𝓐 𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 | 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘖𝘵_13

~4

"We won't fail you Cheol."

***

(Before the attack)

He walked out of the room quietly, knowing he had to do this—no matter what. It hurt him to see their strong leader like that, in pain. It was so unlike him. The same man who always motivated the members and the rest of the team before any mission or challenge... was silent today. When they needed his wise and powerful words the most, he said nothing. No one dared to utter a single word in the face of that silence.

He shook off the uneasy feeling as he walked through the hallway, heading toward the room where they kept their resources and gear.

Entering the quiet, empty room, a mysterious smile crept onto his face as he looked proudly at his collection of guns. He reached for his favorite—the Pistol Auto 9mm 1A—which he kept in a special trunk lined with light blue silk. Carefully, almost reverently, he opened the trunk and uncovered the silk wrap, revealing the weapon's gleaming form.

"Special gun for a special person, right?" he thought, as her face flashed in his mind again.

How he loved seeing her scared and nervous around them—around him. How he enjoyed the idea of her cries echoing through the mansion. How badly he wanted her to suffer, just like she made them suffer.

One look at him, and anyone could tell—he was a maniac. And he was good at it.

He picked up the gun, letting the silk cloth fall away. He paused to admire its beauty, pressing his forehead gently against the barrel. The texture was smooth and glossy... just like her skin.

He frowned, annoyed at himself for thinking about her again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't deny it—she was something unique. No wonder she had caught the attention of thirteen guys at once.

He opened another silk-lined box, this one holding six bullets. He loaded them into the gun one by one, handling each bullet with care. Then, after lightly tapping the weapon, he gathered all the gear he needed—some for himself, and some for the others.

Once he finished packing, he left to change into his mission clothes.
A mission that could cost him—and everyone else—their lives.

Including hers.

*

Miso slid down inside the wardrobe, fear wrapping around her like a second skin in the suffocating darkness. Her whole body was trembling. She had known—deep down, she had known—it was a bad idea to come here. And now, every step she had taken felt like a mistake.

And then there was that file.
The one with their logo on it.
It had to be them. But what haunted her more was the question echoing in her mind—
Why was the file on Jimin's table?
Was he involved in this shadowy business too?

"No, no, no! Stop thinking like that, Miso! Focus! You need to focus on what to do right now!"

She lightly tapped her forehead, trying to ground herself. She needed a plan—fast. If they caught her now, she was as good as dead. Especially after everything that had happened in the past... they would not hesitate.

That's when it hit her.

"IF I GET CAUGHT."

The only way out now was to avoid that fate completely. She had to escape. Hide. Vanish from their world—the world that was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined. She had no choice. She couldn't stay. Not with these maniacs around.

Maybe she could hide out somewhere. Yun-hee's place?
No... they might check there.
The dorms?
Also risky. They could easily track her there.

Her confidence, which had sparked briefly, was now flickering again.

But then—another idea struck her.
A light bulb went off in her brain.

The secret passages.

Of course. This house—though not enormous—was once her father's. And he was a mafia man too. Surely he had built something for emergencies. She only knew of one passage—one that led from the kitchen to the garden.

But that meant getting to the kitchen.
And that meant going downstairs.

She'd have to make it past all of them—13 members and their bodyguards.
That was a lot of people. A lot of eyes.

Still, she forced herself to stand, fists clenched, as she slowly opened the bedroom door, careful not to let it creak.

She took a deep breath, summoning every last bit of her high school rebellion.
Back in school, she was an absolute menace—especially to the boys who dared to mess with her. A total girl crush, admired by juniors and seniors alike.

But now?
She was drenched in sweat.
Nervous. Shaky. Terrified.

She tiptoed into the hallway, tucking her phone into the hoodie pocket.

As she crouched and peeked over the stair railing, her breath caught in her throat.
Down by the dining area stood three men.
They stood tall and still, all dressed in combat gear, their posture straight and commanding.

The first had blonde hair.
The second had a mullet, dark black hair falling sharply around his chiseled face.
The third had shoulder-length hair, casually flowing, with perfectly messy bangs falling over his eyes in the most attractive way.

She couldn't see their faces clearly, but she wanted to. She longed to.

But no—she had to resist that urge.
Right now, it was about survival.
She had to get out before they saw her lurking like a ghost in the mansion.

***

SAY THE NAMEEE!