Marked by your name

At 9AM- Selen's room

The sun light peeked through the curtains, painting soft gold across Selen's blanket-covered legs. But she wasn't looking at the light - she was staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life's biggest question.

"I think I'm gonna do it," she whispered to herself.

No one heard her.

Well, no one should have heard her - until the door creaked open.

"Eliraaaa," Selen groaned as her sister walked in without knocking, armed with a toothbrush and smug energy.

"Do what, exactly?" Elira asked, tilting her head like a cat about to pounce.

Selen sat up and hesitated.

"Propose."

That one word was all it took.

Elira gasped so dramatically it should've won an Oscar. "Oh. My. GOD. To Woo-seok?! Are you okay? Are you sick? You don't even confess to your crushes-you propose?!"

Seeln covered her face with both hands. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

Just then, Nyra barged in holding a bowl of cereal like it was a weapon. "What's going on? I heard the word propose-ARE WE FINALLY DOING SOMETHING STUPID?"

"It's not stupid," Selen mumbled.

"It's adorable," Nyra corrected with a smirk. "And so unlike you. I thought you'd die blushing before even saying hi to Woo-seok."

Elira leaned against the wall dramatically. "Should we start planning the wedding or the funeral of your pride first?"

"I hate both of you," Selen muttered, cheeks burning.

"No, you love us," Nyra said sweetly, plopping beside her. "Just like you loooove Woo-seok."

"Oh my god, stop-"

"Imagine it," Elira grinned. "You walk up to him, dead serious, drop to one knee like, 'Marry me, Woo-seok. Right here. Next to the vending machine.'"

Nyra choked on her cereal from laughing. Selen threw a pillow at both of them.

But under all the teasing, she couldn't stop smiling. Because somewhere in the mess of it, her heart felt warm - and maybe, just maybe, brave.

Nyra recovered from her cereal choking fit just long enough to dramatically hold her spoon like a microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we gather to honor the fall of a legend - our sweet, awkward Selen, who has decided to yeet herself into love headfirst."

Selen rolled her eyes so hard they nearly stuck. "I hate you."

"You say that," Nyra said, "but you're still letting me eat cereal in your bed."

"Okay, but seriously," Elira cut in, climbing onto the bed with a glint in her eye, "how are you gonna do it? Like... ring-in-the-pocket style? Or something painfully you, like a crumpled note passed under his desk?"

"I was thinking..." Selen paused. "Something simple. Heartfelt. Maybe at the café? Just me and him?"

Nyra gasped. "OMG. You want to talk to him?! Like, with your actual voice?"

"Groundbreaking," Elira whispered in fake awe.

Selen grabbed another pillow and whacked her sister with it, but Elira was already laughing too hard to dodge. "You're both annoying."

"But we love you," Nyra beamed, hugging her from the side. "And we fully support your impulsive, emotionally unstable choices."

"I'm not emotionally unstable-"

"You are literally proposing to your crush," Elira said, deadpan.

"You've never even said his name out loud without your voice cracking," Nyra added.

"I swear to god-"

"And now you wanna leap from 'Hi Woo-seok' to 'Please take this hand in marriage,'" Elira mimicking a swoony Selen voice.

Selen let out a dramatic groan and fell back onto her pillow. "I should've just stayed silent forever."

"Aww," Elira said sweetly, patting her head. "But then we'd miss out on this cinematic moment of dumb bitch energy."

"Exactly," Nyra said, clinking her cereal bowl like a toast. "To our brave little idiot."

Selen, despite herself, laughed. The nerves were still there, fluttering wild and fast - but somehow, they didn't feel so scary anymore. Not with her favorite chaos crew dragging her through it.

_______

At Night.

11:06 PM, the Black Vow - a private underground club masked as a high-end cigar lounge.

Laughter filled the room. Forced. Fake. The kind that tastes like fear.

This wasn't merely elite underworld politicking. CEOs, military generals, even the high-ranking law enforcers - all men with skeletons in closets and old ties, one way or another... to him.

Taehyung entered without announcement. The devil needed none. The room reacted before he spoke - conversations dropped, glasses stopped mid-air.

He was dressed in a dark turtleneck, coat draped over his shoulders like a king's cloak. No smile. Just those eyes - calculated, knowing, deadly.

Chairmen of companies bowed slightly. The mayor tried to offer a handshake. Taehyung ignored it.

"Gentlemen," he began, taking a seat at the head of the table where no one else dared sit. "Let's talk about loyalty." His voice - cold.

Everyone stiffened. The word meant something different in his world.

One man, bold or stupid, chuckled nervously.

"You make it sound like we're in a war, Mr. Kim?"

Taehyung's eyes flicked to him.

"Aren't we?"

