san

he moved through the crowd with quick, purposeful steps, scanning every face, every dark head of hair, every unfamiliar set of eyes. she had to be here. she had always been here, lingering on the edges of the world she didn’t belong to.

except now. now she was gone.

his pulse kicked up, and his movements became sharper, more precise. he passed a group of nobles deep in conversation, skirts swishing and silk gloves brushing against wine glasses. the scent of spiced wine and perfume clung to the air, thick and stifling.

where the hell was she?

he was so focused on searching that he almost didn’t hear his name.

“hey, taehyung!”

he stopped short, spinning toward the voice.

one of the castle staff was balancing an empty tray on her hip, her dark hair slightly disheveled, her face flushed from moving between guests all night.

“did jiah ever find you?” she asked, tilting her head.

his stomach clenched.

“what?”

the girl blinked. “she was looking for you earlier. well, not really looking, more like standing around in a daze, but same thing, right?”

taehyung stepped closer, lowering his voice. “where is she?”

the maid hesitated, shifting her weight. “oh. uh… well, i might have let something slip.”

his blood turned to ice.

“what did you say?”

the maid glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in slightly. “i thought she already knew, but i kind of mentioned that taehyung was proposing tonight. and she, um. freaked out.”

his breath left him in a sharp exhale.

“she what?”

the maid winced. “yeah. she didn’t take it well. she looked like she was about to be sick and then bolted for the balcony.”

taehyung barely heard the last part. his mind was already spinning, calculating. jiah was alone on the balcony.

and the pirates…

his stomach twisted violently. this wasn’t supposed to happen. the princess was the one who was supposed to be out there, alone, waiting for prince seokjin. that was the plan.

taehyung turned quickly, scanning the ballroom again.

his eyes found princess yiseo almost immediately.

she was still on the dance floor, twirling beneath the golden chandeliers, laughter on her lips as she moved in perfect time with the music.

she was still here.

his chest tightened.

and then, like a nightmare unfolding in slow motion, he saw it.

prince seokjin wasn’t rushing. he never did. every step was measured, every movement effortless, the weight of his crown woven into the way he carried himself. golden embroidery glinted under the chandeliers; his face unreadable as he cut through the sea of partygoers.

he was heading for the balcony.

no. no, no, no.

taehyung’s pulse roared. his mind scrambled, trying to fix this, to stop this, to stop him, before everything fell apart.

the pirates were waiting.

they thought yiseo would be the one to step out onto that balcony. they thought seokjin would follow, lovesick and oblivious, right into their hands. it was supposed to be simple. clean. perfectly timed.

but jiah was out there instead.

taehyung clenched his jaw. he needed to think. to act.

seokjin was getting closer.

his steps slowed, just barely, his gaze flicking toward the open balcony doors. to anyone else, he looked composed. but taehyung knew better. he saw the tension in his shoulders, the twitch of his fingers before he smoothed them out.

seokjin knew something was wrong. maybe he’d seen jiah leave too suddenly. maybe he’d been watching her all night without realizing it. maybe some deep, unshakable part of him was already bracing for disaster.

taehyung had to stop him. he took a step forward, and then he saw them.

just beyond the ballroom’s grand windows, barely visible in the shadows of the garden, a figure moved. then another. dark silhouettes slipping between the hedges, waiting for their moment. waiting for seokjin.

no. not just seokjin.

jiah.

they weren’t hesitating. they weren’t waiting for the scene to play out as planned. they were adjusting, adapting, ready to strike now.

taehyung swore under his breath. he couldn’t go to seokjin anymore. he was too late. if he wasted another second, jiah would be gone before he could stop it.

he turned on his heel and moved.

not for the prince.

for the pirates.

yoongi saw it happen before he even meant to look.

seokjin, standing too close. her, staring up at him like she wasn’t sure whether to run or stay. a quiet exchange passing between them, something heavy, something charged.

yoongi exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the wall behind him. of course. of course.

seokjin had always been like this. he didn’t have to try. he didn’t have to chase. women just looked at him and fell at his feet, drawn in by his effortless charm, his golden looks, his name. the crown prince of a kingdom, the face of a thousand love letters, the man who could have anyone and still never seemed satisfied.

and now, of all the girls in the world, it had to be her.

yoongi’s fingers twitched at his side.

she wasn’t supposed to catch his attention. he wasn’t supposed to notice the way candlelight turned her dark eyes warm, wasn’t supposed to care when she smiled at someone else, wasn’t supposed to find himself lingering at the edges of rooms just to see what she’d do next.

but he did.

he did, and now seokjin was looking at her the same way he looked at every girl he’d ever wanted. like she was his for the taking.

yoongi’s jaw clenched. it wasn’t fair. not that yoongi believed in fair, not in a world where men like seokjin were born to have everything and men like him had to carve out their own place with blood and steel. but still.

she was something different. something unexpected. something rare.

and it burned, just a little, to know that seokjin would take her without ever realizing what he had.

princess yiseo had poems written about her. songs composed in her name. men lost sleep over the thought of her.

but standing there, watching her shift under seokjin’s gaze, yoongi knew the truth.

yiseo could have a thousand love songs, a thousand poets bending words into beauty for her sake, and she still wouldn’t compare.

yoongi didn’t even realize his grip had tightened on the hilt of his sword until his knuckles ached.

he forced himself to relax, to breathe, to remind himself that it didn’t matter. it shouldn’t matter. what was one more girl in seokjin’s orbit? what was one more fleeting interest for the prince, who collected admiration like war trophies and discarded them just as easily?

but then she shifted, weight shifting from one foot to the other, and something about the movement struck him harder than it should have. she wasn’t like the others. she wasn’t standing there wanting seokjin’s attention, wasn’t leaning into the charm that so many others had fallen for. if anything, she looked caught, like she’d been pulled into something she hadn’t meant to be a part of.

and that was what made yoongi’s irritation sharpen into something uglier, something personal.

because seokjin could have any girl he wanted. he could have a princess, a noblewoman, any one of the countless admirers who wrote him letters and dreamed of his name. but instead, without even meaning to, he had her.

the one girl yoongi had found himself noticing when he shouldn’t.

his fingers twitched again, but he didn’t move. didn’t let himself.

because what was the point?

seokjin was seokjin.

and yoongi, yoongi had never been the kind of man to reach for things he had no business wanting.

the night air was crisp, the scent of salt thick on the wind. laughter and music spilled from the ballroom behind them, but out here, on the balcony, the world felt quieter. heavier.

and then the doors slammed open.

jiah startled, but seokjin was faster. his hand was gone from hers in an instant, his body shifting in front of hers, shoulders squared, stance solid. a shield.

her heart pounded.

the man standing in the doorway was tall, broad shouldered, dressed in dark pirate garb that contrasted sharply with the glittering decadence of the ballroom behind him. the open collar of his shirt revealed a sliver of tanned skin, the loose fabric doing nothing to hide the strength in his build. tousled brown hair framed sharp features, his eyes dark, focused. assessing.

he didn’t look at seokjin. he looked at her.

his gaze dragged over her, lingering for just a second too long before he let out a low hum, lips curling at the corners.

“well,” he said, “you’re prettier than i expected.”

jiah blinked.

seokjin, however, stiffened. “excuse me?”

the man ignored him entirely. his focus remained on jiah, eyes gleaming with something like intrigue. “not that i thought you’d be ugly, of course. but you know how it is, people exaggerate. all those songs about your beauty, all those poems… i figured there had to be some embellishment.”

her lips parted.

oh.

he thought…

he thought she was the princess.

jiah knew the story well enough to know if she didn’t get out of there quick, things would get ugly fast.

but i’m not yiseo, jiah thought. i’m not some important noble or princess. i’m just playing the part of  a servant wearing cloth she shouldn’t be at an event she shouldn’t be allowed to attend

yet a part of jiah was intrigued. in whispers of the sea, yiseo had been too in her head to be a reliable narrator. this scene was basically four lines. the pirate, jong-something if jiah  remembered correctly, shows up, fights the prince, wins, and takes the girl. the book never spoke of the pirate’s wit.

seokjin, standing like a storm about to break, was far less amused. “who are you?”

the pirate let out a soft chuckle, finally glancing at him. “you don’t know?”

seokjin’s expression darkened.

“right, right,” the man mused, crossing his arms. “royalty never bothers learning the names of the people they terrorize, do they?”

jiah barely smothered her laugh.

seokjin did not look amused.

but before he could bite back, the pirate turned his attention back to her, stepping forward, just slightly, just enough to test the space between them. “so tell me, princess,” he murmured, head tilting, “do you live up to all those stories?”

“i—”

“she’s not the princess.”

seokjin’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

the pirate blinked. frowned. looked at jiah again, gaze narrowing.

then, slowly, his smirk returned.

“oh,” he said, dragging out the syllable like he was tasting it.

his eyes gleamed.

“now this is interesting.”

the pirate tilted his head, eyes sweeping over jiah once more, slower this time, like he was trying to figure out exactly what he’d walked into.

his smirk deepened.

“so if you’re not the princess,” he drawled, “then who are you?”

jiah opened her mouth, but seokjin stepped in before she could speak.

“none of your concern.”

the pirate exhaled a quiet laugh, amused. “really?” he mused, shifting his weight. “because from where i’m standing, it feels like my concern.”

seokjin’s jaw tightened. “step back.”

the pirate didn’t. if anything, he stepped closer.

jiah could feel the shift in the air, thick with tension, electric with the kind of energy that only came when two people were seconds away from throwing punches.

“not very polite, are you?” the pirate mused, gaze flicking over seokjin like he wasn’t even the slightest bit concerned. like he was barely worth acknowledging. “must be exhausting, standing so stiff all the time. do you ever relax? smile, even?”

“do you ever shut up?” seokjin shot back.

the pirate grinned.

“only when i’m too busy doing something else.”

jiah sucked in a breath.

oh, this was getting bad.

“so?” the pirate prompted, shifting his attention back to her. “if you’re not the princess, then what are you doing on this balcony? at a royal party? with him?”

he said it like he and seokjin were on two entirely different planes of existence. like seokjin was some untouchable figure of power, and he—he was something else entirely. something freer. something dangerous.

and for the first time in her life, jiah wasn’t sure which one of them she was supposed to fear more.

“she’s a guest,” seokjin said, voice clipped. “and she’s leaving.”

“oh?” the pirate hummed. “funny, because she doesn’t look like she’s leaving.”

his gaze flickered back to jiah, sharp and knowing. “she looks like she wants to hear what i have to say.”

he wasn’t wrong.

jiah should probably be worried about that.

but before she could decide how to respond, seokjin shifted again. subtle. just a fraction, but enough. enough to shield her, enough to block the pirate’s line of sight.

it was a warning.

a declaration.

mine.

the pirate exhaled a soft laugh, amused.

then, in a move so quick jiah barely had time to register it, he reached for the dagger at his belt, flipped it in his hand, twirled it between his fingers with an ease that made it abundantly clear that he was very good with it, before catching it by the hilt and tossing it straight into the air.

seokjin tensed, ready for a fight, but the pirate caught it effortlessly on the way down, smooth and controlled, as if the entire display had been for nothing but his own amusement.

Or, jiah realized, hers.

his grin widened.

“so what do you say, princess?” he mused. “stay and talk to a real man for a while?”

he glanced at seokjin.

“or let the prince keep pretending he can keep you all to himself?”

the tension snapped.

seokjin moved first.

his fist flew toward the pirate’s jaw, sharp and deliberate, but the other man was fast. he ducked, sidestepped, laughed as he twisted out of reach, the sound infuriatingly smug.

"touchy," the pirate mused, twirling the dagger again. "relax, your highness. i’m just having a little fun."

seokjin lunged.

this time, he got a solid hit. his knuckles connected with the pirate’s ribs, forcing a sharp grunt from his lips. but the other man recovered fast, fast enough to return the favor, shoving seokjin back with a well-placed strike to his side.

jiah stumbled, barely managing to avoid getting caught between them as the fight escalated. it was fast, brutal, a series of swift movements, seokjin, all precision and control, and the pirate, all sharp edges and unpredictability.

somewhere in the chaos, she tried to move.

tried to step away, to slip out of reach,

but a hand caught her wrist.

"ah, ah," the pirate chided, barely sparing her a glance as he wrenched her back toward him. "not so fast, princess, you stay here."

seokjin’s expression darkened.

"let her go."

the pirate smirked.

"make me."

he barely had time to finish the sentence before seokjin drove forward again, this time aiming lower, trying to knock the other man off balance.

it almost worked.

almost.

but the pirate was quick, faster than jiah had expected, faster than she suspected seokjin had anticipated, and at the last second, he twisted, grabbed seokjin by the front of his coat, and yanked him forward.

seokjin staggered.

the pirate grinned.

jiah barely managed to keep up.

it all happened too fast, the shift in the air, the blur of movement, the sharp sounds of fists colliding with flesh. she couldn’t even tell who was winning, only that seokjin was fighting like his life depended on it.

like her life depended on it.

the pirate, for all his arrogance, was good. frustratingly so. he moved with an ease that suggested experience, his footwork swift and practiced, every dodge and counter seamlessly fluid. but seokjin was better. his strikes were precise, calculated, honed by years of discipline. where the pirate fought with reckless confidence, seokjin fought with purpose.

he landed another hit, a brutal punch to the jaw that snapped the pirate’s head to the side.

for a second, jiah thought it was over.

but then the pirate laughed.

"damn," he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "you hit harder than i expected."

and then he struck back.

the shift was immediate. seokjin had barely a moment to react before the pirate surged forward, slamming his knee into his stomach and using the momentum to shove him backward. seokjin staggered, but he didn’t fall.

"you’re good, princey," the pirate continued, circling him now, the dagger still twirling between his fingers. "but i gotta admit, i was expecting more."

seokjin’s jaw tightened.

"drop the blade," he ordered, voice sharp. "if you’re so confident, fight me fairly."

the pirate feigned a thoughtful expression. "hmm. tempting." he tossed the dagger once, catching it with ease. "but no."

seokjin lunged again, forcing the pirate to shift, his grip on the blade adjusting. their movements became sharper, more dangerous. seokjin weaving through the attacks with practiced ease, the pirate countering every strike with frustrating precision.

jiah felt useless, caught between them with no idea what to do. she needed to run, needed to get out and get help before one of them got hurt—

a hand snatched her waist.

"ah, ah," the pirate chided, barely sparing her a glance as he yanked her closer. "i thought i told you to stay princess."

seokjin snapped.

"release her”

the pirate grinned, attempting to pull jiah in even closer if it was possible. 

the next hit came before he could blink. seokjin drove forward with brutal force, slamming his forearm against the pirate’s throat and forcing him back against the railing. the shift was immediate, the smirk wiped from the pirate’s face, replaced with something sharp, something dangerous.

"you really are touchy," he muttered, voice strained. "i like it."

seokjin pressed harder. "you’re going to leave."

"hmm." the pirate tilted his head, the sharp edge of his smirk returning. "nah."

before seokjin could react, he moved.

the motion was quick, effortless, a sharp twist, a shift of weight, and suddenly seokjin was the one pinned, his back slamming against the railing, the pirate’s forearm digging into his chest.

jiah gasped.

the pirate, utterly unfazed, leaned in slightly. "fun as this is," he murmured, "i didn’t actually come here to fight."

his gaze flicked to jiah, slow and deliberate.

"i came for her."

seokjin saw red.

"you’re not taking her anywhere."

his voice was pure steel, sharp and unwavering, but the pirate only grinned, the tilt of his head almost lazy.

"funny," he mused, "i don’t remember asking for permission."

his grip on seokjin barely wavered, even as the prince braced against the railing, trying to shove him off. but the pirate was stronger than he looked. lean muscle packed with undeniable power, honed by a life spent navigating rough waters and ruthless battles.

and jiah.

jiah could barely breathe.

"let go of him," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

the pirate glanced at her, feigning curiosity. "oh? and if i don’t?"

jiah didn’t have an answer. she had no weapon, no way to fight back, only the desperate urge to do somethingbefore seokjin got hurt.

but the pirate wasn’t looking for an answer.

instead, his fingers twitched and in a movement so fast it barely registered, he flipped the dagger.

seokjin stiffened as cold steel pressed against his throat.

jiah froze.

"there we go," the pirate murmured. "that’s better."

seokjin’s jaw clenched, his entire body taut with tension, but he didn’t move. didn’t dare. the blade was small, more of a threat than a true weapon, but in the pirate’s hands, it might as well have been a sword.

"what do you want?" jiah forced out, pulse thundering in her ears.

"same thing as always," the pirate said, as if it were obvious. "gold. freedom. a good drink." his gaze flickered to her again, slower this time, something unreadable beneath the amusement. "and maybe," he mused, "a pretty thing to take back to the ship."

jiah recoiled. "i’m not—"

"oh, you are," he interrupted, grin widening. "gorgeous, actually. not sure why you were hiding out here, but lucky me, huh?"

seokjin jerked against the blade, fury rippling through every inch of him. "don’t talk about her like that."

the pirate only laughed. "don’t like sharing?"

"let her go."

"and again," the pirate sighed, "you keep thinking i take orders from you."

his hand twitched, just the slightest shift, but enough for seokjin to move.

it happened in a blink.

seokjin twisted, shoving forward with his full weight. the motion was so sudden the pirate lost his footing, stumbling just enough for seokjin to slam his elbow into his ribs. the dagger slipped, and seokjin lunged, driving him backward in one fluid motion.

jiah staggered away, heart hammering as the two men collided again.

but this time,

this time, the pirate didn’t laugh.

this time, he looked pissed.

"alright," he muttered, shaking out his wrist. "no more playing nice, then."

and then he attacked.

the fight became brutal. less like a battle of skill and more like sheer, raw force. the pirate was ruthless, striking without hesitation, forcing seokjin onto the defensive. seokjin blocked what he could, countered where possible, but the pirate fought dirty. quick jabs to the ribs, sharp kicks to throw him off balance, every move designed to weaken his opponent instead of overpowering him.

and it worked.

seokjin was fast, trained, disciplined. but the pirate fought like a man who had learned survival the hard way. and worse, he was still smiling.

