Taehyung hadn't slept properly since the day Byeol went 'missing.' The struggle of maintaining a search and rescue team along with taking care of a Jungkook that seemed to never be sober, was extreme. He'd lost Byeol. And seemingly he'd lost his brother too.

Those lovers died together.

One in betrayal, one in guilt.

The entire CIS were on search missions to find Byeol, their prestigious Agent 001. But their efforts all failed as they didn't even think it possible for a base to be built underwater. That wasn't their fault, Shadow were notorious for their advanced tech, who would've thought they'd set up base underwater where any sort of signal shouldn't be able to reach them?

As for Jungkook.

He'd lost his mind, his hatred for Byeol consumed him in ways he knew not possible. Alcohol became an addiction, and smoking became a coping mechanism.

You see, Byeol despised cigarettes.

The foul scent of tobacco, the way the smoke would string so far out, reaching into the noses of those metres away, those who (including her) were trying to avoid it. The way it mixed into the atmosphere which only contributed to the death of nature. That's why he smoked.

Just like Byeol he was childish, he acquired a sense of satisfaction that he was doing something she didn't like. Even though he himself hated every second of smoking the cigar.

He wasn't interested at the fact, but with his hyung erratically trying to accomplish a goal, he was aware of Byeol going missing. Not that he gave a flying fuck, he just held the information uselessly.

The black box footage was retrieved from the vehicles that were there on the day at the cliff. Jungkook watched it everyday. He watched her shatter her own arms in desperate attempt to save him. It didn't move his heart at all, he'd stopped using it, perhaps loving her killed him. Perhaps it was time to realise some lovers are temporary, and although it hurt the pair of them. They knew they weren't soulmates.

And maybe it was time to let fate pull them apart, since both of them were so extremely exhausted of fighting it. Their forever had an expiration date.

Meanwhile Byeol had erupted like a dormant volcano eager to ooze it's lava. But this certain super volcano wasn't allowed to do what it pleased, it couldn't just wipe out an entire continent with it's power. It was caged. Controlled.

By a man who sought vengeance. A child really.

Kim Jaechan stood the example of a famous proverb.

The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel it's warmth.

A neglected kid, all he desired was to be loved, just that wish neared him to his meeting with the devil in hell. I'm sure Satan has a mouthful to say to him. Love stabbed him. Literally. Love was all he wished to feel, and now he could feel no more. Nothing but a bullet of revenge stuck in his throat, creeping it's way up and choking him, forcing him to get his justice.

Which sane person would want to instigate a war, that too a nuclear one? Well obviously not Jaechan, that man is everything but sane.

It's quite heartbreaking, because if you think about it... Jaechan being at peace with the fact that he might die along with every other person amidst the war, meant underneath that psychotic veil he dared not to ever let fall, sat a suicidal child. But since this type of death meant he'd bring down his father with him, he was ok with it.

Spending all those years with Shadow only corrupted his mind more than it already was. A mere teenager he was when he joined the mafia. He sat in the corner of every lesson when they implanted the ideology of murder being the only way. Most the kids had common morals, he did too. No one said anything because of the fear that they'd kill them, but deep down none of the other kids agreed with that ideology. That's what set Jaechan apart from all of them.

He agreed.

Murder was the only way to bring down the dictator/ life ruiner that his father was. It was the only way to feel justice. Because what else could he do, sit down a relentless man who would send people for making eye contact to the death sentence and tell him how he should change? Yeah that wouldn't work out so well.

As easy as he made escaping sound when he explained it to Byeol, he'd suffered a lot on the way out. Broken 4 ribs, 7 gunshot wounds on his back, and fractured legs and arms. How he survived? Even he didn't know. But coming out the lion's den alive was all he needed. That was his sign from a god he'd sworn he'd stop believing in, his sign that life had a lot more planned for him. And it was his duty to fulfil that destiny.

And he was so close to accomplishing this so called destiny, he'd already forced Byeol to spout the secrets he wanted to know. To him nothing could stop his plan, especially not those motherfuckers in love.

byeol pov.

Am I alive?

I hope not.

But with the feeling of anguish conquering me like an army, I knew I was very much still in this horrible world. The agony bit down into my skull as if it were a lion starved for years. I still hadn't opened my eyes, not like I had the ability to. When drained mentally, doing the simplest of things require an intense amount of core energy. It felt like there were elephants resting on my eyelids, pushing them down and reducing my will to open them to ash.

I breathed in. Bad idea. It seemed as if I had just swallowed in a pool of blood. And that's when I'd comprehended the situation, forcing my eyes open as I saw myself lying under the stars in the middle of nowhere. I tried to get up but something, something heavy on top of me prevented that.

I pushed the thing off, when touching it I realised this was no 'thing,' rather a person. With my palm filled with blood without an identity, I rubbed by eyes with the back of my hand. Now I saw clearly, I really was sitting in a pool of blood. I sat in the centre of almost a hundred dead bodies. I tried to get out but I was surrounded by the horror that made me forget how to breathe.

With them all dropped on top of each other I couldn't even recognise the bodies, but I knew I'd done this. I looked to the bodies nearest to me, my heart almost instantly dropping.

It was my parents.

Jaechan had made me kill my own parents. My hands trembled like they never had before, like there was no stopping this tremor of murder. I erratically searched around the bodies, checking the faces of all of them.

I coughed, struggling to breathe as I pushed myself to get out this death hole. I stood up momentarily before dropping back down in the pain of a sudden strike in my brain.

Memories.

All of them returned. The people I had killed in the 3 months of my life that I had lost. All of them returned, the faces of innocents, the neverending screams of my victims. They all echoed, replaying in my head. I'd never been more tormented.

It felt like something was trying to dig it's way into my head to take back its rightful place, and it hurt.

Then the sounding of helicopters was heard, 2 of them shining light down with snipers pointed at me along with a hundred soldiers- no, mafia members walking down. Members of Shadow all loaded with guns, here to assassinate me after Jaechan was done toying with me, after I was of no use to him.

I stumbled up, getting my fists ready to fight till my last breath. I glared at them, eyes shooting knives at them.

Suddenly, the helicopters blew to bits, confusing the men in front of us who had no clue what was happening. If I sat half dead with not a single piece of tech on me to contact anyone for help, who on earth had blown up those helicopters?

*bang*

The way the men fell resembled the action of a dozen bees falling at once. Someone was shooting them down and their inability to react fast resulted in their death. Only after all of them had fallen to their deaths that I was able to catch a glimpse at the person responsible for it. A figure emerged from the smoke.

There he stood.

My love.

Jeon Jungkook.

He walked with a huge gun loosely held in his hand, he used his other hand to run his fingers through his silky locks. I was meant to, but I didn't feel happy at his appearance. I didn't deserve to be saved by him. "Why? Did you want the luxury to kill me instead?" I tilted my head lifelessly.

"My body aches with it's hatred for you yet, it cannot think of a reason to exist without you... how does that work?" He asked me, a genuine question that was eating at him because he didn't have answers. I dropped onto the floor, not having the energy to stand straight.

My eyes kept running to the bodies of my parents, and flashbacks of how I hugged them. If I knew it was the last time ever, I would've held them a little tighter, a little longer. Jungkook's eyes softened with concern, staring at me silently as I wiped my tears, leaving remainders of the still fresh blood of my parents on my face.

"What's the matter baby?"

I questioned him emotionlessly, sat with the corpses of my victims and blood smeared all over me, with murder practically burned on top of my forehead.

"You don't think I look pretty like this?"