The Madness

The night air was gentle, almost teasing, as the motorcycle came to a stop in front of the dormitory building. The soft hum of the engine faded, replaced by the chirping of distant insects and the city's sleepy rhythm. Karna—known to the world as Yamazaki Gun—killed the engine with a twist, resting his gloved hands on the handlebars.

Lisa hopped off the back, her movements smooth, casual, like nothing had just happened. Like she hadn't just gone on the most dangerous, thrilling ride of her life. Like her arms hadn't been around the waist of a man who radiated the energy of war and worship in equal measure. Like her heart wasn't screaming in confusion and heat.

The dorm's lights were dim. Her bandmates were probably asleep, unaware that Lisa Manoban had just returned from riding behind a myth. A legend. A man built by violence and reborn by fate.

She turned to him with a light smirk. But there was something else in her eyes—something darker. Curious. Vulnerable.

"Gun," she said softly. The name slipped off her tongue like a lover's whisper. He looked at her without flinching, his eyes unreadable under the low streetlight.

"Yeah?"

Lisa paused, unsure why the question was rising from the depths of her mind. Maybe it was the way he moved through the world like a ghost dressed in leather and blood. Maybe it was how he made her feel like a person instead of a product. Or maybe it was the madness she felt slowly unraveling her from the inside out.

"Hypothetically," she began, her fingers curling slightly at her side, "if we were together... would you burn down the world for me if I ask you? Like you said you would before?"

He didn't hesitate.

Not even a breath.

"Yes."

The way he said it—low, certain, absolute—sent shivers down her spine. There was no dramatic flair in his voice. No poetry. No sweet nothings. Just brutal, honest devotion. As if she was asking whether he would take a bullet for her, and the answer had always been yes.

Lisa's lips parted slightly. Her throat tightened.

"Goodnight," she managed.

"Goodnight, Lisa," he said, revving the bike.

And just like that, he was gone.

Lisa stood there, rooted, frozen, silent.

And something inside her snapped.

Not like a twig.

Like chains.

It started as a silence. Then came the breathlessness. Her lungs forgot what air was. Her chest tightened like someone had clenched her soul in their fist.

That one word. That one damn word had unraveled her completely.

She should have walked up those stairs. Should have gone back to her life. But her feet felt like iron stakes, bolted to that concrete. Her heart was slamming inside her ribs—not like excitement. Not like nerves. It was something darker. Something savage. Yet something soft also.

Something primal.

Mine.

The thought didn't feel like hers. It rose from the pit of her stomach, hot and raw, like a snarl.

He's mine.

She didn't know him. Not really. Just two meetings. A handful of hours. But it didn't matter. She knew him. Like wolves knew blood. Like dying stars recognized their twins. Like the way black holes pulled galaxies into their arms and whispered, shh, let go.

Lisa turned her head slowly, eyes still fixed on the fading trail of his bike, the echo of its roar still screaming in her ears.

The world had gone mute.

Her career, the dorm, the music, the lights, the flash of cameras, the chants of fans, the endless swirl of fame—it all faded. It was dust. White noise.

Only he remained.

She breathed, finally. Her exhale was sharp, trembling, like she'd just emerged from underwater. Her legs began to move, one step toward the stairs.

Step.

His face burned in her mind.

Step.

The way his voice rumbled low when he promised chaos for her.

Step.

The way his hands looked on the bike, calm but ready to rip reality apart.

Step.

She was climbing now. Up to the dorm. But it felt like a spiral into obsession. Into madness.

Mine.

She touched the railing like it might melt under her grip.

I want it all.

Gun's love wasn't just soft. It wasn't just flowers or sunshine or safe kisses in the rain. It was jagged. War-born. The kind of love that would rip open his chest and tear his heart out if she asked.

And Lisa wanted that.

No.

She needed it.

Not the public kind of love. Not holding hands at awards or giving couple interviews. Not pastel romance.

She wanted the dark. The unspoken. The violent. The love that only want her and nothing else.

She wanted him to look at her like he'd kill the world if she cried.

She wanted his knives. His scars. His devotions, painted in blood and ink.

And in return—

She'd destroy the world.

No one would touch him. No one would look at him. Not unless they wanted their last moments to be a masterpiece of suffering.

A scream caught in her throat. A laugh. A sob. She didn't know. But she bit her lip until it bled just to keep it in.

Lisa reached the landing, the cold steel vibrating under her boots. The door was a few feet away, and beyond it—normalcy. Reality.

But this wasn't Lisa anymore.

