Beep. Beep. Beep.

Jimin exhaled softly, his eyes scanning the patient's report with meticulous focus. The steady rhythm of the monitor filled the room, the soft hum of machinery blending seamlessly with the sterile scent of antiseptic.

"Hm~ everything seems fine. hat's a great success" he murmured, flipping through the pages. The stethoscope around his neck hung loosely, the cool metal barely grazing his slightly exposed collarbones. His shirt, unbuttoned at the top, allowed a teasing glimpse of his pale skin. His freshly dyed pink locks were slightly tousled, his fingers habitually running through them as he read. He absently nibbled on his lower lip—a subconscious habit that was doing more damage to the poor nurse standing beside him than he realized.

She was practically holding her breath, her fingers gripping the clipboard as she stared at him—utterly entranced.

Jimin Park was a masterpiece, indeed! A beauty that is born only once in the lifetime of humanity!

The way his soft pink hair fell over his forehead, the way his lips curled slightly in concentration, the way his voice—low and soothing—rolled off his tongue like warm honey. Atop that him being a doctor; he was a walking temptation.

And to make matters worse, he smelled of Aventus, it was enough to drop panties here and there.

God help me. This man will be the reason I'd die tonight. The nurse swallowed yet again!

Jimin, oblivious to the internal crisis happening beside him, clicked his pen and moved to the final notes.

"BP check, sugar levels stable, beats per second... mhm~ good," he mumbled, dragging his signature across the paper. His fingers were swift and fluid, practiced in the art of efficiency.

Satisfied, he ticked the final box and—without a second thought—slid his pen into the slit of his shirt, where the fabric parted just enough to reveal his collarbone.

The nurse nearly lost it.

"You're doing great, Mr. Jyuwon" Jimin finally said, flashing the patient a smile. A bright, warm, breathtaking smile. The patient, despite recovering from surgery, visibly perked up. "Thank you, Dr. Park" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I feel better already knowing I am in good hands"

He chuckled lightly. "That's the spirit. You'll be out of here in no time."

Beside him, the nurse struggled to remain upright. Holy hell. This man should come with a warning label.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at her. "Nurse Choi, could you prepare the next set of reports for me?"

"Uh~ Huh?"

"Where is your head? Stop sleeping with open eyes its creepy. I asked you to prepare the next set of reports, I will be visiting bed B777 next!"

The nurse blinked rapidly, snapping out of her daze. "Oh! Y-Yes! Right away, Dr. Park!"

"Rest well, Mr. Jyuwon. I'll check on you later."

And with that, Jimin strolled toward the door, his white coat swaying slightly behind him.

The nurse exhaled the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Someone, anyone, needed to save her from this man.

Jimin stretched his shoulders slightly, adjusting the stethoscope around his neck as he exhaled a quiet sigh. Today had been a long one already, and he still had a full schedule ahead of him.

"How many appointments do I have today?" he asked, rolling his wrist and glancing at his watch.

The nurse beside him quickly flipped through the files in her hands. "You have five appointment—"

"Doctor Park!?"

A voice—hurried, urgent—echoed through the hallway. Jimin turned his head just as a figure in full white nurse attire came rushing toward him, nearly colliding with a passing intern.

Vernon.

The younger nurse placed a hand on his chest, panting, clearly having sprinted across the hospital to find him.

"Vernon?" He raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed but also mildly amused. "Was I supposed to expect you to run at me like a headless chicken?"

"You—ah, you—" The boy inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breath.

"Calm down. Breathe. Now, what happened?"

"You... have an emergency patient."

The moment the words left his lips, Jimin was already walking. His steps were quick, his mind shifting into work mode as he made his way down the hallway toward the appointment section. His white coat flared slightly as he turned a corner, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

"Park Jimin, any emergency patients?" he called out as he approached the reception desk.

The receptionist, who had been organizing files, looked up immediately. "Oh, yes, Doctor. The patient was transferred to Room C347. She claims to be one of your previous patients and requested you personally."

