Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ARC III : ALL IN 

⟡

"A ticking bomb? Why the hell would they even—Why do that at all?"

"To limit your abilities," Jimin answers. "To cut you off before you get too strong to their liking."

Jeongguk shakes his head, incredulous. "Then why not do it from the start? Why wait until we hit thirty-five… and kill us? That’s what you’re saying… They're killing us? "

"Your abilities don’t stagnate the way you think," Jimin says. "They grow with you. You get older, and your power matures, expands… becomes harder to predict. I don’t think you even realize how powerful you could be once you reach your peak."

"It’d be impossible to control us individually," Jeongguk whispers, and Jimin nods. 

"The SCC doesn’t want Supers who can’t be controlled. What’s the point of building a world-saving force if you can’t pull the leash when things get inconvenient?" Jimin taps his temple lightly."So they manage you for decades. Let you save cities, earn loyalty in the public eyes… and all the while, they keep your potential neatly boxed up. And when you finally reach the age where your body can’t handle all the restrained powers." He mimics an explosion with his hands. "Boom. Your powers become too much for your body to handle, and threaten to explode inside you, like a supernova. Tragic."

Jeongguk shakes his head repeatedly. 

"That can’t be."

"Boo-hoo. Don’t be stupid."

"I’m not."

"Thought you were the Golden boy—"

"Don’t call me that," Jeongguk quietly snaps, heart racing. 

"And I told you I don’t care."

Their eyes hold, and for a second the air between them feels like it sparks.

"You cared about my brother, didn’t you?" 

Jeongguk laughs, dryly. "What an euphemism."

"Well, he seemed to trust you more than anyone." Jimin’s voice tightens, a flicker of something raw passing through his eyes. "I don’t know what he saw in you, but it had to be something real. If I could do this alone, I would, but he… when he last reached out to me, he made me promise to rely on you when the time comes. I didn’t even know what it all meant at the time. Said I could trust you, that you’d matter when it counted. So don’t you dare prove him wrong, Jeon Jeongguk."

"Don’t fucking lie about things like that, please—"

"I’d never lie when it comes to my brother."

"He never told me about you" Jeongguk snaps, brow furrowed. "He never told me about all of this. How come? He… he’s never even mentioned having a brother. He never said anything about you, and just expect me to believe all of this?"

"Just listen—"

"Why—"

"No, I need you to listen," Jimin snaps back, standing up. "I don’t want you to interrupt me this time. I need you to hear this."

"Okay," Jeongguk relents, his own voice dropping. "Okay, fine."

"Junghyun spent his whole life protecting me," Jimin says as he ruffles his hair in frustration, pacing in a small radius. "While pursuing his entire career at the SCC, he helped me hide my existence. I spent my entire childhood as a rogue, living under false names and staying off the SCC’s radar, because if they ever found me, I knew what my choices would be : become a Super… spend my life in prison or fucking die."

"And you would have chosen to die, is that right?" Jeongguk quietly asks. 

"I would’ve," Jimin confirms. "Because I’m too fucking attached to freedom. It’s everything to me. And that's what made Junghyun change later, you know, when he finally realized part of the system he'd dedicated his life to was built on a foundation of lies. He was on the verge of exposing everything when he died, and he knew the SCC was closing in. All the research he left me…" Jimin gestures vaguely to the documents laid out on the table. "It feels like he knew his time was running out. And now, here I am, holding the very evidence that got him killed."

"Why didn’t he tell me anything? I don’t understand, if he trusted me so— why wouldn’t he invite me in."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "First, not everything revolves around you, JK, so don't make it all about you. Second, maybe he wanted to protect you and your daughter. As simple as that. Have you tought about that?"

Jeongguk just stares at him, unable to speak with his throat full of something prickly and uncomfortable. Then he shifts his eyes into the direction of the items on the table. 

"What did he leave you?" Jeongguk finally asks, lifting his eyes to stare at Jimin.

"Documents, research, and instructions about the existence of an antidote serum to that vaccine," Jimin takes a few steps back until he bumps into the front of edge of the couch, and he perches against the armrest and crosses his arms.

Jeongguk pales. "So Director Kim knew what that vial was?"

"He knows everything." Jimin’s voice turns venomous. "He's a fucking piece of shit. Wants everything erased. Including me, he must have connected me to my brother by now."

"He ordered that serum to be destroyed. I found it in the lab—nobody even bothered to analyze it."

"Figures," Jimin murmurs. "By the way, it’s fake," Jimin adds, shrugging casually. "I haven’t found the real one yet—I just wanted to give him a little scare."

"Yeah, well, he activated plan Delta on you yesterday."

"Motherfucker."

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, and Jimin sighs, slipping his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. Jeongguk hates how easily Jimin fills a room. Hates how his attention is a force of its own. Hates how his traitorous heart makes a loud rattle against his rib cage.

He lets himself look at Jimin, really look, because avoiding it never helps. That strange, reckless man who flirts like it’s instinct, who breaks every rule Jeongguk has spent his life living by, who knows truths Jeongguk never had the courage to chase. Jimin feels like a mistake he’s already halfway committed to.

Jimin reaches for the tablet sitting on the table, thumbs dancing over different icons, until he clicks on a folder labelled JUNGHYUN and it blinks open. The screen floods the room with pale blue light; diagrams unfurl like maps of a body, lines and chemical formulas overlayed with notes in a cramped, urgent hand.

"That’w what he left you?" Jeongguk asks, throat tight.

"Most of it." Jimin slides the tablet across the table. "Read it. Everything. Take your time. Junghyun left everything he could, he knew they’d come for him. He knew they’d come for me, too. He made… contingency." 

Jeongguk steps closer despite himself, eyes scanning the mess of diagrams and mathematics formulas. 

The diagrams mean less the moment he recognizes Junghyun’s handwriting, the tiny slanted t’s, the way he abbreviates "antidote" with a crooked A. He sees a series of dates, lists of contacts, medical professionals, phone numbers and adresses. One page contains a recipe-like sequence labelled "ANTIDOTE — STABILIZER SERIES A-01." There’s a note in the margin, in a different ink: "Boosters every week. Not permanent. Requires vector suppression."

He accepts the tablet Jimin hands him. Audio logs. Doctors at the SCC instructing assistants to allow the vaccine to progress to fatal overcharge for Supers at age thirty‑five, masking each death behind a single word : "burn out". Private conversations between staff discussing the causes of death of this or that person, asking each other to alter the death certificate, or even masking the substances inside their dead bodies. 

Jeongguk’s fingers brush the pad and a quiet fury settles over him. "So he really didn’t die from pushing too far," he says slowly. "He died because they—" His voice breaks, then regathers. "Because they made him, made us like this."

"They engineered the fail-safe into the vaccine. Lock the power down enough long-term and the body misfires. Junghyun found a way to counteract it, temporarily, enough to give someone a chance to live on their own terms. But it’s messy. It’s incomplete. He hid it somewhere. I haven't figured out where just yet."

Jeongguk’s throat closes. "God," he breathes out. His hand clenches into a fist at his side. "You were right."

Jimin doesn’t look at him, but there’s a small, bitter smile on his lips. "I usually am."

Jeongguk crosses his arms, rubbing his thumb along his lip, he's been biting his lips enough to draw blood without realizing it. His mind is spinning, flipping through memories he doesn’t want to revisit. Junghyun trusted him. Trusted him enough to leave him at the center of this mess. 

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of this," Jeongguk whispers. "How do I even go back to the SCC after seeing this?"

"You go back however you want," Jimin replies. "But I’d suggest you say nothing. The moment they suspect you know more than you should, you’re done."

"I hate lying." The words come out hoarse. Too close to the truth.

"Then you’re going to have to get better at it." Jimin’s tone softens, but his eyes stay sharp. "And you need to stop fighting me. I had to provoke you, make sure I could trust you, push you a little bit. Junghyun trusted you. I needed to see if he was right."

"And?" Jeongguk asks, heart thumping uncomfortably fast. "What’s your verdict?"

Jimin looks at him, scanning his face like he’s memorizing it. His gaze catches on the scar at Jeongguk’s cheek. Lingers. "Still deciding."

There’s something infuriating about the way he says it, half challenge, half confession. Jeongguk’s stomach twists. He tries to ignore it.

"With Plan Delta active," Jeongguk says, rubbing his temple, "you’re on the hit list. You won’t make it past the week."

Jimin nods slowly. "I’ve got maybe a day before they find this place."

"What’s your plan?" Jeongguk drags a hand through his hair, frustration rolling through him in waves. "You think you can take on the SCC? That’s suicide."

"Maybe," Jimin admits, stepping closer, his tone softening. "But it’s the only way to stop this cycle. They handle Supers, then kill them before they get too powerful. Junghyun saw it happening. He didn’t have the time or strength to stop it, but you…" His gaze lifts, intense. "We could finish what he started."

"You’re out of your mind."

"Am I?" Jimin’s voice cuts through the air, almost offended. "You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? The strain when you use your power. The headaches, the heat under your skin. You think that’s natural? You think that’s just ‘burnout’? It’s the vaccine. It’s breaking you down from the inside."

Jeongguk’s throat tightens, his hand unconsciously gripping his right arm again where the injection marks faintly scar his skin. He remembers clearly the burning pain that follows every dose. 

"It’s gonna kill you eventually, JK."

Jeongguk doesn’t answer. He can’t.

Jimin takes another step closer. "Now look at me. I haven't had a single drop of that vaccine, and I've been mastering telekinesis and mental control. Anyone can have this. If not more."

"I'm not sure unleashing that possibility on the world is a good idea."

"And I believe withholding it is a far worse one."

He moves past Jeongguk, his hand brushing lightly against his sleeve as he goes, just enough to make Jeongguk flinch at the contact.

"You’re a pawn to them, Jeongguk. I’m not just ranting or trying to fool you. They groomed you to be their Super. You don’t mean anything to them. You don’t. I’m sorry. You make one wrong move on your own and they’ll condemn you. We have to stop them first. We’ll deal with the consequences of unleashed power like that afterward."

"You said the antidote was fake," Jeongguk presses, narrowing his eyes. "So… where’s the real one, if it even exists?"

"The antidote does exist. Junghyun finished it. He just never got to test it. It's somewhere. If we can find it and synthesize it, we can stop this."

Jeongguk scrubs a hand down his face. "You’re asking me to go against everything I've learnt not to." 

"I’m asking you to survive," Jimin retorts, his tone is calm but cutting, laced with something dangerously close to pleading. "You’re not protecting people by following orders, you’re just buying them time until they decide you’re no longer useful. You know I’m right."

Jeongguk looks away, jaw clenched, because he knows he’s right. 

"That’s insane," he mutters, more to himself than to Jimin.

"Maybe... But I’m the only one who’s not lying to you right now." Silence stretches between them, as Jimin reaches for his bag and starts to pack up his belongings. "I know you don’t trust me entirely. But Junghyun did. That has to count for something."

The lights flicker, painting Jimin’s face in pale gold one second and ghostly white the next. His eyes glimmer, not with arrogance this time, but with a rare kind of sincerity that unsettles Jeongguk more than the teasing ever did. There's vulnerability hiding behind the bravado.

"Where do we start?" Jeongguk finally asks, his voice low.

Jimin exhales, relief flashing briefly in his features. Jimin rounds the table with his bag, coming to a halt directly in front of him, nearly toe to toe. 

"We need to get to the antidote before they do."

"Where is it?"

"That’s the thing," Jimin sighs. He hesitates, plump lips put together in a confused pout. And for the first time tonight, there’s no playfulness in him. Just exhaustion. "Junghyun hid it. I don’t know where. Maybe you can help."

Jeongguk's fucked anyway, isn't he?

"I’ll help."

⟡

Jeongguk doesn’t mean to spiral, but it happens anyway, quietly as he comes home, the way a crack spreads through glass—slow at first, then irreversible.

It's late. Byeol and Seokjin are sleeping soundly, and Jeongguk stands in the doorway of the living room, Nala brushing against his leg. He feels the weight of everything he’s learned settle like a stone in his chest. He sits on the couch, elbows on his knees, shoulders curved inward like he’s trying to hold his body together.

He has always followed orders. Always done exactly what was asked. The perfect example of a "good boy." Reliable. Predictable. Safe. And he took pride in that, to be honest, thinking being obedient made him honorable. A model soldier. A model father. Someone the world could trust.

But now… now that obedience gives way to a feeling of violation.

His fingers dig into his temples as the realization gnaws at him. He helped them. He helped the SCC build their perfect image. He saved lives, wore the uniform, and defended their actions because he believed they were preserving peace. He defended their policies, even the ones that felt slightly off. He told rookie Supers to "follow protocol, trust the system." He repeated that like a prayer, like a good son reciting scripture.

His vision blurs. Anger or shame—he can’t tell which burns hotter. If he hadn’t been such a blind believer, could any of this have been stopped sooner? If he hadn’t spent years praising this system, would others have found the courage to question it sooner? Would they have started thinking for themselves instead of following him into the dark? He knows it’s useless to think this way, that he didn’t have the facts then, that they lied to him like they lied to everyone… But knowing that doesn’t soften any of this. 

