His Body Remembers, He Doesn't

Helena's eyes-just before they slipped shut-weren't cruel.

They weren't narrowed with scorn or gleaming with the kind of venom she'd learned to wield like a dagger.

Not sharp enough to slice through steel.

Not cold enough to freeze marrow.

Not like they always were.

Not like they needed to be.

They were... soft. Devastatingly soft.

The kind of soft that led to a quite spreading in his insides.

A kind of quiet he hadn't seen in years-eight years that had mangled them both into ghosts of who they were supposed to be. Unknown to him.

As if, just for that brief flicker of a heartbeat, she didn't see a threat in front of her.

Didn't see a killer, a monster, a name that echoed in bloodied corridors.

Didn't see JK-the Red Dragon heir, the forged weapon, the blade.

She saw him.

Junseo.

The boy who used to flinch at thunder.

The one who once thought monsters only lived under beds.

The little bunny.

And God-he hated it.

He hated how that ridiculous nickname still sat tucked away in his chest, stubborn and breathing.

He hated how it unfurled in him, aching with the memory of warm laps and whispered promises-

"Don't cry. Bunnies don't cry."

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because for a second-just one raw, traitorous second-he wanted to believe her again.

But he couldn't.

He wasn't that boy. Not anymore.

That boy was a liability.

That boy got his mother killed and hyungs tortured to teach him a lesson.

That boy, who once buried his face in a noona's sweater to muffle sobs,

who once held her hand in crowded places like she could keep the world away-

Was nowhere to be found-at least not when he wore the Red Dragon's mask.

Junseo had buried him.

Shovel after shovel of grief and grit and steel was buried deep within him.

He'd let that boy rot in the dirt while he sharpened himself into something unrecognizable.

And she-his noona-she had vanished like smoke before he could even ask why.

Like she'd been a fever dream, conjured by pain and snuffed out by time.

But his body remembered.

His skin still knew her.

And beneath the scars, his traitor heart twisted with every second of remembering.

Yet he didn't remember. He was still oblivious that the woman in his hold was his noona.

Hyunjae was already by the door, but then paused mid-step and glanced back sensing the shift.

Slower than usual. Careful.

Like he could feel it-the fracture.

The thread unraveling in Jungkook's gaze.

"Something wrong, JK?" Jimin's siren like voice filled the dead silent bar.

Junseo's voice came out low, brittle.

Like a blade dragged across ice.

"No."

But the lie echoed like a loaded gun.

Taeyang paused, just behind Junseo, something unreadable darkened his pitch-black eyes.

His usually relaxed, lionlike posture froze-just for a moment.

A heartbeat's hesitation.

But enough.

Enough to showcase how much he was affected by the youngest's troubles.

Because Junseo's hands had betrayed him.

As he shifted Helena's unconscious form against his body, his fingers-goddamn fingers-lingered.

Pressed gently against the curve of her cheek.

Like he was terrified this was the last time even though he didn't know why he wanted to memorise her skin. Perhaps because she was the kind of ghost no one could touch-not without dying the next second. He tried to convince himself.

And then-

He shut it off.

Just like that-he became unreachable. Cold. A machine. Forged, not born, by his father's hand.

The bar fell into a silence so unnatural it hummed in his ears.

Not even a whisper dared interrupt.

No clink of glass. No breath.

Only the hollow weight of what had just happened.

He slung her over his shoulder.

Like she meant nothing.

Like she was a package. A mission. A name on a file.

Not Helena.

Certainly not her. But who would tell him, she was.

He stared straight ahead, jaw locked.

Eyes dead.

Because if he looked down-

If he let himself feel even a sliver of warmth-

He'd remember.

And remembering was fatal.

Memories led to feelings. Feelings led to mercy.

And mercy had no place in their world.

Not now.

Not when Helena-Black Panther boss-had walked into their goddamn bar like a ghost in heels.

Not when Jaehyun would burn the world down if he found out.

So Junseo did what he always did.

What he'd trained himself to do.

He built walls.

He poured concrete over his nerves.

He buried the boy. Again.

And he carried her forward.

Like she was nothing.

Unaware she had once been everything.

He kept whispering it to himself-

This isn't her.

It can't be her.

There's no universe where the girl who once dry-heaved at the sight of his bruises-who curled around him like he was something to be protected-could become this.

This storm.

This stranger.

This mafia queen wrapped in silk and gunpowder.

Any other woman, and he'd already have her cornered, bleeding truths with just words.

But this was Helena.

And so he lied to himself.

Because the alternative?

It would break him.

He glanced down once-just once-at her face.

Unmoving. Peaceful, even.

But her breaths... they were too measured. Too calculated.

As though she wasn't asleep, she was hiding.

And suddenly the vanilla scent clinging to her filled his nostrils.

It was a weapon.

Laced now with the metallic tang of gunpowder and familiarity.

But that was impossible. His noona was long gone. Somewhere in the states, maybe. Or worse-forgotten.

And then-ping. ping. ping.

All three phones lit up.

Namjoon:

Me and YG will arrive in a few hours-we're at the global base.

SJ, take charge. First, hypnotize everyone in the bar. Erase the last hour.

Then regroup at Seoul base.

JS, TY & HJ-bring her in.

And don't you dare take your eyes off her.