Jimin paused for half a second before extending his hand. "The file?" She quickly handed over the file, her expression neutral, though her eyes flickered with curiosity. His sharp gaze scanned the name on the folder. His fingers tightened around the edges as something in his chest twisted slightly.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Her?

His heartbeat picked up, a faint drumming against his ribs.

Not wasting another second, he turned on his heel, making his way toward the elevators. As the doors slid open, he stepped inside, pressing the button for the third floor.

The cold metal doors closed, trapping him in silence.

Jimin exhaled, gripping the folder tighter.

Why now?

---------------------------------------------

"You are bleeding too much! Let me start the treatment—the doctor will be here soon—"

"I said no."

Her voice was sharp like her warning glare, cutting through the nurse's concerned plea like a blade. The chubby young woman flinched under the weight of her gaze, her hands faltering over the medical tray. Those eyes still carried the ghost of something lifeless. She hesitated before stepping back, averting her gaze as if afraid to challenge the patient any further.

At that moment, the door swung open.

Jimin stepped in, his white coat flowing slightly behind him. His brows were furrowed in irritation, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight before him. His patient sat there, her back a mess of bloodied fabric, the nurse standing idly to the side, uncertain of what to do.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his face contorting into something between disbelief and exasperation.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered under his breath before raising his voice. "Megan, why aren't you treating her? She's bleeding all over the damn place."

The nurse opened her mouth, then closed it, eyes darting nervously between Venom and Jimin.

She looked over her shoulder toward him—leaving him frozen in his steps. A ghost from his past, sitting there as if she belonged in his present.

His jaw clenched. "Why are you here?" He hissed. His voice came out colder than he intended, but he didn't care.

The nurse audibly gasped. Doctor Park Jimin? Being rude to a patient? Was she dreaming?!

But the one it was directed to remain unfazed by his reaction, she leaned back slightly and smirked. "Well, can't you see, Babyboy? I need assistance." She shrugged as if the blood staining her clothes and the deep wounds on her back were mere inconveniences.

The nickname made the nurse's eyes widen, her face flushing crimson.

Baby boy? Did she just— Was she his girlfriend? His ex? Someone even more significant?!

The room suddenly felt charged, as if everyone was waiting for a bomb to go off. Jimin inhaled deeply, reigning in the storm that threatened to show on his face.

"Very well then" he muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to the nurse.

"Megan, get Doctor Tris to assist Miss Oh Jiahn" he ordered coolly, tossing Venom's file onto the hospital

"Uh, Dr. Tris is—"

"I asked for Park Jimin" She interrupted, her voice carrying a stubborn edge. She met his gaze head-on, arms mirroring his crossed stance, brow arching in challenge.

He gritted. "Megan, I said—"

"I won't let anyone else touch me" She cut in sharply, tilting her head. "If you don't treat me, Jimin, I'll sit here and bleed all over your pristine little hospital floor. And, if my... family gets to know that this hospital was the cause of my untimely death, you know very well how things might end up then. Your choice."

"You are threatening me?" Jimin's fingers twitched at his sides.

"I am just asking to get treated! That's my human right"

His logical side screamed at him to walk away—to call Tris and let someone else handle this. But his instincts, his damn doctor's instincts, had other plans. And he knew if he didn't give in now, it would actually cause trouble to his workplace, huge trouble.

His eyes flickered to the fresh blood staining her clothes. The slow yet continuous trickle. The way her body remained unnaturally stiff, clearly in pain despite the bravado she put up.

Damn it! Damn her! He closed his eyes for a brief moment, exhaling through his nose, before reopening them with a sharp glare.

"You really are a pain in the ass, you know that?"

A teasing smirk kissed her lips. "And you still love fixing my messes, don't you? Whether it's my boyfriend's birthday or me knocking on your door nearly half dead"

Jimin said nothing. Instead, he grabbed a pair of gloves from the nearby tray and snapped them on with more force than necessary.

"Sit still and don't talk" he ordered as he stepped forward.