He thinks about the other Supers who often asked too many questions, those he’d encouraged to stay loyal. He wonders if they’ll hate him once the truth comes out. Whether they’ll blame him. 

And then he thinks of Byeol. 

Fuck. 

He takes a slow breath and straightens, a hand running down his tired face. 

He can’t undo what he was.

But he can choose what he becomes.

From now on, every night he steps through the front door of his home, or across the SCC threshold, he’ll carry a mouthful of lies. He’ll look Seokjin in the eye, greet his teammates like nothing’s changed, and feed them soft, careful, and necessary lies. Ones that feel small but weigh heavy, bitter enough to burn on the way down, yet impossible not to swallow.

He hates it. He hates how easily he’s becoming someone who tucks secrets behind his teeth, who pretends he’s fine, who smiles at his daughter while knowing the world is darker than she’ll ever understand at her age. 

Sometimes, he'll probably catch himself wanting to spill everything, to sit Seokjin down, look him in the eyes, and tell him what the SCC really is and what they planned for him, for all Supers. But then he'll imagine Byeol, a little older, a little braver, living in a world where Supers aren’t hunted or boxed in or silenced, and the temptation fades into something firmer, sharper. 

He’s afraid. Terrified even. But he tells himself it’s fear for the right reasons. Fear that pushes him forward instead of holding him back. Fear for the future she deserves, not the one they’re forcing on them now. And if he has to lie, if he has to hide, if he has to let his brother think he’s just tired from overworking himself (which isn't completely false)… then he’ll take that burden quietly. For her. For what comes next.

⟡

The thing is, Park Jimin, villain wannabe and drama queen extraordinaire, is not exactly the world’s most efficient work partner.

"I don’t understand a single fucking thing," Jimin says out of the corner of his mouth, slumping forward until his forehead meets the cool surface of the table with a soft thud. It's been hours, and yes, the scattered reports and Junghyun’s handwritten notes seem to blur together into an incomprehensible mess.

At times, the more urgently we chase answers, the farther they move from us, Jeongguk thinks. And it’s only a harder thing to process when they don’t really have time on their side. Jeongguk commits to the process, fully aware he can’t control every outcome. He accepts that. What he struggles with is everything else, namely, the frantic ball of anxiety and impatience currently vibrating beside him.

Jimin’s state is… not helping.

At all.

And neither is the fact that he looks like a distraction specifically handcrafted to ruin Jeongguk’s focus.

He’s wearing a loose, low-neck shirt that keeps slipping off one shoulder; his pink-washed hair is pushed back from his forehead in soft, effortless waves; and his lips are glossy and faintly cherry-scented every time he leans in too close.

It’s unfair.

Utterly, catastrophically unfair.

Jeongguk tells himself to concentrate on the mission, on literally anything else.

But Jimin shifts again, exhaling near his cheek, sweet-cherry scent and warm breath mixing into a haze that makes Jeongguk’s thoughts skid sideways. 

Jimin fidgets beside him, foot bouncing, fingers drumming on his knee, anxiety radiating like static electricity. "Why is nothing clicking? Am I stupid? Did my brain just get up and walk out?"

"Your brain is fine," Jeongguk says, though his tone is flatter than he intends.

"That’s debatable," Jimin mutters into the table.

"We’ll figure it out," Jeongguk says, not looking up from the page he’s studying.

"We won’t. I’ve officially lost all hope. My brain has melted and is currently leaking out of my ears." 

Jeongguk finally glances over. Jimin tilts his head just enough to peer at him, his expression one of profound, theatrical despair.

"You’ve been chasing this for two years," Jeongguk reminds him, a note of dry amusement in his voice. "You’re not allowed to surrender after two hours of actual research."

"Would you respect me less if I did?" Jimin asks, pushing himself up and arranging his features into an exaggerated pout. "Just a little? I’m coming to the conclusion that our best strategy is to… blow up the SCC headquarters. Simpler. More direct. Arguably more fun. The result is basically the same."

"You’re impossible." A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth. He shakes his head, turning back to the documents. "You're nothing like Junghyun."

"I should hope so. You know because—" Jimin pauses until Jeongguk glances up at him, then starts wiggling his eyebrows very unsubtly. Jeongguk closes his eyes, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

"Do you ever not think about kissing or—whatever it is you think about?"

"You make me sound like a whore," Jimin complains as Jeongguk snorts with laughter.

Jeongguk snorts. "Your words, not mine."

"Must be my age, my high libido, and, you know, all the adrenaline," Jimin sighs, like a doctor just delivered a tragic diagnosis.

"That," Jeongguk says, pointing at him like he’s discovered a rare species. "Right there. The age thing. You definitely have a thing."

Jimin lifts a shoulder, perfectly unbothered. "You’re hot, and you’re older. Basically a DILF. I told you already—I like it. Said so the first night I beat your ass in the museum."

Jeongguk, by principle, does not get embarrassed easily. This is profoundly inconvenient because whenever Jimin flirts under his breath, specifically mentioning their age difference or referring to himself as a hot dad, Jeongguk’s ears heat up as if someone set them on stovetops.

"A what? Wait—you didn’t beat my ass—"

"Let’s call a cat a cat, okay?" Jimin interrupts, waving a hand. "Your pride never recovered. And that’s okay."

"It absolutely recovered."

"Mm-hmm. That’s what men say when their pride is currently down the drain."

Jeongguk opens his mouth, probably to argue, probably to dig himself deeper, but instead he uses his free will—captures Jimin's lips into a fierce kiss, effectively deleting every syllable Jimin was about to say. Jimin immediately returns the kiss, parting his lips and giving Jeongguk full access. His fingers graze Jimin’s nape as Jimin lets his hands fall between their bodies on the hem of Jeongguk’s jacket, sinking into the kiss. 

When they part, Jimin blinks up at him, lips pink, breath slightly uneven.

"Well," Jimin says, licking his lips with exaggerated thoughtfulness, "is this how it’s going to be now? You're shutting me up by kissing me?"

"You asked for it," Jeongguk mutters, still close enough that Jimin can feel his breath.

"I’m not complaining. I’m about to talk so much more."

Jeongguk groans, turning back to the stack of papers. He clears his throat. He pretends that Jimin isn’t watching him with the sharp, amused eyes of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.

Jimin scoots closer on the couch, far closer than any reasonable work partner ever should, then casually slips both arms around Jeongguk’s waist. Before Jeongguk can even process that, Jimin props his chin on Jeongguk’s shoulder, peering down at the papers like this is the most natural position in the world.

Jeongguk inhales sharply, spine snapping straight. Heat floods through him so fast it feels like his heart drops straight into his stomach and detonates there. One touch and his entire system goes haywire. Pathetic. 

He is not used to this version of Jimin. Not the softness, not the warmth, not the quiet closeness that sneaks past his defenses without asking permission.

And despite wanting him inexplicably close, dreaming of his bare and warm skin touching his, Jeongguk has a slight apprehension that never leaves him. 

"Can I talk to you about something?"

Jimin hums thoughtfully against his shoulder, breath ghosting over Jeongguk’s neck.

Jeongguk swallows hard.

"It’s about that first fight," he begins, "at the museum…"

Jimin’s body stills. Jeongguk doesn’t feel him breathing down his neck, not for a moment. 

Jeongguk presses forward anyway. "I know now; you were merely trying to provoke me and probably didn’t even need to harm me in that sense. But I need to make sure you’re not going to use that against me ever again."

The words are a ragged whisper, torn from a place of deep, old vulnerability. Jimin tilts his head up to look at Jeongguk attentively.

"I don’t ever want you in my head like that again," Jeongguk clarifies. 

Jimin doesn’t respond right away. His expression is unreadable, like he’s weighing something too heavy to touch carelessly. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, stripped of its silver edges.

"I know what it feels like to have your choices ripped away," Jimin says quietly. "I’m not proud of using my power on you. Hell, I’m not even proud that I have it." He lets out a slow breath, fingers playing with the edges of Jeongguk’s jacket. "Before all of this, before fighting the SCC, I never even considered using it on anyone. And when I did… it didn’t even feel like strength at all."

"So you’re not actually comfortable with everyone developing abilities like yours?" he asks, tone cautious but edged with curiosity. "Because earlier, you made it sound like taking that ability away was more dangerous than letting people have it."

"It is dangerous," Jimin says slowly. "If everyone could do what I do or what you do, it would make people paranoid. Terrified of one another. It wouldn’t be a gift. It would be a weapon in every hand."

"So what? How do we prevent instrumentalization?"

Jimin shakes his head sharply. "We need to determine how to minimize the potential damage." If someone has this ability, they need to understand what they can do. They need to understand what they can destroy, whether intentionally or unintentionally. They need some kind of control."

"And who decides how much control they get?" Jeongguk challenges, leaning back a little, casually sliding his arm around Jimin's waist. "You? The SCC? Some newly created committee of people who think they’re smarter than everyone else?"

Jimin lets out a dry laugh, not mocking, just bitter. "I don’t trust those. And I definitely don’t trust the SCC with that kind of power either. See what they've done already?"

Jeongguk raises a brow. "So you think you’re the exception? "You believe you deserve special treatment because you are self-aware and feel guilty about it?"

"I think I’m smart and responsible, and I know exactly how horrifying it can get," Jimin counters. "That alone makes me better suited than a boardroom full of people who'll weaponize it before breakfast."

Jeongguk shakes his head. "That’s still one person deciding for everyone."

"That’s precisely what I’m trying to avoid," Jimin sighs. I don’t know what will happen if we actually find the antidote. It’d put some of those abilities back into everyone’s hands, fully, correctly, and maybe even stronger than before. There’s no predicting how people will use it. Yeah, it could change everything for the better… but it could just as easily tear everything apart. "There would have to be discussions, safeguards, or something to stop people from tearing each other apart just because they can."

He looks down for a moment, fingers curling slightly, like he’s gripping a thought he hates. "I would rather not decide who gets power or how much. I’m attached to letting people understand what they’re capable of before they ruin someone’s life with it."

"Wouldn’t have pegged you as an idealist," Jeongguk says. 

"I’m full of surprises," Jimin replies, a slow smile tugging at his mouth. He lifts his gaze, meeting Jeongguk’s stare without wavering. "I know exactly how dangerous it can be, and that’s why I’m telling you the truth honestly. I won’t ever use it on you again. I promise." 

A beat passes—Jimin reaches out, thumb stroking slow, soothing arcs over Jeongguk’s cheekbones, right over his scar, then he decisively kisses him. Jeongguk takes a shaky breath, licks his lips, and locks his gaze on Jimin’s, searching for the truth in their dark depths.

"I’d also much rather have you come to me all on your own."

Jeongguk lets out a breath that is half a laugh. "Of course," he whispers as he steals another kiss, and Jimin shrugs innocently. 

"Can’t help it." 

Jimin slides back his chin onto Jeongguk’s shoulder with the casual ease of someone who belongs there. Jeongguk can feel the warmth and the faint scent of him lingering in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself reflecting. 

Jimin is all about layers. Every time Jeongguk thinks he’s got something figured out, there’s something else. And somehow, that only makes him want to keep discovering, keep untangling the pieces Jimin carefully guards, even if it means getting lost in the process.

It’s so sudden. It's probably too much. They are drifting too close to an event horizon already. But he can’t stop at that point. 

"Wait—look at that." Jimin wags his finger at the document. 

"What?" 

"This. This report number, the words on this page. It’s… it means something. It’s obvious."

Jeongguk leans closer, frowning. "What do you mean? Obvious how?" 

"Some sentences he’s written in the journal have a single letter capitalized in the text. Like this one: ‘equipment checked thoroughly in Sub-level 3 archives’; See the ‘S’ in ‘Sub-level’? 

"You mean… he hid a message like this?"

Jimin nods fervently. "Then you got "inComplete inventory log updated; nothing unusual to report' and 'access protoCols reviewed for night shift; personnel briefed' with two capitalized Cs."

"S-C-C," Jeongguk says, grabbing the marker and writing the words down on a new virgin page. 

"That would mean there’s something to discover or retrieve at the SCC Headquarters. Original."

"What about this sequence of numbers at the end of this page?" Jeongguk asks. 

18-5-20-18-9-5-22-1-12

16-18-15-20-15-3-15-12

"Just make it match with the alphabet letters and you get—"

"‘R e t r i e v a l p r o t o c o l."

"Fuck," Jimin curses. 

"Fuck indeed."

"Okay, but that retrieval protocol could be everywhere in the building." 

"I can’t think of a single place inside headquarters where he could’ve hidden anything," Jeongguk says, shaking his head. "There are agents everywhere. It’d be too obvious—too risky."

"Look closely; there are only two numbers underlined, though. 52. Must mean somewhere indicating the number 52. Don’t you have that somewhere?" Jimin asks. 

"The vaults probably… Well, down in the Archives at the SCC headquarters, the vaults are numbered from 000 to 389. It regroups every past mission log. Maybe he’s referencing Vault 52."

"It must be one of Junghyun’s mission logs."

He turns to another page, one of Junghyun’s last, and notices one last thing. 

"In the margins here… Junghyun has left the date and hours of the day. 15th November. 06:00. It’s 1506… Well, if you take out the last two zeros." 

Jimin frowns. "Is that… important?"

