Y/N's POV

All of it felt so surreal.

It was as if I were trapped in a dream, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations swirling around me. His lips pressed against mine, firm yet tender, and the thunderous cheer of the crowd in the distance filled the air like a symphony.

As we finally pulled away, our breaths mingled, heavy and uneven. I couldn’t help but smile as my eyes locked with his. There was something in his gaze, something so intense and unwavering, that made my chest tighten. I kept asking myself—do I truly love him? My mind screamed no, an incessant echo of reason and doubt. Yet, my heart had already betrayed me, plunging headfirst into this intoxicating abyss called love.

Jungkook’s strong arms wrapped around my waist with a gentleness that contradicted his dominant aura, grounding me in the moment. My hands rested lightly on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palms. With his free hand, he turned us toward the roaring crowd, eliciting another wave of applause that reverberated throughout the grand ballroom.

We stood on the balcony of the imperial staircase, overlooking a sea of faces, and in that moment, it felt like we were on top of the world. Every gaze was fixed on us, every murmur filled with admiration. As we descended the marble steps together, the air buzzed with congratulations and warm welcomes. Each smile directed at me, each kind word, felt foreign yet strangely comforting.

Jungkook introduced me to a line of gang leaders, men who carried an air of authority and power. Yet, none of them matched the sheer intensity that radiated from him. It was oddly reassuring, a small reminder that maybe, just maybe, this world wasn’t entirely as dark as I’d imagined.

The evening was enchanting—until he had to leave. Duty called, and Jungkook excused himself to discuss business trades with others. I understood, of course, but his absence left a void, and I suddenly felt adrift in the sea of people.

Wandering aimlessly, my eyes landed on the lavish buffet table, its display as decadent as the ballroom itself. Unable to resist, I made a beeline for the tiny pastries elegantly perched on silver cake stands. They were delicate, almost too beautiful to eat, but that didn’t stop me from indulging. With my mouth stuffed full of a particularly divine tart, a high-pitched gasp from behind made me freeze.

Turning around, I was met with a dazzling pearly-white smile. Recognition dawned instantly, and my face lit up.

“Ryujin!” I exclaimed, opening my arms for a hug.

She laughed and stepped into my embrace, her familiar warmth washing over me. As we pulled away, our conversation naturally shifted to admiring each other’s dresses. Ryujin was a vision in a hot pink gown with intricate lace detailing along the edges. It suited her perfectly, complementing her sharp eyeliner, matching eyeshadow, and sleek, straightened hair.

“I love your dress, Y/N! You have to tell me where you got it!” she gushed, her sweet tone laced with genuine curiosity.

When I sheepishly admitted that Jungkook had arranged it for me, I noticed the briefest flicker in her eyes—something dark and fleeting. But just as quickly, her bright, bubbly demeanor returned, as if it had never faltered.

She suggested we sit, and I followed her to a plush couch off to the side of the room. Talking with Ryujin felt easy, effortless even, as though time itself had paused for us. She spoke animatedly, mostly about herself, but I didn’t mind. It was fascinating to hear about her life, a world so different yet intertwined with my own.

In her company, the loneliness melted away, replaced by a sense of familiarity and ease. For a moment, I allowed myself to simply be—to laugh, to listen, and to forget the weight of everything else.

★———★

"But enough about me!" Ryujin abruptly stopped her rant, turning to face me with an eager expression. "What is Jungkook like?"

I blinked, caught off guard by her sudden question. Why was she asking about Jungkook? My confusion must have been written all over my face because she quickly waved her hands in a nervous attempt to explain.

"Sorry if that sounded weird! I mean, what's it like to be with the Jungkook—the supernatural, top gang leader?" she clarified, her tone laced with curiosity, as though the answer was obvious. I nodded slowly, beginning to understand her point.

"It's... okay, I guess," I replied, searching for the right words. "I've never really seen him as the terrifying figure others make him out to be. He just struggles with controlling his emotions sometimes."

I caught Ryujin's attention waning, her gaze drifting with faint disinterest. Hoping to steer the conversation to something lighter, I opened my mouth to speak, but the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted me. Both of us looked up to see Jennie standing before us, arms crossed, her gaze icy and locked onto Ryujin.

I offered her a warm smile and gestured for her to join us. Instead, she reached down, grasped my arm, and tugged me up, positioning me firmly by her side. The tension between Jennie and Ryujin was palpable; their eyes locked in a silent, heated exchange that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Finally, Jennie turned to me, her voice measured yet urgent.

"Could I borrow you for a minute, Y/N?" she asked, a strange eagerness slipping into her tone.

I nodded, barely having the chance to bid Ryujin goodbye before Jennie dragged me away. When she finally stopped, I managed to plant my feet firmly on the ground.

"What was that about?" I asked, slightly breathless from her unrelenting grip.

"What's your business with Ryujin?" Jennie shot back, her voice sharp, her expression unreadable.

I blinked, utterly baffled. "What are you talking about?"

Jennie sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if trying to gather patience. Clearly, my obliviousness wasn't helping her frustration. After a moment, she placed a hand on my shoulder and looked directly into my eyes.

"I'm sorry for acting like this. I want to explain, but it’s not my place. Just… ask Jungkook what happened with Ryujin," she said, her tone firm and unyielding.

I nodded quickly, sensing the weight of her words. Anxiety churned in my stomach, but before I could dwell on it, Jennie skillfully changed the subject. Grateful for the distraction, I followed her lead as we admired various dresses on display.

Eventually, we wandered into the ballroom, where a crowd had gathered. At the center of the dance floor, couples were twirling gracefully to the music. Jennie and I pushed our way to the front of the circle to get a better view.