He clenched his jaw as he assessed the damage. The blood had seeped into her skin, staining the intricate serpent tattoo that slithered down her spine. His trained eyes immediately picked up on the severity of her wounds—deep, torn, and raw. No, this wasn't just negligence. This was deliberate. And the realization sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through his veins.

His grip on the antiseptic swab tightened before he finally spoke, voice low and controlled.

"Did you rip them out yourself?"

"Yes," She replied, her words honest, her tone calm—too calm.

The pink-haired male sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers momentarily pausing before resuming their work. He pressed the cotton pad against her wound, harder than necessary, making her flinch slightly.

"Why?" His voice was strained, barely concealing his frustration.

She let out a quiet chuckle, but it lacked any real amusement. "I mean, be honest, Jimin," she mused, tilting her head slightly but not enough to turn to face him. "If I just showed up all good, no injuries, no reason to see you... would you have even talked to me?" She huffed. "No, you wouldn't. You would've walked past me like a stranger, and I wasn't about to let that happen."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, irritated at both her recklessness and the undeniable truth in her words. He would've ignored her. He had planned to.

But now?

Now she was here, in front of him, bleeding and in pain, forcing herself into his life again in the only way she knew how.

He didn't respond, too focused on carefully disinfecting the open wound. Instead, he grabbed the forceps and the needle, his hands steady as he prepped to stitch her up.

"This is going to hurt" he warned, his voice quieter now.

"Oh, don't worry, bestie. I've had worse."

He ignored the nickname—ignored the way it made something tighten in his chest—and without another word, he carefully pierced the needle through her torn skin.

Venom hissed at the sudden jolt of pain, her hands gripping the edges of the hospital bed. Jimin felt it—the slight tremor that ran through her body—but he didn't comment. Instead, his movements slowed, his fingers automatically adjusting their pressure, his stitching becoming gentler.

Her body betrayed her, though. He could see the way her breathing grew shallower, the way she tensed under his touch even as she tried to keep her composure. The numbing solution hadn't acted fast and Jimin was already working on the wound he had to stop the bleeding.

"You shouldn't have done this," he muttered after a moment, knotting the stitch and continuing down the wound.

She chuckled again, breathless this time. "Says the man who once let himself get socked in the face just to win an argument."

His jaw ticked. "That was different."

"Was it?" She hummed. "Seems like we both have a thing for making bad decisions."

Jimin sighed, shaking his head. "You ripped your stitches out, Jiahn. Do you have any idea how reckless that is? You could've gone into shock, lost too much blood—"

"Yet, here I am. Sitting in front of you, getting exactly what I wanted." She turned her head slightly, her lips quirking up. "Mission accomplished."

Jimin didn't let himself look at her. Instead, he focused on the last few stitches, securing them with careful precision.

"You're impossible," he muttered, tying the final knot.

"And you're predictable," she countered smoothly. "Soft hands, softer heart." He froze for a split second before he forced himself to pull away. He took off his gloves and discarded them into the bin before grabbing a fresh gauze pad, and pressing it gently against the newly stitched wound.

His touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

Then, he stepped back.

"You're done." His voice was back to being cold, detached. He turned away, already reaching for her patient file. "Next time, don't be stupid."

"There won't be a next time" She slipped off the bed and pulled the shirt over her existence that was now a white canvas splashed with dried red.

A warning. A promise. Or maybe just a quiet resignation. He couldn't decide which one it was. Jimin kept his eyes on the file in front of him, but he wasn't reading. His mind was too focused on the way her voice had sounded—too final, too certain.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" He finally spoke, his voice quieter now, void of its previous sharpness.

She smiled—one of those smiles that never quite reached her eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. Guess you'll have to wait and see."

Jimin exhaled through his nose, glancing at her finally. "Don't do this"

Venom raised a brow. "Do what?"

"Leave words hanging in the air like I'm supposed to chase them," he muttered, closing the file and setting it down with a soft thud. "Like I'm supposed to figure you out."

A sharp chuckle left her lips, humorless and taunting. "Then maybe it's time you do," she said, her voice dropping just enough to send an eerie chill down his spine. "Because that's what families do, don't they? Understand. Protect."