"It is," Jeongguk says quietly. "152 was my field ID during training. Junghyun was one of the only people who knew that. It’s my daughter’s birthday."

Jimin’s eyes widen abruptly. 

"Those mission logs and reports… are they restricted? Encrypted so only registered agents can access them?"

"They’re tied to individual identities," Jeongguk explains. "To guarantee accuracy, they’re locked behind our personal biometrics."

"He locked it to you."

"He… What?"

He restricted access to the retrieval process for you. He encoded the location in his final mission logs, the ones he signed off on. They’re locked under your biometrics. Only you can access it."

Jeongguk stares, stunned. "Wow. Okay. Wow. Yeah. What the fuck?" 

Jimin exhales shakily. "Junghyun didn’t trust anyone else. Not the SCC. Not the higher-ups. He wanted the antidote protected, and the only way to guarantee that…" His voice goes tight. "Was to tie the access to someone he believed wouldn’t misuse it."

Jeongguk swallows hard, a tight knot forming in his throat. The weight of everything—of what they might uncover, of what it could mean—presses down so heavily it nearly forces his shoulders to bow.

"What happens when we actually find it?" he asks quietly. 

"Well…" Jimin slowly licks his lips. "We expose them. Or stop them. Whatever comes first. Just promise me you’ll stop tearing through your powers like you’re invincible. We don’t have time for you to burn yourself out."

"I'm not planning on dying now."

"That vaccine doesn't care about your plans."

That shuts Jeongguk up for a moment. The glimmer in Jimin’s eyes changes, becoming softer and more human. 

"I’m asking you to stay alive," Jimin replies, his voice trembling just slightly. "You can’t protect Byeol if you’re dead."

The mention of his daughter hits him like a blow. His defenses crumble a fraction. He runs a hand over his face, groaning quietly. "You play dirty. You sound like my brother."

Jimin’s lips curve into a half-smile, but his eyes are soft now. "Good. But I hope the resemblance ends there too."

A faint blush creeps up Jeongguk’s neck. He looks away, struggling to hold back a smile. "It does," he said, his voice quieter, more intimate.

"Perfect."

"You need to stay low for a few days."

"I’ll think about it." Jimin doesn’t move back. He stays disastrously close, eyes dipping once, twice, to Jeongguk’s mouth. Jeongguk’s pulse trips. 

"Are you ever going to listen to me?" Jeongguk asks, leaning closer until they share the same breath.

"You're giving me orders now, Super JK?" Jimin murmurs, lips curving. "Damn. Maybe I am obsessed."

Jeongguk exhales sharply, half a laugh, half a warning. "Focus"

"Oh, I’m focused. Very focused. On you."

Jeongguk grabs his chin before he can think, thumb pressed to Jimin’s bottom lip. Jimin goes still, gaze darkening as he sinks into the touch. Heat coils low in Jeongguk’s stomach. He hates it. He wants more. All Jeongguk wants to do is throw his arms around this man and kiss him silly. The urge is unbearably strong. His lips are right there.

"Don’t," Jeongguk breathes. "Use this. The flirting. The charm. Whatever it is, you think you’re doing."

"You think it’s an act?"

"I think you avoid taking anything seriously until it’s too late."

The words hang between them. Jimin’s smile fades, replaced by something almost mournful. "You might be right," he says softly. "But I’m serious now. Dead serious."

For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t move. The closeness is charged and not exactly tender. It’s the kind of tension that could turn into more banter or a kiss depending on the direction of one breath.

Jeongguk’s hand is still on Jimin’s jaw, thumb resting against the soft curve of his bottom lip. He should pull away, because that’s not even the moment. He knows he should. He doesn’t. Can’t.

"Jeongguk…" Jimin murmurs.

"We’re not doing this," Jeongguk says, but the words come out too soft, too uneven. 

"This?"

"This being a thing. A regular occurrence."

Jimin tilts his head, eyes flicking to Jeongguk’s mouth before rising to meet his gaze again. "Like hell we’re not."

Jeongguk opens his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to warn him, but Jimin closes the space between them in one careful breath and kisses him. 

It’s sharp, urgent, and demanding. His lips press hard against Jeongguk’s, teeth grazing briefly, tongue teasing at the seam of his mouth.  His mouth opens, claiming and tasting, and the kiss deepens, becoming heated and urgent. Jeongguk’s hands slide down Jimin’s back, pulling him flush, hips pressing, breaths mingling in sharp, ragged bursts.

Jeongguk parts to cup Jimin’s face, and the second kiss comes without warning. It’s sharper and hungrier. Jimin’s lips chase his, teasing, and Jeongguk responds instinctively, his hands threading into Jimin’s hair, tugging him closer, feeling the taut strength in his arms.  Jeongguk isn’t entirely sure what he’s gotten himself into, but after two minutes of kissing, he’s almost certain it’s too late to back out now. Jeongguk’s cock is already half hard just from kissing. 

Jimin looks back at him, and Jeongguk’s stomach clenches, his cock twitches in his pants, and he’s genuinely not sure if he’s capable of voicing out anything. 

Jimin climbs on him, legs on each side of Jeongguk's thighs. He looks down at his crotch and then back up at him, smiling as he reaches over to cup the side of his face.

"You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are, Jeongguk."

"Hyung."

"Mm-mm. Want me to call you Hyung?" Jimin pauses. "Are we close enough?"

They rock against each other slightly, bodies pressed, movements hesitant yet intense, every brush of skin sending sparks up Jeongguk’s spine. He vaguely notices his fingers are trembling, but it doesn’t matter. Jeongguk is too far gone to think about the consequences of this. He can’t stop himself, and he doesn’t want to.

"Say it," Jimin coos, but it sounds so fucking dangerous it goes directly into Jeongguk's groin, making his cock twitch. 

"Jimin." Jeongguk’s voice drops low. He’s warning him. 

A low chuckle emerges from Jimin’s throat, and his hands slide Jeongguk's jacket off, then slide down to the hem of Jeongguk’s pants, fingers messily unbuckling his belt.

"I kind of want to fucking ruin you," Jimin says. 

"Be my guest."

And this time, when Jimin leans in, there is no hesitation, no fear. Jeongguk meets him halfway. Jeongguk feels Jimin's tongue sliding against his lower lip and then licks hotly into his mouth, pressing their lips together, catching him off guard. Jimin cups both sides of his face and kisses him deeper, messier, their tongues fighting against one another, and Jeongguk is barely able to catch his breath.

Jeongguk’s hands slide into his pants and under Jimin’s underwear again, reaching to grip and knead his ass. Jimin moans into his mouth as one of his hands rests on Jeongguk’s lower abdomen.

 "M’gonna suck you off, okay?"

Then Jimin slips off the couch, settling between Jeongguk’s legs. Jeongguk's feeling his cock as it drools precome in his pants once his eyes meet Jimin’s dark, intense ones, as if he had thought about taking Jeongguk like this before. Maybe he had.

Jeongguk reaches to cup Jimin’s flushed cheeks with his one hand, pushing a strand of his pink hair behind his ear. Jimin bites his lower lip between his teeth as he eagerly pushes his pants down.

"You can suck me off, baby. You can do whatever you want." Jeongguk’s voice is silky smooth as he continues pushing Jimin’s bangs away from his face. He watches the way Jimin’s expression darkens and a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, tongue darting out to lick alongside his lower lip. Jeongguk breathes heavily and lifts his hips to help Jimin slide his underwear down his thighs, and Jimin’s hands almost shake as he rushes to grip at the base of Jeongguk’s cock. It’s wet and flushed pink, and Jimin immediately puts the tip in his mouth.

Jeongguk moans, long and loud. "Oh fuck."  

Jeongguk gasps at the sight of his cock buried in Jimin’s throat and the sensation of his full lips engulfing it. It's hot and it's wet. Jimin hums proudly and tightens his lips around Jeongguk’s cock, bobbing his head rhythmically. Jeongguk punches his fingers in Jimin’s hair, tightening and pulling until Jimin gasps, his mouth falling open. "I know, baby," he coos. "So pretty like this." Jeongguk feeds Jimin his cock and moves his hips, establishing a rhythm that has them both moaning out. "You like that, baby?" 

Jimin audibly gulps around his cock. "Fuck—Y-yeah." 

"Jesus fuck, oh my God," Jeongguk curses, throwing his head back. "Holy shit."

Sex has never been like this. It has never been so unplanned or messy. He doesn't often think about getting laid. But now, with Jimin swallowing his cock, panting, and spit dribbling from his mouth, Jeongguk is all in. 

"Baby, wait—fuck—" Jeongguk pushes back Jimin’s head for a second; Jimin just lifts his head, eyes hooded, and drags his tongue along Jeongguk’s shaft again, grinning.

Jeongguk then grabs him by the waist, lifting him until he’s back on his lap. Jimin uses one thumb to wipe the spit and precome from his bottom lip. Jeongguk’s a simple man; he could come just from this sight alone. 

His fingers slip under the edge of his underwear and touch Jimin’s cock. A moan of surprise leaves Jimin's mouth, and he buries his face in his neck as Jeongguk wraps a large hand around him.

He follows the way Jimin’s hips move, stroking Jimin’s cock in time with the rhythm Jimin sets. They exchange messy kisses that do nothing to quell the overwhelming buildup that Jeongguk is feeling just by pleasing him. 

"S-shit, J-Jim—" Jeongguk can't finish his sentence as he feels Jimin’s hand wrap around his cock; the muscles in his lower abdomen start to contract, and due to his lust-induced haze, he begins to thrust his hips upward, eliciting a low groan from Jimin.

"Good?" Jimin breathes, his other hand gripping onto Jeongguk’s shoulder so tight, he is sure it’s going to leave an angry mark on his hand there.

Jeongguk shuts his eyes tightly as he feels pleasure throughout his body with every thrust. "F—" He knows he cannot form a sentence right now, not while he is seeking his orgasm. "Close," he murmurs.

"Me too," Jimin breathes against his neck. 

He keeps jerking Jimin off, his eyelids dropping, his mouth open as Jeongguk's hand moves at a rapid pace. Jimin’s hips stutter once as Jeongguk’s name leaves his lips. Jimin whimpers, and Jeongguk gently rubs his waist, encouraging him. 

"Come, baby." Jeongguk breathes, and it’s all it takes for Jimin to let out a cry; he spills onto Jeongguk’s shirt, thighs trembling. 

"Fuck," Jimin murmurs as he slumps forward and rests his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder, his hand lazily playing with his cum on Jeongguk's shirt, not even caring that he is staining it even more. "Fuck."

"Gonna make me come now?"

"Can you fuck me?"

Jeongguk nods, and Jimin grins, pleased.  

"Tongue out."

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open, his tongue lolling out obediently. Two fingers plunge inside his mouth; he sucks them thoroughly, tasting him on his tongue. He's collecting spit, under Jimin's watchful and lustful gaze; some of it drizzles out of his mouth, and Jimin grins. "Messy," he whispers. 

Then Jimin reaches between his legs and works two fingers into himself with a small gasp into Jeongguk’s mouth. "Oh my God," Jimin chokes out, fisting Jeongguk’s shirt. 

Jeongguk’s heart is pounding so hard that he fears his ribcage is going to break. 

"Lube—in my jacket," Jimin gasps, lifting his hips a little. 

Jeongguk bends forward, reaching into the inner pocket of Jimin’s discarded jacket, and he pulls out a small pack of lube along with a condom. Jeongguk grabs the lube and smacks it into Jimin’s fingers, as well as his. Jimin wastes absolutely no time inserting the fingers back into himself.

"Stay still," Jeongguk whispers, taking his time, carefully caressing his rim.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jimin gasps as Jeongguk slips one finger inside alongside his own, with Jimin's head nestling into Jeongguk's neck. 

"You sound so hot," Jeongguk says, fucking Jimin intently with his finger, angling them and stroking inside carefully. His cock is leaking mercilessly onto his stomach, twitching with every stroke of his fingers.

"Right, ah—right there—just, fuck—fuck, okay," Jimin babbles as Jeongguk adds another one, fingers scissoring and stretching to open him up. 

"Ready?" Jeongguk whispers in his ear. 

"Hyung, please," Jimin whines in a high-pitched tone, breathless.

Jeongguk removes his fingers and grabs a condom. Jimin helps him roll it down himself and uses his lubed hand to slick his cock up. Then Jimin rests his forehead against Jeongguk’s as he reaches his hand between them and wraps it around Jeongguk’s cock, stroking with a firm grip, relishing the sharp intake of breath. 

"Slow," Jeongguk whispers, but Jimin shakes his head with his eyes closed.

"No. Fast—fuck me," Jimin demands breathlessly, his hand wraps around Jeongguk’s cock, guiding it between his ass cheeks. He opens his eyes as he sinks onto Jeongguk’s length. Jimin gasps and grabs Jeongguk’s shoulders, fingernails digging into warm skin, head bowed, knees pressed into the couch. 

Jeongguk gasps for air. Jimin squeezes him so perfectly, the world fading into nothing but the feeling of being inside him. His eyes roll back, his jaw clenches, and when Jimin suddenly starts moving, the pleasure is so intense after secretly dreaming about this experience for so long that it’s almost unbearable. 