The dancers moved with such fluidity and poise that I couldn’t help but marvel at their elegance. Just as I was about to slip away, a hand extended toward me. I looked up, my gaze meeting Jungkook's mischievous smile.

"I believe I owe you a dance, my love," he said smoothly, pressing a kiss to my hand before pulling me toward the dance floor.

The music swelled, and we began to waltz, our movements instinctively synchronized. Our eyes locked, the world around us fading away as if it existed solely for this moment. The tempo quickened, the rhythm demanding more intricate steps. Couples dispersed, leaving only Jungkook and me circling the center of the room.

"I may have pulled a few strings to make sure we’d have the final dance," Jungkook whispered into my ear, his warm breath grazing my skin and igniting a blush that crept up my cheeks.

Flustered, I averted my gaze, but my eyes landed on Ryujin at the edge of the crowd. Her grip on her wine glass was tight, her face a mixture of anger and jealousy. Jennie’s earlier words echoed in my mind.

"Just ask Jungkook what happened with Ryujin."

"Has anything happened with Ryujin, Jungkook?" I asked, the words escaping before I could stop them.

His body tensed immediately, his grip on my hands tightening. "Why? Did she say something to you?" His voice carried a hint of panic.

I shook my head quickly. "No, but Jennie seemed… worried and told me to ask you about it."

He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "She was in love with me," he began, his voice heavy with disgust. "No matter how many times I rejected her, she kept coming back, begging for my affection. One day, after hearing me say no again, she… killed a raven. The same bird that shares my DNA." His voice wavered, laced with anguish. "She thought it would prove her love. It was horrifying. I told her then and there that she would never have my love, not even for a single night. After that, she stayed away."

My heart ached as I watched the pain flicker across his features. Gently, I rested my head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Slowly, his gaze softened, filling with the love he reserved only for me.

The crowd’s applause broke our trance, signaling the end of the song. Jungkook and I bowed before retreating to the staircase overlooking the ballroom. He stood behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his warmth enveloping me.

In that moment, everything felt perfect, as if I belonged right here, by his side.

But the spell was broken when a guard tapped Jungkook on the shoulder.

"I’m sorry, Angel. I have to handle a trade," he murmured, his lips brushing mine in a fleeting kiss. "Stay here. I’ll be back soon."

And with that, he disappeared, leaving me with two bodyguards and the lingering imprint of his touch.

I retrieved a champagne flute from a passing waiter and leaned casually against one of the grand marble pillars, gazing over the ballroom from the outer railing. The room below was a tapestry of joy, with couples dancing gracefully and smiles illuminating their faces. At first glance, it was a scene of blissful elegance, but a closer look revealed the sinister undercurrent that ran through this gathering. Holstered guns glinted on men’s belts, knives were discreetly strapped to thighs, and small packages exchanged hands in shadows—silent reminders of the dark dealings that defined this world.

As I sipped the champagne and admired the opulence of the space, a gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me from my thoughts. Turning around, I found myself face-to-face with a young man. He was dressed impeccably in a white tuxedo, his blonde hair slicked back, and his polished smile radiated confidence.

He extended a hand toward me, and I hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. This wasn’t a place to be too trusting, no matter how charming someone seemed.

"Ah… forgive me for the intrusion," he said smoothly, his voice calm yet deliberate. "My name is Choi Seung-cheol. I’m fortunate to be a guest in this grand house tonight." As he withdrew his hand, he offered a partial bow, a gesture both polite and calculated.

He seemed harmless enough—polished and respectful—but I knew better than to let my guard down completely.

"I’m here to offer my congratulations on your crowning," he continued with a faint smile, his tone tinged with reverence. "I’ve brought you a gift. It’s in the room I’ve been assigned for tonight."

Something deep within me urged caution, a gut instinct screaming at me not to follow him. But for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I found myself nodding.

The presence of my guards trailing behind me offered a small measure of comfort as we walked through the opulent halls. Eventually, we stopped in front of a pair of ornate double doors. Seung-cheol opened them with a courteous flourish, but when my guards moved to follow, he raised a hand, barring them.

"Apologies, but this is a private matter," he said firmly, though his smile remained.

The guards looked to me for instruction. Torn between suspicion and curiosity, I gave them a brief nod to remain outside. They obeyed, but their unease mirrored my own.

I stepped into the room, noting its grandeur. It was far larger and more lavish than most guest quarters, even in a place like this. Everything was pristine, from the intricately carved furniture to the silk drapes cascading from the ceiling.

As I admired the space, a sharp metallic click cut through the air like a blade. My heart is still, and I spun around to face the sound.

Seung-cheol stood there, a gun in his trembling hands, aimed directly at me. His previously composed demeanor was gone, replaced by fear and desperation.

I screamed for the guards, my voice echoing off the walls, but my eyes darted to the door behind him. A heavy chair was wedged beneath the handle, blocking any chance of rescue. The guards’ muffled shouts and frantic banging were futile against the barricade.

"Seung-cheol?" I whispered, my voice quivering with disbelief and terror. I raised my hands slowly, trying to project calm even as panic clawed at my chest. "You don’t have to do this."

His tear-filled eyes met mine, reflecting a torment I couldn’t fully understand. His lips trembled as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I do..." he said, the words heavy with anguish.

He steadied the gun with both hands, aiming it squarely at my head. The tremor in his arms was unmistakable, but so was the resolve in his eyes. The pounding on the door intensified, the guards shouting commands to open it. Each desperate kick sent vibrations through the room, but the barrier held firm. They wouldn’t reach me in time.

I instinctively backed away, my mind racing for a way out.

And then, a deafening bang shattered the tension.