-: ✧ :-゜・．

-: ✧ :-゜・．

"Breaking news: Song Yumi, daughter of Song Beom-Seok and Song Eunbi, and wife of Park Jimin, was reported missing yesterday. Sources suggest she has been kidnapped under suspicious circumstances-"

Crash!

The vase smashed against the screen with a resounding shatter, silencing the broadcast in a brutal, final blow.

Y/N stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving with fury. Her face, usually so composed and calculating, now burned crimson with unrestrained anger.
Her piercing gaze could cut through steel, making her look nothing less than a devil in human form.

Lisa, her secretary, froze mid-step near the door. Her hands trembled as she clutched the files she was holding.

Y/N's aura was suffocating, a tempest of rage and power ready to consume anyone who dared to speak.

"Coffee. Now," Y/N barked, her tone sharp enough to make Lisa flinch.

"Y-yes, ma'am," Lisa stammered, quickly bowing before rushing out of the room, eager to escape the suffocating tension.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Y/N alone with her storm. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady the inferno inside her, but it was futile.

With one sweeping motion, she sent the papers and objects on her desk crashing to the floor. The sound echoed in the empty room, a reflection of her seething fury.

Her mind raced. First Suzy, now Yumi. Whoever was behind this wasn't just crossing her-they were declaring war. But this wasn't how she operated.

Y/N didn't want quick, meaningless chaos. She wanted devastation. She wanted the Kims to suffer so deeply that their very existence would feel like a punishment. Not like this.

"This isn't part of the plan," she hissed to herself, pacing the room. Her heels clicked against the marble floor with an ominous rhythm. "I don't just kill. I dismantle. I destroy them piece by piece until they beg for death. Someone... someone is interfering. And they'll regret it."

She stopped suddenly, her reflection catching her attention in the shattered remnants of the television screen.

Her crimson lips curved into a twisted smile, one that promised nothing but pain.

"If they think they can outplay me... they've underestimated the wrong person."

Her voice was low but laced with venom. The fire in her eyes burned brighter now, not with frustration but with a dangerous determination.

"Lust," she whispered, a dark smirk curling her lips. "It's time to end this little game. Let's see how Jimin handles his precious Yumi being a pawn in my hands."

She leaned forward, gripping the edge of her desk, her sharp nails digging into the polished wood. "Whoever this unknown player is, they'll regret meddling in my revenge. I'll find them. I'll drag them out of the shadows. And when I do..." She chuckled coldly, her voice dripping with malice. "They'll wish they never dared to cross Cha Y/N."

The room fell silent again, save for the sound of her controlled breaths. Y/N stood tall, her back straight, her demeanor now a deadly calm.

"Lisa!" she called out sharply.

Within seconds, Lisa appeared at the door, coffee in hand, her face pale with nerves.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Cancel my meetings for the evening," Y/N ordered, taking the coffee and sipping it slowly, as though she wasn't radiating fury moments ago. "And get me every single detail about Song Yumi's disappearance. I want names, locations, and leads on my desk in an hour. No excuses."

"Understood, ma'am," Lisa replied, bowing quickly before disappearing again.

Y/N stared at the darkened television screen, her reflection staring back at her with a dangerous glint. The Kims thought they had seen her wrath before.

They had no idea what was coming.

_____________

Yoongi sat in his grand office, the epitome of power and control. His fingers lightly tapped on the armrest of his leather chair, yet his mind was far from the present.

His dark eyes stared blankly at the polished desk as memories of the past resurfaced like waves crashing against the shore.

The day of his engagement replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. The moment when everything had gone horribly wrong.

Flashback

A loud knock on the door of the engagement hall shattered the celebratory atmosphere.
"Young Master, your wife's condition is critical," the doctor's trembling voice echoed in the room.

Yoongi stood frozen for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processed the words. Behind his calm façade, worry clawed at him like a wild animal.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with a tension that betrayed his composed demeanor.

"Mrs. Y/N suddenly fainted," the doctor explained cautiously, aware of Yoongi's piercing gaze. "It's due to the progression of her congenital heart defect. Her heart rate accelerated beyond the normal range, leading to unconsciousness."

"Congenital heart defect?" Yoongi repeated, his brows furrowing.

The doctor swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir. Congenital heart defects-or CHDs-are structural problems with the heart that are present from birth. In Mrs. Y/N's case, her condition wasn't treated during childhood. Over time, it has caused complications with blood flow, leading to episodes like this."

Yoongi clenched his fists, but his voice remained eerily calm. "Explain it to me. What exactly is wrong with her heart?"

"Sir," the doctor began, choosing his words carefully, "her heart didn't develop properly during pregnancy. This defect has altered the way her heart pumps blood. It either flows too slowly, goes in the wrong direction, or gets blocked entirely. This is why she sometimes experiences extreme fatigue, difficulty breathing, and now... fainting spells."

Yoongi's gaze flickered to the bed where Y/N lay unconscious, her face pale and lifeless. His chest tightened.

"How do we fix it?" he demanded, his tone low but sharp, like a blade cutting through the silence.

The doctor hesitated, dreading the answer he had to give. "In most cases, sir, CHDs are treated during childhood through surgeries or medication. But in Mrs. Y/N's case, it's..." He trailed off.

"Answer me!" Yoongi's voice rose, startling everyone in the room. His calm mask cracked for a brief second.

"It's too late for conventional treatment now," the doctor admitted, bowing his head. "The only solution left is a heart transplant. But even that is a complicated process. Finding a donor match can take months, even years, and the surgery carries significant risks."

A suffocating silence fell over the room.

Yoongi turned his attention back to Y/N. His eyes softened, a rare vulnerability visible in his otherwise cold demeanor. He took a step closer to her bed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"She's not going anywhere," he said firmly, almost to himself. "You'll do whatever it takes. I don't care what it costs. Find a donor."