"Fuck—holy fucking shit, so full," Jimin whines. 

"Fuck, you’re still so tight," he gasps, thrusting once shallowly as Jimin adjusts.

"Don’t you love it?" Jimin breathes, and then he moans again, rocking his hips and finding the best angle to fuck himself on his cock. Jeongguk helps him, pulling nearly all the way out and thrusting back in smoothly. They find a messy but steady rhythm, Jeongguk’s entire body on fire, every little breath of pleasure from Jimin’s mouth working like fuel for him. "Hyung, fuck, just like that. Keep going. Come on, harder. Fuck me like you mean it."

"Jesus, look at you," Jeongguk moans, fingers digging into the meat of Jimin’s thighs, his lips all over Jimin’s hot skin. Jeongguk’s hands slide to grab his hips, lower Jimin further onto his cock, and then he fucks Jimin roughly, leaving him no room to breathe. 

"J-Jeongguk, Jeongguk, right… ah… r-right there, ah, ah." Jimin barely manages to get out those words as Jeongguk thrusts erratically, lips pressed to Jimin’s shoulder, hands gripping his ass tightly. Jimin lifts up, bouncing and meeting his thrust. 

"Jesus fuck, you feel so good," he gasps. "Fuck—oh, God."

"Keep going—keep g—fuck—ah—I'm gonna come. Make me come."

Jeongguk loses all sense of himself, gripping Jimin’s cock and jerking him off as he fucks him desperately. Jimin moans his name in the crook of his neck. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the way Jimin’s back arches off, eyes rolling back as he comes, body trembling in Jeongguk’s hold. A soft cry escapes from Jeongguk’s mouth, and he buries himself deep inside Jimin and comes seconds later, his body nearly giving out on him.

Jeongguk’s lips are right by Jimin’s ear now. "I’ll never fight you again on this."

Jimin bursts out laughing. The sound is so unexpected, so free of their usual sharp edges, that Jeongguk feels something tight in his chest loosen. He thinks it might be the most beautiful, honest sound he's heard in a while. 

⟡

The rain has been falling for almost two days now. And not a day goes by without that familiar, dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. It is worse today, a tight, hot band of pressure that promises a skull-splitting migraine later. It’s not fatigue, and it’s not stress either. It’s the residual sting from the last fight, a reminder that some wounds never fully heal.

Jeongguk might be a little superstitious; rain pouring down for days isn’t a good sign, and previous events have only proven him right—

ALERT: LOCKDOWN INITIATED AT MANGWON MARKET. ALL AVAILABLE UNITS RESPOND IMMEDIATELY. JK, V, HOPE, WINTER, ADORA—REPORT TO SITE.

The Gwangjang Market is being evacuated right as they arrive. Shouts echo through the narrow alleyways as vendors hastily pull down their stalls, tossing goods into crates and bags in a panicked flurry. People moved in a disorganized wave toward the exits, clutching children, backpacks, and purses. Steam from nearby street food carts mingles with the dust kicked up by the explosion that happened five minutes ago. 

Jeongguk knows it’s a false alarm, a carefully orchestrated fight. Jimin briefed him yesterday: the threat is staged; nothing is actually at risk. But that knowledge is useless in the face of real panic. To maintain the façade, they must continue to disrupt order or at least give the appearance of doing so.

So yes, he knows the danger isn’t real. The people around him, though? They have no idea.

The panicked crowd doesn’t know. The shouting vendors and the trembling tourists have no idea. His colleagues, ready to fight Suga, Giselle, and Baby G, don’t have any clue either. 

Everyone is tense, on edge, and ready to react to anything.

"Focus," he tells himself. You can’t let them see it.

Jimin is somewhere nearby, blending into the chaos, probably smirking behind that infuriatingly calm mask. Jeongguk can feel him when he closes his eyes.

A little girl stumbles in front of him, clutching her mother’s hand, eyes wide with fright. Reflexively, Jeongguk catches her elbow, steadying her without thinking. He forces a nod, a soft, neutral word of reassurance. 

He feels like throwing up, standing under the drumming rain, waiting for them to hit. He pushes his soaked, dark hair back from his forehead. Droplets make their way to the corner of his mouth, and he catches them with a quick, absent-minded swipe of his tongue, his chest rising and falling as he finally lets himself pause and scan the area.

"Suga's heading for the elevator!"

Yoon provides the information to Jeongguk through his earpiece. Not that he really needs them. Fuck. He can’t shake the guilt sticking to his skin. In other circumstances, he’d probably think about the idea of telling his friends about what’s really happening and make them a part of the plan. 

But shit feels too risky. 

And if he’s going to take some risks, he’ll only take them for himself. 

"I see him," Hope says through the comm. 

"Don’t engage," Jeongguk says as he presses his finger to his ear to respond. "Not yet."

"Fuck—"

He glances to his left and across the street at the peach stand on the corner and sees Hope running towards him. He’s breathless and drenched from head to toe. From his left and right, the streetlights pop and the glass shatters, and the screams of civilians confined in nearby buildings echo.

"Fucking hell, it’s her, fuck. — 

"Giselle was spotted near the billboard at the subway station," Yoon warns them. 

Jeongguk glances up and sees her, right above the billboard, waving at them with a wicked grin. 

Hidden behind a street food stand, V flicks his hand, and the utility pole nearby flies through the air to hit Giselle on the outside of her knee, momentarily crippling her. Then comes another clean blow, aimed straight at her head. She falls, and for a split second everyone braces for the inevitable: the crack of impact, her body hitting the soaked pavement, and blood mixing with the rain as it rushes toward the drains.

But none of it happens.

Instead, her form dissolves mid-fall, melting into a scatter of light before vanishing entirely. A heartbeat later she materializes behind Taehyung, perfectly unharmed.

It was never her. Just another illusion.

She takes a large step forward into V’s space, swiping her hand so that the blade in his hand falls through the air on the other side of the street. And then he pounces, grabbing Taehyung’s hair first and throwing him against the table.

Giselle now has Taehyung by the collar, dragging him up on his feet with a grin, but Suga steps forward, hand closing around her wrist and whispering something in her ear.

For a moment, no one breathes. Giselle’s hold on V loosens, and Taehyung stumbles back into Winter’s waiting hands.

Giselle rolls her shoulders, stepping away like she’d only paused out of politeness.

Winter dismembers some of the electrical wires in the street, recovers their energy, and throws it at Giselle to electrocute her in one fell swoop. 

Jeongguk looks horrified as Giselle collapses, and then he begins to seize. She falls face first, convulsing, and then she flops onto his back and begins to scream, two hands tearing at his chest in an animalistic fashion. 

"MOVE, MOVE!" Winter hollers, grabbing V’s arm and shoving him out of the way.

"Where’s Adora?" Jeongguk asks through the line. Breathing heavily, Jeongguk presses a finger to the earpiece in his ear, but there is no feedback. He glances over his shoulder towards the end of the alley, but it’s empty.

From the roof of the bus stop, though, Baby G levitates a sewer drain, his eyes looking impossibly bored as he hurls it towards Adora hiding behind a parked car. Adora halts it with a dismissive flick of her wrist, the wave disintegrating into a cloud of dust. 

Baby G hurls another pole at her, and Hope lunges, his shield erupting. The impact is deafening. Jeongguk sees Hope’s knees buckle slightly and he sees the strain in his neck. He thinks he’s protecting us, Jeongguk thinks, and a fresh wave of self-loathing washes over him. I’m putting him in danger.

Jeongguk doesn’t see it coming, the punch to his abdomen from Giselle standing behind him. He hears Yoon cry out for him to move. Winter seems prepared to intervene. But Jeongguk just lies on the ground, eyes unfocused, all reflexes totally gone. 

The situation is fake. Why are they going so hard? 

He gets another punch to his side, using his elbows as he attempts to block the others. He couldn't block the uppercut to his chin, though, and Jeongguk rolls sideways, coughing and wheezing. Giselle is about to lunge again, someone screams—

"He’s too fucking fast! Hope!" 

"Fuck, fuck," Jeongguk curses, back on his feet, but his entire body tingles as pain shoots through his limbs from the sheer force of an electrical charge that he has just been hit with square in the chest, blinding him momentarily. 

Baby G balances atop the broken escalator, his pink hair flying with the wind. His eyes meet Jeongguk’s. We’re selling well, right? 

Yeah. Too good. 

Jeongguk sends a controlled telekinetic blast that shatters the escalator steps around Jimin’s feet. He carefully calculates the angle, ensuring the shrapnel flies away from Jimin’s body. Jimin leaps back with grace, his eyes flashing with something that is close to malice.

"You’ll have to do better than that, JK!" Jimin taunts. He flicks his wrist, and a bag of peaches shoots toward Jeongguk.

Jeongguk deflects it, the peaches pinging harmlessly away on the ground. He closes the distance, their fight carrying them behind the wreckage of a newsstand, momentarily shielded from the others’ direct view.

"Tell Suga and Giselle to stop going so fucking hard," Jeongguk snaps, wiping rain from his eyes.

Jimin scoffs. "Right, so your Supers can stop mid-battle and go, ‘Huh, weird, why aren't the villains hitting us like they mean it?’" He arches a brow. "That won’t look suspicious at all."

Jeongguk’s heart hammers, the ache in his head pulsing in time with it. "They’re my friends, Jimin," he breathes, blocking a kick that is all show.

"And you’re doing this to protect them," Jimin shoots back, his voice low and intense. 

In the distance, Hope cries out as he absorbs a telekinetic blast meant for Taehyung, blood trickling from his nose. The sight ignites a raw, protective fury in Taehyung. He roars, tearing a massive section of a truck and hurling it at Giselle. 

This time, Giselle has to put real effort into it. "You fight with heart," Giselle rasps, and for the first time, Jeongguk hears something other than boredom in her voice. "It's unfortunate that this fight is for a cause already inscribed on your epitaph." With a final surge of effort, she deviates the trajectory, and it hits Jeongguk full force; he hits the ground again. 

"Fuck," he hears Jimin curse. "Get up."

Distracted Jimin doesn’t see Adora break through. She launches a discarded metal pipe like a javelin at Jimin’s side. Jeongguk sees it a split second too late. "Look out!" he yells, the warning torn from him.

Jimin twists, but the pipe grazes his side, tearing through fabric and flesh. A sharp, pained cry escapes him, entirely real, and he stumbles, clutching the bleeding gash.

A cold, paralyzing fear, sharper than any blade, lances through Jeongguk. He can’t be at Jimin’s. He can’t reach out; stop the bleeding, and ask him if he's okay. 

He stands frozen on the side until someone grabs his hand and forces him to run away. Glancing back behind his shoulder, he sees Jimin's pale face, blood welling between his fingers, and Suga and Giselle already by his side.

He looks down at his gloved hands. A single, perfect drop of Jimin’s blood is smeared across his finger. 

The ache in his head is now unbearable. Jeongguk almost drops his arm as his free hand falls to Hoseok’s shin, his grip tightening, his head spinning. His eyes fall shut as the world zooms out of focus like he is rushing through a tunnel, a vacuum with the sound sucked out. A flood of thoughts ravaged his brain, all drenched in anxiety, in fear, in total detachment. 

Is he out of his goddamn mind?

He walked into this fight a loyal Super. He walks out a traitor to the SCC, his heart aching with a worry for a villain that feels more real than anything he’s felt in years. 

⟡

Jeongguk walks into the new hiding den without greeting any of them. His hood is pulled low over his scorched face, t-shirt soaked in blood. He hasn’t had the courage or the energy to show up at home like this. So he called Seokjin, asking if he can get Byeol ready for bed before he arrives, so at least his daughter doesn’t have to see him like this, so raw, so bruised, so completely beaten down.

He’ll only have Seokjin to deal with, which is no walk in the park. 

He’s exhausted. Every one of his muscles is sore, with awful electrical burn marks that are beginning to scar on his sides. And for what? Just a staged show those villains had carefully made to feel real. It's way too fucking real. Jeongguk’s blood boils as he takes in Suga and Giselle quietly sipping on their drinks. 

Jimin’s head snaps up. "Fuck—Jeongguk. You’re okay?"

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. His eyes sweep over Jimin first, over the fresh bandages wrapped around his ribs, the faint bruise blooming under his jaw, and the washed-out pallor under his pink hair.

"Are you okay?" he presses. "You scared the fuck out of me."

Before he can reply, Giselle slurps noisily from her drink, twirling the straw with far too much amusement for this time of day.

"Well, our hero looks like he got hit by a truck," she says, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "Or maybe several, judging by the vibe."

"He did get hit by a truck," Suga laughs. 

Jeongguk snaps his gaze to him. "That was your fault," he fires back. "Both of you. Especially her." He jerks his chin toward Giselle, who’s still lounging like she’s watching a comedy special instead of a post-battle fallout.

Giselle perks up instantly. "Oh? We're doing this now?" She twirls her straw again, eyebrows raised. "Because if my memory’s correct, I was playing my part beautifully."

"Your ‘part’ almost rearranged Taehyung's jaw," Jeongguk says, tone flat enough to level a building.

"He dodged," she counters, shrugging as if that solves everything. "Mostly."

