"To the girl who was marked to die-
And the version of himself that did."
Y/N didn't ask for this.
It was supposed to be a girls' trip. A few days of laughter, beaches, and blurry memories.
But somewhere between the airport terminal and the baggage...
She hesitated. "I don't know. Just... a shift. Like my life's holding its breath for something."
None of them thought much of it. Just post-vacation blues, they said. But YN's eyes lingered on the sky a little longer, her heart catching on a lantern drifting higher than the rest-further, lonelier.
---
- SUVARNABHUMI AIRPORT, BANGKOK - TWO DAYS LATER
The terminal was a hive of bodies and blinking signs. Trolleys clattered, babies cried, and security guards barked instructions in three different languages. YN dragged her suitcase through the chaos, her hair in a messy bun, oversized hoodie drowning her frame. She looked like every other traveler-tired, slightly sunburnt, ready for her bed back home.
She waited at the carousel. Her black suitcase circled past once, twice. She grabbed it by the pink ribbon she had tied on before the trip. Identical to dozens of others, but hers had a sticker of a smiley face peeling off the side. She didn't even notice it was missing.
The man beside her-early 30s, dark cap low over his eyes-picked up an identical suitcase just seconds after.
Neither looked at each other.
---
By the time YN landed at her hometown , it was past midnight. Rain had started to fall, tapping gently against the airport windows as she walked out, phone in hand, half-listening to her mom's voice on the other end.
"Yes, Mom , I ate. Yes, I got you that mango pickle. No, I'm not married yet."
She laughed. She didn't notice that her suitcase zipped differently than she remembered. She didn't notice it felt slightly heavier. She didn't notice the faint letters R.L.M etched just above the bottom edge. She didn't notice the shadow of a man standing under the airport's exit sign, watching her from behind a newspaper, unmoving.
---
- SOMEWHERE IN MACAU - SAME TIME
A man slammed his hand on the table, his voice clipped and tense. "It's not in the case."
The room was sleek, modern. Hidden in a glass building that didn't exist on any map.
Another man opened the suitcase, revealing nothing but women's clothes, toiletries, and an open Polaroid of five laughing girls in bikinis.
"They took the wrong one."
A moment of silence.
Then came a soft, deliberate voice from behind the shadows.
"Who was on that flight?"
An agent stepped forward, tapping away on a tablet. "Passenger manifest shows around 300. Only one female traveling solo with matching baggage."
A profile picture filled the screen.
Name: YN Age: 23 Occupation: Freelance Designer
There was a long pause. Then-
"Where is she now?"
"At her apartment. Just landed."
The man in charge leaned back, fingers steepled in front of his lips. The air in the room changed.
"Call him," he said.
The others exchanged wary glances.
"You mean-?"
"Yes. Taehyung."
- NEW YORK - NIGHT
Somewhere behind a closed door in a penthouse that touched the clouds, a burner phone lit up.
No caller ID.
The man lying shirtless on the couch blinked lazily at the screen. He picked it up.
A voice spoke just four words.
"She has the suitcase."
There was a pause. Then a low chuckle.
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"And?"
The voice sharpened.
"Kill her."
Taehyung's smile faded as he sat up slowly, reaching for the gun under the table.
