"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...
The sun had just risen above the misty hills of her hometown. Light filtered through the thin cotton curtains of YN's bedroom, casting gentle lines across her face. She had been home for barely two hours. Her suitcase sat in the corner, untouched-like a ticking time bomb hiding in plain sight.
She was wrapped in her comforter, the soft cotton cocooning her after days of scratchy hotel sheets and sand in strange places. Her room smelled like her again-vanilla, clean linen, and eucalyptus from the diffuser near her bed.
She didn't know that somewhere inside that suitcase, just beneath a folded sundress and a half-used bottle of sunscreen, was a sealed compartment containing something worth more than all her past freelance paychecks combined. Something encrypted. Something people would kill for.
But for now, she was still innocent.
Still safe.
Still sipping her mother's filter coffee in the backyard, scrolling through her phone gallery with a dopey smile.
Leila had sent her a video of them dancing on a boat deck to a badly-synced Bollywood remix while holding pineapples. YN cringed and laughed and replayed it twice. The breeze tousled her hair, birds chirped around her, and her mom was humming in the kitchen. Life felt simple.
At the same time, across the ocean in Hong Kong, Kim Taehyung stepped off a private jet, dressed like the sky had been made for him-long coat, black boots, sunglasses that didn't try to hide the intensity in his gaze. His walk wasn't rushed. Every step was calculated, but casual. A man who knew what he was doing.
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He wasn't traveling with baggage. He was the baggage.
An SUV was already waiting near the hangar, the driver stepping out with a slight bow. Taehyung got in without a word, his fingers tapping against the leather armrest rhythmically.
Inside the car, a sleek tablet lay open on the seat.
It displayed her photo again. YN.
Zoomed in.
Then zoomed in again-to the airport CCTV footage. She was walking with the suitcase. Laughing. Texting.
Innocent. Oblivious.
"Target ID confirmed," the voice from the other end said. "Location: Xxxxx "
Taehyung glanced out the window. The clouds were gathering.
-----
It wasn't until that evening that she finally decided to unpack.
She pulled the suitcase onto her bed, popped it open, and began sifting through it lazily. T-shirts. Slippers. Chargers tangled like vines. She started separating laundry from wearables.
Then she paused.
There was a red dress. Sleek. Silky. Not hers. Definitely not hers.