This was his Lisa.

She'd kill for him.

Not just protect him. Not just defend. She'd murder with her bare hands. Drown the world in red if it meant one more night, one more moment, one more second in that electrified silence on his bike.

Fuck the stage.

Fuck the choreography.

Fuck the stylists and diets and interviews.

Let it all burn.

Because when he said yes without hesitation—without flinching—he gave her a piece of his damn soul.

And now, she had to have all of it.

Her fingers twitched at her side, aching to hold a weapon, a chain, anything to stake her claim.

Her mouth curved into a smile that wasn't really a smile—it was teeth. It was warning.

He didn't know it yet. But he had already been marked.

Gun didn't fall for a pop princess.

He had summoned a storm.

A dark, furious, starved goddess cloaked in skin and Chanel.

Lisa leaned her head against the doorframe, letting her forehead thud softly against the cool metal. Her breath fogged the surface as her heartbeat throbbed like war drums.

He's mine.

And I will become the villain this world fears if it means I can have him.

The wind shifted behind her. Somewhere far off, she thought she heard the dying echo of his bike.

Her breathing was ragged now, shallow and sharp, like a wild animal who had just discovered its true strength.

Gun wasn't a man.

He was hers.

Not only a soulmate.

But also a mate.

Like a wolf.

And wolves? They only mate once. For life. Or for death.

Lisa's body ached with it—the realization. Her knees buckled slightly. She gripped the wall like she was holding onto reality by her fingernails.

She wanted him with a madness and devotion that scared her.

She wanted his time. His mind. His hands. His violence. His shadows. His care. His love.

Every inch of him. Even the pieces that bled.

Especially those.

The image of him on that bike, fading into the distance… it burned into her mind. He didn't look back. Didn't wait for her to say anything else. Didn't flirt or fumble or try to be charming.

He just said yes.

And rode away.

And now she was on fire.

Every breath she took was laced with poison. Every step she climbed was a war cry.

Gun was hers. Every scar. Every secret. Every sin.

And the thought—just the thought—of someone else touching him?

No.

She'd kill.

And not just kill. She'd make it a message.

She would skin the soul from their body with the precision of a surgeon and the creativity of a psychopath. She would carve her name into their bones and feed their ashes to the crows.

No one touches him.

Not even in their dreams.

Not even in death.

She climbed the last step and stopped. Just short of the door.

Lisa blinked, then smiled.

Not the smile she gave her fans. Not the sweet one she wore in photos. Not the fake one she'd perfected for press conferences.

This smile?

It was unhinged.

It was primal.

It reeked of lust, of murder, of possession so deep it rewrote the very concept of love.

It was the kind of smile that could make death itself tremble.

Gun didn't know it yet.

But he had just become the center of her entire universe.

And Lisa?

She wasn't letting go.

Ever.

Even if she had to destroy herself in the process.

Jennie POV:

The night had fallen, and the dim streetlights lit up the sidewalks with a soft, golden glow. Jennie stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the quiet street below. She watched as Lisa's motorcycle slowly pulled up to the dorm entrance. Her heart raced a little, though she couldn't quite place why. The motorcycle's engine sputtered to a halt, and Lisa swung off the bike with grace, turning to give Gun a small wave. He nodded, his cold, indifferent eyes locking onto hers, and she asked something and he answered it then a silent goodbye. The bike's engine sputtered into silence, and with that, Gun disappeared into the night.

For a moment, Jennie stared at the fading tail light of Gun's motorcycle. The man who had roasted them all with ease, the one who didn't hesitate to tear them apart with his words, had agreed to help Lisa. He actually agreed to help her? Jennie's mind was still wrapping around that fact when she whipped out her phone, firing off a quick message to the others.

"HEY! EVERYONE! LISA JUST GOT DROPPED OFF BY HIM!!!"

Moments later, her phone buzzed as replies flooded in.

"WAIT WHAT???"

"HOW IS SHE STILL ALIVE?!"

"Did he throw her off the bike?!"

Jennie grinned. "Well, the fact that she's alive says a lot, doesn't it?"

As she tapped away at the screen, the other girls began trickling into the common room. Jisoo, Rosé, and the others were just as confused, equally incredulous about the sudden change in Lisa's mysterious ally. No one could quite fathom the man who seemed like a literal stone wall, a creature devoid of anything resembling emotion, suddenly offering help to their beloved Lisa.

"Can't believe he actually helped her," Jisoo said, plopping down on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself like she was about to settle in for a Netflix binge.