"what’s wrong, princey?" he taunted, sidestepping another strike. "not used to a fair fight?"

"fair?" seokjin spat, breath heaving. "you brought a knife."

"so did you."

"what"

the pirate lunged and before seokjin could react, he snatched the dagger from his belt.

"see?" he said, flipping it between his fingers. "fair."

seokjin cursed.

"alright," the pirate mused. "i think i’ve had my fun." he shot a glance toward jiah, expression thoughtful. "ready to come with me, princess? or do i have to start getting creative?"

jiah’s blood turned to ice.

"over my dead body," seokjin snapped.

the pirate smirked. "if you insist."

and then he swung.

seokjin dodged, barely.

the dagger slashed through empty air, missing his throat by mere inches. the pirate moved with terrifying speed, relentless in his pursuit, every strike aimed to disable, not kill.

seokjin knew he was at a disadvantage. he was a prince, trained in combat, yes, but trained for duels, for honorable fights where his opponent followed the same unspoken rules. but pirates didn’t have rules. they had survival, and that made them dangerous.

but seokjin wasn’t about to lose.

he shifted, using the pirate’s momentum against him. the next time the blade came down, he twisted, forcing the pirate’s arm to veer off course before slamming his elbow into his side. the pirate grunted, stumbling back, but the smirk never left his face.

"not bad," he admitted, rolling his shoulder like this was all some casual sparring match. "but not good enough."

before seokjin could react, the pirate kicked.

seokjin felt the impact rip through his ribs as he was sent backward, his body slamming into the railing with bone-rattling force. pain exploded across his back, breath ripping from his lungs in a sharp gasp.

"seokjin!" jiah’s voice was barely audible over the roar in his ears.

he barely had time to recover before the pirate was on him again.

seokjin ducked as the dagger came down, metal scraping against the stone where his head had been just seconds ago. he tried to counter, but the pirate was faster, already anticipating his move.

"getting tired, your highness?" the pirate taunted, twisting the dagger in his grip. "you’re slowing down."

seokjin didn’t answer. just grit his teeth and launched forward, trying to disarm him,

but he made one fatal mistake.

he underestimated just how fast the pirate was.

in a blink, he was the one being flipped, his back hitting the stone hard enough to make his vision blur. before he could so much as breathe, the pirate’s knee was digging into his chest, pinning him down.

"now, now," the pirate hummed, pressing the dagger to his throat, "let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be."

seokjin’s hands shot up to grab his wrist, trying to shove the blade away, but the pirate held firm.

"i really should kill you," he mused, almost lazily. "but then again…where’s the fun in that?"

his grip shifted and before seokjin could react, he was gone.

jiah barely had time to scream before she was snatched.

one moment she was watching seokjin fight for his life, the next, she was yanked back, an arm locking around her waist, a hand clamping over her mouth.

"shh, princess," the pirate murmured into her ear, way too amused for someone who had just fought a prince. "don’t make this difficult."

jiah struggled.

panic surged through her veins as she kicked,fought, but the pirate barely reacted. he lifted her like she weighed nothing, already backing toward the edge of the balcony.

seokjin staggered to his feet, eyes wild with panic. "let her go!"

"sorry, your highness," the pirate grinned, hoisting jiah higher against his chest. "i think i’ll be keeping this one."

"jiah!"

she screamed. a raw, desperate sound as the pirate took his final step,

and then they were falling.

jiah's scream tore through the night air as gravity yanked them down. her stomach lurched, panic clawing up her throat,

but the pirates had planned this.

instead of slamming into the courtyard below, they crashed into something softer, a thick canopy stretched between two posts, designed to break their fall. the impact still rattled through jiah’s bones, the wind knocked from her lungs as they bounced, her vision spinning wildly,

and then the pirate moved, shifting their weight just enough to send them sliding off the edge.

they landed in a crouch, the pirate barely stumbling as he adjusted his grip on her. jiah had no time to react before he was running, her body still locked against his as he tore through the castle grounds like he owned the place.

"put me down!" she struggled, kicking against his hold, but he didn’t even stagger.

"now, why would i do that, princess?"

"stop calling me that!"

he laughed. actually laughed, as if this was nothing more than a game to him. jiah twisted, trying to break free, but his grip was ironclad.

above them, shouts rang out. "find them!"

seokjin.

jiah’s chest clenched. her head snapped up just in time to see the prince on the balcony, hands braced against the railing, his expression furious.

"jiah!"

she reached for him instinctively, but it was too late. the pirate had already ducked into the shadows, weaving through the palace grounds with terrifying speed.

"let me go!" she demanded again, thrashing harder.

"keep squirming like that, and i might drop you," the pirate mused. "not that i’d mind. could always carry you over my shoulder instead."

jiah froze.

he must’ve felt her hesitation, because his smirk pressed against her ear. "that’s what i thought."

she wanted to kick him in the teeth.

instead, she forced herself to focus. she needed to think, needed to find a way out of this before—

a whistle cut through the air.

the pirate grinned. "right on time."

jiah barely had time to process before they were moving again, toward the walls, toward a rope dangling down from the battlements.

"no! no, no, no," she twisted, trying to break his hold. "you are not—"

"i am," he said cheerfully, securing his grip before leaping for the rope.

jiah shrieked.

the world lurched as they swung upward, her stomach flipping violently, the castle dropping away beneath them. wind tore through her hair as the pirate climbed effortlessly, one arm hauling them up while the other held her steady against him.

"don’t look down," he offered, as if that was helpful.

"i hate you," she seethed.

"aw, princess," his tone was mock-offended. "we’ve only just met."

before she could snap at him, they reached the top of the wall.

"go, go, go!"

other figures moved in the darkness, pirates, already in motion. jiah barely got a glimpse of them before she was being hauled over the edge, the pirate barely breaking stride as he ran again.

the docks.

jiah's breath hitched.

they were heading for the docks.

"someone stop them!"

shouts rang out behind them. castle guards.

the pirate laughed under his breath. "bit slow, aren’t they?"

"they’re armed," jiah shot back, hearing the distant clang of swords. "you’re outnumbered."

"mm," he hummed. "you’d think that would matter."

they rounded the final corner and jiah saw it.

the hwa yang yeon hwa.

the book did little to describe how massive the ship truly was. it loomed ahead, lanterns glowing in the dark, its sails unfurled and ready to leave. ropes dangled from the deck, waiting for their crew to climb aboard.

"no—!" jiah fought again, trying to slow them down, but the pirate didn’t let her go.

"don’t worry, princess," he said, tone far too smug. "you’ll love it aboard."

and with that, he jumped.

seokjin stood at the edge of the balcony, chest heaving, knuckles white against the railing as he watched the pirate ship vanish into the horizon.

his mind was a storm. rage and disbelief crashing together in violent waves, drowning out every other thought. blood dripped from his temple, warm as it trailed down his cheek. his lip was split. his ribs ached from where the pirate had landed a brutal hit, but he barely felt it. pain was a distant thing, muted beneath the sheer force of his anger.

because she was gone.

jiah was gone.

his fingers curled into fists.

these pirates.

his pirates.

the ones he had spent years hunting. the ones who had taken from him before, who had torn his brother from his grasp and left him chasing ghosts. the ones who had eluded him time and time again, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

and now—

now they had her.

his pulse roared in his ears, his breaths sharp and uneven as the weight of it all crashed down on him.

he should have seen this coming.

he should have known.

but instead, he had been standing there, distracted. caught up in the way she looked at him, in the way she felt in his arms, in the way she—

“you’re bleeding.”

the voice came from behind him, low and measured, slipping through the shadows like it belonged there.

seokjin didn’t flinch. didn’t turn.

yoongi.

of course he was here.

silent as ever, watching from the edges of the battlefield until the dust had settled.

“i’m fine,” seokjin bit out.

he wasn’t.

but that wasn’t the point.

yoongi stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until he was at seokjin’s side. his presence was grounding. cool in contrast to seokjin’s fire.

they stood in silence for a long moment, both of them watching the empty horizon.

then…

“this is dangerous,” yoongi said, voice calm but firm.

seokjin exhaled sharply through his nose. “don’t.”

yoongi didn’t move. “you know i’m right.”

seokjin finally turned to look at him, and the flickering torchlight cast shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the unwavering certainty in his expression.

yoongi wasn’t stopping him.

he was warning him.

and that only made seokjin’s resolve burn hotter.

"i don’t care."

yoongi sighed. “you’re thinking with your emotions.”

“and you’re acting like this isn’t personal.” seokjin’s voice was sharp, laced with something dangerous. “don’t pretend you don’t see it. these are the pirates. the same ones who took my brother.”

yoongi’s gaze didn’t waver. “i know.”

and he did.

but knowing and acting were two different things.

“this is different,” yoongi continued. “you’re letting it cloud your judgment.”

seokjin let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “so what? you expect me to just let them go?”

yoongi tilted his head slightly, studying him. “you’re not thinking. you’re reacting.”

seokjin’s jaw clenched.

of course he was.

how could he not?

yoongi had always been level headed, always approached things with cold precision, always saw things in ways that seokjin didn’t.

but right now,

right now, seokjin didn’t want to be logical.

not when every instinct in his body screamed at him to act.

“i’m going after her,” he said again, quieter this time but just as unshakable.

yoongi sighed, glancing away for the first time, as if weighing his words.

when he finally spoke, his voice was softer.

“this doesn’t end well for you.”

seokjin swallowed down the frustration rising in his throat. “i’m not asking for permission, yoongi.”

a pause.

“i know.”

because yoongi knew him.

and he knew there was no stopping this.

so instead, he simply let out another slow exhale before turning his gaze back to the horizon.

“…then let’s do this right.”

taehyung had already made his choice.

he made it the moment he saw jiah struggling in the pirate’s grasp, the moment he saw the sheer terror in her eyes before she disappeared into the night. he made it when he saw seokjin bleeding and furious, when he realized exactly who had taken her. when he realized it was his fault she was out there at all.

and now, as he crouched low behind a stack of cargo barrels, hidden in the shadows just beyond the docks, he made it again.

he wasn’t going to let her go alone.

his breath came shallow, heart hammering against his ribs as he watched the pirates load the last of their supplies onto the hwa yang yeon hwa. they moved quickly, efficiently, passing crates between each other like they had done this a hundred times before. the ship was grander than he expected. larger, sturdier, with massive sails that rippled in the night breeze.

his pulse quickened.

this was the king of thieves’ ship. the most feared pirate in all the seas. the one kingdom's had spent years hunting. the one he had spent months slipping information to in exchange for coin. the one whose crew he had thoughtlessly betrayed just hours ago.

the night was chaos.

taehyung had seen it all unfold from the shadows, his heart hammering as he ran through the palace corridors, trying to reach the figures in time. jiah had been on the balcony with the prince, and the moment he spotted the pirate ship on the horizon, dread coiled in his stomach.

he knew what was coming.

his breath was ragged as he sprinted through the open courtyard, dodging startled servants and guards rushing toward the commotion. he could hear shouting in the distance, clashes of steel, frantic orders barked into the night. the pirates were already the inside city. inside the walls. inside the palace.

his boots skidded against the marble floor as he turned the corner, his eyes locking onto the balcony just above. he saw seokjin there, saw the way he had turned toward jiah, his expression unreadable. but before he could scan the area for the pirate he saw, before he could even process the moment, before he could call out to her,

a dark figure emerged from the shadows.

no.

taehyung’s stomach dropped as he saw the glint of steel, the sharp movement of a hand snatching jiah’s wrist.

she barely had time to react before she was gone.

pulled back into the darkness.

the pirate moved too fast. one second, jiah had been standing there, her body tense with urgency, and the next, she had vanished.

taehyung felt something inside him snap.

“guards!” his voice was raw, desperate as he turned toward the palace entrance, his chest heaving. “the pirates—!”

the words barely left his lips before a hand slammed into his ribs.

taehyung choked on the impact as he was sent sprawling backward, his back hitting the cold stone with a dull thud. he gasped for air, but before he could recover, a shadow loomed over him.

not just any shadow.

him.

the man who moved like a phantom, the one who had always been a ghost of a warning in whispered rumors.

taehyung had never seen his face before, but he knew exactly who he was.

the man with the golden smile.

the pirate with the dead eyes.

the captain’s right hand.

jung hoseok.

a name few knew. the name had never been spoken aloud. he had only ever been a whisper. a nightmare that drifted through the seas like a curse.

taehyung barely had time to brace himself before hoseok struck again.

a fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side. pain exploded behind his eyes, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move. he rolled before the next blow could land, scrambling to his feet just as hoseok lunged again.

steel flashed in the dim light.

taehyung ducked, just barely avoiding the wicked curve of a dagger aimed for his throat.

his breath came in short, sharp bursts as he stumbled back, trying to find an opening. but hoseok didn’t give him one.

the pirate was fast. unnaturally fast. he moved like water, fluid and merciless, each strike calculated, each attack meant to kill.

taehyung barely managed to deflect the next blow, using the hilt of a discarded sword to block the downward slash. the impact sent a shockwave up his arm, nearly numbing his fingers.

hoseok smiled.

it was a grin made of hunger.

“you’re in the way,” he murmured, voice almost playful. “run along, stable boy.”

taehyung snarled, shoving forward, forcing their blades apart. “where did you take her?”

hoseok cocked his head. “who?”

taehyung’s grip tightened.

“jiah.”

the name barely left his lips before hoseok moved.

too fast.

taehyung had no time to react before a knee slammed into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. he doubled over, coughing, but before he could recover, a hand fisted into his hair, yanking his head back.

his vision blurred.

his pulse thundered.

cold steel pressed against his throat.

hoseok leaned in, his breath warm against taehyung’s ear.

“if you mean the princess, she’s already gone.”

taehyung froze.

gone.

he knew what that meant.

the ship.

the open sea.

he was too late.

hoseok must have seen the realization flicker in his eyes because he smiled again, that sharp, golden grin.

the pirate leaded in again, but before he could get out another word,

taehyung moved.

he twisted, ignoring the burn of the blade against his skin as he slammed his elbow into hoseok’s ribs, forcing him back. the moment the pressure lifted, he lunged.

hoseok barely had time to adjust before taehyung tackled him.

they crashed against the stone, grappling for control. fists connected, blades scraped, breathless grunts filled the air. taehyung fought with everything he had, fueled by nothing but raw desperation.

he had to get to jiah.

he had to.

but hoseok was a storm.

every move taehyung made, the pirate countered it effortlessly. every attack, every desperate swing, hoseok was already a step ahead.

and then, with one final strike, he knocked taehyung’s legs out from under him.

taehyung hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through his bones.

hoseok stood over him, breath steady, gaze unreadable. his dagger gleamed under the lantern light, poised for the final blow.

taehyung didn’t close his eyes.

he glared.

hoseok hesitated.

just for a second.

“intruders!”

the shout rang through the air, followed by the sound of approaching guards.

hoseok sighed. “tsk.”

taehyung barely had time to blink before the pirate stepped back, spinning his dagger once before tucking it away.

“this was fun,” hoseok mused, already retreating. “let’s do it again sometime.”

and then like smoke he was gone.

swallowed by the shadows.

leaving nothing behind but the sting of defeat.

hoseok had every intention to kill him right there.  taehyung knew every interacting with any pirates, not only just the crew of the hwa yang yeon hwa, was a death sentence.

and yet, here he was, about to step onto the very ship he had sold out.

if they recognized him, if any of them knew who he was—

he swallowed hard and shoved the thought away.

he couldn’t think about that now.

instead, he focused on the movement of the crew, the patterns in their steps, the brief moments when their backs were turned. he had grown up learning how to move unnoticed, how to be quick and silent when slipping into places he had no business being. now, that skill was the only thing keeping him from a blade to the throat.

he waited until one of the pirates, a lanky man with a thick beard, ducked below deck, then moved swiftly toward the crates stacked near the gangplank. he kept low, footsteps soundless as he crept closer.

just a little further…

“oi! get those barrels tied down!” someone barked nearby.

taehyung froze, pressing himself against the wood as heavy boots stomped past him. the pirate, one of the taller ones, with a scar down his arm, grumbled under his breath as he grabbed a length of rope and set to work.

taehyung didn’t breathe until he was gone.

his fingers curled against the rough wood of the crate. keep moving.

he darted forward again, slipping into the shadow of the main mast just as another pirate stepped onto the deck. this one was shorter, stocky, with sharp eyes that swept over the crew. taehyung held his breath, heart thudding as he ducked behind a stack of coiled rope.

“all set?” the stocky pirate called out.

“aye,” another voice answered.

“then we sail before dawn.”

shit.

taehyung had been hoping for more time.

but there was no turning back now.

he stayed crouched in his hiding spot, scanning the deck for an opening. he needed to blend in, to make himself look like he belonged. he had spent enough time around the docks to know how pirates moved, how they carried themselves. he just needed the right moment to slip in among them.

his opportunity came faster than he expected.

a fight broke out near the bow. two pirates shoving each other over a lost bet, voices rising in drunken anger. the distraction was all taehyung needed. while the others turned to watch, he grabbed a stray length of rope, looped it around his shoulder, and strode across the deck like he had every right to be there.

no one stopped him.

his heart pounded in his throat as he moved toward the rigging, pretending to busy himself with knots. his hands weren’t as steady as he wanted them to be, but no one paid him any mind. as long as he kept his head down, as long as he acted like he knew what he was doing, he could blend in.

and so, he did.

as the minutes passed, the tension in his shoulders eased. the ship came alive around him. pirates hauling barrels below deck, tying sails, sharpening blades. no one questioned his presence.

but that didn’t mean he was safe.

his eyes darted toward the captain’s quarters, toward the place where he assumed jiah had been taken. he hadn’t seen her since she was dragged aboard. he didn’t know if she was hurt. he didn’t know anything.

but he would.

he had promised himself that much.

