry ripped from your throat, echoing against the white walls.

Jungkook’s whole body lurched forward, his hand tightening around yours so hard his knuckles blanched. “Yn!” His voice cracked with panic, but you couldn’t answer—you were trembling, eyes squeezed shut, your chest rising and falling too fast.

Jin’s calm voice cut through, though it sounded far away, “Stay back, Jungkook. This is part of the process. Her brain is resisting.”

But Jungkook wasn’t calm. His heart pounded in his chest, fury and helplessness twisting his face. He leaned over you, his other hand cupping your damp temple even though he wasn’t supposed to. “Breathe, Yn. Just breathe—look at me, don’t let go. Please… hold onto me.”

Another current hit. You screamed again, your body jerking violently against the restraints, tears spilling down your temples.

“Stop this! She can’t—” Jungkook snapped at Jin, but Jin shook his head firmly. “If I stop now, it’ll damage her worse. She has to go through this.”

Jungkook cursed under his breath, torn apart by the sight. He bent down, lips brushing your knuckles. “I’m here. I’m here,  Don’t give up, do you hear me? You’re not alone.”

Your breath came in ragged sobs, chest heaving, but his voice—low, raw, desperate—cut through the chaos. Even while your world spun and memories screamed at the edges of your mind, his presence tethered you, his grip a lifeline in the storm.

The current surged again. You cried out, your voice breaking, but this time Jungkook’s forehead pressed against your hand as if he could absorb your pain. “Just a little more… just a little more. Fight with me.”

The room crackled with static as the machine pulsed again—this time stronger, sharper. Your scream tore through the sterile air, raw and broken, and Jungkook’s hand clenched around yours with unyielding force.

But then—his eyes widened.

A jolt shot up his arm, searing like liquid fire. His muscles locked for a split second, chest tightening as the current traveled through your hand into his body. He hissed under his breath, staggering but not letting go.

“Jungkook!” Jin barked, alarm flashing in his eyes. “Let go—now! You’ll get hurt!”

But Jungkook only grit his teeth, jaw tight, sweat breaking across his forehead. “No. If she’s in pain, then I’ll take it too. I said I won’t leave her—so I won’t.”

Another current tore through, making your back arch violently. Your scream mixed with his sharp gasp this time—the both of you writhing under the invisible storm. Your breath came out in broken sobs, and his in ragged grunts, yet his grip never faltered.

His body trembled with the shock, but his eyes stayed locked on your tear-soaked face. “Yn—stay with me. I don’t care if it kills me, I’m not letting you fight this alone. Do you hear me?!”

Your blurred gaze shifted toward him, even through the agony, even through the haze. He was right there—sharing your pain, refusing to let go. And for a split second, amidst the screaming electricity and your uneven breath, your trembling lips tried to form his name.

Jin swore under his breath, hands flying over the controls, “Damn stubborn kid…”

The machine surged one last violent wave, throwing you both into another round of torment—your scream tearing from your chest as Jungkook’s whole body shook beside you. But still, he held on, teeth bared, veins straining, as if sheer will alone could protect you.

Finally, Jin slammed a button, the current dying down, the room falling into tense silence except for your shallow, broken sobs and Jungkook’s ragged breaths.

His hand was burned red where it clutched yours, his muscles trembling, but he leaned close, pressing his forehead to your hand. “It’s over… you did it. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The moment your body went limp, Jungkook’s entire frame froze. Your hand slipped slightly in his grasp, and his heart lurched into his throat.

“Yn?” his voice cracked, panic flooding his tone as he shook you lightly. “Yn! Hyung—what happened to her?!”

He looked at Jin, eyes wide, chest heaving, his whole body trembling from the shocks he had taken with you. “Why is she fainted?! What happened?!” His voice broke, raw and desperate, as though a single wrong answer would shatter him completely.

From the other side of the observation glass, Maria had both hands over her mouth, tears spilling. Jimin stood stiff, fists clenched, while Mr. and Mrs. Jeon clutched each other tightly, their eyes glued to the sight of their son on his knees beside you. Sera had her arms wrapped around herself, silently shaking. They were all watching you both break apart—but still clinging together.

Jin placed a steady hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, grounding him. “She’s not gone. She only passed out. Her brain… it’s been under enormous strain. It will take time for her to process and stabilize. This is normal.”

Jungkook’s throat worked, eyes darting between your pale face and Jin’s calm but firm expression. “She’ll wake up?” His voice was hoarse, like a child begging for reassurance.

“Yes,” Jin nodded firmly. “She’ll wake up. And when she does, we’ll know if the procedure worked—if her memories returned. But until then… you need to wait.” He squeezed Jungkook’s shoulder a little harder. “And you should rest too. Your body took part of that current, I can see it. Don’t try to act invincible.”

Jungkook shook his head instantly, gripping your hand tighter, as if anyone trying to move him away would have to tear him apart. His lips quivered, eyes still fixed on you. “No… I’m not leaving her. I’ll rest here, beside her. If she wakes up scared, I want her to see me first. I need her to see me.”

Jin sighed, rubbing his temple. “Stubborn as always…” but he didn’t argue further.

From outside, Mrs. Jeon whispered shakily, her eyes glassy, “They’re breaking, but… together.” And no one could deny the truth of it.

Inside the sterile hospital room, the beeping of machines was steady, too steady—mocking Jungkook’s frantic heartbeat. He sat on the edge of your bed, your limp hand cradled in both of his. His knuckles were white, his jaw locked so tight it hurt, but his thumb never stopped stroking over your cold skin.

“Yn…” he whispered hoarsely, his forehead leaning against the back of your hand. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve always been stronger. But if it hurts… then take my strength too. Just don’t leave me like this.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment his chest hitched, a quiet sob escaping before he forced himself to calm, inhaling shakily. His shoulders trembled but he never let go.

Outside the glass, the Jeons, Maria, Jimin, and Sera stood silently, each gripped by their own emotions.

Mrs. Jeon had tears running freely down her cheeks. “He’s… he’s falling apart,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “My son, he looks so… lost.”

Mr. Jeon’s jaw was clenched, his arms tightly crossed, but his eyes betrayed the ache. He exhaled heavily. “And yet… look at him. He’s not leaving her side. That girl… she’s become his entire world.”

Maria’s chest tightened as she pressed closer to Jimin. “He won’t move until she wakes up, I know it.”

Jimin’s expression softened, his voice low but certain. “Yeah. Because to him… she’s worth breaking for.”

Sera’s throat bobbed, her arms hugging herself tighter. For the first time, she couldn’t deny it—what she saw in Jungkook’s face wasn’t duty, wasn’t pity… it was something rawer, something she couldn’t compete with.

Jin came out, adjusting his coat, and spoke quietly to the family. “She needs time. And so does he. For now… just let them be.”

Slowly, one by one, they left, Mrs. Jeon pausing at the door for a final glance at her son, whispering almost to herself: “She’s the one holding his heart, whether he admits it or not.”

Back inside, Jungkook shifted closer, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. He didn’t care about the ache still coursing through his own body from the procedure, nor the exhaustion in his muscles. He bent forward, lips brushing against your knuckles, whispering like a vow:

“You come back to me, Yn. No matter what memory returns, no matter what truth it brings… just come back. I’ll take every pain, every nightmare, every scar. Just… come back.”

And with that, he stayed. Hours blurred into the night, nurses checking in and out, but no one could pry him away. His head eventually rested on the mattress near your hand, his lashes damp, his breathing uneven—but he refused to close his eyes fully.

Because when you woke up, the first thing you had to see… was him.

To be continued...