"Right?" Jennie replied. "The guy who practically roasted us alive in front of the whole damn city just drove her home like a gentleman? Something doesn't add up."

Rosé glanced out the window, blinking in confusion. "He doesn't even know how to smile. How does he do it?"

"Yeah," Jisoo added, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think he might be an actual psychopath."

They all giggled nervously, but not one of them noticed the slight tension in Jennie's posture. She had been the only one watching Lisa's reaction from the moment Gun had said goodbye. Jennie saw something in Lisa's eyes before she left the bike, something too dark to pinpoint, but undeniably there.

"Oh, here she comes," Rosé said as Lisa started heading up the stairs, her silhouette visible through the window.

Lisa's movements were strangely slow, almost deliberate, as if she wasn't rushing to join her friends but savoring each step, each breath. It was subtle, so subtle that no one could detect the quiet turmoil in her chest.

"Why's she taking so long?" Jisoo chuckled. "What's going on, Lisa? Did you forget your keys or something?"

Lisa's laughter echoed up the stairs, soft and melodic, but there was something unsettling in it—a faintness in her voice that no one could quite hear. She finally reached the door, pushing it open slowly.

"Lisa!" Rosé waved at her from the couch. "You're back! You look... so calm. What happened? We expected a war zone with that guy!"

Lisa blinked twice, stepping into the room with a serene smile plastered across her face. To the others, she seemed like the picture of composure, but inside, she was a storm. "He's..." Lisa paused, searching for words, "quite a... strange person."

"Strange is an understatement," Jennie muttered, rolling her eyes. "I mean, the guy didn't even crack a smile when we were in his face. I still can't believe he helped you."

Lisa took a deep breath, carefully schooling her expression. "Oh, he's not as bad as he seems," she said, voice smooth, sweet even, though her smile was twisted, the corners of her mouth curving with a venomous sweetness. "He's just... a little... distant."

"Yeah, distant," Rosé added, nodding sagely. "Emotionally absent, even."

The others burst into laughter. Lisa joined them, her laugh a little louder than the rest, but it didn't seem quite as innocent. "I agree," she said. "But, you know, even though he's so cold... he's still... handsome, right?"

Jisoo snorted. "I mean, he has the looks, but damn, who wants a guy that's like, a total ice cube?"

"I know," Lisa continued, her voice sugary sweet, "he's not the type that I'd date either. Emotionally unavailable, all that, not my type at all."

She stared at them as she said it, the words leaving her lips with a sharp edge, a smile on her face that was more sinister than sweet. It was a smile that spoke of a deep, bone-chilling intensity, a smile that wasn't meant for anyone but herself.

The others chuckled and nodded, completely unaware of the underlying meaning in her words. They didn't see how her eyes lingered too long on the space where Gun had just been. They didn't hear the venom in her words, or sense the way her breath caught in her throat as she thought about him. All they saw was Lisa, the carefree and beautiful girl they knew.

Lisa exhaled quietly, mentally thanking them for not expressing any desire for Gun. If any of them had even slightly hinted at liking him, even just in passing, she would have torn them apart, piece by piece. But for now, she kept that simmering rage inside, letting it fester quietly beneath her pleasant exterior.

She couldn't afford to let anyone else get too close to what was hers. Not when Gun's scent was still lingering on her skin, wrapping around her like a shroud. Not when the thought of him being with anyone else made her heart twist and writhe in agony. He was hers. Only hers. And anyone who tried to take him would pay with their lives.

As the group continued to chat, laughing and joking like they always did, Lisa moved to her room. The others barely noticed her, too busy with their own conversation to pick up on her change in demeanor. But Jennie, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in Lisa's eyes—just a flicker, a brief moment of darkness that passed too quickly for anyone to catch. It made her uneasy, but she quickly shrugged it off, thinking Lisa was just tired from the long day.

Lisa closed her door behind her, sinking onto her bed, her mind consumed by thoughts of Gun. She murmured his name under her breath like a twisted prayer, the words rolling off her tongue like a sacred chant. The room was still, save for her breathing, slow and steady, as though she was preparing herself for something. She could still feel his presence, feel the tension in the air where he had been moments ago.

And as she lay there, the weight of her obsession pressing down on her chest, she whispered, almost lovingly, "Mine."

That was all she needed. The rest of the world could burn.

The others continued to laugh, unaware of the madness brewing within Lisa. They had no idea just how dark and primal her obsession had become. But one thing was certain: no one would be allowed to take what was hers. No one would dare.