“i’ll protect her,” he murmured under his breath, gripping the rope tighter.

no matter what.

the ship rocked gently beneath her feet, but jiah barely noticed. her hands were bound, her wrists aching from the rough rope that cut into her skin, and her heart was still hammering in her chest from the chaos of the last hour. her breath came too fast, uneven and sharp, as she glared at the man in front of her.

"you have the wrong girl."

he didn’t look convinced. in fact, he looked downright amused. the dim lantern light cast shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the curve of his smirk, the flicker of something dangerous in his dark eyes.

"do i?" he mused, tilting his head. "you were on the balcony, weren’t you? dressed all nice, tucked away in the palace. the prince certainly seemed to think you were worth throwing hands over."

her stomach twisted. prince seokjin. she had no idea what had happened after jong-something had dragged her away, but she could still see the fury in seokjin’s eyes, the way he had fought to get to her. she didn’t want to think about what he might do next.

"that doesn’t mean i’m the princess," she snapped, shaking her head. "yiseo is the one you want. i’m just…i’m just her maid."

he let out a low whistle, leaning against one of the wooden beams. "that’s a new one. you expect me to believe the prince of gunseok was willing to bleed over a maid? come on, princess, give me some credit."

she let out a strangled noise of frustration, yanking at her restraints. "i am not—" she stopped herself, forcing a breath through her nose. "i am not a princess. i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. let me go, and you can still fix this."

he raised an eyebrow, as if considering, before he pushed off the beam and strode toward her. jiah took an instinctive step back, but the wall of the ship’s cabin stopped her short. he was close now, too close, his presence overwhelming in the small space.

"hmm." his eyes roved over her, not in a leering way, but in something sharper. assessing, peeling back layers she didn’t want anyone to see. "well, i gotta admit, princess, you don’t seem like much of a liar. but you see, that’s not my problem. we were told to take the girl on that balcony, and that girl was you. so, either the prince was mooning over his maid—" his lips quirked like the idea was ridiculous "—or you’re lying through your teeth. and between you and me? i don’t think it really matters."

her fingers curled into fists. "what do you mean, it doesn’t matter? you took the wrong girl!"

he grinned, all sharp edges and reckless confidence. "maybe. but you’re still leverage. and leverage is leverage, no matter what name it comes with."

jiah’s heart sank. she had been hoping, foolishly, that he might actually listen to reason. but of course, that had never been an option, had it? pirates didn’t care about reason. they cared about profit. advantage. power.

she lifted her chin, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. "if you think prince seokjin will trade the princess for me, you’re wrong."

he hummed, considering. "we’ll see about that. but in the meantime—" his hand shot out, fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face up. "—i think i like you better than some spoiled princess, anyway."

she jerked away from his touch, glaring. "don’t touch me."

he chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "easy, princess. just getting a good look at the prize we hauled in. wouldn’t want to underestimate our catch, now, would we?"

before she could spit out another retort, the cabin door creaked open, and another pirate poked his head in. "captain wants to see her. now."

jiah swallowed. kim namjoon. the real captain of this ship. he may have been one of the main love interests in the novel but that took chapters to get to. and that was yiseo’s relationship with him.  she was just some girl, not  a princess.  what the captain would do to her once he found out sent a chill through her. 

her captor gave a lazy shrug. "looks like you’ve got an audience with the king of thieves himself. let’s go, princess. wouldn’t want to keep him waiting."

jiah didn’t move at first. she was still trying to process everything, still grappling with the absurdity of it all.

she had been at the palace, safe, out of the way. now she was on a pirate ship, surrounded by criminals who thought she was worth something.

except she wasn’t.

she wasn’t even a royal maid.

let alone a princess.

she was not important.

not someone people fought wars over.

but these pirates didn’t believe her. or maybe, they just didn’t care.

"didn’t you hear him?" her captor said, nudging her forward with the hilt of his sword. "captain’s waiting."

jiah swallowed down the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. fighting back now wouldn’t help. if she wanted to survive this, she had to be smart. had to think.

so she took a breath and let herself be led out of the cabin.

the ship was bigger than she had expected. lanterns swung from the masts, casting golden light over the deck, where men moved about with an ease that told her they had been at sea for a long, long time. the scent of salt and wood and something burning filled her lungs.

but more than anything, it was the sound of the ocean that unnerved her.

endless. inescapable.

there was no getting off this ship unless they allowed it.

the pirate leading her didn’t say anything as he guided her toward the center of the deck, where a man stood waiting.

he was taller than the others, broad-shouldered and calm in a way that felt dangerous. his dark coat billowed slightly in the breeze, and when he turned, the flickering lantern light caught on the sharp planes of his face.

captain namjoon.

he looked at her for a long moment, expression unreadable.

"so," he said, his voice smoother than she expected. "this is the girl the prince fought for?"

her captor chuckled. "not what you were expecting, captain?"

namjoon hummed, crossing his arms. his gaze drifted over her, slow and deliberate, before he tilted his head.

"what’s your name?"

jiah hesitated.

she didn’t want to give him anything. but lying, lying could make things worse.

"jiah," she said finally, forcing her voice to stay steady.

"jiah," namjoon echoed, testing the name. then, his lips quirked slightly. "you don’t look much like a princess."

"because i’m not," she snapped, the frustration bubbling up again. "you took the wrong girl."

namjoon’s expression didn’t change. "is that so?"

"yes! the real princess is still at the ball, not me."

namjoon glanced at the pirate who had dragged her here. "what do you think?"

"she swears up and down that we got the wrong one," he said, smirking. "but i say, if she was in the prince’s arms, she’s worth something."

jiah clenched her fists. "i was not in his—" she cut herself off with a frustrated exhale. "prince seokjin doesn’t care about me like that."

namjoon raised a brow. "then why did he fight for you?"

"because…" she hesitated.

because he’s a good man. because he wouldn’t let someone be taken, no matter who they were.

but she didn’t know how to explain that in a way these men would understand.

"he just did," she muttered instead, looking away.

namjoon studied her a moment longer. then, without looking back at his men, he said, "put her below deck. we’ll figure out what to do with her later."

the pirate beside her tsked. "so cold, captain."

"don’t test me, jeon," namjoon said, his voice even.

jeon.

jiah glanced up at the man beside her, the one who had fought seokjin, who had smirked his way through the whole thing.

jeon.

she didn’t know what that meant, but she knew one thing, she hated him.

and she had a feeling this was far from over.

the pirate, jeon, grinned like he knew exactly what she was thinking. like he could see the way her shoulders had tensed, the way her jaw had clenched, the way she was already bracing for the next round of whatever game he was playing.

"below deck it is," he said, gripping her arm again and steering her toward the stairs. "don’t worry, princess. i’ll make sure you get a real warm welcome."

"don’t call me that," she snapped, yanking her arm away.

"what, princess?" his smirk widened, eyes dancing with amusement. "but it suits you so well."

she wanted to hit him.

no, she wanted to throw him overboard.

but she had to be smart. had to be careful.

so instead, she swallowed her frustration and focused on where he was leading her.

the air grew damp as they descended into the belly of the ship. the wood creaked underfoot, and the scent of salt and something musty filled her nose. the lantern light barely reached the lower levels, casting long, flickering shadows against the walls.

he led her past rows of barrels and crates, deeper into the dimly lit corridor. finally, he stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and pushed it open.

"home sweet home," he said, gesturing for her to step inside.

jiah hesitated.

the room was small, barely more than a storage space. a single cot sat in one corner, a single lantern flickered against the wall, and there was little else.

her gut twisted.

this was a cell.

not in the traditional sense. there were no iron bars, no chains, but it didn’t matter. the door was thick, the lock heavy, and she knew without testing it that she wasn’t getting out of here on her own.

jeon must have seen the realization settle over her because he let out a low chuckle.

"what’s wrong, princess? not quite as nice as your palace chambers?"

"i wouldn’t know," she muttered, stepping inside.

his smirk faltered for just a second. just long enough for her to see something flicker in his eyes. confusion, maybe. curiosity.

then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"well," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "you’d better get comfortable. we’ve got a long journey ahead of us."

she lifted her chin. "where are you taking me?"

he grinned. "now, if i told you that, it’d ruin the surprise."

she glared. "you can’t just—"

he shut the door in her face.

jiah let out a sharp breath, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

then, slowly, she turned and leaned against the door, pressing her forehead against the wood.

she was trapped.

alone.

on a pirate ship, heading to gods knew where. and no one—not the prince, not taehyung, not yiseo, not anyone—knew where to find her

the ship rocked steadily beneath jungkook’s feet, the kind of gentle sway that most men would stumble against, but to him, it was second nature. the crew moved around him in the low lantern light, voices murmuring as they secured lines and checked their haul. the night smelled of salt and smoke, the remnants of their raid still clinging to their skin.

it should have felt like a victory.

they had the girl.

the job was done.

so why did he feel so goddamn restless?

he exhaled sharply, rolling his sore shoulder, wincing as the bruises from the fight with the prince made themselves known. the guy had put up more of a fight than expected, not that it mattered. jungkook had still walked away with the prize, and the prince had been left bleeding in the dust.

that should have been the end of it.

but then the water shifted.

jungkook felt it before he saw it.

a ripple, unnatural and deliberate, cutting through the waves.

his fingers twitched toward his blade, but he didn’t draw it. not yet.

because he knew what this was.

knew who this was.

the water stilled for half a breath, then split apart in a violent surge.

a figure emerged, breaking through the surface with an ease that defied logic, water cascading from his body as he gripped the side of the ship. the moon caught on pale skin, silver hair clinging to sharp features, dark eyes glinting like the ocean itself.

jimin.

jungkook’s smirk was instant. "about time you showed up."

the siren said nothing.

just stood there, perched on the ship’s edge, water pooling at his feet.

his gaze swept across the deck, scanning the crew, the ship, everything.

until his eyes landed on jungkook.

and didn’t move.

something was off.

jungkook tilted his head. "you missed all the fun. palace was a mess, but we got what we came for." he nodded toward the lower deck, where their prize was being held. "princess is below. safe and sound."

still, jimin didn’t react.

his stare was steady, unreadable, and it sent something uneasy skittering down jungkook’s spine.

then, finally…

"where is she?"

his voice was quiet. too quiet.

jungkook blinked. "who?"

jimin’s expression didn’t change.

"the girl."

jungkook’s fingers curled at his sides. "the princess?"

"not the princess."

the words were sharp. final.

jungkook felt his pulse spike.

jimin stepped forward, slow, deliberate, bare feet making no sound against the wood. water still dripped from his form, but it wasn’t natural. not the way it should have been. the droplets shimmered, catching the lantern light too easily, defying the way water should behave.

jimin was calm. too calm.

and jungkook had seen him rip men apart while wearing that same expression.

"her," jimin said simply.

and jungkook knew exactly who he meant.

jiah.

the weight of it settled in his chest, heavy and certain, as the realization sank in.

they had taken the wrong girl.

and the siren wasn’t happy about it.

jungkook’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. the air between them felt electric, charged with something he couldn’t quite place, something beyond just the usual tension that came with jimin’s presence.

"you're gonna have to be more specific," he said, keeping his voice even, casual, though his instincts were screaming at him to be careful.

jimin’s eyes didn’t waver. "the girl. the one who doesn’t belong in this world."

jungkook felt something cold settle in his chest.

"you mean the maid?" he scoffed, forcing out a laugh, even though it didn’t feel right in his throat. "you’re kidding, right? you came all the way here, stormed onto the ship, just to ask about her?"

jimin tilted his head, water dripping from his chin. the moonlight made his features eerily sharp, almost too perfect, like he wasn’t something meant for this world.

"she’s not just a maid," jimin murmured.

jungkook rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the way those words sent something uneasy crawling up his spine. "right. because you would know, wouldn’t you?" he took a step closer, arms crossing over his chest. "what, she make some kind of deal with you? promise you something in exchange for her life?"

jimin just stared at him, expression unreadable.

jungkook let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "look, whatever weird little thing you’ve got going on with her? it doesn’t matter. she’s leverage now. and if she’s not the princess, she’s still valuable."

jimin finally blinked, slow and deliberate. "to you," he said softly. "but not to them."

jungkook stilled.

because that, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

he knew namjoon. knew how the captain operated. if jiah wasn’t useful, if she wasn’t worth a ransom,

she wouldn’t last long.

jungkook’s jaw clenched.

he didn’t know why the thought of that bothered him, didn’t know why the idea of her being cast aside so easily made his pulse spike.

"why do you care?" he finally asked, voice quieter than he meant it to be.

jimin’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "because she doesn’t belong here," he repeated. "and neither do you."

jungkook felt that like a strike to the ribs.

but before he could open his mouth, before he could push back, before he could say anything at all—

jimin turned.

and walked away.

jungkook stood outside the door longer than he meant to, jimin’s words still rattling around in his head.

"she doesn’t belong here. and neither do you."

he scoffed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. what the hell was that supposed to mean?

jimin was always like this, mysterious, unreadable, acting like he knew things no one else did. but he never cared about anything outside of himself, never involved himself in anything unless it benefited him.

so why was this different?

why did he care about her?

jungkook rolled his shoulders, shaking off the thought as he pushed open the door to the small cabin.

his eyes immediately landed on her.

jiah was sitting on the edge of the cot, back straight, arms crossed over her chest like some kind of wounded animal, cornered, but ready to bite. her hair was a little messy from the struggle earlier, but her gaze was sharp, piercing, like she’d been waiting for him.

the second he stepped inside, she scoffed. “oh, look. the kidnapper returns.”

jungkook smirked, letting the door shut behind him. “miss me already, princess?”

her fingers twitched, resisting the urge to throw something at him. "i told you. i’m not a princess.”

“sure, sure.” his tone was easy, unconcerned. “but you keep saying that like it actually matters.”

jiah’s jaw clenched. “it does matter. you kidnapped the wrong person.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "wrong person, right person... doesn’t really change anything for you, does it?" he tilted his head. “so tell me, princess, who exactly are you supposed to be, then?"

her mouth opened, but she hesitated. who was she supposed to be?

back home, she had been nothing special. just another university student barely scraping by, just another face in the crowd. and here, here she was even less. a maid with no power, no status, no future.

except now, somehow, she was this.

stolen. mistaken for someone important. caught in something so much bigger than herself.

she exhaled sharply. "i'm no one. just a maid."

he stared at her for a long moment, like he was waiting for the punchline.

then, to her frustration, he just laughed.

"right," he said, shaking his head. "because maids always find themselves in the middle of royal brawls, wearing fancy dresses, getting dragged away by pirates. yeah, sure."

"you did drag me away," she snapped.

"and yet," he mused, tapping a finger against his chin, "your precious prince was ready to burn the world down for you."

her stomach twisted. seokjin. she had no idea what had happened after this pirate had torn her from the balcony. but she could still see the fury in the prince’s eyes, the way he had fought to get to her.

"he was just…he thought i was someone else."

jungkook's smirk sharpened. "did he?"

jiah hated the doubt curling in her gut.

he took a step closer, slow and deliberate. "i gotta say, princess, i’m a little curious now. because if you’re just some random maid, then what exactly were you doing up there? why was the prince looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered?"

"i told you," she said, voice tight, "it was a mistake."

jungkook clicked his tongue, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. "well, doesn’t really matter, does it?"

she tensed. "what do you mean?"

he leaned in slightly, just enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off of him, for her to be reminded of just how trapped she was.

"i mean," he murmured, "whether you're a princess or a maid, you’re still leverage. and leverage is leverage, no matter what name it comes with."

her pulse stuttered.

he didn’t care. he never cared.

her fingers curled into fists. "if you think the prince will try and save me you’re wrong."

he hummed, unconcerned. "we’ll see about that."

then he turned, already making his way toward the door.

jiah swallowed down her frustration, forcing herself to steady her breath. her mind was spinning, but one question pushed its way to the front.

"wait."

he paused, one hand on the doorframe. he glanced back at her, brow raised in mild curiosity.

she hesitated, but then squared her shoulders. "what’s your name?"

for a moment, he just looked at her, as if weighing whether he even wanted to humor the question. then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"why?" his voice was light, teasing. "planning on calling it out in your sleep?"

her glare was instant. "so i know who to curse when i get out of here."

he let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained. "cute."

she said nothing, just crossed her arms and waited.

finally, he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. "let’s just say you can call me whatever you like, princess. but i wouldn’t get too attached."

before she could press further, he stepped out and shut the door behind him, leaving her seething in the candlelit cabin.

the ship rocked beneath her, but jiah barely noticed. she was finally able to free her hands, fingers curling into trembling fists at her sides, her pulse still racing from the chaos of the night.

she had just started to feel some sense of familiarity with this world before being ripped away from what she knew. the palace had been strange at first. too grand, too structured, too full of unspoken rules she hadn’t been prepared to navigate. but she had been adjusting, slowly finding her footing. even as a maid, even in the shadow of a princess, she had begun to make sense of her place.

and now, just like that, it was gone.

she swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her temple. but at least yiseo was safe.

the thought grounded her, even as a fresh wave of unease curled around her ribs. she could picture it so clearly: yiseo standing beside seokjin, untouched by all of this, safe in his arms. wasn’t that how things were supposed to be? the princess and her prince, together in the end. it was a cruel sort of relief, knowing that if someone had to be taken, at least it hadn’t been her.

but that didn’t make this any easier to accept.

jiah’s gaze flickered to the heavy wooden door, then to the small, circular window near the ceiling. her shoulders slumped. she had already checked, too high up to be of any use, and even if she could reach it, she had no idea how far up they were from the water. would she survive the fall? could she even swim against the pull of the sea?

her stomach twisted. none of it mattered. she wouldn’t be able to escape just yet.

sighing, she let her back hit the wooden wall behind her, arms crossing tightly over her chest. she didn’t know what would happen next, and that uncertainty made her skin itch. the pirates had no reason to listen to her, no reason to believe she wasn’t who they thought she was.

because who would a prince bleed for, if not his princess?

seokjin had fought for her.

and she…she had let herself believe, just for a second, that maybe—

she clenched her jaw. no. she couldn’t afford to think about that now.

the sound of footsteps echoed just outside her door, and she exhaled sharply through her nose, already irritated. she turned, arms dropping to her sides as she prepared for another round of arguing.

