"Revenge is a dish best served cold, but love is a fire that burns even in the darkest of nights."

—

The days after the encounter with Taehyung felt like a fever dream to Y/n. Her thoughts were scattered, her heart torn in ways it hadn’t been in years. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—the soft intensity of his gaze, the way he’d whispered truths she wasn’t ready to hear. She couldn’t decide if she was angry or relieved. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to tear him apart or throw herself into his arms and never look back.

But the world around her was falling apart, and the weight of her family’s expectations crushed her at every turn.

Her father’s orders had never been clearer. The war between their families was about to reach its boiling point, and he expected her to be the one to pull the trigger. To end Taehyung’s life once and for all.

Y/n’s fingers trembled as she held the sleek, black handgun her father had given her. She had seen it before—many times, in the hands of others. But now it was hers. A symbol of the power she had been forced to wield. The tool she needed to destroy everything she had ever loved.

“Are you ready?” Jihoon’s voice broke through the haze in her mind, and she turned to see him standing in the doorway of the mansion’s study, his expression unreadable.

Ready? She had no idea. But what choice did she have?

“I have to do this,” Y/n muttered under her breath, more to herself than to Jihoon. Her words felt empty, hollow.

Jihoon’s eyes softened, though his demeanor remained cold. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He stepped closer, his boots clicking against the marble floor. “But you’ve always known what’s at stake. You’ve always known that when you play this game, you don’t get to walk away without paying a price.”

Y/n’s chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to scream that she didn’t choose this life, that none of it was her doing. But she couldn’t. Because deep down, she knew Jihoon was right. She had been playing this game for years, and now the consequences were catching up with her.

She looked at the gun again. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: Kill him, Y/n. It’s the only way to end this. He has to die.

A rush of anger surged within her. She hated the way her father controlled her. Hated the way he had used her and twisted her into this role. But she had no one else to turn to. Her family was everything she had left.

“Do it,” Jihoon said quietly, his voice filled with the cold certainty of a man who had seen too much. “Do it for us. For the family.”

Y/n hesitated, her fingers brushing over the cold steel of the gun. The weight of it felt wrong, so foreign in her hands. It was a weapon of destruction, not a tool for her to use.

But then, she thought of Taehyung. She thought of the way he had looked at her the night they spoke in the club, the way his eyes had softened when he told her he’d never wanted to hurt her.

Was he lying? Was all of this just a game to him? Or had he really meant what he said?

She could feel the tightrope she was walking on—the thin line between love and loyalty, between revenge and redemption. The choice felt impossible, and yet, in that moment, she knew there was no going back.

“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t kill him.”

Jihoon’s gaze hardened. “You don’t have a choice, Y/n.”

But Y/n’s resolve was stronger than ever. “I do have a choice. I always did.”

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the study, the weight of the gun in her pocket heavy against her side. She could feel Jihoon’s eyes on her, but she refused to turn back.

---

Later that night, Y/n found herself standing on the rooftop of a building in the heart of the city. The skyline stretched out before her, a sprawling sea of lights and shadow. The wind tugged at her hair, and she closed her eyes, letting the chill air settle on her skin.

She needed to think.

In the distance, she saw the faint glow of Taehyung’s estate. It was close enough that she could almost feel the pulse of his world beating, a constant hum in the back of her mind. And for a brief moment, it felt like everything was possible. Like she could walk away from this life and build something different with him.

But that was a fantasy.

The real world was filled with too many consequences, too many people who would never let her escape. If she let herself go to him, if she let herself love him again, it would mean betraying everything she had known. It would mean throwing away her family, the only thing she had left to hold on to.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice behind her.

“Y/n.”

She spun around, her heart leaping in her chest. There, standing in the doorway, was Taehyung. His silhouette was framed by the dim light from the hallway, and his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that took her breath away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Taehyung took a step forward, his expression unreadable. “I had to see you.”

Y/n’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She could feel the walls she had built around herself crumbling, piece by piece, with each word he spoke.

“You don’t have to do this,” Taehyung said softly. “You don’t have to be the person your family wants you to be. You can choose us. You can choose me.”

His words were like a balm to her wounded soul, and for a brief moment, Y/n thought about what it would be like to throw everything away—her family, her duty, the war that had torn them apart. She could be with him. She could build a future with him.

But the price of that future was too high. She couldn’t let herself fall back into that world, not when so much was at stake.

“I can’t,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t choose you, Taehyung. Not like this. Not when it means destroying everything I’ve ever known.”

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn’t move. “Then tell me what you’re going to do.”

Y/n felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. There was no escape. No easy way out.

And in that moment, she realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit.

In the game of revenge, there were no winners. Only those left behind.

—