Jimin felt his breath hitch.

It wasn't just the words—it was the way she said them. Like an unspoken threat slithered between each syllable, coiling around his throat.

She took another step forward. He took one back.

Another step. Another retreat.

It wasn't until the cool metal of the tall assistant trolley pressed against his back that he realized—he had been trapped. She placed both hands on either side of him, palms pressing against the trolley, caging him in. Her hazel eyes studied him like a predator sizing up its prey.

The male swallowed visibly. He wasn't easily intimidated. He had spent years perfecting his poker face, but something about her was different—something about her was real. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, but he refused to look away.

"I won't say this twice," she murmured, her voice like silk hiding the sharpest of daggers. "So listen carefully, Park Jimin." She leaned in, so close that he could feel the ghost of her breath against his lips. His jaw tightened, but his body betrayed him—his pulse quickened, a shiver ran down his spine.

"You have two choices," she whispered, drawing out the words deliberately. "One—you come willingly and listen to what I have to say. Two—I use my ways, and trust me, Jimin, you already know how far that can go."

His breath grew shallow, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You wouldn't want to involve all these innocent lives, would you?" she mused, glancing briefly at the door, where nurses and doctors walked past unknowingly. Her smirk deepened. "I'd hate for things to get... messy."

He clenched his teeth, his mind running a mile a minute.

She was testing him. Cornering him.

Then, before he could react, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead— grounding. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe.

By the time he snapped back to reality, she was already turning away, a smirk playing on her lips as she walked toward the door.

Jimin exhaled sharply, his hand lifting to his forehead for the briefest second before dropping back to his side.

Damn her. Damn her and the way she always managed to pull him into her world.

The second she disappeared from sight, he groaned under his breath, running a frustrated hand through his pink locks.

A long pause.

Then, with a sigh, he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the room.

By the time she slid into her black Lexus and started the ignition, the door to the passenger seat swung open. She barely flinched when Jimin slid in, slamming the door shut behind him.

Silence filled the car for a moment.

Then—

"Drive," he muttered.

A slow, satisfied smirk curled on her lips as she pressed her foot to the accelerator.

--------------------------------

The sky burned with hues of flame and blood, the last embers of daylight surrendering to the impending reign of the moon. A slow breeze carried the scent of earth and fading warmth, rustling the leaves, whispering secrets through the trees. Birds glided homeward, their distant chirps the only sound accompanying the weight of silence between the two figures seated on the old wooden bench atop the small hill.

Jimin exhaled sharply, his arms crossing over his chest. His posture radiated impatience, but there was a tension in his shoulders—one he wasn't willing to acknowledge.

"I don't have all the time in the world to hear you," he muttered, turning his head just enough to glance at her. "So speak fast."

His tone was edged with arrogance, coated in the usual coldness he reserved for her.

She, however, barely reacted. Instead, she reached into her jacket and, without a word, pulled out a sleek, black gun. She placed it next to him on the bench with an ease that made Jimin's fingers twitch.

Then, just as effortlessly, she bent down, slid a dagger from the sheath strapped to her boot, and held it up to the dying light.

The blade glinted under the crimson sky, reflecting the colors of a slow-burning fire—silent but deadly.

Venom inhaled, scrunching her nose slightly as if savoring something only she could sense. Then, without breaking eye contact, she flicked the safety off the dagger.

Jimin stiffened.

His cocky demeanor faltered—not enough to be obvious, but enough for her to notice. Of course, she noticed.

The silence stretched. The air felt heavier.

Then—

With a flick of her wrist, the dagger sliced through the air in a sharp, unforgiving arc.

A sickening thud followed as the blade embedded itself deep into the trunk of a tree to their right. The force of it made the branches tremble, leaves shivering against the growing dusk.

Jimin flinched—just slightly. She tilted her head, watching him.

"Neither do I, Jiminie," she murmured, voice dangerously soft. She leaned back against the bench, her eyes still locked onto him.