“back so soon?” she bit out, her voice laced with frustration. “i thought you had better things to do than—”

but the words died in her throat.

because it wasn’t him.

standing in the doorway, bathed in the soft glow of lantern light, was someone else entirely.

silver hair. ethereal features. eyes that seemed to pierce right through her.

the siren.

jiah felt her breath catch, her stomach twisting as a familiar, explainable sense of dread settled deep in her bones.

he looked just the same as he did a few nights ago. his beauty was unnatural, something carved from moonlight itself. his presence was overwhelming, too much to take in at once, and yet jiah couldn’t look away. his shimmering blue hair framed his delicate, almost unearthly features, catching the dim light in a way that made him glow.

and yet he so eerily was familiar. not like she had encountered him before, but like her soul knew him. 

this wasn’t just a siren’s natural allure, mesmerizing those around them. no, this was different. the moment his gaze locked onto hers, something inside her twisted. like she was remembering something long buried, something she had no right to recall.

his lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but he only stared.

the pirate had been dangerous in an obvious way, all sharp smiles and reckless confidence. but this? this was something else entirely.

she swallowed hard, pulse hammering against her ribs.

“who are you?” she asked, voice quieter than she meant it to be.

he didn’t answer right away. instead, his gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, like he was searching for something. and then, softly, his voice curled through the air like the whisper of the tide.

“jiah...”

her breath hitched. it was the same voice she heard each night since coming here.  the same voice that lured her to sleep and haunted her dreams. the way he said her name sent a chill through her. it wasn’t just recognition, it was something deeper, something knowing.

she took a step back, barely realizing she had moved. “how do you know my name?”

his expression remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something sharp, something relentless.

“do you remember me?”

jiah’s fingers curled into fists. her heart pounded, something clawing at the back of her mind. she shook her head. “no.”

his lips curved slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile, but there was nothing warm about it.

“you’re lying.”

she sucked in a sharp breath. “i’m not.”

he took a step closer, and she instinctively moved back. but there was nowhere to go. the wooden wall pressed against her spine, trapping her in place as he advanced, slow and steady, like the pull of the tide.

the air between them crackled with something unspoken. something ancient.

“i see it in your eyes,” he murmured, tilting his head as if studying her. “you may not want to admit it, but your body is betraying you.”

jiah’s breath quickened, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her chest. she wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she had never met him before.

but the way her skin prickled, the way her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his voice,

she couldn’t.

“what do you want?” she managed, barely above a whisper.

his gaze darkened, something unreadable passing over his face.

“to remind you.”

before she could respond, his hand lifted, fingers brushing the back of her wrist. the touch was feather-light, barely there, but it sent a shock through her system, something deep and primal awakening in her veins.

memories she couldn’t quite grasp, sensations she couldn’t explain, they rose up inside her, clawing their way to the surface.

jiah gasped, her body betraying her as her breath hitched, her skin burning where he touched her.

this was just like the other night, jiah thought. she knew she needed to break free out of this trance, break away from the siren. yet she couldn’t.

“you feel it, don’t you?” his voice was low, rougher now, tinged with something almost possessive.

she did. and that terrified her more than anything.

“let me go,” she whispered.

he only smiled, tilting his head slightly as his fingers trailed up her arm, sending shivers through her entire body.

“why?” he asked softly. “when you’ve been searching for me all along?”

jiah’s mind screamed in protest, but her body leaned closer, drawn to him in a way she couldn’t fight.

because somehow, impossibly, she knew

he wasn’t wrong.

the moment his fingers brushed against her skin, the world tilted.

a rush of heat, a sharp inhale, jiah barely had time to register the spark that shot up her arm before something inside her unraveled.

not just the memory of their first encounter. not just the dreams that haunted her each night. something deeper. something ancient.

salt on her tongue. wind in her hair. the crash of waves against the shore. and him. silver-haired, otherworldly, eyes dark as the abyss, dragging her under without mercy.

it had felt like a dream for so long, the way she stood at the edge of the sea, the moon casting its glow over endless water. how he had emerged from it like something carved from the tide itself, bare-chested, skin glistening, lips curled in something between amusement and hunger.

how he had whispered her name like a promise. like a claim.

jiah...

the memory hit her all at once. the way his hands had skimmed over her waist, his touch featherlight but searing. how his lips had ghosted over hers, teasing, testing, before dragging her into a kiss that burned through every fiber of her being. soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. his fingers tangling in her hair, her body melting against him, helpless against the way he pulled her in.

his touch had been fire and ice, hands mapping every inch of her as if memorizing her shape, pressing her back against the wet sand, the ocean lapping at their feet. she could still feel it, the way his lips had trailed down her throat, the way her breath had hitched when he murmured against her skin, words she hadn't understood then but felt in her very soul.

but dreams weren’t supposed to feel like this. weren’t supposed to leave her trembling, her skin aching with the ghost of something she swore had never happened.

except it had.

her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else as she stared up at him now, standing right in front of her, real, tangible, impossible.

his gaze swept over her, slow, deliberate, like he could see straight through her. like he knew exactly what she was remembering.

“you remember,” he murmured, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

jiah’s breath caught. she wanted to deny it. wanted to push him away. but her body betrayed her, the phantom touch of his hands still burning against her skin.

his fingers traced up her arm, a whisper of a touch, and she shuddered.

“say it,” he coaxed, his voice low, intoxicating. “say you remember.”

her lips parted, her mind screaming at her to lie, to run, to do anything but fall into him the way she had before.

but before she could speak, before she could stop herself

his hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up to his.

“you were searching for me,” he murmured, his breath brushing over her lips, so close she could taste the sea on him. “all this time.”

a shiver rolled down her spine, her body thrumming with something dangerously close to need.

bang.

a crash from the deck above. shouting. the spell shattered.

jiah jolted, sucking in a breath, the moment slipping through her fingers like sand.

his hand was still on her. his grip firm. unyielding.

the moment shattered, but the fire it had ignited inside her refused to die.

jiah’s breath came fast, shallow, her pulse hammering in her ears as the echoes of that dream,no, that memory, wrapped around her like a vice. the kiss, the touches, the way his body had pressed against hers, searing heat against the cold tide. it wasn’t just a fragment of her imagination. it had happened. somehow, somewhere.

but how?

another crash from above sent vibrations through the ship, muffled shouts breaking through the haze clouding her mind. jiah forced herself to move, to breathe, to focus on the present. on the siren standing inches away, watching her with an intensity that sent her stomach twisting.

his fingers hadn’t left her jaw, and she hated the way her skin tingled beneath his touch, like his very presence was rewriting something deep inside her.

“let me go,” she whispered, but it lacked the conviction she needed.

his lips quirked. “why?”

the question sent something sharp through her. she should be pushing him away, demanding answers, fighting to regain some sense of control. but the memory of his lips on hers was still fresh, lingering like the taste of salt on her tongue, and it terrified her how much she wanted to lean into it.

“because i don’t know you,” she said, forcing steel into her voice, even as her body betrayed her.

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes, something dangerous. something knowing.

“but you did.”

her throat tightened.

“no,” she said, shaking her head, trying to clear the fog threatening to pull her under. “i would remember—”

“you do,” he interrupted smoothly. “you just don’t want to.”

his grip on her jaw softened, fingers trailing down her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. her breath hitched at the contact, every nerve in her body going taut.

“you were mine,” he murmured, voice laced with something dark, something possessive. “and i was yours.”

a shiver rolled through her, heat pooling low in her stomach despite every part of her screaming to resist him.

this was wrong. this was impossible.

but the way his touch sent fire licking through her veins, the way his voice wrapped around her like a siren’s song—

she should run. should shove him away, should fight back, should do anything but stand here and let his presence consume her.

but then—

“jiah!” the voice wasn’t his. wasn’t the siren’s.

it was the pirate’s.

her stomach dropped.

the siren tensed, his gaze flickering toward the door just as it burst open.

the pirate stood in the doorway, his expression twisting from concern to something darker the second his eyes landed on the scene in front of him, jiah, cornered against the wooden wall, the siren’s fingers grazing the delicate skin of her throat.

for a split second, silence stretched between them. then the pirate moved.

fast.

before jiah could react, before the siren could turn fully, the pirate was there, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him away from her with enough force to send them both stumbling.

“get your hands off her,” the pirate growled, his voice low, dangerous.

the siren barely reacted, regaining his footing with unnatural grace, silver hair falling into his eyes as he met the pirate’s glare with something almost amused.

jiah’s heart pounded. the tension in the room was suffocating, thick with something unspoken.

the pirate’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his muscles tensed like he was barely restraining himself from launching at the siren again. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

the siren tilted his head, expression unreadable. “reminding her.”

the pirate’s jaw clenched.

“reminding her of what?” he bit out.

the siren’s gaze flickered back to jiah, unreadable and piercing all at once.

“who she belongs to.”

the pirate moved before the words even fully registered.

but this time the siren was ready.

the air snapped.

one second, the pirate was lunging, fists drawn, all fire and fury,

and the next, the siren moved with a grace that wasn’t human.

jiah barely registered what happened before the pirate was thrown back against the opposite wall, his back slamming against the wood with a force that rattled the room. he groaned, shaking off the daze, but the siren was already in front of him, pressing a hand to his chest, keeping him there with barely any force.

her breath caught, panic clawing at her throat as she watched her captor struggle against the invisible force holding him in place.

“you should be more careful,” the siren murmured, his voice like silk, too calm for the violence that had just unfolded. “humans are so... breakable.”

jiah moved before she could think.

“stop!” she gasped, reaching out, grabbing the siren’s wrist before she knew what she was doing.

the second her fingers wrapped around him, something crackled.

a jolt of heat, of something ancient and electric, surged between them.

the siren stilled.

the pirate sucked in a sharp breath.

jiah’s entire body burned.

she yanked her hand away, cradling it against her chest, panting like she’d been underwater too long.

the siren turned his head toward her, slow, deliberate.

“you felt that,” he said, and this time, there was no amusement. no taunting. only quiet certainty.

jiah’s heart pounded. she didn’t know what to say, what to think.

what to believe.

because she had felt it.

the same way she’d felt him in that dream, no memory.

the same way she had felt his lips on hers.

his hands on her skin.

his body pressing into hers beneath the pull of the tide.

“no,” she whispered, voice hoarse, barely audible. “it’s not real.”

the siren’s lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering over her face, like he was searching for something.

then—he smiled.

soft. knowing. almost fond.

“you can lie to yourself all you want,” he said, voice like a whisper of the tide, “but your body remembers, jiah.”

she inhaled sharply.

the pirate’s teeth clenched, still pinned against the wall. “get away from her.”

the siren exhaled through his nose, almost as if bored. then, finally he let the pirate go.

the invisible pressure lifted in an instant, and the pirate pushed himself forward, fists still clenched, eyes still burning.

the siren, however, barely spared him a glance. his attention remained on jiah, his gaze dipping briefly to her wrist where she had touched him before dragging back up to meet her eyes.

“i’ll see you soon,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a threat.

it was a promise.

then, before either of them could react,

he seemingly vanished into the night air.

the only evidence he had ever been there was the lingering heat on her wrist, the ghost of a touch she couldn’t shake.

the pirate was the first to move.

he turned to her, breathing hard, his expression clouded with something between frustration and concern.

“are you okay?”

jiah didn’t answer.

couldn’t.

because she wasn’t sure.

her pulse still pounded, her skin still burned.

her lips still tingled.

and deep inside her chest, beneath all the fear, the confusion, the denial,

something else stirred.

something that terrified her more than anything else.

recognition.

“you never told me your name.”

the words left her lips before she could stop them, a desperate attempt to break the silence that had settled between them.

the pirate turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers through the dim lantern light.

for a moment, he didn’t answer. then, finally,

“jungkook.”

the name curled through the air, rough, unfamiliar. but somehow, it fit him.

“jungkook,” she echoed, testing it on her tongue.

his lips quirked, just barely. “you say it like you’re trying to remember something.”

her fingers twitched. “maybe i am.” his expression shifted, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he spoke again.

“you were dreaming,” he said. “weren’t you?”

jiah sucked in a breath.

his voice was steady, but there was something sharper beneath it, something that made her stomach twist.

he knows.

she hesitated, then nodded.

jungkook’s gaze darkened. “and?”

she exhaled shakily. “it felt real.”

his jaw clenched, but he only nodded, like he had expected that answer.

“what did he do to you?”

jiah swallowed hard.

kissed me. touched me. made me feel things i don’t understand.

made me remember.

“i don’t know,” she lied instead.

jungkook’s stare was unrelenting.

“don’t lie to me.”

she bit her lip, looking away.

“it wasn’t like that,” she murmured. “he… he knew me. before. and i think…” she hesitated, the words thick on her tongue. “i think i knew him too.”

silence.

“his name is jimin.”

jiah’s head snapped up, her eyes widening.

jungkook didn’t look at her. his gaze was fixed on the floor, his fingers curled into his sleeves.

jimin.

the name felt like a key turning in a lock, like something sliding into place.

jimin.

she knew it.

not just from now, not just from tonight, from before.

jimin.

the siren.

the man who had kissed her like he had been waiting for an eternity.

jiah’s breath caught, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t name.

“how do you know him?” she whispered, but as soon as the words left her lips, she knew.

she knew the answer would be anything but simple.

jungkook didn’t answer right away.

he was staring past her, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths, like he was trying not to let something slip.

when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. but there was something coiled beneath it, something sharp, waiting to strike.

"he's my brother."

jiah’s breath caught.

what?

her stomach twisted. that couldn’t be right.

"but—"

"not by blood."

the words came like a blade, slicing through whatever weak explanation she could have come up with. jungkook’s voice had lost all warmth, each syllable clipped, final.

"but that doesn’t matter."

jiah swallowed hard.

brothers.

jungkook and jimin, brothers.

it didn’t make sense.

but maybe that was because it wasn’t meant to.

she looked at jungkook again, at the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to curl them into fists. at the way his shoulders had gone rigid, his whole body tense with something unspoken.

his eyes, dark, bottomless, held something she couldn’t name. something dangerous. they weren’t just angry, weren’t just cold.

they were betrayed.

"we grew up together."his voice was quieter now, but no less strained."fought together. survived together."

he exhaled slowly, sharp and controlled, like he was keeping something buried beneath the surface.

"and now..."

his voice trailed off, but jiah could hear the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

when he looked at her again, his gaze had darkened—like the sea before a storm.

"i don’t know what we are."

her chest tightened.

because how could that be?

how could two people who had lived and bled and survived together end up like this. standing on opposite sides of something too vast to cross?

it made something in her ache.

because she knew that feeling.

she knew what it was like to lose someone without ever truly losing them.

and despite the warning in jungkook’s voice, despite the cold fire in his eyes, despite the fear curling low in her stomach,

she couldn’t shake the way she had felt in jimin’s arms.

the way he had looked at her. like he had been waiting for her. for so long.

jungkook let out a slow breath, raking a had over his face.

when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. but there was something sharper in it now. something almost possessive.

"just…" he hesitated, like he was still trying to convince himself of something. then, finally, his gaze snapped back to hers, locking her in place.

"stay away from him, princess."

her pulse stuttered

he wasn’t just asking her.

he was warning her. commanding her.

her lips parted, words catching in her throat.

because she wanted to say yes.

wanted to promise she would.

but she knew, deep down,

it was already too late.

authors note: hey guys ik i said it might be awhile until the next part but yall i had to finish this for you guys. my original plan was to have the last part and this one all be one chapter but as you can see there was just too much to say. im really excited to hear everyone's thoughts because so much happened in this chapter (i'm pretty sure every member was in this chapter) anyways thank you guys so much for reading, ily !!