The doctor nodded hesitantly. "I will do my best, sir."

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, his eyes shutting tightly as the memory resurfaced. The weight of it bore down on him like an unshakable shadow.

His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists against the armrests.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" he whispered into the silence, his voice laced with a mix of anger and anguish. "Why did you hide this pain from me?"

The image of her pale face, her fragile body lying unconscious, was burned into his mind. It wasn't just the disease that tortured her-it was everything else. Every person, every circumstance that dared to add to her suffering.

When he opened his eyes, they were cold, dark pools of determination. His expression was calm, but the storm inside him was raging.

"Every single one of them," he muttered, his voice steady but dripping with venom. "They'll pay for what they've done to you."

A bitter smirk crept onto his face as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "But not by my hands. No... they'll fall by yours."

He imagined her standing strong, unshackled by fear or pain, facing her enemies without hesitation.

"I'll clear the path for you," he said quietly. "No one will stand in your way. You'll hunt them down, Y/N. I'll make sure of it."

The resolve in his tone was absolute. This wasn't just about revenge-it was about giving her back the power she deserved.

And Yoongi, in his quiet, ruthless way, would make sure nothing stopped her.

______________

The dark, damp room was suffocating, the stale air thick with silence. Yumi's body lay sprawled on the cold floor, her once-flawless appearance reduced to a disheveled mess.

A drop of water fell from the ceiling, landing on her cheek. She stirred, her eyelids fluttering weakly as consciousness crept back.

Her eyes opened to near pitch-blackness, the faint sunlight streaming through a small, grimy window her only source of clarity.

She sat up slowly, wincing as her aching body protested every movement.

"Where... where am I?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse and shaky. She glanced around, the faint outline of chains catching her eye. Her legs were bound, the cold metal biting into her skin.

Panic surged through her veins as she tugged at the restraints.

"Is anyone here?!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the emptiness. Only silence answered her.

"Hello?! Somebody! Help me!" she cried again, her voice cracking.

Suddenly, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps broke the stillness. Her heart leaped with a mix of hope and terror. Someone was coming.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing a figure stepping inside. His face was hidden behind a black mask, and he was whistling a chilling tune that made the hair on her arms stand on end.

Yumi's breath hitched. "Who... who are you?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man stopped a few feet away, tilting his head as if amused. "Ah, so you've finally woken up," he said, his voice smooth yet dripping with mockery.

"Why am I here?!" Yumi demanded, trying to sound brave, though the fear in her voice betrayed her.

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. "You thought I was here to save you, didn't you?" he mocked. "Poor little Yumi, always expecting someone to come to her rescue."

Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to speak. "You don't know who you're messing with. I'm Park Jimin's wife! He'll come for me, and when he does-"

"Park Jimin," the man interrupted, his tone dripping with disdain. "The illegitimate son of Mr. Kim? That old puppet of the Kims? Please." He laughed darkly, shaking his head. "Your threats are as empty as your soul."

Yumi's face flushed with anger. "Who the hell are you?! What do you want from me?!"

The man stepped closer, his movements calm and calculated. "Me?" he asked, his voice eerily calm. "I'm just the messenger of your karma, Yumi."

"My... karma?" she echoed, her voice faltering. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

The man laughed again, the sound colder this time. "Haven't done anything wrong? You're a walking embodiment of selfishness and betrayal. Everything you've done to get where you are... it's all catching up to you now."

Yumi's mind raced as the weight of his words sank in. Her breaths grew shallow, and her voice shook. "Who... who are you?"

The man took another step forward, moving into the sliver of light from the window. Slowly, he raised his hands to his mask, peeling it off.

Yumi gasped, her face draining of color as recognition struck her like a lightning bolt. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

The man smirked, his eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction. "Yes, Yumi," he said softly, his voice like ice. "It's me. Jung Hoseok."

_______________

Jimin paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair.

His face was pale, his usually calm demeanor replaced by sheer panic. His voice broke as he muttered to himself, "Where are you, Yumi? What if something's happened to you?"

He clenched his fists, his chest tightening with a mix of dread and helplessness. The thought of her in danger was unbearable.

His eyes glistened, but he refused to let the tears fall. "I'll find you, Yumi. No matter what it takes," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Suddenly, Namjoon entered the room. His tall frame moved with purpose, and his face carried a calm that Jimin desperately wished he could emulate.

Placing a firm hand on Jimin's shoulder, Namjoon spoke softly, "Jimin, we'll find her. She'll be fine. I promise."

Jimin turned to face him, his expression desperate. "Namjoon, it's been hours! What if-what if something..." His voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Namjoon pulled Jimin into a comforting hug, patting his back gently. "Don't let your mind go there, Jimin. We're doing everything we can. Trust me," he murmured, his tone soothing.

Jimin closed his eyes, his trembling hands gripping the fabric of Namjoon's jacket. For a moment, he allowed himself to lean on his friend, drawing strength from the reassurance.

But as Jimin's head rested on Namjoon's shoulder, he missed the flicker of something dark in Namjoon's eyes-a brief glint of cold calculation.

Namjoon's jaw tightened subtly, a hidden smirk threatening to appear before he quickly masked it.

"Just hold on, Jimin," Namjoon said, his voice steady and warm. "We'll bring her back. You have my word."

Jimin pulled back slightly, nodding as he tried to compose himself. "Thank you, Namjoon," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

Namjoon offered a reassuring smile, but behind it lay something far more sinister-something Jimin didn't notice.

As he watched Jimin's vulnerable state, a quiet thought passed through Namjoon's mind: Sometimes, even love can blind you to the truth.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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