He stared at the dagger lodged in the tree, the sharp edge still trembling from the force of her throw. His pulse drummed against his temples, but not from fear. No—this was something else.

He wasn't stupid. She'd just disarmed herself in front of him, or at least that's what she wanted him to believe. But he knew better.

Venom didn't need weapons to be dangerous. She was the weapon. Still, her words lingered.

"Except for those I care about... and you are one of them."

His jaw clenched. He turned his head toward her, his dark eyes smoldering with barely restrained frustration. "I don't want you to care for me," he bit out. "I just want you to stay away from me."

She, unfazed, only hummed, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. She rested her elbow on the back of the bench, tilting her head. "Well," she mused, "you're already too deep in this. I don't think you can avoid it now."

Jimin inhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his arms. "I don't want any association with mafias or this kind of shit," he spat. "They're disgusting, ruthless, brainless, cruel—" His voice cracked under the weight of long-buried resentment, she noticed the way his hands had curled into fists. The veins in his temples throbbed from the sheer effort it took to restrain himself, to keep the bitterness from overflowing.

Years of hatred, suffocated in silence, now rising to the surface like bile in his throat.

Venom's expression softened—not with sympathy, but with something more knowing.

"I know," she admitted quietly. "But you can't hate me or Jungkook over what KNIGHTS did to you."

Jimin flinched.

That name.

The mere mention of it felt like a blade dragging through his ribs.

His breath hitched, his nails dug into his arms, but he didn't—couldn't—look away from her.

"Wh—How—" his voice trembled before he caught himself, his tone sharpening into a blade. "How the hell do you know about them?" His chest rose and fell rapidly. "Are you involved with them?"

"No," she said smoothly. "But I know everything about them. And about you." She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Certainly about your parents' deaths."

His entire body went rigid. It was like the world had been sucked into a void of silence. The distant chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves—it all faded into static in the background. His heart pounded violently against his ribs.

"You're lying." His voice was quieter now, but the poison in it was unmistakable.

"If I were lying, why do you look like you're about to break apart?"

His breathing turned erratic, his nails digging into his palms.

"You think you can just show up," he hissed, "say some cryptic bullshit about my parents' death and—what? I'm just supposed to believe you? Trust you?"

"I don't expect you to trust me, Jimin" she said. "I need you to listen."

He scoffed bitterly. "Listen? Listen to what? More of your manipulative games?"

A darkness ran past the honey of her eyes. "You think this is a game?" Her voice was deadly quiet now, a razor slicing through the air. "You think I came all this way to toy with you?"

He held his ground, but something in her tone—something in the way she looked at him—sent chills down his spine. "Then why?" He gritted out. "Why are you telling me this? Why now?"

Her gaze bore into him as if peeling back the layers of his very existence.

"Because, the people who killed your parents..." She paused, watching the raw emotion flicker in his eyes. "... killed mine too"

His breath turned shallower. His nails dug into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin.

"You were only fourteen when they took everything from you," she continued, her hazel eyes sharp, cutting through him like a blade. "That night, the Parks weren't just murdered—they were uprooted. Their name erased, their legacy buried, and you... You were supposed to die too, weren't you?"

Jimin didn't respond. He didn't need to. The silence between them was thick, charged with something neither could name.

"They are my rivals who thought, they erased you. Who thought you were just another casualty, just another name lost in the bloodbath they left behind. But they were wrong, weren't they? Because you survived, Park Jimin. Like I did!"

Jimin's fingers trembled slightly, but he quickly balled them into fists. He hated this—hated how easily she was peeling away his carefully built defenses, exposing everything he had tried to bury.

"You said they're your rivals" he finally forced out. His voice was hoarse, raw. "Why?"

Her expression darkened, shadows creeping into her eyes. "My mother was murdered by them when she was pregnant with my sibling," she said, her tone eerily hollow. "And I was just a child, barely six."

He felt something crack inside him at the way she spoke—detached like she had forced herself to repeat it so many times that it had lost all meaning. But he could see it in her eyes. The pain. The rage. The ghosts of the past clinging to her like a second skin.