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taglist: @singukieee @canarystwin @elizabetharmy @moonxxlover @sathom013 @gracefulsakura98 @jungshaking @borahaetelevision

music filled the air, sweeping violins, the deep hum of cellos, the playful trill of flutes, melodies blending seamlessly into the hum of conversation and laughter. noblemen in embroidered coats and silk sashes stood in tight clusters, swirling wine in crystal goblets as they spoke in hushed, knowing tones. women glided past in gowns of deep emerald, royal blue, and shimmering silver, their jewels winking in the candlelight, their smiles practiced and poised.

servants moved soundlessly between them, their trays laden with golden goblets of champagne and delicate plates of sugared fruits. the scent of spiced wine, roses, and warm candle wax lingered in the air, thick and intoxicating.

jiah had never seen anything like it.

even in her world, where history's grandest palaces still stood, nothing compared to this.

this wasn't just a party. this was power made manifest. every shimmering gown, every perfectly placed decoration, every delicate note of music had been designed to impress, to remind everyone in attendance exactly who ruled over them.

and jiah was standing right in the middle of it.

she swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shrink back toward the door.

six days.

it had been six days since she woke up in this world. six days since she realized she was trapped inside a story she'd read hundreds of times.

six days of trying to understand who she was supposed to be here, where she fit into this world that wasn't hers.

tonight should have been simple, get the princess ready for the ball and maybe if she got lucky, be allowed to work it for a few hours. or at least that what she was told. tonight however she was here as yiseo's guest, dressed in a borrowed gown, an outsider allowed a glimpse into the world of the elite.

tonight wasn't simple at all.

tonight was the night everything would change.

the pirates were coming.

the plan was already in motion. if they succeeded, in just a few hours the crown princess would be gone, and the kingdom would be thrown into chaos.

and jiah,

what happens to you, jiah?

she bit the inside of her cheek. she had no answers.

the book barely mentioned the palace servants beyond their function. they were nameless, faceless characters. set pieces, not people.

jiah's only role in the book was to be support for yiseo before the story begins, so what happens to her when the story changes?

do i just disappear?

the thought made her stomach lurch.

jiah forced herself to move, to step further into the ballroom, even as the weight in her chest grew heavier.

no one paid her any attention.

of course they didn't.

she didn't belong to this world.

she was a ghost here, invisible and untethered, clinging to a story that didn't belong to her.

and yet, she felt real.

her hands, wrapped in silk gloves, were warm. her heart was beating, pounding against her ribs. she could hear, smell, taste everything around her.

if this isn't real, then why does it feel like it is?

jiah exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her stomach as she wove between the nobles. she was supposed to be enjoying this, wasn't she?

this was a ball. a once-in-a-lifetime event. a night of music, of elegance, of impossible beauty.

but she felt sick.

because no matter how much she wanted to believe that this was just a dream, that this world wasn't real, she couldn't.

not when she could feel the cold marble beneath her shoes. not when she could hear the clinking of glasses, the rustle of silk, the low murmur of voices.

not when she knew what was coming.

because once yiseo was taken, jiah had no idea what would happen next.

was her part in this story done? would she wake up tomorrow and find herself back home, in her own bed, as if none of this had ever happened?

or would she still be here lost, unimportant, and forgotten?

she didn't know what scared her more.

she caught her reflection in the towering mirrors that lined the ballroom's walls.

the girl staring back at her didn't look like a maid.

the gown yiseo had insisted she wear clung to her frame like it had been made for her, the soft ivory fabric falling in delicate waves to the floor. her dark hair had been partially pinned up, strands carefully curled to frame her face, tiny pearls woven through them. her lips were tinted a soft rose, her lashes darkened just enough to make her eyes stand out.

she looked like one of them.

but she wasn't.

jiah clenched her hands at her sides, the silk of her gloves crinkling slightly.

who are you in this world, jiah?

a ghost. a mistake. a person who wasn't supposed to exist here.

she let out a slow breath, steeling herself.

it didn't matter.

tonight, she just had to pretend.

she had to act as if she belonged, smile when required, dance if asked.

and when the night was over, when the pirates struck, when yiseo was taken—

she would figure out what happened next. tonight she would just be noh jiah. not the servant. not the all knowing reader, just herself.

the ballroom was alive with movement, the very air pulsing with the rhythm of the music and the steady murmur of conversation. jiah wove her way between nobles, careful to keep her steps light, her expression composed.

the courtly dances had begun.

on the ballroom floor, men and women stepped into their formations, their movements synchronized with the orchestra's lively tune. their gowns billowed as they twirled, silk and chiffon catching the golden light. the men, dressed in their finest coats and polished boots, led with perfect precision, their gloved hands poised, their posture effortless.

it was mesmerizing to watch, the seamless elegance, the way their laughter barely disrupted the smoothness of their movements. everything was calculated, every gesture refined.

but beneath the surface, jiah could sense it. this wasn't just a dance. it was politics, a display of power disguised as entertainment. the way a lord's hand lingered a little too long on a lady's waist, the way a noblewoman tilted her head just so when she laughed, it was all part of the game.

jiah felt like an intruder in a world where every step, every glance, every word held meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

she curled her fingers into the folds of her gown, exhaling slowly.

just blend in.

the music swelled, filling the vast room with sweeping violin notes. servers slipped between guests, refilling glasses with spiced wine and offering trays of candied fruits and roasted almonds. chandeliers flickered overhead, casting waves of golden light that shimmered against the polished floors.

jiah tilted her head back slightly, drinking in the sight.

it's beautiful.

the music shifted, its soft crescendo filling the ballroom with a hum of anticipation. the instruments, strings, woodwinds, and brass, rose in gentle harmony, the notes fluttering like the wings of butterflies. the dancers glided across the floor, their movements synchronized in perfect rhythm, but something about the scene felt almost dreamlike to jiah, as if the music itself had a way of distorting time.

she had been trying to keep her thoughts occupied, but the pressure of the evening still weighed heavily on her. everything about this world felt so foreign to her. the opulence, the unspoken expectations, the glimmer of wealth and privilege in every corner. for a fleeting moment, she had almost forgotten why she was here.

a shift in the music, a deepening of the sound, drew her attention. the tempo slowed, the symphony hinting at something grander approaching, and jiah instinctively turned her head toward the source of the change.

at the top of the grand staircase, the air in the ballroom seemed to shift. the orchestra’s melody softened, almost instinctively, as if the music itself was aware of the arrival of someone important. jiah barely noticed the subtle change at first, too caught up in scanning the room, still processing the extravagance around her. but then, a hush swept through the crowd like a slow-moving wave, drawing her attention upward.

her eyes landed on him.

her breath caught. no way.

the man from earlier. the stranger she’d met in the market. the one who had looked at her like she was something more than just another face in the crowd. the one who had made her pause, unsettled her, made her wonder.

he stood at the top of the staircase, framed by the golden glow of the chandeliers, his deep navy coat striking against the opulent backdrop of the ballroom. gold embroidery traced along the lapels, catching the light as he moved. his black hair, effortlessly tousled, softened the sharp angles of his face, but there was no mistaking the authority in his posture, the quiet strength in the way he carried himself.

"prince seokjin of gunseok," the announcer's voice boomed across the ballroom, breaking the thick silence. it was formal, but there was an edge of reverence to it, a weight to his title that seemed to echo in the air.

jiah stared, her mind scrambling to make sense of it. she had known. of course she had known that this ball was meant to introduce the crown prince. but somehow, she hadn’t pieced it together until now. she hadn’t wanted to.

she didn’t want to believe it. but now, hearing the name ring across the ballroom, there was no denying it. her stomach twisted. she should’ve realized earlier. the way people had moved around him in the market, the way he had spoken with that effortless confidence, as if he was used to people listening. of course he was the prince.

it was obvious. painfully obvious.

jiah forced herself to breathe, but her fingers clenched at her sides as she watched him descend. his presence commanded the room in a way that went beyond his title. it wasn’t just the expensive tailoring, the gleaming medals pinned to his chest, or the sheer look of him though, she admitted, he was striking. it was something deeper, something intangible. he had the kind of presence that made people take notice, made them pause mid-conversation just to watch him pass.

the room had been full of nobles, full of men dressed in fine silks and jewels, but none of them had managed to capture the room the way he did. his every step was measured, unhurried, yet deliberate. there was no arrogance in his movements. he didn’t need to be arrogant. he didn’t have to do anything at all. the room simply gravitated toward him.

even jiah, against her better judgment, found herself unable to look away.

her thoughts raced as she tried to reconcile the man she had met in the market with the prince now standing before her. he had seemed almost... normal, back then. A bit guarded, yes, but not unreachable. But this version of him, the prince, felt like someone completely untouchable.

she swallowed, looking around. everyone else in the room was just as transfixed. whispers ran through the crowd, quiet murmurs of admiration and speculation. women straightened their postures, smoothing down their skirts, adjusting their jewelry, hoping to catch his attention. men watched him with a mix of respect and envy.

and seokjin? he barely seemed to notice.

his expression remained unreadable as he descended the last few steps, dark eyes scanning the crowd with careful detachment. jiah couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she could tell he was used to this. used to the weight of a hundred gazes clinging to him like vines, used to being watched, measured, expected to be something greater than just a man.

for a fleeting moment, his gaze flickered across the ballroom, passing over her. jiah stiffened. it was brief. so quick she might have imagined it, but for that fraction of a second, she felt something sharp and unsettling coil in her chest.

then, just as quickly, it was gone.

she exhaled, turning away, forcing herself to focus on something, anything else. this was ridiculous. it wasn’t as if he even remembered her. why would he? she was just one face in a sea of hundreds.

and yet, something about seeing him again, here, in the center of all this grandeur, made it impossible to ignore. their encounter at the market had been brief, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but she couldn’t shake the strange sense of recognition that prickled at the back of her mind. maybe it was just because she wasn’t used to this world yet, because everything still felt unreal, like she was watching scenes play out from a story rather than living in them.

and this was a scene, wasn’t it? the moment she had read about so many times, the one that had once made her believe in love, in fate, in the kind of instant connection that could change everything. in whispers of the sea, this was where it all began. the first glance, the breathless tension, the world narrowing down to just two people meant for each other.

jiah held her breath as seokjin moved toward yiseo, the moment stretching out in slow motion, weighted with expectation.

this was it.

when she was younger, she had clung to this scene, rereading it over and over again, letting the words carve themselves into her memory. in whispers of the sea, this moment had been magic. the prince, regal and untouchable, would lay eyes on the princess for the first time, and something between them would shift. an invisible force pulling them together.

she had felt it, even through the pages.

this was the kind of love that had made her heart ache when she was younger, the kind that had made her press the book to her chest late at night, longing for something she didn’t have the words for.

love wasn’t supposed to be logical. it wasn’t supposed to be careful or distant. it was supposed to ignite.

she knew this moment should feel that way now.

seokjin’s steps were slow and deliberate, each movement so precise it seemed choreographed. the music swelled, the entire room seemed to hush just slightly as he approached yiseo, and for a second, jiah felt that same anticipation building in her chest, the way it had all those years ago.

she watched yiseo straighten, watched the way she lifted her chin just a fraction, the way her lips parted slightly—waiting.

waiting for the story to unfold as it should.

but as seokjin reached her, something felt... off.

jiah stiffened, eyes darting between them.

seokjin bowed first. deep, graceful, regal.

yiseo’s response was just as elegant. she curtsied, a practiced movement, the kind that had been rehearsed in front of mirrors and instructors for years.

and then...

nothing.

no spark. no hesitation. no sharp intake of breath.

seokjin straightened, looking down at yiseo with polite detachment, as though she were just another guest at the ball.

jiah frowned.

wait… what?

where was the tension? the moment of recognition? the invisible tether pulling them together?

yiseo must have felt it too, because she tilted her head, lips curling into a carefully measured smile. she said something—jiah couldn’t hear what—but it had the cadence of flirtation, the kind of soft, lilting remark that was supposed to be met with intrigue.

but seokjin’s expression didn’t change.

his response was short. Polite. And then silence.

jiah’s brows furrowed.

what is happening?

this wasn’t how it had gone in the book. in whispers of the sea, seokjin had been captivated by yiseo from the very first glance. the air had crackled between them. the moment had been charged with something beyond words.

but now?

it was just... awkward.

seokjin was unreadable, his face betraying nothing beyond mild courtesy. he wasn’t looking at yiseo like she was the most mesmerizing woman he had ever seen. he wasn’t even looking at her like she was interesting.

he looked, well bored.

yiseo’s fingers twitched at her side. her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second before she recovered, saying something else, voice light, pleasant, trying.

but seokjin only nodded.

the conversation was stilted, lacking warmth, lacking intrigue, lacking anything.

and then, without so much as a lingering glance, seokjin took a step back.

a step back.

jiah sucked in a breath.

seokjin was leaving.

he had made his introductions, exchanged a few words, and now he was ready to move on, as if this meeting was no different from the dozens of other polite exchanges he’d had tonight.

jiah’s heart pounded against her ribs.

no, no, no this isn’t right.

yiseo was supposed to hold his attention. she was supposed to be the woman who shattered his careful composure, the one who made him forget reason and duty and fall headfirst into something bigger than himself.

but instead, she was just... another guest at the ball.

jiah’s fingers curled into the fabric of her dress.

seokjin turned slightly, eyes scanning the crowd, already moving past yiseo.

he wasn’t in love. he wasn’t falling.

and the worst part?

he didn’t even look like he wanted to.

yiseo stood frozen for a beat longer, her expression unreadable. but jiah caught the way her fingers curled against the silk of her gown, the way her shoulders stiffened before she exhaled and turned back toward the crowd, face smoothing back into effortless charm.

she was still a princess. she still had a role to play.

but jiah could see it, the flicker of confusion in her eyes.

because this wasn’t right.

jiah could still hear the lingering murmurs in the air, a few hushed whispers questioning what had just happened—or rather, what hadn’t happened. but the moment had already begun to fade, swallowed up by the music and the effortless grace of the court as they carried on, pretending they hadn’t just witnessed something deeply off script.

yiseo was still standing there, poised, unshaken to the untrained eye. but jiah wasn’t fooled. she could see it in the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides, in the way her lashes fluttered just a fraction longer than necessary when she blinked.

jiah wanted to go to her.

she barely knew yiseo, barely understood her in the grand scheme of things, and yet something inside her twisted at the thought of leaving her to stand there alone, to swallow down the reality that the moment she had spent her whole life preparing for had amounted to nothing.

but there was nothing jiah could do.

comforting her now, stepping forward and reaching out, would only draw attention. yiseo was too proud for that. and jiah wasn’t supposed to care.

so she turned away.

and immediately felt it.

a weight, pressing against the back of her neck. a steady, unrelenting gaze.

someone was watching her.

jiah hesitated before following the pull, before turning her head just enough to scan the room, searching,

and then she saw him.

general min.

he was standing in the shadows of a marble column, half-veiled by the dim candlelight, but there was no mistaking him. his uniform was dark and severe, a stark contrast to the gilded excess of the ballroom. he didn’t blend in, but he wasn’t trying to stand out, either. he was simply there, quiet and commanding all at once.

his eyes were the same as she remembered, soft as dusk, yet sharp as steel.

and just like before, they were locked on her.

jiah’s breath hitched slightly, her mind jolting back to hours earlier, to the brief but lingering exchange in the halls.

he had seen her then.

and he was seeing her now.

the halls of the palace were eerily quiet.

jiah’s steps echoed against the polished floors, swallowed quickly by the vastness of the space around her. the flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows along the walls, turning the intricate carvings into something almost alive. she wasn’t sure how long she had been wandering, only that the weight pressing against her chest refused to lift, no matter how many turns she took, no matter how many corridors she passed through.

her pulse was still unsteady from earlier, from the reality of what was about to unfold. she had read whispers of the sea enough times to know what should have happened tonight, how this was the moment seokjin and yiseo’s fates were meant to intertwine, how love was supposed to spark like a flint striking steel the moment their eyes met.

but she wasn’t in the book anymore.

jiah exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. she needed to clear her head.

but then, just as she turned another corner, she stopped short.

someone was there.

standing at the end of the hall, leaning against the stone wall with an air of practiced indifference, was general min.

for a moment, he didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t move, didn’t even seem to care that she had stumbled into his space. his arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance, and jiah considered simply backing away before he even noticed her.

but then, without warning, his eyes flickered toward her.

it was piercing. unsettling.

because in that moment, she felt seen in a way she hadn’t since arriving in this world.

his gaze swept over her, not with the leering curiosity of the nobles or the idle amusement she had grown used to, but with something quieter. heavier.

“you look lost,” he remarked, voice low, even.

jiah let out a short, humorless laugh. “you have no idea.”

his eyes didn’t waver. if anything, they softened, just slightly.

he didn’t ask her anything else, didn’t probe, didn’t push. but he didn’t look away, either.

the silence between them stretched, and for once, jiah didn’t feel the need to fill it.

it was brief. fleeting.

but it lingered.

even now, as she stood in the middle of the glittering ballroom, her pulse still unsteady from locking eyes with him across the room she could still feel it.

the ballroom was still alive with movement, laughter, and the low hum of conversation, but she felt like she had been yanked out of its rhythm, standing just outside of it all. the weight of general min’s gaze across the room was impossible to ignore, and for a moment, she was back in the corridor, back in that quiet moment that should’ve meant nothing but didn’t.

it was strange.

general min was someone she should be wary of. he was one of seokjin’s most trusted men, a figure of authority, a general with a reputation carved from both strategy and ruthlessness. he wasn’t known for being cruel, not exactly, but he wasn’t known for kindness, either. he was sharp edges and cold calculation, a man who saw weakness and exploited it before it could become a threat.

and yet…

when he looked at her, she didn’t feel small. she didn’t feel like just another nameless girl plucked from obscurity and thrown into a world that didn’t belong to her.

she felt seen.

the realization unsettled her.

she swallowed, breaking their stare first. it wasn’t like she had a reason to be standing here, locked in some strange, silent exchange with him. she needed to move, to do something, anything, before she started drawing attention.

jiah turned on her heel and slipped deeper into the crowd, letting the swell of bodies swallow her whole.

she walked aimlessly, weaving through clusters of nobles who barely spared her a glance. the scent of expensive perfumes mixed with the faintest traces of wine, the candlelight reflecting off the endless gold and silk that surrounded her. everything was extravagant, almost painfully so, and yet she couldn’t shake the unease settling deep in her bones.

nothing about tonight was playing out the way it should have.

seokjin and yiseo’s meeting had been underwhelming.

there had been no spark, no whispered promises in the space between breaths, no lingering touches or unspoken understanding. in whispers of the sea, this moment had been the moment, the kind that made readers believe in fate, in love at first sight, in two souls recognizing each other even before words were spoken.

but instead, it had been awkward. polite. distant.

yiseo had tried. jiah could see it in the way she tilted her chin, in the carefully placed smiles, in the delicate way she had reached out just slightly as if trying to bridge the gap between them.

but seokjin had given her nothing.

not coldness, not indifference, but nothing.

like he wasn’t even aware that this was supposed to be the start of something.

like he was following a script he had no real investment in.

and maybe that was what unsettled jiah the most.

because if this, one of the most pivotal moments in the book, could go so terribly off course, then what else could change?

what else would?

her grip tightened slightly at her sides as she exhaled, forcing herself to keep moving.

there was no use dwelling on it now. whatever was happening, whatever wasn’t happening, she’d just have to figure it out as it came.

still, the uncertainty gnawed at her.

jiah was so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely noticed when she brushed past another guest.

a hand caught her wrist, firm but not forceful, grounding her before she could pull away.

her breath hitched.

she turned.

and found herself once again staring into the eyes of general min.

his grip was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt of awareness through her all the same.

jiah barely had time to register it, the brief press of fingers against her wrist, before it was gone. fleeting, like a whisper against skin, but enough to make her freeze.

her breath hitched.

the ballroom carried on around them, oblivious. laughter still spun through the air, glasses still clinked in elegant cheers, and yet, in this moment, in this sliver of space between them, everything else seemed to fade into static.