Jeongguk stares at her. Blinks once. Twice. "Mostly," he repeats slowly, like he’s tasting the word just to confirm it’s as stupid as it sounds. "That’s your defense? Mostly?"

Suga pushes off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Look, kid. We had an objective. Fake the threat. Make it convincing. Keep your Supers busy. We did that."

"You overdid that," Jeongguk snaps.

"That’s rich coming from you," Suga fires back, voice calm but sharp. "What? Feeling guilty you had to lie to your team?"

Jeongguk ignores the jab. He looks at each of them, his gaze lingering on Giselle last.

"I don’t trust you," he finally says.

Giselle scoffs, almost laughs. "Wow. Wounded."

"Just say you got carried away."

Giselle crosses her arms. "Maybe I got carried away."

"And you enjoyed it."

Her smile slips just enough to show something sharp beneath. "You think too much."

"Fuck you."

Jimin lifts the couch cushion like it’s a riot shield, eyes peeking over the edge. "Uh… should I maybe leave? So you two can punch each other in peace?"

"No," Jeongguk says. "Stay. You’re the only one in this room I don’t feel like I need to sedate."

"I’m heavily sedated, though," Jimin laughs, a wry tilt to his smile. "Otherwise, I’d be curled up on the floor, bawling my eyes out right now."

Jeongguk doesn’t laugh. His breath catches as his eyes flick to Jimin’s bandages, and he quickly looks away, jaw tightening.

Suga steps between Jeongguk and Giselle, hands tucked casually in his pockets. "You’re tired. You’re on edge. You’re spiraling because you saw too much truth in a few days. That’s fine. But don’t confuse distrust with fear."

"I’m not afraid of you." Jeongguk laughs. "You have ulterior motives, ones that probably don’t match mine. I just don’t think you two know how to hold back."

Giselle tilts her head. "And you think you do?"

"Yes," Jeongguk says instantly. "That’s the difference."

Suga snorts, looking at Jimin and then back at Jeongguk. "Cute."

"Okay, team, maybe take a breath. Hyung’s not wrong. You two were intense yesterday. And his brain is still fried from, like, thirty different existential crises."

"Thirty-three," Jeongguk mutters, while his brain goes: Hyung. Hyung. He called me Hyung. 

"See? Numbers," Baby G says proudly.

Giselle turns back to Jeongguk, voice unexpectedly even. "We do what we must. And sometimes that means pushing the line."

Jeongguk meets her stare. "And sometimes that means crossing it."

"So what?" Suga lifts a brow. "You want us to apologize?"

"I want you to act like the situation isn’t a game," Jeongguk sighs.

"And I want you…" Suga says lazily, "To accept that if we didn’t hit hard, your Supers would have smelled the lie within two minutes."

Silence stretches.

Rain patters faintly against the broken windows high above.

Jimin grabs Jeongguk’s hand and tugs until he sits close to him on the couch. "Let’s not get worked up," Jimin whispers, leaning back slightly against him. "You’re supposed to get into the SCC headquarters tomorrow night. There isn’t much time; you need to do it now."

"What will you do?"

"I’ll be right here," Jimin says, gesturing to the humming, makeshift den. "Preparing. The moment you have the location, we move. We’ll have a small window before they realize what you’ve done."

Jeongguk nods, then notices his hand is still clasped around Jimin’s. To his surprise, it doesn’t bother him at all. He can feel the sharp glares of Giselle and Suga on them, but he deliberately ignores it, letting the moment linger just a little longer.

⟡

"You’re quiet," Jimin observes, crossing one leg over the other.  "It’s about the Mangwon fight, is it? Admit it."

Jimin watches the way Jeongguk’s lips press into a tight line and the subtle tilt of his head, as if he’s weighing whether to let the truth slip or keep it locked away. Then comes the shrug, followed by a sigh so heavy Jimin can almost feel it in his chest.

"Yeah," Jeongguk finally says, the words rough at the edges. "It was hard… not having everything under control."

Jimin leans in, voice dropping conspiratorially. "You scared me, you know. Watching you at Mangwon. You—" He pauses, glances down at his hands, then back at Jeongguk, "…you put yourself in the middle of everything. Even for me."

"I know." His voice is low, almost a confession. "…I shouldn’t have, not like that. I just couldn’t shake the guilt."

Jimin reaches out, letting his fingertips trail slowly along the inked lines of Jeongguk’s forearm. He feels Jeongguk go rigid beneath his touch, as though someone pulled a thread too tight. Jimin can feel the warmth of his skin, the subtle pulse beneath it, and the way his breath catches like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

"I wasn’t supposed to care," Jeongguk murmurs, the words sounding as though they cost him something to admit.

"Of course you were," Jimin murmurs, leaning just a little closer, enough that their shoulders touch fully. "You’re Jeongguk. That’s your thing. Caring. Fighting. Making everything worse and better at the same time."

Jeongguk turns his gaze to the floor; Jimin can imagine the wheels turning inside his head. He doesn’t answer.

"Do you ever stop?" Jimin asks after a beat, teasing again, but gentler now. "Overthinking? Worrying?"

"Not really. Why would I? There’s always something that could go wrong."

Jimin laughs softly, nudging Jeongguk’s shoulder. He doesn’t even shift; his body is as hard as a rock, of course. He’s seen part of it and can confirm. "You’re impossible. You know that?"

"I know… and you’re reckless," Jeongguk says, calm but watching him closely. His eyes don’t waver, steady and sharp, and it’s unfair how good he looks doing absolutely nothing. Jimin suddenly doesn’t know where to put his own eyes; it feels stupid to admit that someone’s gaze alone can rattle him. He forces himself not to look away, pretending he isn’t reacting at all while every part of him wants to hide like some embarrassed teenager.

"Guilty," Jimin says easily, leaning back. He grabs Jeongguk’s arm like he’s done it a thousand times before, using it as an excuse to stop looking at his face. "But you like it," he adds. "Just admit it."

Jeongguk’s lips twitch. "…Maybe."

"See? Easy." His thumb brushes against the back of Jeongguk’s hand. "Don’t start worrying about me though; I can handle myself. Usually."

"I don’t think I can stop," Jeongguk mutters. 

Jimin’s right hand crosses his body and finds Jeongguk’s face. He presses his left hand on the couch and leans to kiss him. 

Jimin’s thumb traces the line of Jeongguk’s cheekbone, lips brush against lips, tongues tease lightly, and a soft smile escapes him between kisses that make his chest feel weightless. Jeongguk keeps pressing closer, tilting his head, exploring, and holding him tight. They pause just long enough to catch a breath before plunging back in, as if neither has ever had enough.

Jimin realized late that he was in too deep. 

How had he even thought, for a single second, that he wouldn’t like Jeongguk?

Sure, Jeongguk is hot. Not in a loud, pretty-boy way, but in that grounded, grown-man kind of way. Broad shoulders made for holding people up, eyes that always look like they are calculating danger, and veiny arms full of tattoos.

But he’s also quiet, the kind that comes from maturity. He listens before speaking and carries the weight of the world without bragging about it, never asking for praise yet earning respect anyway.

Jimin exhales softly, chest tightening, realizing just how tangled up he is in Jeongguk. It’s more than attraction. It’s admiration, it’s warmth, it’s the kind of pull that makes you stay even when you know the waters might be dangerous. He knows exactly why his brother was so fond of him. 

"You know," Jimin murmurs, voice hesitant, as he climbs into Jeongguk’s lap and settles comfortably. "They’re not that bad. Giselle and Suga, they’re not inherently bad people."

"Could’ve fooled me," Jeongguk says, fingers brushing against the bandages on his sides. 

"They’re… unconventional."

"Mmh-mm. That’s a polite way of saying they’re fucked up."

Jimin smirks faintly. "Maybe."

"I get it," Jeongguk sighs. "I know you like them. Probably because they’ve had your back until now. But we have a past. I’ve fought them more times than I can even count. They’ve actually killed dozens of civilians, Jimin, not just endangered lives. And no ideal, no excuse, and no social cause justifies that in my books. "

"They’re revolutionaries," Jimin explains, settling his hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders. "Even during the French Revolution, they had to cut some heads to force some order out of chaos. I’m not suggesting that this approach is necessary in every situation, nor do I believe it is morally justified. But history shows it can work, sometimes."

Jeongguk lifts a single eyebrow. "And you… you just get along with them? Or at least, you understand them?"

Jimin shrugs, leaning a fraction closer, chest pressed against his. "I’ve always been curious. I… try to see why someone moves the way they do. Sometimes I even agree with it… sometimes. Not always. But understanding doesn’t mean endorsing." His lips twitch in a faint, teasing grin. "It’s one of my better qualities, if I do say so myself."

Jeongguk arches a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "So you study people like a lab experiment, then?"

"Shut up." Jimin chuckles, lightly shoving his shoulder. "For real, though, I grew up hyper-vigilant, you know," Jimin admits, his voice low, almost confessional. "I was hiding all my life. So much of who I am has been about analyzing and predicting… it’s challenging to ever just be around people. I’m always thinking before I even show a part of myself."

"Sounds exhausting," Jeongguk says quietly, more curious than judgmental. "Being a full-time active Super can feel like that too, honestly. Especially when you have people to protect—family, friends… people who depend on you. You can’t just let your guard down, ever. So, I get it." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Not that I’m trying to make this about me, of course. Just… sharing. Sometimes it helps to know someone else understands."

Jimin giggles. "No, Hyung, you’re really the most egocentric person I’ve ever met. How dare you try to relate to me?" he jokes.

Jeongguk pinches the bridge of his nose in fake exasperation. "Damn it… I knew it."

For a moment, a comfortable silence settles between them, and Jimin lets himself get lost in the sensation of his lashes brushing softly against Jeongguk’s neck, close to his pulse. He lets himself take in the details that make Jeongguk undeniably real: the gentle curve of his nose, the mole under his bottom lip, and the roughness of his hands as they squeeze his waist. 

"Do you think I’m like them?"

"Who?"

"Suga and Giselle."

"I thought so… at first," Jeongguk admits.

"I could be, to be honest."

"Do you care what people think of you?" Jeongguk asks, his fingers dancing along Jimin’s cheekbone to tuck some hair behind Jimin’s right ear.

"Mm… no," Jimin murmurs, shifting slightly against him, as if settling in for a nap. "You’re not just anyone, though, are you?"

Jimin swallows, uncertain, waiting for Jeongguk's response. After a long pause, Jeongguk murmurs, "I don’t think that of you. Not really. Not all the time. And… you’re complicated, too—layers everywhere. I feel like I’ve barely begun to understand you."

Jimin lets out a small, soft laugh, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes. "And you... you're far from being an open book, too, Jeon Jeongguk."

⟡

The SCC headquarters at night is entirely different. The frantic energy of the day is gone, leaving behind a sterile, silent tension. Jeongguk’s own footsteps felt too loud. He keeps his posture relaxed, his face a mask of weary focus, the expression of a Super tying up loose ends after a long day. He nodded at the security desk, flashing his ID. The guard, half-asleep, waved him through without a second glance.

So far, so good.

The elevator ride feels interminable, soft music humming through the speakers, the metallic taste of adrenaline on his tongue. His reflection in the mirrored walls looks steady and composed, but the thrum of his pulse betrays him. He watches the numbers descend.

Sub-level 1.
Sub-level 2.
Sub-level 3.

The elevator doors open with a soft ding, spilling him into the dimly lit corridor. Jeongguk brushes back his hair, eyes flicking over the few agents lingering on the night shift. They neither notice nor care—he moves through the space like a shadow.

The Archives were on Sub-level 3, a vault that houses decades of SCC history, most of it redacted. The air smells of ozone and old paper. He approaches the terminal, a sleek, monolithic console in the center of the room.

His heart hammers against his sternum. This was it. The point of no return. Once he accessed these files, there would be a digital record. Kim would know. Everyone would know.

He takes a steadying breath and places his palm on the scanner. A blue light swept over his hand. He leans forward, letting the scanner bathe his eye in a soft red glow.

                                                     ﹁

      ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME.

﹂

The screen blooms to life. He navigates the menus with practiced efficiency, his fingers steady despite the tremor he felt inside. 

   『  MISSION LOGS ➤ AGENT DESEACED ➤ PARK JUNGHYUN 』

A list of files appears. His eyes scan the list, landing on something. 

『  VAULT 52  ➤ OPERATION BLACK SWAN - FINAL DEBRIEF 』 

He clicks it.

『 <CODE/>60߈060ƐƐƐ߈߈ <>ERROR CONFIRMATION REQUIRED. <CODE/> 』

He clicks again.

『 <CODE/>60߈߈60ƐƐƐ߈߈ <> ERROR CONFIRMATION REQUIRED. <CODE/> 』 

"Fuck," he mutters.  

He repeats the process Jimin told him. His code. Then his biometrics. 

For a terrifying second, nothing happens. Then, the screen flickers, and a new window opens, not with the standard mission report template, but with a simple text file.

『 Jeongguk,

 I’ve hidden the antidote. It’s not a cure, but it’s a start. It’s a way to break the cycle.

The location is somewhere they’d never look. Somewhere tied to the beginning, not the end. Remember our first win? The place we went to celebrate, where we promised we’d change the world? It’s there. Look for the silver lining.

