The Kim siblings thought they were finally free-free to live, to laugh, to escape the shadows of their past.
A trip abroad was supposed to be a time to unwind, to strengthen their bond after all they had endured. But peace is fleeting, and darkness...
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A few days later, the safehouse had fallen into a rhythm again—quiet, steady, but with something crawling beneath it. Like everyone was walking around with secrets stitched into their skin, pretending not to notice the weight.
The door to the upstairs guest room closed with a soft click. Curtains drawn. Lamp on. Shadows stretching across the floor. The room was quiet—too quiet. Not peaceful, but tense, like something important was about to begin.
Taehyung sat cross-legged on the carpet, a folder open in front of him. His fingers moved slowly as he unfolded a map, smoothing it out against the floor. Jimin stood near the window, not looking outside, just staring at the closed curtains like his mind was somewhere far away. Jungkook leaned against the wall, arms crossed, hood still over his head. His foot tapped lightly, rhythm slow and steady, matching the silence in the room.
No one spoke at first.
Then Taehyung said, without looking up, "The drop is in forty-eight hours. We stick to the route. No changes."
Jimin stepped away from the window and crouched beside him. He opened the side of the folder and pulled out a set of coordinates scribbled on a piece of torn paper. "Entry point is here," he said, pointing to the far edge of the map. "No cams. No patrol."
Jungkook walked over, looking down at the map. "We take the woods. Hit the back gate. Split from there."
"We meet again at the location marked in red," Taehyung added, tapping a circle on the far side of the paper. "No calls. No signals. Just move."
Jimin slid something across the carpet—a small device, black, no labels. "Tracker stays with the bag. If anything shifts, we follow this instead."
Jungkook pulled out a flash drive from his pocket and placed it next to the map. "Everything's loaded. One copy. No backups."
The room went silent again. Taehyung folded the map slowly, tucked it back inside the folder, and zipped it shut.
"Tomorrow, we prep. Next day, we move."
That was it.
No questions... No hesitation...Just three voices... One plan...And time ticking.
💀💀💀
Namjoon sat by the balcony door, watching the rain blur the lights outside. Singapore was warm, loud, alive—but in this safe house, it felt like a prison. The curtains were half-drawn. His phone rested against his ear, quiet now, but minutes ago, it had carried the only voice that could still shake him.
Rebecca's.
He had called her. Or maybe she had called him. He couldn't remember anymore. All he knew was that her voice came through the static, soft and familiar, and it made his chest tighten the second he heard it.
"Hey," she had said, quietly.
"Hey," he replied, voice rough from not speaking for hours.
There was silence for a second, then a quiet sniffle. "You picked up fast."