“you should be more careful.”

his voice was quiet, but it cut through the noise, threading through her veins like something sharp and inevitable.

her gaze snapped up, locking onto his.

general min.

his fingers had already slipped from her wrist, but the ghost of his touch lingered, heat curling at the edge of her skin.

jiah’s pulse stuttered. she wasn’t sure if it was from his words, or the way he looked at her, steady, unreadable, dark eyes like ink spilled across parchment.

there were rumors about him, whispers that slithered through the cracks of the palace walls. some said he was ruthless, others said he was calculative, a man who played the game of war like a musician played an instrument.

precise, deliberate, deadly.

but standing here, beneath the weight of his gaze, jiah didn’t feel like she was in danger.

no, it was something else entirely.

“careful?” she echoed, arching a brow.

his expression didn’t change, but there was something about the way he looked at her, something almost amused, as if he had already anticipated her response.

“you’re in a room full of people who would eat you alive if given the chance,” he murmured, voice smooth, even. “seems like a good time to be careful.”

jiah swallowed.

he wasn’t wrong.

this ballroom, draped in silk and gold, was a battlefield in its own right. the nobles hid their blades behind their smiles, their arsenals disguised as charm and courtesy. one misstep, one wrong word, and you could be destroyed before you even knew it.

but she already knew that. she had known it the moment she stepped foot in here.

so why did it sound different, coming from him?

jiah tilted her head, holding his gaze. “you say that like i’m not already aware.”

he let out a slow breath, something like a scoff barely audible beneath it. not quite mocking, not quite impressed.

“awareness is one thing,” he said. “survival is another.”

her fingers curled at her sides.

this was the second time tonight someone had reminded her that she didn’t belong. first seokjin, now yoongi, both men seeing straight through the gown, the jewels, the illusion of belonging.

but yoongi… yoongi was different.

his words weren’t meant to wound, nor were they meant to coddle. no, they felt more like an observation. a simple truth laid bare, daring her to either accept it or defy it.

jiah inhaled slowly, leveling him with a steady look.

“duly noted,” she said. “i’ll be sure to watch my back, general.”

something flickered in his eyes then, something unreadable, but it was gone before she could name it.

he nodded once, slow. “good.”

and just like that, he was already moving past her, disappearing into the crowd like a shadow slipping between candlelight.

jiah exhaled, turning away, her heart still an unsteady rhythm beneath her ribs.

this was ridiculous.

it wasn’t as if he even remembered her. why would he? she was just one face in a sea of hundreds.

so why did it feel like he had seen right through her?

the sea never forgets.

that was what captain namjoon had told them before they left the ship, his voice calm, deliberate, a reminder rather than a warning. no matter how far inland they ventured, they belonged to the sea first. the palace, the kingdom, the grandeur of it all, it was nothing but a gilded cage, a monument to excess and arrogance. tonight, they would slip through its cracks like water through clenched fingers.

jungkook moved first.

the city was alive with celebration, lanterns swaying in the breeze, laughter spilling from taverns, and music threading through the air like a siren’s call. jungkook barely spared it a glance. the revelry made their job easier—too many distractions, too much wine drowning the senses of guards who should have been more alert. fools.

he moved like a shadow, his crew slipping through the winding streets behind him. they kept close to the alleys, avoiding the pools of lantern light that could betray their presence. each step was calculated, each breath controlled. it was almost too easy.

“pathetic,” one of the men behind him muttered as they passed a pair of drunken guards, laughing over their cups, completely oblivious to the intruders stalking past them. jungkook didn’t disagree, but he shot the man a look that silenced him. stay focused.

as they neared the palace walls, the easy part ended. towering stone stretched high above them, its surface slick with the remnants of an earlier rain. moonlight gleamed against the damp rock, highlighting the challenge ahead. but jungkook had scaled worse.

“you know the drill,” he whispered. his crew nodded, and within seconds, they were moving. ropes unfurled, hooks latched onto the stone with practiced ease, and one by one, they ascended.

jungkook climbed fast, his muscles burning in the best way as he hauled himself over the ledge and onto the castle’s outer wall. below, the city sprawled out like a glittering sea, oblivious to the storm approaching. he grinned. fools.

behind him, hoseok followed, nimble as ever. two others trailed them, taemin and sungho, younger, less experienced, but eager. jungkook barely spared them a glance. they had been chosen for a reason. if they faltered, it wasn’t his problem.

higher and higher they went, scaling the palace wall with the ease of men who had done this a hundred times before. jungkook reached the top first, pulling himself over the ledge and pressing his body low against the cool stone.

from here, he could see the entire courtyard, glowing under lantern light. rows of trimmed hedges lined the stone pathways, guards stationed at predictable intervals, their attention fixed forward. not one of them thought to look up.

arrogance.

jungkook smirked, fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger.

he flicked his hand in a sharp signal. move.

the others followed, slipping over the edge and landing soundlessly.

they crouched in the shadows, watching. listening.

inside, the palace was alive with music and laughter, the hum of conversation floating through the open courtyard doors. the ball was in full swing. nobles twirled in gowns spun from gold, glasses of wine tilted in careless hands, oblivious to the men weaving through the darkness beyond their lavish world.

jungkook and his crew spread out, keeping low as they made their way toward the entrance.

one objective. get in, grab the princess, get out. no unnecessary bloodshed. no mistakes.

a guard shifted near the archway, the silver of his breastplate glinting under the lanterns.

jungkook was on him in an instant.

a hand over his mouth. a dagger pressed to his throat.

a single struggle. a choked gasp. then silence.

hoseok caught the body before it could hit the ground, lowering it carefully.

one down.

the others followed suit, swift and methodical. a sharp twist of a wrist, a muffled groan. shadows swallowing bodies whole.

within moments, the entrance stood unguarded.

jungkook straightened, rolling his shoulders as he glanced back at hoseok.

“this is embarrassing,” hoseok murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. “i thought royal security would be more of a challenge.”

jungkook huffed a quiet laugh. “guess we overestimated them.”

he turned toward the grand doors, the sounds of the ball spilling out into the night.

a smirk tugged at his lips.

too easy.

without hesitation, he stepped inside.

the palace loomed before them, grand and ostentatious, its balconies dripping with gold embellishments, its windows tall and arched like the entryways to a dream. jungkook knew better. this place was a cage, no matter how gilded.

slipping inside was a matter of timing. servants moved in and out, carrying trays and silks, too busy preparing for the night’s festivities to notice the figures lurking in the periphery. when the moment was right, jungkook and his men entered, ducking into a dimly lit corridor.

now came the real challenge.

inside, the air was thick with the scent of candle wax and expensive perfume. laughter echoed through the halls, the sounds of celebration filtering from the grand ballroom beyond. they moved quickly, taking out stragglers as they went. silent kills. clean work. jungkook barely spared them a second glance.

they reached a fork in the hallway. jungkook glanced up, catching sight of a balcony just ahead. perfect. from there, he could watch the ballroom, see his target.

but before he could take another step, a voice rang out. “intruders!”

shit.

three guards rushed toward them, swords drawn. jungkook barely had time to snarl out an order before the fight broke loose.

steel clashed against steel, the sharp ring of battle slicing through the once-quiet hall. jungkook dodged the first strike aimed at him, fluid as water, and countered with brutal efficiency. his dagger finding home between ribs. a twist, a pull, a gurgled cry. down.

another came at him, blade flashing. jungkook blocked, their weapons screeching against each other. the guard was strong, but strength without speed was nothing. jungkook feinted left, then drove his elbow into the man’s throat. he staggered back, choking. one heartbeat later, jungkook’s sword sliced across his chest. down.

he turned just in time to see one of his crew, young sungho struggling, a guard nearly overpowering him. jungkook didn’t hesitate, he yanked a dagger from his belt and threw it. the blade found its mark in the guard’s neck.

sungho gasped for air, eyes wide. jungkook grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him upright. “focus.”

the last guard standing hesitated, eyes darting between his fallen comrades and the blood-slicked pirates. jungkook smirked. “run.”

the man bolted.

“not the cleanest entrance,” hoseok muttered, wiping his blade.

jungkook scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “doesn’t matter. we’re in.”

jungkook moved swiftly through the corridors, his steps silent against the polished marble floors. the air inside the castle was different, heavy with candle smoke and the distant echoes of laughter and music. he exhaled, steadying himself as he reached the next point of their route. ahead of him, the corridor split into two paths, one leading deeper into the servants’ wing, the other toward the grand ballroom’s outer terraces.

hoseok leaned against the wall, adjusting the grip on his blade. his usually bright expression was dimmed by the weight of the night, but there was something sharp in his gaze, anticipation maybe.

“we’ve waited for this,” hoseok murmured, eyes flicking toward jungkook.

jungkook didn’t answer right away. he knew hoseok expected some kind of agreement, some affirmation that he felt the same fire in his blood. but the truth was, he didn’t care about any of it. kings and queens, thrones and politics, none of it mattered to him. he wasn’t here for some grand cause, wasn’t driven by vengeance or belief. he followed orders, took his cut, and lived another day. that was all.

“guess we have,” jungkook said finally, rolling the tension out of his shoulders.

hoseok smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “you really don’t give a damn about any of this, do you?”

jungkook glanced at him, amused. “do you?”

hoseok chuckled, low and quiet. “i care about getting paid.”

that, at least, was something they could agree on.

jungkook exhaled, shifting his stance. “stay here. keep the path clear.”

hoseok gave a lazy salute. “yeah, yeah. go be a hero.”

jungkook scoffed but didn’t reply, already slipping into the shadows. he moved toward the terrace, where the cool night air spilled in through open archways. the music from the ballroom was clearer now, voices blending with the delicate strains of string instruments. he exhaled, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.

almost there.

he stepped onto the balcony, the moon casting silver light over the sprawling palace gardens below. from here, he could see inside the ballroom, golden chandeliers, swirling silks, a world so far removed from his own it felt unreal. his gaze swept over the room, searching.

and then he saw her.

not the princess.

someone else.

someone he hadn’t expected.

his grip tightened on the stone railing.

this just got interesting.

jiah barely had a moment to process everything before a tray nearly collided with her shoulder. she stepped back just in time, but the maid carrying it wasn’t as lucky—her balance wavered, glasses clinking precariously as she scrambled to regain control.

“oh i’m so sorry, miss!” the girl blurted, cheeks flushed. she was young, maybe a year or two younger than jiah, dressed in the typical uniform of castle staff, her dark hair pinned in a rushed attempt at neatness. “i didn’t see you there.”

“it’s fine,” jiah said quickly, steadying the tray before it could tip. “are you alright?”

“yes! yes, i just—” the maid stopped, a flash of recognition and then concern passed over her delicate features. “where is taehyung? he should to be here by now.”

jiah blinked. “what?”

“taehyung,” the maid repeated, as if she expected jiah to understand. “the proposal? the only reason the royal family would ever allow you to attend this kind of event?”

her stomach dropped. “the what?”

the maid’s eyes widened in horror, her mouth parting slightly as if she’d just realized she’d said something terribly, terribly wrong. “oh! oh, no, you didn’t know?”

“proposal?” jiah echoed, the word foreign and absurd on her tongue. her heart pounded so loudly she barely heard the music anymore. “what proposal?”

“i—” the maid’s hands tightened on the tray. “nothing! forget i said anything.”

but jiah couldn’t forget. the words echoed over and over in her head, twisting, reshaping, until the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

taehyung was proposing.

tonight.

that was why she was here. that was why she had been allowed into this world of silk and gold, why no one had questioned her presence. six days. she had been in this world for six days, and now she was apparently getting married?

her stomach churned. the walls of the ballroom suddenly felt like they were closing in, the weight of expectation pressing down on her chest. she needed air. she needed to get out of here.

without another word, jiah turned and bolted. she barely registered the surprised glances thrown her way as she weaved through the crowd, skirts brushing against polished floors. her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything else. she wasn’t supposed to be here. she wasn’t supposed to be part of this.

she stumbled onto the balcony, bracing herself against the cool stone railing. the night air hit her like a slap, crisp and sharp, but it wasn’t enough to ground her. she squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply, trying to force her mind into some semblance of calm.

she was supposed to be at home. in her world. not here, not in some palace, not being handed off like a prize to a man she barely knew.

she pressed a hand to her stomach, swallowing hard.

she was going to be sick.

she pressed a trembling hand to the stone railing, her fingers cold against its smooth surface. the air carried the scent of jasmine, mingling with the faint traces of perfume from the ball, and for a moment, it was enough to make her feel dizzy, as if the weight of the night might collapse on her chest. this isn’t real, she thought, over and over again. this isn’t my life.

jiah stood on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her skin, but the chill did little to alleviate the tension that coiled in her chest. she could hear the muffled hum of music, the clink of glass, the quiet buzz of conversations from the ballroom below, but it all felt distant, far away, as if she weren’t even a part of it. this world, this palace, it didn’t belong to her. she was just a shadow, lingering on the fringes.

tonight, yiseo would be taken.

the thought weighed heavily on her heart. she had read it time and time. she practically knew the scene by heart. the pirates would strike tonight, and the brutality of it had been clear in every word. they would come for yiseo, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. it wasn’t just a raid. it was a statement. the pirates had no mercy. they took what they wanted and left destruction in their wake.

in her time as a maid, jiah had heard she had heard stories pirates. hearing about how the crew had once stormed an entire village, leaving it burning behind them. how they had struck without warning, with no regard for anyone who stood in their way. yiseo, for all her beauty and her royal status, would be no different.

jiah’s breath hitched as her mind ran wild with the thought of it. she had only just gotten to know yiseo, and though the bond between them was fleeting, it was real enough. yiseo was no longer just the two dimensional princess jiah once read about. to jiah she was just a girl, forced in a role she didn’t choose, caught in a world of expectation. yet, even so, jiah couldn’t shake the feeling that something was being stolen from her, something she couldn’t get back.

the pirates. they were coming. and all jiah could do was wait.

before jiah could think of a way to stop them, she felt a familiar tug at the back of her mind. the sensation had started as a whisper, a faint sensation that crept into her thoughts at random moments. but tonight, it was different. tonight, it was louder, stronger, almost primal. the voice. the same voice she had heard before, beckoning her like a lure, drawing her in. this time, it wasn’t soft and melodic, like a song drifting on the wind. this time, it felt desperate, frantic. as though it knew something terrible was coming.

the voice seemed to echo through her chest, vibrating with a raw, aching power. it was no longer just a sound. it was a presence, an entity, something alive and aware. it pulled at her insides, twisting them with a sense of urgency she couldn’t ignore. she tried to resist, tried to tell herself it was just the world around her, the strange magic of the place. but it wasn’t. it was calling her. to her.

"jiah"

the voice was coming from somewhere just beyond her reach, a hidden corner of her mind she didn’t want to explore. but there it was, louder than ever, demanding her attention, demanding her action.

"jiah"

her heart pounded in her chest as her gaze darted to the edge of the balcony. she didn’t know why, but her body began to move, step by step, as if it were no longer her own. the voice was guiding her, pulling her forward.

the palace gardens down below no longer seemed far away. it was as if she were seeing them through a veil. she took another step toward the edge, her breath shallow, her hands clammy against the cold stone. the voice, sweet and terrible, was all she could hear. jiah my love, it seemed to say. follow me. it was an invitation she couldn’t refuse, an unspoken promise. the air around her thickened, pressing in like a weight on her chest. the walls of the palace, the sounds of the ballroom, the cold breeze, they all faded into nothingness. it was just her, and the voice.

without thinking, her foot lifted. she was close. so close.

she had never felt anything like this before. sure she had felt the pull multiple times since coming to this world, but after the first night the pull was no longer as strong. the pull most nights felt like a nudge but this, this was a shove. the pull, the hunger in her chest, the need to follow it, to leap. her body shook, not from fear, but from the intensity of the sensation. it was like she had stepped into a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, where nothing was real but the call of the voice, where the only thing that mattered was surrendering to it.

“stop!” a voice called behind her.

it pierced through the haze in her mind, cutting through the pull of the voice like a knife through water. her body froze, every muscle locking in place, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her mind. she turned to find him standing there, in the doorway. his figure was framed by the soft light of the ballroom, but it wasn’t the light that caught her attention. it was the intensity in his eyes. they were fixed on her, sharp, focused, like he had known what she was about to do before she even realized it.

seokjin.

his voice, harsh and commanding, had shattered the trance she’d been under, but the remnants of the pull still lingered, like a distant echo in her chest. her fingers trembled as they gripped the stone railing. the voice, that horrible, beautiful voice, was still there, quieter now, but it hadn’t faded entirely.

seokjin took a step forward, his gaze dark and unyielding, pinning her in place before she even had the chance to react. there was something terrifying in the way he moved. unhurried, but with the absolute certainty of a man who wouldn’t allow disobedience.

then, in one swift motion, he reached out.

his fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm and unrelenting, and before she could even think to resist, he yanked her back with a force that sent her stumbling straight into his chest. the impact knocked the breath from her lungs, the solid warmth of him stark against the chill of the night air. His grip was strong, possessive, as if daring her to slip away again.

jiah gasped, her free hand instinctively bracing against the fabric of his jacket, the heat of his body searing through it. She could feel everything. the rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath came in controlled, measured beats, the undeniable strength that radiated from him like an unspoken warning.

his other hand moved, his palm pressing against the small of her back, holding her close, holding her still. a shiver ran through her at the feeling of it. of him. His touch wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful. It was demanding, laced with something dangerous. something possessive.

his breath ghosted against the shell of her ear as he finally spoke, his voice so low and raw that it sent a jolt down her spine.