Trust Jimin. He’s all the good parts of me, with none of the patience. He’ll be reckless. He’ll infuriate you. Keep him safe.

I know you’ll do great, like the golden boy that you are. 

- J. 』

Jeongguk reads the message twice, committing every word to memory. His throat is tight. The message is so quintessentially Junghyun. It’s direct, heartfelt, and just cryptic enough.

Our first win. We went there to celebrate.

It comes to him in a flash. The Namsan Tower. After their first major successful mission as a team, they’d skipped the official debrief, bought cheap beer, and climbed to the top, talking for hours about a future where Supers were heroes, not soldiers. They’d watched the sun rise over the city, silvering the skyline.

Look for the silver lining.

He deletes the file, the action feeling both sacrilegious and necessary. He initiates a level-5 data scrub on the entire terminal, wiping any trace of his access. It’s a drastic measure, one that would itself raise flags, but it would buy them time. A deleted file can be recovered. A scrambled hard drive is a louder, messier signal, but it takes longer to decipher.

A sudden, piercing alarm disrupts the low hum of the servers as he exits the Archives. A red light pulses across the walls, throwing jagged shadows that slice through the dim hallway.

"UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED," a mechanical voice booms through the speakers. "ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO DESIGNATED CONTAINMENT ZONES IMMEDIATELY."

He palms the stairwell door open and takes the descent two steps at a time. Each flight feels like shedding another layer of his old life, of who he was trained to be.

As he flees the scene, he feels a strange sense of freedom. The leash had been pulled tight, but for the first time, he could see the hand holding it. 

Himself.

And he had a partner waiting in the shadows.

⟡
 

Hoseok 

Hyung 

Why is the SCC hunting you down on national tv 

They’re pinning you down with conspiracy with villains what the heck 

Namjoon Hyung 

(5) missed calls 

Seokjin Hyung 

are you out of your goddamm mind ???????

(18) missed calls (3) voice messages 

Winter 

Oppa what have you done 

tell me this isn’t real 

It's hard not to realize that his heart is pounding wildly in his chest, echoing the trembling in his hands. His instinct tells him to check for cameras, agents, or anyone who could be following him as he heads back towards Jimin’s den. He looks, but there's nothing at all.

The door opens before he can knock. Jimin stands there, pink hair a little mussed, eyes bright and sharp, leaning casually against the frame. The faint smell of cherry lip balm lingers in the air, and for a moment, Jeongguk feels a pang—an ache that’s entirely unrelated to the mission.

"You’re late," Jimin says, mock irritation lacing his tone, but his eyes betray some worry. "I was starting to think something went wrong."

"Traffic," Jeongguk says evenly, slipping past him into the apartment. He sets his coat down on the back of the bright yellow couch. "And untrustworthy streets."

"Mm-hmm. Sure. ‘Untrustworthy streets.’"

Jeongguk allows himself the tiniest smirk. "You were expecting punctuality?"

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly. "Come on, sit. You look like hell. I can smell the headache from here."

Jeongguk lowers himself onto the couch, muscles tensing even as he tries to relax. He doesn’t respond, but the gesture is acknowledgment enough. Jimin perches next to him, casual, too close, but not crossing a line. They are close enough that their shoulders brush, causing Jeongguk to feel a heat spike in his chest.

"The SCC, they’re already after me," Jeongguk mutters, fingers digging into the edge of the couch until his knuckles turn bone-white. He read every fucking text message and saw every missed call on his phone while on his way here. He hadn’t even thought about his reputation or the consequences of his actions. 

"We have to be quick, then. You found Junghyun’s instructions?"

Jeongguk nods. "The antidote isn’t where anyone thinks it is. Well, it’s not located in any secret SCC lab, nor is it anything like that. No… it’s near the Namsan Tower. Where we celebrated our first mission together."

"Original," he says, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

"Junghyun said it’s ‘tied to the beginning, not the end.’ He’s so dramatic."

Jimin leans back, resting his chin on his hand, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So… you’re telling me we have to crawl up a hill to the Namsan Tower to retrieve a literal antidote?"

Jeongguk nods once, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Seems like it. I do have a motorcycle, though—no need to climb anything. But you… you’ll have to climb me."

Jimin’s lips curl into a teasing grin. "Ah, see? Roles are reversed," he says softly. "Who’s the whore now?"

Jeongguk presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Stares. Blinks once. Swiftly crouches down and sweeps up his keys and his bag with a huff. He clears his throat. "Come on, let’s go."

⟡

The Namsan Tower isn’t far from Jimin’s den, but the ride on his motorcycle feels electric with Jimin clinging to him, arms wrapped around his waist.

Jeongguk hasn’t felt this free in days. The wind whipping past, the city blurring around them—it’s almost intoxicating. He reminds himself that he’s doing something right, something necessary. Now isn’t the time for doubts to creep in. Not here. Not with this.

A half-mile from the destination, Jeongguk kills the engine. The aggressive growl of the bike is abruptly swallowed by the deep, waiting silence of the night, leaving only the whisper of the wind and the beat of his heart in his ears. He pivots, removing the helmet from Jimin's hold and fastening it to the bike. 

Without a word, they move on, continuing by foot. 

Jimin’s pink hair is a muted slash of color in the moonlight. He’s traded his usual provocative attire for dark, practical clothing that allows him to blend into the night. In his hands, he holds a device Jeongguk recognizes, a broad-spectrum signal disruptor. It wouldn't stop a dedicated SCC team, but it would scramble casual surveillance and buy them precious minutes.

The main entrance to the Namsan Tower outside is chained and padlocked, with an official-looking notice from the city plastered across it. WORK IN PROGRESS; Jeongguk reaches out, not with his hands, but with his mind. He feels the metal of the lock, cold and stubborn. With a focused push of telekinetic force, he feels the internal pins shear apart with a dull crack; the chain slithers to the ground.

"Don’t use your powers," Jimin mutters sternly, brushing past him to lead the way.

They walk towards the place where Jeonggul once celebrated their first mission victory together, a place he hasn't set foot in in a while.  

Suga is leaning against the bridge's railing, arms crossed as he stares up at Namsan Tower. Nearby, Giselle sits on the railing, her bright blue hair standing out in the evening light. 

"There," Jeongguk says, voice low.

Jeongguk shuts his eyes and reaches inward, searching for even the faintest echo of Junghyun’s energy. When he looks again, his stare locks onto one brass padlock among a sea of identical metal. It’s nothing special at first glance, plain, common, and easy to overlook, until he notices the smallest detail: a thin, almost imperceptible barcode etched into its edge.

Jimin is there in an instant, his fingers brushing over the cold metal. "It’s—do you feel this?" 

"Let me."

Jeongguk steps forward, closes his eyes, and extends his senses into the metal. He feels the hum of the dormant magnetic lock's precise alignment holding the shackle shut. Instead of forcing it, he gently manipulates the magnetic fields, persuading them to disengage. With a soft, satisfying click, the lock sprang open.

Jimin carefully detaches it from the bridge, his fingers trembling slightly. He pries the lock itself apart. Inside, nestled in custom-cut foam, are two items: a single syringe of clear liquid and a tiny, folded square of paper. Jimin’s breath hitches. He carefully reaches for the serum, his fingers closing around it delicately. "A-01," he whispers.

Jeongguk picks up the note. It’s in Junghyun’s handwriting.

The antidote is the only physical sample. It’s untested. Use it wisely.

"We have it," Jimin whispers in disbelief. 

From his post, Yoongi’s head tilts a fraction. "We’ve got company. Two black vans, no markings, approaching fast from the southern road." 

Giselle hops off the railing, the playful light around the locks dying instantly. "Right on schedule."

Before Jeongguk can respond, a high-pitched sound cuts through the night, building rapidly in intensity. The signal disruptor Jimin has planted at the bridge’s entrance flares red, then dies.

"They’re here," Jimin says.

The roar of engines and the blinding white glare of searchlights sweeping across the bridge tear apart the night. Armored vehicles skid to a halt, obstructing both ends. The voice that booms from a loudspeaker was cold, metallic, and final.

"Plan Delta is a go," a voice booms from a loudspeaker; it's Hoseok's voice. Fuck. "Surrender and you will not be harmed."

Jeongguk looks at Jimin, who is already tucking the syringe and message into his jacket. His eyes meet Jeongguk’s, and in them there is no surprise, only a grim acceptance.

"They'll shoot on sight," Jeongguk murmurs, his mind racing. The bridge is a dead end. They don’t have anywhere to go. 

A new sound joins the chaos, the heavy, ominous thrum of an SCC dropship cresting the hill, its spotlight painting them in a circle of unforgiving white.

"Jeongguk..." Jimin breathes, the hope draining from his face.

"There is no more time," Suga states, pushing off the locks. He doesn’t look at them; his eyes are on the advancing agents. "Giselle. The lights."

Giselle’s hands come up, and every single searchlight on the vehicles and the dropship flickers wildly, then dies, plunging the bridge into sudden, profound darkness punctuated only by the city’s ambient glow. Shouts of confusion erupt from the SCC forces.

Jimin doesn’t hesitate. He is a blur, sprinting for the northern end of the bridge to hold back new arrivals. Giselle is right behind him, warping the air around them to make them shimmer and distort and be imperceptible to their eyes. 

"The locks," Yoongi commands, his voice cutting through the panic.

Understanding flashes in Jeongguk’s eyes. With a grunt of effort, he focuses his telekinesis not on the agents, but on the thousands of metal love locks. With a terrifying sound like a growl, every single lock rips free from the railings, forming a swirling, metallic storm in the air between them and the SCC.

"Jeongguk! No!" Jimin cries, right at the same time Yoongi shouts, "Go!" 

Jeongguk holds the storm, his teeth grit, and the familiar, searing pain begins to bloom behind his eyes. He directs the thousands of locks to disorient the agents.

Yoongi sweeps his hand through the air, flames gathering at his fingertips before igniting into roaring streams of fire. He hurls them toward the convoy, and in seconds, engines erupt one after another, metal bursting into bloom, a chain of violent, scorching explosions lighting up the street.

But the cost for Jeongguk is something else. Immediate and devastating. The strain is too much. A wave of nausea and blinding pain overwhelms him. He stumbles; his control shatters. The few locks still levitating by his sides drop on the ground. He collapses to his knees, a choked gasp escaping his lips. 

"JEONGGUK!"

Jimin’s voice is faint, but Jeongguk hears it over the whistling winds around him. He can hear several of his peers screaming at each other, it only lasts a few seconds, before darkness engulfs him.

⟡

"Jeongguk," Jimin breathes,  blindly rushing forward. Jimin collides with him, looking for any sign of life. "Hey! Look at me!" Jimin slaps Jeongguk's cheek lightly, desperation clawing at his throat.

Beside him, Yoongi curses, redoubling his efforts to hold the agents back with a relentless barrage of debris.

The dropship’s spotlight flickers back to life, finding them. A shot rings out. A rubber strikes Jimin in the shoulder, a sickening thud that jolts his body. Jimin screams in pain. He hooks his hands under Jeongguk’s arms and starts to drag him backwards. Yoongi and Giselle provide a frantic retreat; their combined powers are strong enough to buy them time as they send an energy shield that sends half of the agents flying several meters backward. 

Jimin succeeds in dragging them both off the bridge and into the cover of the trees on the hillside; he collapses, gasping, next to Jeongguk’s unconscious form. Yoongi and Giselle land beside them a moment later, both breathing heavily.

Jimin looks down at Jeongguk, at the blood trickling from his nose and the open wound on his shoulder.

"No. No, no, no," Jimin’s voice trembles. "Fuck—fuck—"

"Jimin—"

"What do I do—fuck—hyung—w-what do I do?"

It’s Suga who brings a finger to Jeongguk’s neck to check his pulse. 

"Fuck," he curses.

Acting on instinct, Jimin reaches into his jacket with trembling fingers, pulling out the single, precious antidote. A-01.

"Junghyun, this better fucking work," Jimin whispers.

He uncaps the syringe, slides Jeongguk's collar to reveal his neck, and counts to three. 

1—2—3

He plants the needle right into Jeongguk's neck vein. 

For a long, terrifying moment, nothing happens. Then, Jeongguk’s body convulses. A low, pained groan escapes his lips. His back arches off the ground, and a faint, golden energy, wild and untamed, crackles over his skin before receding. His breathing deepens, evening out. The deathly pallor begins to recede from his face.

Jimin slumps in relief, his body trembling with adrenaline and fear. Yoongi watches, his expression unreadable, while Giselle keeps a nervous watch on the path behind them.

Then Jeongguk comes to consciousness abruptly, he gasps, his eyes flying open. Jimin clamps a hand over his mouth, firm but not rough.

"Shh, it's me. It's Jimin. Breathe," Jimin whispers in his ear.  

Jeongguk tries to sit up, but it seems like the wound on his shoulder forces him back down with a groan. 

"Don’t move," Jimin whispers above him. He's exhausted and can feel the bruises under his eyes, his pink hair is matted with dirt and sweat. But he stays hyper-alert at all costs. "They’re still searching. Maybe two hundred meters out."

Jeongguk gives a slight, weak nod. Jimin slowly removes his hand.