"I remember her hands, dead lying against the wooden floor slippery with blood" she continued, her gaze distant, lost in a place Jimin couldn't reach. "That one night, that closet where I sat and watched her lifeless eyes watch me"

Jimin felt his stomach twist painfully, but she wasn't done.

"They didn't just kill her." Venom's lips curled, but there was no humor in it, only agony laced with venom—fitting for her name. "They made her suffer. They made sure she felt every bit of it. And I—" Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second. "I watched it happen."

His throat closed. He had thought he knew grief, thought he had drowned in it enough times to be immune to its poison. But this—this was something else entirely.

"I was a child," she murmured. "A child who didn't understand why her mother's screams stopped. Why the floor was slippery with red. Why the men in black masks laughed like it was all a game."

She exhaled, the only sign that she was still human, still bleeding beneath all that armor.

"And then they looked at me." Her eyes snapped back to Jimin's, something wicked and broken dancing in their depths. "'Wrong place, wrong time, little girl.' they said to me" She let out a bitter chuckle, but there was no mirth in it. "And then he raised his gun to my head."

Jimin's fingers curled around the edge of the bench.

"But he didn't pull the trigger, you know why?" she said. "He said, 'Let's see if she can survive the way her mother couldn't.' Like it was a game. And they tried to drown me in the tub where lied the corpse of my dad, the taste of his blood was what I could feel in me for days. And, all they did was laugh" Her lashes fluttered shut for a second, as if she could still hear their voices, still feel the cold press of metal against her skull.

"They left me there," she whispered. "Alone. Trapped between my mother's and dad's corpse"

His hands were clammy. He had seen death. He had felt it. But something about this—something about the sheer cruelty of it—made his stomach churn with something dangerously close to fury.

"I survived" Venom said simply. "But I didn't live. I was robbed of a childhood, a family, my humanity. And now— what's left of me is this pathetic blood thirsty demon you see" She tilted her head, her smudged liner making her hazel eyes look even more haunting. "You are right to hate me! No one would love a demon anyways, no one but... him"

Jimin swallowed thickly. She wasn't asking for sympathy. She wasn't looking for comfort. She was telling him why—why she was the way she was. Why she had this life? And why she was in front of him now.

"But Why- why did you accuse Taehyung- I mean you reacted like he was the reason- I don't know how to word it out even"

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow, like a song played on broken strings. She turned away, staring into the darkening sky as if it held all the answers she could never find.

"My fate played harsh games with me, Jimin. You wouldn't believe me if I said he belongs to them. It's his ancestors—his bloodline—that made us orphans."

His breath hitched yet again. "What... No that can't be! I have known Taehyung since childhood, his family was close to mine, despite the class difference we-" And then we paused as if the dots connected too well for him.

His father worked for Taehyung's father and his mother spent more hours at Taehyung's mansion than she did in her own house.

The night his father had returned with a pale face and he had seen his parents with worry-laced faces as they whispered about the Kims.

She turned back to him, her hazel eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "The KNIGHTS?" she continued. "They didn't just appear out of nowhere. They are generations of power, built on the bones of people like us. Taehyung?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "He's their legacy. Their prince. The sins of his family run deeper than any of us can comprehend."

Jimin's mind reeled. Taehyung? His Taehyung? The boy he grew up with, laughed with, trusted?

"No—he wouldn't—"

"He wouldn't, ofcourse" Venom snapped, her patience wearing thin. "He isn't what his ancestors are" He exhaled, a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His thoughts were a whirlwind, a storm raging inside his chest. "Then why tell me this?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "If you don't want to hurt him, if you love him, why say it like this?"

Her lips curled into something unreadable—a ghost of a smile, a shadow of sorrow. "Because love doesn't erase blood, Jimin," she murmured. "And love doesn't change history."

He swallowed hard. "So what does it change, then?"

"It changes me. It makes me question everything I have lived for, everything I have built myself to be." She met his gaze, eyes flickering with an emotion too complex to name. "It makes me weak. And in our world, weakness is a death sentence."

