Jimin sat at his desk in the dimly lit office, the glow from his computer screen reflecting off his tired features. The weight of the day hung heavy on him, but his mind refused to rest. The scene in the basement with SeoHa, her arrest, and her locked gaze with Namjoon replayed endlessly in his head.

Hoseok entered the room quietly, holding two steaming cups of instant noodles. He placed one in front of Jimin and sat across from him, slurping his own without ceremony.

“You’ve been sitting here for hours,” Hoseok said between bites. “Eat something. You’re going to need your energy tomorrow.”

Jimin sighed, pushing the cup away slightly. “I can’t stop thinking about it. SeoHa, Namjoon… everything.”

Hoseok leaned back, studying his partner carefully. “Tomorrow’s the trial. You can’t afford to second-guess yourself now. We’ve done the work, Jimin. The evidence is solid. Let it play out.”

Jimin leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he rubbed his temples. “What if SeoHa tries to manipulate the jury? What if Namjoon twists the narrative? They’re both too clever for their own good.”

“That’s not on you,” Hoseok said firmly. “Your job was to bring them in. Now it’s up to the system to deal with them.”

Jimin nodded slowly but didn’t look convinced. Hoseok, sensing his partner’s unease, set down his cup and sighed. “You need to talk to someone who gets it. Wait here.”

Before Jimin could respond, Hoseok left the room. Moments later, he returned with Jungkook in tow. The younger man looked pale and tired, his face gaunt from days of confinement, but his eyes were sharp.

Jungkook sat across from Jimin, his gaze steady despite the tension in the room. Hoseok handed him a cup of noodles, then crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching silently.

“You wanted to talk?” Jungkook asked, his voice hoarse but calm.

Jimin nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Tomorrow is the trial. This is your chance to make things right, Jungkook. Don’t change your mind.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, and he stared into his cup. “I’ve already told you everything I know. SeoHa and Namjoon made their choices, and I made mine. There’s nothing more to say.”

“There’s always more to say,” Jimin pressed. “You were part of their world, Jungkook. You saw things no one else did. If you want to break free of them, you need to testify.”

Jungkook looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and regret. “Do you think it’s that simple? Standing in court, pointing fingers, and expecting justice to happen? People like SeoHa and Namjoon don’t lose, Jimin. They adapt. They survive.”

“Not this time,” Jimin said firmly. “We’ve built an airtight case. They can’t twist their way out of this.”

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh. “You have more faith in the system than I ever did. But fine. I’ll do it. I’ll testify. Just don’t expect it to fix everything.”

Jimin nodded, the faintest hint of relief crossing his features. “That’s all I need from you.”

As the room fell silent, Hoseok cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Alright, that’s enough heavy talk for one night. Finish your noodles, Jungkook. You’re going to need your strength too.”

Jungkook hesitated before picking up the cup, slurping the noodles without a word.

Jimin watched him carefully, his mind already turning to the challenges they would face in court. Tomorrow was the beginning of the end—one way or another.

The courtroom was packed to the brim with reporters, cameras flashing incessantly as the key players were escorted inside. The media frenzy outside had reached fever pitch, with news anchors reporting live about the trial of the decade: the fall of Namjoon, Jungkook, and SeoHa—three prominent figures tied to corruption, smuggling, and betrayal.

Namjoon entered first, his face stoic as he ignored the cacophony of accusations hurled at him by the crowd. He was dressed in a crisp suit, but the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. Behind him, Jungkook walked in quietly, his demeanor subdued, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

And then there was SeoHa. She walked in last, her head held high, her expression unreadable. Dressed in a sleek black suit, she exuded an aura of confidence that seemed impenetrable. But inside, her mind was a storm.

As she took her seat beside Namjoon and Jungkook at the defense table, her thoughts betrayed the icy mask she wore. Y/n. The name echoed in her mind like a haunting melody. Lady Kim. Her sister-in-law, her supposed ally, the woman who had unknowingly set her on this path of destruction.

SeoHa’s hands clenched into fists under the table, hidden from view. Images of Y/n flashed in her mind—her warm smile, her sharp wit, her unwavering belief in justice. A gulf of emotions washed over SeoHa: regret, anger, envy. But guilt? No. Her heart remained cold, untouched by the whispers of remorse.

"You were too naïve, Y/n," SeoHa thought bitterly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You never understood the game we were playing."

The courtroom hummed with tension as Kim Seokjin, the presiding judge, entered the room. His presence commanded immediate silence, the media’s whispers and the shuffling of papers halting as he took his seat at the bench. Dressed in his black judicial robes, Jin's sharp eyes scanned the room, his expression unreadable.

“This court is now in session,” Jin announced, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of authority. “We are here to address the charges against Kim Namjoon, Jeon Jungkook, and Kang SeoHa. The evidence will determine the truth, and the truth alone will dictate the verdict.”

Jin’s gaze briefly lingered on the defendants. Namjoon’s defiance, Jungkook’s remorse, and SeoHa’s unsettling calm didn’t escape his notice. As a former prosecutor, Jin was no stranger to reading people, and this case was no exception.

“Prosecution, you may begin,” he said, his tone even.

Jimin rose, his face composed yet fierce, as he delivered the opening statement. The crowd hung onto his every word as he painted a vivid picture of the crimes, the betrayals, and the consequences that had unfolded.

Meanwhile, SeoHa sat silently, her hands folded neatly, her expression unreadable. Her thoughts, however, were in turmoil. Y/n.

The image of Lady Kim—Y/n—flashed in her mind. Her smile, her laughter, her unyielding trust. SeoHa had betrayed all of it. But guilt refused to take root in her heart. I did what I had to. Survival isn’t about sentiment.

As Jimin continued, Jin’s sharp gaze shifted between the defendants, the prosecutors, and the witnesses. His impartial demeanor never wavered, but inwardly, Jin felt the weight of the case pressing down on him. This wasn’t just about smuggling or corruption—it was a tragedy of trust shattered and lives ruined.

“Your Honor,” Jimin said, addressing Jin directly, “the evidence we will present will show without a doubt that Kang SeoHa manipulated her position in the museum, using Lady Kim’s trust and resources to smuggle illegal goods under the guise of art exhibitions. She betrayed the very woman who gave her a chance at success.”

Jin’s eyes flickered toward SeoHa, who remained stoic. He could sense something dark beneath her calm exterior, but he pushed the thought aside, gesturing for the defense to proceed.

Namjoon stood, his defiance palpable. “These allegations are baseless, Your Honor. The prosecution has twisted the facts to fit their narrative. This is nothing but a witch hunt.”

Jin raised a hand, silencing Namjoon before he could go further. “Mr. Kim,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you will have your chance to present your case. This is not the time for theatrics.”

Namjoon gritted his teeth but sat down, his frustration evident.