"Jeongguk, can you speak?" Jimin pleads. Jeongguk swallows laboriously, and then exhales, shuddering.

"Where's the… the antidote?" Jeongguk rasps. "Where is it?"

Jimin’s lips press into a thin line. He taps Jeongguk's chest twice with his finger. "Gone. I used it."

Upon saying it, Jimin realizes the meaning of it all. It's the only known antidote. The key to destroy what the SCC created. Spent. Gone. Sure, they have all of Junghyun's documents on how to produce it, but it will take so much more time.

Jeongguk's expression changes to one of guilt. "Gone?" Jeongguk pauses, his limbs shaking as he holds himself up. "You shouldn’t have—"

"Don’t," Jimin cuts him off. "Don’t you dare. You were dying. Your brain was cooking itself from the inside out. It was either that or watch you turn into a supernova on that hill." He looks away, jaw tight. 

The sound of a dog barking, closer this time, snaps them both back to the present. Jimin’s head swivels, his body coiling like a spring.

"Can you walk?" Suga asks.

Jeongguk pushes himself up onto his elbows, then to a sitting position. "I can walk."

"Good. But we need to run," Giselle says. 

Jimin helps him to his feet, and for a moment, Jeongguk has to lean heavily on the smaller man, his legs trembling.  They move, a hobbling, desperate retreat deeper into the forest. Jimin leads the way with an instinctual sense of direction, avoiding clear paths and sticking to the thickest undergrowth. Jeongguk focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.

After what feels like an eternity, the sounds of pursuit begin to fade. They find a shallow creek and wade through it for a hundred meters, a crude but effective way to break their scent trail. On the other side, hidden within a dense thicket of brambles and fallen trees, Jimin finally stops.

"Here. We rest. Five minutes."

Jeongguk slumps against a moss-covered log, his chest heaving. The first hints of dawn are painting the sky a soft grey. In the dim light, he looks at Jeongguk properly. The man is shivering slightly in his damp clothes, his knuckles scraped raw from fighting.

"You turned back for me," Jeongguk says quietly. It doesn't sound like an accusation, nor is it just gratitude. "You risked…"

Jimin refuses to meet Jeongguk's gaze as a faint blush creeps up his neck. 

"Well, someone had to," he mutters, picking at his nails. "You were making a scene. All that dramatic collapsing. Very extra." He finally risks a glance, his nose scrunched up in a poor attempt at a scoff. "And don't get used to it. My heroic rescues are a limited-time offer."

A ghost of a smile touches Jeongguk’s lips. "We make one heel of a team."

It doesn't completely click that he just risked everything—the antidote, his life—for Jeongguk. And still, he finds himself thinking he'd do it a thousand times to him safe.

"Jeongguk… How do you feel? Really?"

Jeongguk closes his eyes, turning his focus inward.

"I feel… empty," he says, opening his eyes to meet Jimin’s worried gaze. "But in a good way. It feels like a room that has been cleared of clutter after years of disorganization. The power is there. It’s just… quiet."

Jimin lets out a long, slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction. "We don’t know for sure if that worked. But it’s a positive sign. And it brought you back."

"Hold up—there’s movement up ahead." Suga murmurs, hand raised, eyes narrowing through the dark.

But Jimin isn’t confident enough that Jeongguk can run and escape now. 

⟡

Suga steps forward, flames curling over his palms instinctively as he prepares to strike, but Giselle grabs his wrist. "Don’t blast first."

Jimin shifts ever so slightly closer to Jeongguk. Even without looking, Jeongguk can feel him tensing. He hasn’t realized how used he’s grown to that presence, how he’s begun to rely on the way Jimin breathes beside him.

Footsteps crunch through the underbrush.

Jeongguk straightens.

He knows their rhythms before he sees their faces.

Hoseok first, then Taehyung, lurking behind him. Winter stands close to Adora. They break through the tree line, stopping when they see him.

Them.

Hoseok’s eyes widen just slightly while Taehyung’s brows pinch, confused. 

And Jeongguk has never felt more exposed in his life. Nothing to hide behind. Just the truth he’s still learning how to say.

Winter’s voice is the first to cut through the silence. Sharp, trembling with something like betrayal. "You absolute idiot."

The words hit harder than any of the SCC’s accusations. They sink into his ribs, a weight he deserves. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Suga raises a hand towards the group, and in a second, phones, trackers, and communication units—every device on every belt—sputter, spark, and die at once. 

"Now we can talk," he says. 

Winter steps forward. "What the—"

"Back off before I blow you up."

Taehyung comes in front of her, boots sinking softly into the mud until he’s close enough to Suga to nudge him with his shoulder. There’s something warm in Taehyung’s voice when he speaks—too familiar, too casual for the others not to notice.

"Yoongi, don’t be dramatic," he says.

Yoongi doesn’t turn his head, but one brow rises, the barest twitch. "I could," he mutters, fingers still poised like he’s ready to burn down half the trees in Seoul.

Taehyung huffs out a quiet laugh—one that’s meant just for Yoongi, even if the whole world is listening. "You won’t," he says, low and sure, like someone who’s gotten away with telling him what to do before.

"How the fuck do you know each other?" Jeongguk blurts out, because apparently his brain has decided subtlety has left him.

Taehyung glances at him, eyes glinting with mischief and something softer beneath it. A faint, barely-there smile plays at his lips. "You’re not the only one with secrets," he starts—just as Yoongi deadpans, "We fuck."

Jeongguk’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again. "You—what? Like—currently?"

Yoongi shrugs, lazy, ruthlessly unbothered. "Sometimes."

Taehyung bumps his shoulder into Yoongi’s again, rolling his eyes. "Don’t make it sound weird."

"Oh, I apologize," Yoongi says dryly. "Let me rephrase. We have consensual adult intimacy on a semi-regular basis, usually whenever he needs to shut me up."

Taehyung turns bright red. "Hyung—"

"Oh, now you use honorifics?" Adora cackles.

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, groaning into his palm. "This is not what I meant by ‘Now we can talk'."

Taehyung just lifts a brow. "Well, you asked for it."

"Can we just—can you all shut up for one second?" Hoseok cuts in, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s aged ten years in five minutes. "We’re not supposed to be doing this. We’re… We’re supposed to be hunting you. They sent us out here to drag you back in, but—"

He blows out a shaky breath, eyes darting between Jimin and Jeongguk, the truth cracking through his composure.

"None of us can do that without knowing what the hell is going on."

It’s the crack in Hoseok’s voice that almost brings Jeongguk to his knees. How many lies has he already fed them? How many more will pile up before this is over? So he forces himself to meet their eyes. To stand straight. To speak like a man who has earned their respect, instead of someone tearing it apart.

"Don't trust the SCC—they're... not as good as they say." His words shake. He stops, breathing. "They've been lying to us. I have proof. Real proof. And once you see it, you won’t be able to unsee it."

Jeongguk doesn’t have the strength to tell the story further. He doesn’t have the words, either, so it’s Yoongi who steps up and says that he’ll explain everything that happened. 

Winter’s face falters. Hoseok… Hoseok studies him, like he’s trying to recognize the friend, the partner in him.  Jeongguk doesn’t blame him.

"This is not a joke, is it?" Hoseok asks. 

"No," Jimin says. 

"Just have faith." "One last time," Jeongguk whispers. "We've known each other for what? Twenty years? It would be silly to not trust now."

Everyone falls silent at Jeongguk's words. His head is still on Jimin’s shoulder, and he doesn’t lift it. He knows how selfish it is. He knows how dangerous it is to ask. He also knows that without them—without what they know, without what they represent—his fight means nothing.

"What if he's using mind control to make you say this now? How do we know Jeongguk?" Hoseok says. 

"I…"

"Quick. What’s two plus two?" Taehyung asks. 

Jeongguk stares at him. "Four?"

Everyone's silent. Winter sighs. "It’s still four even if he’s not brainwashed, Tae."

Taehyung considers this. "Alright. That checks out."

"The control only works if he’s touching someone." Jeongguk makes a point to move slightly away from Jimin's body. "See? I promise, this isn’t a trap. Even though you’ve got every reason to think it is."

"Maybe it's—" Jimin cuts himself off. He whips his head towards the right because of a sound in the distance. He plunges his hand inside his jacket and pulls out a dagger. 

"Shit," Giselle curses. "What the fuck was that?"

"We don't have time," Jimin continues, "We can't stay here. Come to our den if you're feeling brave and need more answers. But make sure nothing and nobody can track you down there."

Taehyung’s voice sounds hollow. "If we show up... they will know."

"I think they'll find out you met us sooner than you think," Jimin says, sternly. "Look, all your electronic devices are disconnected. That screams suspicious already. So you’d better figure out how to slip past them starting now. You're not safe either."

"I can’t believe this," Winter says, lacing her fingers on the crown of her head as she stares out at the mountainous skyline. "This is like—this is straight-up fiction. It’s not supposed to be like this."

Hoseok exhales through his nose, resigned. "Time?"

"Midnight," Jimin answers. "Get in through the flood tunnels near Ahyeon-dong. I'll wait for you there."

Taehyung scrubs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "This is insane," he mutters.

Yoongi snorts. "You know what else is insane? When you and—"

"Yoongi," Jeongguk interrupts him. 

"Yes?"

"Stop being an asshole."

The sigh that Suga heaves is so dramatic that despite the fact that he wants to collapse and scream and sob from pain, Jeongguk finds himself laughing weakly as Jimin snorts, nudging Jeongguk.

Jeongguk watches them disappear one by one; they step back into the trees, their shapes swallowed by darkness.

Jimin’s hand hovers near his elbow—just a reassuring presence.

"You did good," he says softly.

Though he is free from the SCC’s control and the predetermined countdown to a fiery death, he is now a fugitive, hunted, with a target on his back and a seven-year-old daughter he must protect at all costs.

"We’re not free yet," Jeongguk corrects softly as he pushes himself to his feet, his body still protesting but his mind clearer than it has ever been. 

Jeongguk’s hand comes up, cupping Jimin’s jaw. His thumb strokes over the bruise, a silent apology, a promise. He can feel the frantic beat of Jimin’s pulse against his palm.

"Jimin," he breathes.

Jimin’s answer is to rise onto his toes and close the distance.

The kiss is filled with desperation and relief, all crashing together. A small, broken sound escapes his throat, like a sob, and he kisses back with a ferocity that matches Jeongguk’s own. When they finally break apart, gasping for air, their foreheads rest together. Jimin’s lips are swollen, his breathing ragged. A slow, real, unguarded smile—the first Jeongguk had ever truly seen—spread across his face. It’s brighter than the future that awaits them. 

⟡

"Do you have proof?"

"Yes."

"Can I see it?"

"Yes."

"Was Jeongguk about to die earlier?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to kill Director Kim?"

"No. Well, it depends."

"Is it—"

"Enough with the questions."

"But if—"

"Shhhh."

"He’s still out, huh?" Yoongi’s voice is a low rasp beside him.

Jeongguk hears them all, though he can barely see through half-closed eyes. Yoongi is lazily spinning a throwing star between his fingers. Jeongguk feels dizzy but not lost—just caught between worlds. He lies on a worn, threadbare blanket spread over a simple cot, surrounded by scattered tools and weathered crates.  

"He pushed himself too far," Jimin says softly. He's crouching beside Jeongguk, watching every faint rise of his chest. "And he came back from it. His body is recalibrating. It’s not just physical. It’s… unlearning a lifetime of limits."

Giselle, aka Aeri from her real name, tosses a can to Yoongi, who catches it without looking. She hands another to Jimin, her gaze lingering on the others—Hoseok, Winter, Adora, Taehyung, and Namjoon— who started whispering to themselves in the corner of the room. 

"How are they handling the existential crisis?" Aeri asks. 

Jimin cracks open the beer, the hiss is loud in the quiet space, then settles down close to Jeongguk. "Better than Jeongguk did. They're… pragmatic. Angry, but it’s a cold anger. The kind that’s not impulsive."

Yoongi takes a long drink of his beer. "Throughout their lives, they relied on the wrong system. They now have to decide who to be without it. That changes people right away."

Aeri clears her throat and addresses Jimin. "You’ve been staring at him for, like, the last ten minutes."

Jimin's cheeks color a faint pink. He looks away, focusing on a rust stain on the concrete floor that vaguely resembles a flower. "I’m making sure he doesn’t stop breathing."

"Sure you are," Aeri chimes in, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She drops onto a stack of old tires, kicking her legs up. "How’d they take the news that their favorite villains are the good guys?"

Suga shakes his head. "They know we’re not ‘good guys.’ We’re just the only ones who aren’t lying to them regarding that subject. There’s a difference." He takes a sip of the beer, the cheap, bitter taste grounding him. "They're solid. More than I expected. Junghyun was right about Jeongguk, too. There’s a core of steel in there, under all this loyalty and good boy issues."

Yoongi flicks his wrist, and the throwing star embeds itself with a thwack into a wooden support beam across the room, dead center of a knot in the wood.

"Steel or not, he's a liability," Aeri says. "He’s the most wanted man in the city at the moment. The SCC will burn the world to find him now."