The man faltered.

Taehyung leaned back, fingers tapping the glass table. "Some of you have been whispering deals behind my back. Tailing shipments I didn't authorize. Funding ghosts who should've stayed buried."

The room goes silent.

Pin-drop.

He placed a phone on the table. A video played - grainy footage of a secret deal. Names. Faces. Proof.

"I built this empire on silence, order, and fear," he said, face stone-cold. "Not betrayal."

Another pause. Controlled tension.

Then, he snapped. Two men dropped - clean and fast.

The rest didn't flinch.

They knew better.

"Anyone else feel brave tonight?"

No one spoke.

Then Taehyung smirked, finally sipping the whiskey. A member nervously parroted, "Good. Let's begin."

He wasn't just part of the underworld -

He was the system they all secretly served.

The room went silent.

The kind of silence that screams.

Taehyung stood slowly. Unhurried. His eyes locked onto the man seated third from the left - Mr. Do, a logistics tycoon with a handshake smile and a backstabbing soul.

"You made three mistakes, Mr. Do," Taehyung walking toward him, eyes cold and face unreadable.

One step. Every eye followed. Two more steps.

Mr. Do's hands trembled.

"One, you thought I wasn't finding out.

Two, you involved outsiders."

He stopped just inches away.

"Three, you dared to smile in my presence like you weren't already dead."

His voice made silver run through spines, in every part of the room.

"P-Please Mr. Kim, it was just business," he whispered, sweating through his designer suit.

"Business?" He tilted his head. "Let's make it personal, then."

He turned to his secretary - Jimin.

"Bring the bag."

Jimin stepped forward, silent and cold, placing a black leather box on the table. Taehyung opened it slowly.

Inside: A hammer, a hunting knife, a blowtorch.

Mr. Do screamed, bolting from his seat - but Taehyung's guards pinned him down, forcing him to his knees, in front of the tools that bore their own legends.

Taehyung crouched, eye-level now. Calm. Serene.

"You broke a blood pact. That means you don't get the easy death."

What followed wasn't just punishment.

It was a performance.

The hammer came first.

Each finger, shattered one by one. Not rushed. Not frenzied. Precise.

Then the knife - Taehyung carved his own name, letter by letter, into the man's chest.

"Let them know whose punishment this was," he said.

By the time the blowtorch hissed to life, no one in the room dared meet his eyes.

A few vomited. One man fainted.

Taehyung stood ,blood splattered on his shirt, not a trace of emotion on his face.

" This is what betrayal cost. Loyalty isn't an option. It's survival."

He scanned the more one more time, dark eyes flickering over trembling hands , averted gazes, and silence so thick it rang in the ears.

""Anyone else," he said "...need a reminder?"

No one moved.

The silence wasn't fear any more - it was worship.

And every man there knew -

They didn't work for Kim Taehyung.

They knelt.

_____

After a moment Taehyung, Jimin and his men leave the underground club.

Taehyung slipped into backseat of the Car. The leather seats were cold beneath him. Blood still dotted the cuff of his shirt.

But Taehyung didn't move.

The city blurred past the windows in streaks of neon and rain.

He'd just reminded a room of kings what fear felt like.

He'd shattered bones, spilled screams across polished floors, carved his name into flesh.

And yet-

His chest felt hollow. His pulse, erratic. His hands still itched. Not from violence.

From something worse.

From wanting her.

He reached into his coat and pulled out the burner phone. Tapped the screen once.

The feed blinked to life. Her apartment.

She was asleep now.

Soft. Curled up under a blanket. Her hair messy against the pillow. One hand tucked beneath her cheek like a secret.

She looked peaceful. She looked like everything he couldn't have.

And it tore him apart.

Because while he sat here, soaked in someone else's blood, she was dreaming.

Probably of Woo-seok.

Taehyung's jaw locked. His teeth ground together until it hurt.

That smug bastard who got to stand across from her in daylight.

Make her laugh.

Hear her say his name.

Taehyung had done everything. Built an empire. Buried enemies.

Set fire to every soul that dared defy him.

And still-

She looked at someone else. She dreamed of someone else.

"Why not me ?"

The question echoed louder than any gunshot.

He turned off the feed.

Tossed the phone aside like it offended him. Ran a hand down his face.

His reflection in the tinted window stared back-tired, wild-eyed, not quite human.

"You idiot. You never told her. Never showed her. Just watched. She saved you once and what you did??.. just leave a mark ?? "

He leaned his head back against the seat. Inhaled deep. But her name still sat at the base of his throat.

She wasn't scared of him.

Not yet.

She wasn't his.

Not yet.

But she would be.

He whispered it to the dark.

To himself. To the world that refused to give her to him.

"You're mine. You just don't know it yet."