He watched her, his own turmoil mirrored in the way she clenched her fists, the way she held herself like a soldier bracing for war.

"Then what do you want me to do?" he finally asked. She hesitated for a moment, looking past him, as if searching for something she knew she could never have.

"Just... be prepared," she said at last. "For the day when love isn't enough to protect us anymore. I know what they took from you, Jimin," she said softly, a dangerous edge beneath her voice. "I know what it feels like to watch your world burn and be forced to walk through the ashes."

She leaned in slightly, her voice like a whisper of fate against his skin. "But I stopped running a long time ago." Her lips curled, just slightly. "When will you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been after them from the day I learned to shoot a bullet," she said, voice laced with quiet fury. "A first, it was just about my family—about making the bastards who took her from me pay." She exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "But every day, I find more reasons." She was different from him. He had spent years running from the past, trying to pretend it didn't exist. But she—she had spent years chasing it, hunting it down like a predator stalking its prey.

"And now you want me to... what? Join the war?" His tone was edged with bitterness.

Venom's eyes gleamed. "I want you to stop pretending that war isn't already at your doorstep."

He let out a shaky breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Because deep down, he knew she was right. She could see it—feel it—the flicker of rage and desperation battling inside him. He was like a moth, wings already singed, yet still drawn to the flame.

"I'm saying," she purred, her voice a whisper against the wind, "that I'll put the gun in your hand and let you pull the trigger yourself."

Jimin's breath hitched. He knew she was dangerous, knew she thrived in the shadows where devils whispered and ghosts screamed. Heck! she is Venom! She has the power to do it all! And yet, at this moment, she felt like the only one who understood—the only one who could make the nightmares bleed into reality, make justice taste like vengeance.

He reached out, trailing a single finger down the sleeve of his shirt, slow, deliberate, coaxing. "Don't you want that, Jimin-ssi?" she murmured. "To watch them beg for mercy the way our parents did? To see the fear in their eyes for once?"

The words slithered into his mind, coiling around his thoughts like a vice. His fingers twitched. He could already see it—the blood, the screams, the satisfaction of taking back what was stolen from him.

"I can give you that," she whispered. "The path. The power. The names." Her gaze darkened, something wicked flickering behind her hazel eyes. "All of it."

Jimin exhaled shakily, his resolve teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

"But," she continued, tilting her head, "revenge isn't free, bestie."

His gaze snapped to hers. "What do you want?"

Venom smiled then, slow and knowing.

"You."

He felt his breath catch, his pulse a war drum pounding against his ribs. You. The word hung between them, thick with meaning, laced with something deeper, darker.

"You and I, we both lost one family but found another, now it's up to us to protect that one. Jungkook and I are your family now and so are you ours, no matter how hard you try to deny it, deep down we both know you think the same and we don't want to experience that pain again" She slowly took his hands in hers and held them with care and love, pulling him even closer into a hug.

Jimin clenched his fingers into the fabric of her jacket, his body trembling as years of grief poured out in broken sobs. The weight of loss, of loneliness, of anger—things he had buried deep beneath layers of indifference—now cracked and spilled into the quiet space between them.

She held him tighter, her fingers threading through his soft hair, grounding him. "You're not alone anymore," she whispered, voice steady, resolute. "I won't let you be."

His breath hitched. How long had he waited for those words? How long had he longed for someone to say them and mean them?

"I know what it's like to have the world take everything from you, to rip your heart out and expect you to keep breathing. But we don't have to just survive anymore, Jimin."

He pulled back slightly, eyes red-rimmed, searching hers for deception and finding none. "Then what do we do?" he asked hoarsely.

Her lips curled into something dangerous, something promising. "We take everything back. And, we protect our family, each other!"

Jimin swallowed hard, the fire in her eyes reflecting in his own. "You promise?"

She cupped his face gently, wiping away the tear that trailed down his cheek. "I swear on everything they took from us..." She exhaled slowly, voice dropping to something lethal. "I will make them bleed."