"They were already going to burn it," Jimin counters, his voice hardening. "They just planned to do it quietly, one Super at a time. Now, they have to do it in the open. Jeongguk… he’s a symbol. The one who got away. His defection is a crack in their foundation. We can use that."

"Use him, you mean," Aeri says, her tone sharp.

Jimin meets her gaze, his own unwavering. "Yes. And he’ll use us. That’s what partnership is."

Jeongguk stirs, groaning softly to signal that he's awake. His eyes flutter open, blinking against the dim light. For a moment, his gaze remains unfocused. Eventually, it settles on Jimin, and something in his expression shifts.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Aeri calls out, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

Jeongguk pushes himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly. His eyes move around the room, taking in Yoongi by the door, Aeri on the tires, and Jimin standing guard. Everyone on his team is leaning against the wall and looking quite alarmed. He knows the feeling. He had quite a freak-out when he learned all this.

"Hey." Winter approaches.

"Are you going to bail on us again like a damsel in distress?" Hoseok asks.

"Fuck you," Jeongguk groans, laughing as he adjusts his sleeve.

"Mind you," Namjoon cuts in, phone in hand, "he just received a dose of an untested antidote. For all we know, he could be mutating into a beast as we speak."

Jeongguk freezes mid-laugh. "A what now?"

"Relax. If you start growing claws and a tail, we’ll… I don’t know. Take pictures?" Hoseok reaches over and grabs Jeongguk’s hand, and Jeongguk squeezes it. Immediately, they both know what that means—but still, Jeongguk feels the need to ask.

"Are we good?" Jeongguk asks, wiping his palms on his pants and swallowing the lump in his throat as he waits. 

Namjoon curses quietly into the phone, then lowers it. "Of fucking course we're good, Jeongguk-ah."

"Namjoon Hyung."

"What?"

"Don't tell Seokjin, alright?"

"He's on the phone as we speak."

"Fuck."

"Okay, maybe you all want to see this," Yoongi says.

The screen flickers to life and turns to a major news network. A "BREAKING NEWS" banner screams in red across the bottom. Jeongguk's official SCC portrait, in his black and gold uniform, is in the center of the screen. 

"—shocking development in the ongoing manhunt for former Super JK, real name Jeon Jeongguk," the anchor is saying. "The Supers’ Command Center has just released an official statement, confirming earlier rumors that JK has not merely gone rogue but has actively turned against the organization and the citizens he once swore to protect."

Jeongguk has gone preternaturally still, his gaze locked on the screen. His brow furrows, and he begins to shake his head, a slow, disbelieving denial that is more devastating than any shout.

The screen cuts to a press conference. Director Kim Wookeun stands at a podium, the SCC seal gleaming behind him. His expression is one of profound, statesmanlike disappointment.

"It is with a heavy heart that I confirm the rebellion and betrayal of Jeon Jeongguk," Director Kim’s voice booms. "Intelligence gathered over the past 72 hours has provided incontrovertible evidence that he has been conspiring with the known known villain calling himself ‘Baby G.’. His actions are a direct threat to national security. He is no longer the hero you knew. He is a rogue asset, dangerous and deluded."

The screen splits, showing Jeongguk’s photo next to grainy, clearly doctored footage of him standing next to Jimin at the Namsan Tower. 

Jimin mutes the TV. 

"This is ridiculous," Taehyung spits. 

"They…" Jeongguk’s voice is a dry croak. He clears his throat, trying to find the air. "They’re painting me as a traitor. To the entire fucking country."

"They're also saying you stole classified projects," Yoongi adds, only to earn a sharp slap from Taehyung.

Jeongguk barks a laugh. Hysterical. Probably his way of dealing with the news, with the loss of everything, with the unknown that awaits him. It's the sound of a man watching the foundations of his entire life crumble into ash. Then, something fractures within him. His shoulders slump, and his voice drops to a shattered whisper, all the fight draining out of him as he confronts his deepest fear.

"Byeol…" he whispers. "She'll see this. She'll see them calling her father a traitor. A fucking monster."

Namjoon steps forward first, crouching slightly to meet Jeongguk’s trembling form. He rests a steady hand on his shoulder. "Hey… hey, look at me. You’re not alone in this. None of this changes who you are. You hear me? You’re still you."

Hoseok cuts through and steals a hug, and Jeongguk gets sandwiched in as Winter, Adora and Taehyung join. To the left, Jeongguk can hear Seokjin’s voice through the phone in Namjoon's hand, which means that somehow, they were all convened in the same place, and they were likely all huddled waiting to hear what happened after.

Jeongguk’s hands shake as they hang limply by his sides. His eyes are glossy, fixed somewhere beyond the walls around them.

"We’ve got you now," Hoseok says. 

A ragged, broken sound tears from Jeongguk’s throat, and he turns away from them, his shoulders curling in.

He doesn’t just cry; he crumples. He slides down the wall, burying his face in his hands, his body wracked with silent, shuddering sobs. It’s the despair of a man who has lost everything.

"She'll never be safe. She'll never have a normal life. They'll use her to get to me, or..."

Jimin slowly sinks to his knees in front of Jeongguk, ignoring the dust and grime on the floor. He doesn’t try to pull Jeongguk's hands away. He simply waits. After a long moment, Jeongguk’s sobs quiet down to hitching breaths. He finally lowers his hands, revealing red-rimmed, hopeless eyes.

"Jimin..." he whispers, his voice wrecked. 

"I know," Jimin says, his voice incredibly soft. 

He reaches out and gently wipes a tear from Jeongguk's cheek with his thumb. 

"Listen to me," Jimin says. "We are going to protect her. No matter what. You hear me?"

He leans forward, his forehead nearly touching Jeongguk's, his voice dropping to a fierce, intimate whisper.

"You are her father. And you are the man who is going to tear down the entire corrupt system that threatens her. We are going to clear your name. We are going to make the world safe for her. For everyone. I promise you this."

He cups Jeongguk's face, forcing him to hold his gaze. "You are not alone in this. Your fight is mine now. I will burn this city to the ground before I let anything happen to your family. Do you understand me?"

The promise isn’t empty; it’s a vow, forged in the same fire that has consumed Jeongguk's old life. Jeongguk’s brain hurts. He’s only one person, and he can’t stop this whole system on his own. He can’t stop the narrative that's being told about him, can't tell people what to think, what to believe.

"I have an idea," Jimin whispers, dropping his head on top of Jeongguk's head. "And I need you to trust me."

A fresh tear traces a path on Jeongguk's cheek, but this one is different. It's a tear of relief, of a burden shared. 

⟡

The sound of computers and the rain hitting the roof almost drowns out Jeongguk's low voice as he says, "It's all here." He carefully scrolls through the folder that is hidden behind layers of encryption. Secret reports. Serum tests. Death certificates with big red stamps: FAILURE—DESTROY BODY IN 24 HOURS.

He pauses and takes a breath before opening another file. The screen flashes, and audio logs start playing. It's Director Kim's clipped and mechanical voice telling doctors to let the vaccine go without any problems, which will push Supers to a fatal overcharge at age thirty-five.  

He looks at Hoseok, and the rawness in his eyes shows how worn out he is. "Are you sure about this?"

Hoseok's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course." We're all here.

Yoongi is busy assembling his makeshift broadcast rig; loud clatters of metal hitting metal disrupt their conversation.

"This baby?" he says in a low voice, half-proud and half-sad. "This baby can take over every media network within a 5-mile radius. There are TVs, radios, the internet, billboards, fridge displays, baby monitors, and even smart toasters. People in Seoul will all be watching. And what if someone tries to shut it down? It grows. Every blocked signal makes two more."

Aeri stands with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, leaning against a stack of crates. "You sound far too proud of that, you know."

Yoongi shakes his head. "If a kid can watch YouTube on a fridge, then that fridge can see us expose the government."

Jeongguk holds on to the edge of the table, and the cold steel hurts his hands. The shaking in his fingers isn't because he's cold; it's because of the adrenaline, the sadness, and the heaviness of what he's about to do. As he contemplates all the lives harmed by the SCC's lies, he swallows deeply and feels a surge of bile rising in his throat. People who trusted the system, who were let down, and who were... gone.

"Will it be live?" Taehyung's voice is thin and tight.

Jimin moves forward and puts his hand in Jeongguk's. His touch is steady and grounding. "Yes. Yes, it will. But they need Jeongguk's face. Not ours.

Jeongguk is certain he's right.

People all over the country have been thankful for him and his hard work for years. The Super in gold. Because of Junghyun, people began to call him Golden Super. This fight isn't about getting even or getting revenge; it's about the world seeing the truth from the Golden Super himself. The hero now has proof and a clear mind.

He bears the weight of years of praise, love, and symbolism. And now, that same recognition will be used as a weapon.

He stares at the camera lens, unwavering. In his mind, he pictures Byeol sitting cross-legged on the floor at home, engrossed in cartoons, blissfully unaware of what her father is facing. He hopes that she won't see him as a monster but still as her protector. Her hero.

"Start the broadcast."

⟡

3 months later 

"Don’t you feel… something weird in your body?"

"Nope."

"Not pulled by the moon? Not even a little twinge?" Hoseok presses, leaning closer.

"No?" Jeongguk raises an eyebrow.

"Not even an itch? Or—have you gotten… hairier over the past few months?"

Jeongguk groans. "When will this masquerade end? I am not turning into a beast, for God’s sake."

"That’s exactly what someone turning into a beast would say," Hoseok deadpans, eyes narrowing.

"Dad… You’re really turning into a beast?" Byeol pipes up innocently from the couch, wide eyed.

"Oh my god," Jeongguk groans, running a hand down his face, as if he could physically scrub the absurdity out of the room. "Look. Look at what you’ve done. No, no, honey, I'm not. Dady's not turning into anything."

"I'm enriching her understanding of the world," Hoseok says smartly, playing with her little pigtails. "Is that a crime?"

Seokjin snorts. 

"I’d still let you be my dad even if you were a beast," Byeol tosses out, grinning mischievously from across the room, and everyone burst out laughing. 

"Thank you, baby. I’m so relieved to hear that," he says, standing and gently ruffling her hair. He heads into the kitchen, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a bottle of water.

Namjoon falls into step beside him, eyes quietly tracking Jeongguk. There’s still a trace of worry in his gaze, the kind that lingers even after months of calm. Three months had passed since the chaos, yet neither of them could fully shake the instinct to stay alert for each other and for themselves.

It had all been so sudden. The danger, the accusations, the near-collapse of everything they held dear. And now, with no retaliation, no lurking threat, their minds struggled to reconcile that they had actually made it through intact, victorious, and alive, without having to fight tooth and nail to the bitter end.

After that broadcast, all hell had broken loose.

Families of Supers quickly gathered outside the SCC headquarters, demanding answers, while the police readied themselves to storm the building. Protesters filled the streets, holding signs, screenshots, and pictures of people they cared about who had died or gone missing. The SCC tried to spin a response, as they always did, but this time it didn’t work.

No amount of carefully worded statements could hide the truth. There were still some skeptics, but independent authorities—some of whom were still operating despite the SCC’s influence—were determined to uncover what had really happened.

The organization began to fall apart within forty-eight hours. Intern documents were leaked, whistleblowers delivered damning testimonies, and public outrage over being left in the dark grew exponentially. Director Kim was taken into custody on camera, yelling that he was innocent with all his chest.

Former SCC scientists came forward to testify against the group in exchange for immunity. Investigators swarmed the headquarters, seizing servers and files. Top agents were suspended and eventually arrested. The narrative began to shift: Jeongguk was no longer seen as the traitor the SCC had painted him to be; instead, he was recognized as the Super who had exposed a corrupt system.

In secret labs, progress moved quickly. The serum was given a formal name, Supernova Syndrome, and Jughyun’s research confirmed that there were real antidotes. Copies were made and distributed for safe use. Plans were underway to establish clinics and hospitals to ensure that Supers could receive proper care without fear, making the world a little safer for those who had once been left vulnerable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jimin stepping into the apartment. Without missing a beat, Jimin scoops Byeol into a warm hug, leaning down to whisper something into her ear. Moments later, Byeol dashes back toward him, her small hands clutching a tablet tightly not to make it drop. Jimin follows behind, hands in his pockets, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He watches her with that familiar mix of pride and amusement.

Jeongguk takes the tablet and watches a clip of a reporter talking about him.

He exhales, a mix of annoyance and disbelief. "They really had to use that recruitment poster photo?"

Jimin chuckles. "Hey, you do look super cute in it."

Jeongguk elbows him lightly. "Shut up."

Byeol frowns, wagging a tiny finger. "Dad, you said no swearing!"

"Right. I did say that. Sorry, baby."

Jimin snorts quietly behind them, trying, and failing, to hide a smile.

Then, almost without thinking, Jimin surges forward and kisses him. Instinctively, Jeongguk wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, holding him close. When they finally break apart, both of them breathless, it feels as if the betrayals, the battles, and the endless fear of these past months had never existed. 

He isn’t sure what the future holds or how life will unfold, and to be honest, he doesn’t want to know. What matters is the certainty of the people he loves—his daughter, his friends, his family, and Jimin at his side. With them, there is nothing to fear, no darkness too deep, no storm too fierce.

For the first time in forever, he lets it be enough.

⟡

End.