For a few endless seconds, there was nothing but silence— a silence so heavy that even breathing felt wrong.
The echo of the gunshot still vibrated through the walls — a deafening reminder that everything had almost gone horribly wrong. The scent of gunpowder still clung to the air — bitter, metallic, final.
Taeyong’s hand still trembled from the recoil, his finger frozen around the trigger. His eyes widened when he saw what lay before him — the girl, motionless behind Jisung, her fragile body limp on the floor. The youngest still trembled violently, his small frame between her and their leader.
Only a thin line of smoke rose from the floor beside them — the dark scorch mark on the ground proved how close death had come.
If he hadn’t jerked the gun away at the last heartbeat... that bullet would’ve pierced the youngest.
No one spoke. No one even blinked. The entire group stood paralyzed — faces pale, mouths slightly open, the weight of what almost happened pressing down like lead.
Everyone except Jaehyun.
The moment he felt the arms holding him loosen in shock, he tore free with a desperate cry that didn’t sound human anymore. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled forward toward his sister.
Jaehyun stormed forward, his body acting before his mind could catch up. He shoved Taeyong so hard, sending the older one crashing into the couch.
Jaehyun dropped to his knees beside his sister, hands trembling as he touched her pale face.
“YaYa, no… no, please—” his voice cracked, eyes wild. He brushed her hair from her face, desperate to see any sign of life. “Come on, open your eyes… please.”
Tears blurred his vision, and he pressed his forehead to hers, shaking.
Her chest still moved, weak but steady. Relief broke through his panic for just a second — before it was replaced again by seething anger.
Taeyong pushed himself upright, jaw tight, the weapon still clutched in his hand.
“Take her away,” he ordered with authority in his voice. “Out of my sight. Somewhere she can’t run.”
His tone was cold— too cold, even for him. But his eyes betrayed him — the flicker of guilt, the realization of what he’d almost done, still haunted his face.
Jaehyun’s head snapped up, his eyes burning red with fury. “You’d deserve worse than death for what you’ve just done, Taeyong,” he spat.
The others flinched at the venom in his tone — Jaehyun had never spoken to his leader like that before.
This wasn’t just his leader anymore. This was the man who had promised to protect his family — and had just pointed a gun at his sister, ready to kill her.
“I didn’t shoot her!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice breaking under the weight of the chaos. “She fainted. That’s all. She’s lucky Jisung stepped in...”
His eyes darted to the youngest, whose trembling shoulders gave away the terror he still felt. Jisung’s head hung low, his eyes squeezed shut — the sound of that gunshot still echoing in his skull.
For a moment, Taeyong watched the trembling body of his youngest family member.
Taeyong had always believed that his job as a leader was to protect them — all of them — no matter the cost.
In his mind, he repeated the same justification again and again — I’m protecting them. I have to protect them.
But as he looked at Jaehyun clutching the limp girl, and Jisung trembling like a frightened child, or even the shocked faces of his members now, that conviction began to crack.
She was just a girl. A trembling, broken girl who hadn’t even fought back.
And yet… something in his gut screamed that she was the key to everything that had gone wrong. The same gnawing instinct that had kept them alive before told him she was dangerous — even if he hated himself for believing it.