“don’t.”

one word. but it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a plea.

it was a command.

jiah swallowed hard, her pulse hammering against her ribs as she fought to process what was happening, what had almost happened. she could still feel the phantom pull of the voice, but it was drowned out now, suffocated beneath the weight of him. seokjin was everywhere, his presence overwhelming, his grip on her wrist unyielding, as if he wasn’t just pulling her back from the edge of the balcony but from something far, far worse.

she barely dared to breathe, trapped between his chest and the stone railing behind her.

his fingers flexed around her wrist, his touch rougher now, a silent reprimand. It wasn’t anger, not quite. but there was something in his expression, in the way his jaw tightened and his brows furrowed, that made her breath hitch. it was concern, yes, but not for the maid she was supposed to be.

no.

it was something deeper. something about her.

a muscle ticked in his jaw, his grip on her unwavering as he pulled her even closer. so close she could see the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, something dangerous.

jiah’s heart pounded, her skin burning where his fingers pressed into her wrist, where his palm seared against the small of her back. the tension between them was unbearable, suffocating. she could barely think, barely breathe.

she had almost

almost.

her chest heaved as she stared up at him, her lips parting, but no words came. she didn’t know what to say. she didn’t know how to say it.

his fingers tightened ever so slightly, just enough to remind her of his hold. of his presence.

something had changed tonight.

something had shifted between them, something raw and consuming.

and she wasn’t sure she could undo it.

seokjin wasn’t letting go.

not of her wrist. not of her back. not of whatever had settled between them, thick and electric, something neither of them could seem to shake.

he was still too close, his breath warm against her temple, his body a solid presence against hers. she could feel the heat of him, the quiet strength in the way he held her in place, not forceful, not harsh, but certain.

like he had decided something.

like he knew something.

jiah’s stomach twisted. she needed to move. she needed to say something, to break whatever moment this was before it spiraled into something she couldn’t control.

"you shouldn’t be here," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

seokjin didn’t move. didn’t react. if anything, his grip tightened, his thumb ghosting over the inside of her wrist, an absent, devastating touch that sent a shiver up her spine.

"neither should you," he murmured.

her breath caught.

he was looking at her now, really looking at her, his dark eyes searching hers like he was trying to piece something together, like he was trying to figure her out.

and jiah,

jiah didn’t know if she wanted to be figured out.

"the princess will be looking for you," she tried again, more desperate this time, more breathless. remind him. remind him who he’s supposed to care about.

but the words barely left her lips before he tilted his head, gaze flicking down to her mouth, then back up again.

"maybe i don’t care."

jiah’s stomach dropped.

it wasn’t just what he said, it was the way he said it. the way his voice dipped, rich and smooth, like he knew exactly what effect he had on her. like he was waiting for her reaction.

like he wanted to see how far he could push this.

"maybe i’d rather be here," he continued, voice softer now, more deliberate. "with you."

the world around them blurred, the sounds of the ocean, the distant laughter from the ballroom, everything fading into the background.

she could only hear him.

only feel him.

"don’t," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was telling him or herself.

but seokjin only leaned in, just slightly, just enough for her breath to catch, for her knees to go weak.

"why not?"

it was a challenge. a question wrapped in something heavier, something undeniable.

her fingers twitched at her sides. she should step away. she should push him off. she should—

but she didn’t.

she stayed.

and seokjin,

oh seokjin noticed.

his grip on her wrist loosened just enough to shift, his hand sliding lower, until his fingers brushed against the inside of her palm, testing, teasing.

jiah sucked in a sharp breath, her pulse a frantic drum against her ribs.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. in the book, seokjin’s world had revolved around yiseo, only yiseo. he had been devoted, unshakable.

but right now, he wasn’t looking at yiseo.

he was looking at her.

and the weight of that realization was enough to make her dizzy.

jiah’s pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out every rational thought screaming at her to move, to step back, to breathe. but how could she, when seokjin was still there. watching her, waiting, his fingers ghosting over the inside of her palm like he was testing just how much she could take before she broke?

"you—" she started, but her voice betrayed her, coming out too soft, too shaky.

seokjin’s lips quirked.

oh.

oh, he knew.

he knew.

her breath caught in her throat as he shifted, closing that final inch of space between them. his chest brushed against hers, solid and warm, the scent of him, something sharp and clean, something undeniably him, wrapping around her like a second skin.

"you what?" he murmured, his voice dipping lower, threading its way through her ribs, settling deep in her stomach.

jiah’s fingers curled into fists.

get it together.

she forced herself to look up, to meet his gaze, to remind herself of who he was. of what he meant to this world. to yiseo.

but seokjin didn’t look like a man who belonged to someone else.

he looked like a man who had decided, in this moment, that nothing else mattered except her.

and that realization was more dangerous than anything she’d faced since waking up in this world.

"this—" she tried again, swallowing hard. "this isn’t—"

but seokjin just watched her, the weight of his gaze pressing against her skin, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, still holding her steady.

jiah’s pulse pounded against her ribs, a frantic, unsteady rhythm that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way seokjin’s fingers curled around hers. firm. warm. deliberate.

his touch sent heat searing up her arm, burning in a way that made her stomach tighten, made her breath come out just a little too shallow. she tried to ignore the way her body reacted to him, but it was impossible when he was right there, close enough that she could see the way the candlelight cast golden shadows across his sharp jaw, the way his dark eyes flickered with something unreadable.

something that unnerved her.

something that thrilled her.

"i should go," he murmured, but his thumb skimmed over the inside of her wrist, slow and unhurried, like he wasn’t in any hurry to make good on that promise.

jiah swallowed hard.

"then go," she whispered, but her voice betrayed her, soft and breathless, and seokjin caught it like a predator catching the scent of something weak.

his lips twitched.

"should i?"

jiah hated how her stomach flipped, how her fingers twitched in his hold instead of pulling away.

he was too close.

his scent, clean and sharp, something like cedarwood and smoke, wrapped around her, settled into her skin, made her feel light headed in a way that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze rolling in from the balcony.

"i…" she started, but seokjin was already shifting, his head dipping lower, his breath fanning across her cheek.

"tell me to leave," he murmured again, low and dangerous, and jiah had to clench her fists to keep herself from leaning into him.

"i…"

she couldn’t.

she couldn’t.

because the truth was,

she didn’t want him to.

the realization sent panic lurching through her chest, sent her body tensing, because this wasn’t supposed to happen. seokjin wasn’t supposed to look at her like this, like he was intrigued, like he was tempted.

like he was considering something reckless.

"thought so," he murmured.

"what’s your name?"

her stomach clenched.

the question was simple. harmless. it shouldn’t have felt like a trap.

but with the way he said it, low and smooth, like he was testing the way it would taste on his tongue, it was dangerous.

jiah wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the way his gaze flicked down, the way his grip on her fingers didn’t loosen.

"it doesn’t matter," she whispered.

seokjin hummed.

"doesn’t it?"

his thumb brushed over her wrist, lingering for a second too long, and gods, he was doing this on purpose.

"it’s late," she tried again, weak, unconvincing. "you really should go back to the princess."

his eyes flashed.

"maybe," he said, tilting his head. "but maybe i’d rather be here with you."

jiah’s breath stilled.

her fingers twitched in his grip.

seokjin smiled.

he noticed.

"tell me your name," he murmured again, softer this time. too soft. too dangerous.

jiah’s mind screamed at her to lie. to give him any other name, to create distance, to stop whatever this was before it started.

but when she opened her mouth,

"jiah."

the name slipped out like a secret, unbidden, a betrayal shaped by her own lips.

seokjin’s expression shifted.

his fingers tightened, just slightly, just enough.

"jiah," he repeated, slow, deliberate, like he was trying it on for the first time.

like he was committing it to memory.

her stomach dropped.

his thumb skimmed up the inside of her wrist, the touch barely there, but it sent a sharp, traitorous shiver up her spine.

"relax," he murmured.

and then he slid his fingers between hers

her breath caught.

his grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t possessive.

it was teasing.

testing.

like he was waiting to see if she’d pull away.

like he wanted to see if she could.

but she didn’t move.

she couldn’t move.

seokjin exhaled, a slow, heavy sound, his breath skimming along her cheek, and gods, he was so close now, his body a solid, steady heat against hers.

"you know," he murmured, voice thick, velvet-smooth, "if you keep looking at me like that, i might start to think you want me to stay."

jiah’s stomach plummeted.

she hadn’t even realized she was staring.

her eyes darted to his lips. a mistake, a mistake, a mistake, because the moment she did, she saw the way they parted, the way his tongue flicked out, just barely, just enough.

she jerked her head away, sucked in a sharp breath, tried to calm the riot in her chest.

seokjin laughed, low and quiet, entirely too pleased.

"relax, jiah," he murmured, and oh.

oh, that was a problem.

because he’d never said her name before.

not like that.

not like it was something he wanted to taste.

her breath stilled.

his fingers brushed against her cheek.

and for a moment,

for a single, terrifying moment,

she thought he might kiss her.

authors note: hey guys, i hope you enjoyed this update, i was planning on making it longer but it's 10k+words and i didnt even get to half of the stuff i wanted to. i feel like a lot happened but like barely anything at the same time. anyways, just a heads up, uni started up again for me so updates may be a little slower (hopefully not but you never know). thank you sm for all the support, it means the world to me <3

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taglist: @singukieee @canarystwin @elizabetharmy @moonxxlover

Merilia by saylilirose

"Mermaids are not real!" That's what you and Namjoon hear everywhere you go. It's funny that you're hidden in plain sight, although perhaps popping a tail in front of strangers wouldn't end well for you. That's what you've come to learn. You've also learned, to hide yourself very, very well. Until- "NO-DON'T JUMP-SHIT!" You and Namjoon are joined by others, not by choice.

🗯️ mermaids and insane drama oooh yes

Moonchild by @yoongiofmine (paid on patreon but so worth it)

Working at a coffee shop that only opened in the late hours of the night was the most exciting thing about your life, really. You never had that many friends, your love life was nonexistent, and you just couldn’t explain the feeling of not belonging that chased you no matter where you tried to find your place. It was when seven very handsome strangers came into your life that weird things started happening around you and within you. Could they be the ones to fill in what’s been missing? Or would getting involved with them and their world put you in danger?

🗯️ aaaah so good!!! so well-written, gahh plott so great, identity crisis (human or...?), werewolf drama.

My Muse by Zennnoe

I felt my lungs suddenly stop and a coldness brush onto my face, I gasped loudly clutching onto my chest. Dropping down onto my knees trying to grasp whatever air in-front of me. But I was at dance practice. So why did it feel like I was breathing underwater? I soon felt the hands of my close friends lift me up and lay me down as I try to takin in as much air as possible, for her. Soon the staff swamp me and I hear them talking about her, my other half. I soon clutched onto my stomach and I shouted loudly in so much pain, pink fluorescent patches bloom onto my skin. Yes they looked pretty. But the reason why they were there was not. As I try to reach out I grab one of my friends hands tightly and request for one thing. "My music. Pass me my music." I beg. This is the only way for me to reach her…to help her. My beloved soulmate.

My Soulmate are IDOLS by tinyeyecat

In a world where soulmates exist and people receive their soul bonds (a red string of fate, body exchange, timer tattoos…etc) when they turn 20… Wet dreams are not the norm for Amber. She should not be haunted by men she doesn't know, let alone by the world-famous boyband, Bangtan. But on the day of her birthday, Amber switches bodies with the idol on stage and finds out that the members of the boyband are her soulmates. All seven of them.

🗯️ this is one wild story... aren't all emi ree's stories so wild tho? but also well-written. (epilogue is on Patreon).

Not My Hybrids by Ghosstwriterss

When Y/n is pressured to volunteer at a hybrid rehabilitation/adoption Center, and asked to house 7 hybrids to help them become comfortable with humans and the idea of adoption, who is she to say no?

🗯️ the kind of story where mc's so freakin nice I don't think she's human. but yea it's all worth it.

One Kiss by DuraWrites

In a world where soulmate exist, where you can only know your soulmate through a dream. Confirm through a kiss and complete the bond through love-making. Han Bora just celebrated her 22nd birthday and not long she started having dreams of her soulmate. Correction. Soulmates. Already being a fan of this popular K-pop group, she immediately knew that her soul is tied to all seven of them. It was a dreadful yet thrilling thought as the realization of being the soulmate to her favourite artists hit her. But it isn't just as easy as it seems. Because she was the only one who had the dreams. So She has to prove to them she's their soulmate. And the only way to confirm that is through ONE KISS. How will an average girl find her way to that untouchable top to prove to the biggest boyband that she's their soulmate? Come along and let's dive into this crazy mess of a journey together.

🗯️ one kiss is all it takes... literally

Out of Time series by Alphathyx

🗯️ so freakin sad wtf but that is why there's an alternate ending. soo good and heart wrenching.

❶ Out of Time

A story about a girl named, Hana who has suffered a chronic condition all her life that would soon take her life one day. But with her final wish, she uses it to see BTS, but the boys decided to have more in store for her. Join Hana, and the members in a fluff filled adventure before time runs out.

❷ Out of Time: Young Forever

The alternate ending for 'Out of Time' and bonus chapters

Parfait by fullspectrumfangirl

Alpha bands are a popular entertainment schtick. Handsome, powerful, talented, they sell the fantasy of availability as much as they sell their music. After all, everyone knows a pack is incomplete if it only contains alphas. Omegas and betas dream of being a part of the balance. Unfortunately, this is more than just marketing. A band needs to function as a pack, but with only alpha members, bickering and infighting are almost unavoidable. Beta managers help, but there is another common tactic that helps the talent maintain equilibrium: house omegas, hired companions who stand in for the missing pieces. BTS is a wildly popular seven-member alpha band. They are known to be particularly kind and humble, but they are still struggling to keep house omegas for their pack. None of the prior candidates have wanted to leave, but one member has protested them all. What is the missing ingredient in their otherwise winning recipe?

🗯️ again, idk what to say but it's good! a really well-written story with great plot.

Peculiar Pack by @daydreamindollie

You’re a successful hybrid writer and psychologist, who takes in seven hybrids one stormy night after finding one of their pack stealing from your garden.

🗯️ cute T.T

Petrichor by @purpleyoonn

You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

🗯️ courting... yes please! and again, I love possessive mates.

Plump by koozip

Meeting Namjoon's close friends was something you've been anxious about since meeting him. You wanted them to like you. Starting off with a group chat seemed like the perfect way around your fears. You weren't sure how they'd feel about you in person. So when they fell in love with you and your lovely curves, you were taken by surprise. You soon realize that you're stuck with the seven handsome men for the long run. The chronicles of chubby y/n and her new smitten friends. Based around the group chat named 'chubbybear' that started it all.

🗯️ gosh this one's just warm and sweet, especially for fellow chubby girlies out there!

Rainy Days by Peanut_The_Sugar_Glider

Life had dealt you a rather crappy hand, but you kept on fighting, you kept on existing day by day. On a gloomy day however, you feel as if it all means nothing, as your beloved pet had past away and she always was there to cheer you up and enjoy the gloomy weather, making it less sad and depressing. Be it fate or otherwise, movement catches your attention outside. And your life is never the same after. You never will have to worry about being alone, and you find yourself enjoying the rainy weather.

🗯️ despite the title, this story feels like a warm hug.

Redamancy by strawberheecake

In which Yn met an unknown pack of hybrids living on a land she inherited. Feelings bloomed as the pack helped her weather the storm that is her greedy family.

🗯️ another neat and well-written story <3

Retribution by Babydoll_Blue

The Bangtan Boys were known around campus for being heart breakers, but when they made poor Seul-ki cry, Y/N and Mina decided it was time for retribution. Forming a plan to ruin their images, Y/N sets out to seduce them all.

🗯️ revenge gone wrong... or right? wtf am I typing, just read it guys.

Rose & Thorns by @minniepetals

A lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other, and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

🗯️ a dramatic and warm story. I'm such a simp for soft but strong MCs like this one.

Safe House by SweetBreadFictions

In a dystopian universe where hybrids exist, the government had turned a blind eye to the mistreatment of hybrids. These persons were used, abused and treated in the most unfair ways. To escape the evil owners, hybrids make their way to the rumored district of freedom called Area 613. To help these refugee hybrids, an underground railroad had been developed by kind people. Being sympathetic to these persons, you run a safe house stop for the hybrids during their journey. As you help these hybrids, seven of them decide that your safe house might be better that any rumored district of freedom.

🗯️ I love when the relationships develop one by one so you got attached to allll of them.

Sanctuary by @softykooky

Some people are lucky enough to be born into a family that loves them. others meet their family in a coffee shop while on the run from the korean ambassador, while they’re holding a man at gunpoint and beating him to a pulp for treason against their syndicate.

🗯️ :")👍

Seven by Worldwidehandsomeyouknow

Life is boring. Same thing, day in and day out. Nothing new or exciting ever happens. I just want something, anything to happen! Well something happens alright. Seven somethings in fact

Sheltered by Gracie30102

What Namjoon thought was trouble turned out to be a blessing as he rescued a wounded kitten who would capture his packmates hearts little by little.

🗯️ s o f t.

When a vaccine leads to unexplained symptoms, the world erupts into panic. What happens when one girl finds out she is soulmates to all seven members of the largest group in the world?

Shifted by dailyJinspiration

You were property, a casualty of an archaic law, but he didn't see you that way. You're an elemental witch, leaving the country of your birth to be mated to Hoseok, the leader of a pack of brothers who were forced to come together or risk being exiled forever. They are broken, discarded and angry, they can also shift into giant feline predators in the blink of an eye. You thought you would have a simple life, try to win them over one by one, but there are bigger plans in motion and it will take every skill you possess to keep what's yours.

🗯️ defo one of my absolute faves fanfic in 2024. it's got intricate issues, steamy scenes, sassy and strong witch mc, and the guys as hybrids. writing's so neat!

Soulmate to You by OT7oramI

🗯️ another well-written soulmate story! this synopsis doesn't give justice to this freaking good story so just read it please.

Spring Day by @nunchiimagines

Becoming a part time english teacher wasn’t exactly the ideal startup you had hoped for yourself when you first moved to Seoul, South Korea. Luckily, you loved working with children and you were grateful to have found a well paying job with housing included so soon after university. Amongst your class, however, are 5 boys who seem to be constantly ostracized not only by the rest of the students but also by the other teachers and staff members. Becoming attached to you fairly quickly, you’re unintentionally tasked to be their permanent caretaker during their stay at school, even staying past the hours you were needed until they were picked up safely. However, what you didn’t expect was to catch the hearts of their seven older brothers, the leaders of a notorious and well known mafia family in Korea.

“You’re a filthy liar,” Y/N refused to budge from her passenger side seat, even with the expectant looking hybrid flicking her tights-clad kneecap. “This is not a new dive bar. You can go. I’m staying here.”

“The wolf has already driven all the way into the city, Y/N. Might as well see what we can stir up,” Jeongguk, in a recent attempt to cut back on smoking, stuck a toothpick into the corner of his mouth. Y/N wondered if he truly had an oral fixation. “Come on. You’re always going on and on about ‘spooky vibes’ ‘halloween spirit’ ‘doing seasonal activities’, all that shit. Now that I’m taking you up on that, you’re backing down?”

Y/N bit her lip, cornered and effectively silenced. Sensing her defeat, Jeongguk stepped aside, allowing Y/N to slither from her seat and the warmth of Namjoon’s van. She wasn’t planning to traipse around a weathered and dark graveyard days before Halloween– rather, she was in a skirt, heeled boots, and a delicate off-the-shoulder sweater, meant for slinking around a cozy bar. Immediately, the crispness of October evening air had a shudder rolling down her spine, and the haunted-looking cemetery beyond Jeongguk’s leather-clad shoulder wasn’t helping, either. 

“Look at you, Bambi. You already have the camera bag,” Y/N muttered, somewhat mourning the loss of getting tipsy with him and Namjoon that evening. Despite the nickname, Jeongguk’s antlers were completely absent, only the two vaguest spots of calcification present over the spots where the bones usually sprouted from visible. 

Jeongguk hummed like he hadn’t heard her, double checking the batteries on his flashlight. Y/N, rubbing her arms for warmth, scanned the graveyard. It appeared that they were alone, which Y/N chalked up to people actually celebrating in the new dive bar Y/N was supposed to be at that moment. About to open her mouth to complain, her posture went rigid when a heavy garment, laden with rich scent and crushing warmth, was draped over her caved-in shoulders from behind. 

“The least you could have done was tell her to dress to be outside,” Namjoon spoke to Jeongguk through gritted teeth, watching the girl in front of him nearly dissolve into pieces in response to the jacket he offered her.

 Y/N promptly maneuvered her limbs into Namjoon’s sherpa and denim jacket, not even feeling badly that the wolf hybrid sacrificed it to her as she let his smell and body heat curl around her. No matter how gruff his voice registered to the ear, Namjoon had an undeniable concern for those he cared about. 

“Thanks, Joon,” Namjoon’s jacket was somewhat akin to a safety blanket, drowning Y/N’s figure and making her feel like a cake topper next to the tall wolf hybrid. 

Jeongguk had already wandered off on his own, and it was hard to make him out in the darkness since he was both dressed in all black and he had shed his antlers again. 

“I swear, I wasn’t in on this. Your outfit isn’t warm enough, and obviously being here is making you uncomfortable,” Namjoon lamented, Y/N snorting at his insistence of his innocence. 

“I’ll be fine. Just hold my hand,” Y/N reached for her wolf hybrid, hooking her index and middle fingers around his thumb and shivering at the spark that resulted in the contact.

Namjoon made a noise in the back of his throat. Not moments prior, Y/N clocked the way Namjoon’s ears drooped sideways: he was uneasy, too. Her wolf hybrid was amongst the bravest of her boys, but with the amount of intense horror movies Jeongguk was making her and Namjoon watch that week, Y/N thought his trepidation was quite a natural outcome.

“You suspect I’m going to trip on something, don’t you?” Namjoon grunted resentfully, though he adjusted his grip swiftly so the entirety of Y/N’s hand was completely engulfed by his. 

“Watch your step. If she goes down with you, you’ll fucking crush her,” Jeongguk called back, Namjoon’s chest rumbling deeply– while simultaneously squeezing Y/N’s fingers in a vice. “Wait. You have something to record audio with, right?”

“He thinks it’s amateur hour,” Namjoon seethed, jaw pulsing when he waved his Walkman around for the elk hybrid to see.

 “Jeongguk, this is too much. It’s cold and damp out here, why can’t we just go to the bar?” Y/N complained, attempting to save her evening of dodging shadows and being smothered by her wolfish security detail. “We can come back during the day, when the sun can warm us…”

“I’ve told you, Y/N, your pouting doesn’t work on me. You’ll be glad we did this, you know,” Jeongguk replied promptly, speaking around the toothpick in his mouth. Y/N scowled at him, watching her elk hybrid bend to his knees to set up a tripod by a crumbling monument. 

“What are you even looking for tonight, hmm? The spirit of Sam Adams?” Y/N let Namjoon tug her along with defeat, though her mood brightened when she earned chuckles from both of her hybrids. 

“Yeah, I bet you two would love that,” Even under the darkness of night, Y/N could see Jeongguk’s wide eyes rolling back. She was just putting on a show, standing stiffly beside Namjoon with her lip jutting out in a false pout, but by some Samhain miracle, Jeongguk physically seemed to soften in response. “Give me like, an hour of your time. The bar will still be open after.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N cheered, relieved that Jeongguk wouldn’t be conducting a four hour long investigation. “You promise?”

Letting go of Namjoon so the wolf hybrid could place his recording device on a nearby boulder, Y/N gently smacked her chilly palms against Jeongguk’s cheeks and pressed. The action had his lips puckering, the hoop through his lower lip pressed against her thumb, and his eyes as wide and round as they could possibly get. His tapered ears fluttered and stilled, like caught prey, and without his antlers, Jeongguk looked a lot like his least-favorite nickname. 

“Leggo ‘e,” Jeongguk attempted to talk with his lips still pursed, one of his inked hands wrapping around her wrist once the shock wore off. Grinning, Y/N released the elk hybrid, who inelegantly rocked backwards– ass landing on the heels of his combat boots. “You gotta stop doing that outta nowhere.”

“But you look so cute when I surprise you… so no, I won’t stop,” Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, his camera sitting in his lap, forgotten. “Okay, you’re on the clock. 58 minutes left and I’m out of here.”

Shivering like he was trying to shake off tension, Jeongguk squared his shoulders and resumed adjusting his camera. Fortunately, the dimness of the evening saved Jeongguk from being caught with reddened cheeks. 

“What’s my task tonight?” Y/N straightened up, suddenly paranoid she was standing on a grave. 

“Honestly?” Jeongguk cocked his head, expression turning wry again. 

“God help me. Yes, honestly.”

“You’re kinda here as bait. Since you’re witchy and all these dead guys weren’t really okay with that,” Jeongguk admitted, Y/N’s jaw hanging loose. 

“Oh, spectacular. Did you bring some rope to tie me to a stake and light a match? Maybe you’ll attract the apparition of Cotton Mather!” Y/N growled, pretending to paw through the elk hybrid’s equipment bag for a yard of rope. 

“Jeongguk, this is a new low, even for you,” Namjoon interjected, placing a heavy palm on Y/N’s shoulder– protective alpha wolf tendencies. “I’ll stay with you, Y/N. You can do the audio with me.”

“But…” Jeongguk hummed, Namjoon’s fluffy gray ears twitching in agitation. “If she’s alone, she’ll probably get better results herself. Just sayin’.”

“Unfortunately, he’s right. Whatever. I’ll walk around for a bit and just feel things out, okay? And you are so using your money from the last investigation to buy me a basket of fries at the bar after,” Y/N was able to cut Namjoon off before a spat occurred, hoping her carefully constructed “messy” going out updo wasn’t a pigeon’s nest by then. 

Muttering, she swiped a recording device from Jeongguk’s bag, marching off in no particular direction to avoid Jeongguk’s smug grin– and Namjoon’s raised hackles. The chunky heels of the boots she was wearing were sinking into the mud and grass as she walked, making sure to stick to the main paths winding through the cemetery. 

It was somewhat of a challenge to not be creeped out, Y/N definitely picking up on spiritual energy and the thinning of the veil during Samhain, so entities could more easily communicate with the living. Additionally, the lack of her physically intimidating wolf hybrid posing as a bodyguard glued to her side had her flinching at the slightest of sounds. 

The graveyard was large enough that she couldn’t hear Jeongguk or Namjoon asking their usual investigation questions, which wasn’t comforting, either. Swallowing, Y/N switched her recorder on, slowly passing by a tomb with a weeping stone angel affixed to the top. There was a bench beneath an oak tree, looking over the cemetery, where Y/N decided to pause and take a crack at an interview. With Namjoon’s jacket wrapped around her snugly, she relaxed a tad when she could smell his scent. 

As always, she started with breaking the ice– not by giving out her name, of course– listening to the static coming through the device sitting in her lap. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to interpret any of the audio until she and Namjoon hooked it up to his production program, so really Y/N was having a one-sided conversation in a field full of the unseen dead. All the while, she kept one eye on her watch, finally switching off the recorder after 40 minutes of repetitive questioning. Though the sherpa-lined denim jacket she was loaned kept her top half warm, her nearly bare legs were chilly and she was ready to drag Jeongguk to the van by one of his Bambi ears. 

Oddly enough, beams cutting through fog from two other flashlights were nowhere to be found once Y/N stood from the old bench. Chewing her lip, anxiety began to tighten her chest as she debated whether or not to call out either of their names. On one hand, Jeongguk would be pissed if she interrupted a recording of his, and on the other, Namjoon’s fury would be cold and quiet if he found out she didn’t call for him when she was scared. Neither outcome seemed desirable, and put her in a tight spot. Typical. 

Deciding to just meet her two hybrids at the front gates, close to the van and the well-lit street, Y/N picked up the pace and retraced her steps as best she could. Acutely more aware of her surroundings without knowing exactly where her companions were, Y/N was at least grateful she was up-to-date on all of her spiritual protection, so were the missing hybrids. Even still, there was that eerie sensation of being followed nagging at her. 

Though every instinct in her was begging to break out into a full sprint, when she heard wet gravel squelching behind her Y/N immediately paused; like a rabbit frozen in the face of a predator. Holding her breath, her mind automatically began to loop protective phrases, the only thing audible being the blood rushing in her ears. Was there a rustling in the nearly-bare trees, or were there whispers coming from behind her? Balling up her fists, Y/N geared up to make a purposeful beeline to the gate– which was almost in sight– however, she only made it about two steps before a yelp from her pierced the quiet night sky. 

Wiry, cold fingertips from behind dove into the base of her updo, nimbly grasping the hair stick holding everything together just to yank it free. Two things shocked Y/N the most: first, the weight of her hair falling around her, and the ping of the hair stick clattering to the gravel. All things happening in a matter of nanoseconds, Y/N’s brain processed so slowly that she was defenseless. 

As soon as she yelped and her body began to flinch, two strong arms wrapped tightly around her middle, a large body crooking over hers. Utter horror crashed down over her head, and she was positive she was screaming bloody murder as the grip on her waist got stronger. 

“Boo,” a pair of warm– not ghostly– lips grazed the shell of her ear, and Y/N choked on air, a breeze rolling by bringing a familiar scent along with it. “Gotcha right before you ate shit on the grass, too.”

Jeongguk’s presence wasn’t instantly recognizable because his leather and musk scent was lacking the usual tobacco edge, since he wasn’t smoking as much. The fear that took over was promptly replaced by astonishment and fury, and Y/N began to fight her way out of Jeongguk’s embrace, his deep chuckle in her ear. In retaliation, she scraped her nails over the tattoos clasped over her sides, his forearms actually overlapping on themselves due to squeezing her so hard, making him laugh louder. 

“Let GO, Jeongguk! You scared the piss out of me! Let go!” Y/N’s struggles were futile against the hybrid’s brute strength, so she pretended to go limp so he’d let her go. With a snarl, she realized he was probably giggling at her heart thundering in her chest. “What the fuck? I thought you were a rapist!”

“Do you really think anything could happen to you while we’re here? Please,” Jeongguk scoffed, the sharp point of his nose nudging her earlobe playfully. “Again. Weren’t you the one who encouraged scary pranks this time of year, kiddo?”

“Ugh. Get off,” Y/N groaned, her cheeks flaming. All of her boys had a magical ability to talk her out of being annoyed with them, and they all knew it. “You owe me two drinks now, the basket of Cajun fries, and I get to smush your face whenever I want, no complaints.”

“Sure…” Jeongguk eased himself off of Y/N slowly, ignoring the red scrapes marring the back of his hands. “I’ll add it to the list of your requests, your highness.”

“Fuckin’ little shit,” Y/N grit her teeth, finding it unfairly devastating how insanely hot he looked, cocky and satisfied, his dark eyes somehow still sparkling at night. “We’re going. I wouldn’t blame Namjoon if he left you here, you know.”

“Thinking about it,” a new voice joined the conversation, though it was low to the ground. Casting a look towards her feet, Y/N watched her wolf hybrid bend and gingerly pluck her forgotten hair pick from the gravel. “I take back my earlier statement. This is the new low, Jeongguk.”

Y/N was about to violently nod in agreement as Namjoon stood, towering over her, but something made her eyes narrow as she glanced up at him. Jeongguk, now an onlooker, tried to school his expression when Y/N gave Namjoon a deliberate once-over, the girl even stepping away to get a full view. The elk hybrid had to bite on his fist in order to be successful. 

“Hold it. You said you weren’t in on this!”

“I’m not!” Namjoon’s eyes went wide, Y/N snatching her hair stick from him suspiciously. Blinking rapidly, the wolf hybrid pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, awkwardly shifting the gear bag higher up onto his thick shoulder. 

“Joon. Your left ear is droopy, and your tail is stiff. Besides, you keep fiddling with your glasses and your voice is all high like when you’re nervous in public. You knew he was gonna pop out on me like that,” Y/N listed off, ticking each point on a finger pad. To distract her, Namjoon made a quiet, pitiful canine whine, offering the hair stick to her as a peace offering– but Y/N wasn’t easily bought. “Joonie. You’re sweating.”

“S… so?” Namjoon spluttered, forcing himself to look into Y/N’s eyes. Sucking in his cheeks, Namjoon made a last-ditch effort to seem innocent before releasing a ragged sigh. “Aw, come on, sta–”

“March your butt to the driver’s seat before I peel out of here myself,” Y/N cut Namjoon off with (an admittedly adorable) huff, stomping in the direction of the van and not wanting to hear Namjoon’s term of endearment for her while she was still ticked. 

Jeongguk, at that point, couldn’t help but snicker wickedly, brushing past Namjoon in triumph. That, and the sight of Y/N storming away, being nearly eaten alive by Namjoon’s coat, was quite the sight. 

“Do… Do you still want to go to the bar?” Namjoon asked delicately, once he stumbled into his seat in the van, the equipment bag stuffed hastily behind him. The grunt coming from the booth told Y/N Namjoon might have aimed it too close to Jeongguk’s shin. 

“Yes,” Y/N replied haughtily, still feeling the heavy grip Jeongguk had on her. He had been bulking up for the winter… “You guys are mean. I meant to prank each other, not me.”

“That sounds a little unfair, no? Can’t take the heat or something?” 

“You guys are pulling fast ones over me constantly, 12 months a year. Can’t take the heat? Please. I’m a champ,” Y/N accused, sticking her tongue out at Jeongguk in the back seat. He just smirked knowingly, which had Y/N’s mind going in the direction his probably was, eliciting a sharp cough from her throat. “Fine. I guess I should be a good sport, I’m the one who started this.” 

With that, Y/N began to get a little too warm, so she began to unbutton Namjoon’s jacket to strip it from her. Her ears perked up instantly when Namjoon began to growl softly, sending a spark of excitement through her. The mood developing was starkly different than the one that had just dissipated, one wired and charged, and there was no doubt the two hybrids felt it with a certain heightened intensity.

“Keep it on. It’ll be cold at the bar,” Namjoon requested, the gruff authority making her spine straighten out instinctively. However, petulance won. 

“No, there will be a ton of people in there. I don’t want to be hot,” Y/N refused, deciding to ignore the two of them filling the van with their intensity by flicking through her phone. Namjoon didn’t like his protective (possessive?) requests to be denied, and Jeongguk didn’t like to be ignored. Y/N, truthfully, was still aggravated; neither of them apologized for plotting to terrify her. 

The bar was only around the block, so she didn’t ice them out for too long. In the five minutes it took for Namjoon to find a parking spot, she could tell he was feeling remorseful due to the sad thumping of his tail against the car door when he hastily opened it for her, his ears sideways. From that position, she was nearly eye-level with him, and he was brave enough to drink in her expression. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“Make it up to me?”

Namjoon perked up just a degree, looking down at her through his eyelashes. Millions of possibilities flooded through the wolf hybrid’s mind, but conscious of the fact that he was blocking half of a sidewalk, he made a decision. With an arm around her waist, Namjoon helped her out of the van, and before she was too stable on her feet, he pressed his lips to the center of her forehead gently. Y/N hummed lightly, too pleasantly surprised to be embarrassed several pairs of eyes were on her. 

“‘M sorry we scared you,” Namjoon murmured, his chin resting on the crown of her head, body awkwardly bent. Giggling, she ruffled his starlight hair, Jeongguk interrupting by sliding the side door open. “Let’s go in. I’ll buy you the first drink.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be me,” Jeongguk spun on the heel of his combat boot, already at the bar’s entrance. The sound of rock music and jovial conversation pulsed from behind the door. “Yeah. Sorry, kiddo.”

“Okay, okay, I forgive you. Hey, let Namjoon go in first. His height parts crowds, we’ll get to the bar faster,” Y/N yanked Jeongguk back by his belt loop, Namjoon shouldering by with reddened ear tips and his dimples creating deep craters in his cheeks. 

“After yo–”

Y/N stopped holding the door open when Jeongguk placed a hand on the wall beside her face, reached up to boop her nose, and then leaned in to whisper: 

“I’m only sorry I didn’t film your reaction.”

“Oh, you motherfucker!”