Confront

The neon glow of Seoul's nightlife didn't quite reach the cozy, dim-lit edge of Itaewon where Gun's café sat quietly under the shroud of twilight. Despite the darkness blanketing the streets, the warm yellow light pouring from the glass windows of the café cast long shadows on the pavement—inviting, calm, and private. It was the kind of place that seemed detached from the glamour of K-pop, from screaming fans and stage lights. It was a place untouched.

Gun was finishing up for the night. The café had been unusually quiet for a Friday—he liked it that way. No noise, no pretense. Just him, the scent of dark roast, and the jazz record playing from the corner.

But the bell above the door rang—a quiet chime that carried more weight than usual. Gun didn't look up immediately. One guest at this hour? Fine. He wiped a glass slowly and turned toward the door.

"Welcome," he muttered without glancing up.

In walked Jennie.

Gun paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. She was stylish, graceful, and familiar—too familiar for someone he didn't know. He'd seen her earlier that week. She'd come by before, tried to flirt in the way only someone used to admiration could—but he wasn't interested. He'd roasted her dryly that time, enough that she left red-faced and confused. And yet, here she was again.

Jennie cleared her throat. "Evening."

Gun's expression didn't change. He didn't say a word.

Before she could say anything else, the door chimed again.

This time, Jisoo stepped in.

And just behind her, Rosé.

They had come together, as if led by fate or stubborn determination, they'd all gathered in the café by nightfall.

Gun's eyes sharpened. He had roasted each of them separately over the past few days, seeing through their charm, ignoring their subtle attempts at flirting, and dismissing them with an intensity that felt more like a warning than rejection.

They weren't used to being denied. But what unnerved them most wasn't the rejection—it was how he had done it. Without flinching. Without awe. Without desire.

"Are you stalking me?" Gun asked coldly.

"Listen—" Jennie began.

He raised a hand. "Don't even try to spin a story. I've seen the same trick pulled too many times. Whatever this is, end it now. I'm not interested."

Rosé stepped forward, lips parting, heart beating faster. "It's not what you think—"

"You think you're clever?" Gun snapped, eyes like burning steel. "Coming one by one, trying to play games? Now that all of you failed, so you came together."

"No! It's not that—"

Then Jisoo made a mistake.

She said Lisa's name.

The instant those two syllables slipped into the air—

"Lisa."

Everything changed.

Gun's eyes darkened.

He stepped from behind the counter, the soft hum of jazz now a background funeral hymn.

"Don't you dare," he said, voice no louder than a whisper, but it cut like a blade. "Don't you dare drag her into your twisted little game."

"Gun, wait—"

"You think I don't know what this is? You think I won't see through whatever petty revenge you're cooking because I brushed you off?"

His footfalls were slow, deliberate. The shadows seemed to wrap around him.

"I don't know how do you know her, but remember she has nothing to do with this. So keep her name out of your mouth and mind. If you touch a strand of her hair...."

"Touch her—mention her again—and I swear to whatever gods are listening, you will learn why they used to call me Shiro Oni."

A silence fell that sucked the air from the room.

Gun's aura had shifted. His posture was still, but it carried centuries of violence and vengeance. The air grew heavier. The room itself felt smaller.

Rosé's lips trembled. "W-We didn't mean it like that. Lisa... she—she's one of us."

Gun stilled.

"What did you say?"

"She's... she's Blackpink," Jennie whispered. "Lisa is a member of Blackpink."

Gun blinked.

It didn't register.

"Lisa... is... Blackpink?"

The silence fractured.

His knees gave slightly, not from weakness, but from emotional impact. His chest rose and fell.

"I don't even know that...."

"No one's ever..." He stopped.

Jennie's POV:

I didn't know what I was expecting when we walked into that cafe, maybe a quiet talk, maybe answers, maybe even closure. What I wasn't expecting was him. Gun. A man with eyes carved from winter, and a voice that rang like distant thunder.

He looked at us like we were strangers—no, worse—like we were predators creeping close to a treasure he would burn the world for. When he spoke, the room froze. When he threatened us, I felt it in my bones. Not fear. No, it was something darker. Something like reverence. Like awe. Like the primal urge to kneel.

Lisa... you mad little angel. You knew what he was, and you still wanted all of him.

When he vowed to destroy the world for her—not metaphorically, not poetically, but truly—I understood. I finally understood. You don't love someone like Gun with sweet poems and light kisses. You love him like a sickness, like a fever, like drowning in fire. And Lisa... she was already burned to the bone.

He doesn't know she's one of us. That the girl he protects so viciously is the Lisa he worships. His eyes hold no recognition. Only warning.

And I... God, I envy her. If I had met him before Lisa, I would have thrown this life away. I would have set the stage on fire, shattered the cameras, erased every inch of who I was to become his. Because Gun doesn't see us as idols, as illusions. He sees only the soul, raw and trembling. That's what terrifies me. That's what seduces me.

I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted to cry and beg and scream. I wanted to steal him.

I would have let the world burn for that kind of love.

But it's too late. Lisa beat us to him.

And I understand now... why she never let us near. Why her smile when saying his name was tinged with madness. Why her laugh turned feral when we joked about liking him.

He is not a man. He is a fantasy.

A fantasy we thought is impossible to have.

And Lisa... she has already claimed the fantasy as her own.

Jisoo's POV:

Gun.

That name will echo in my dreams like a hymn. I see now why Lisa spiraled. Why her hands trembled when she spoke about someone she refused to name. Why her eyes gleamed with something more than just affection. It was possession.

And now I get it.

His presence was a blade pressed gently against our skin. A gentle warning soaked in iron and blood. His threat to us—to never so much as breathe near Lisa again—was not born of ego or theatrics. It was truth. An ancient, monstrous, sacred truth.

And we—we stood there like sinners before a god.

If I had met him before Lisa, what would I have become? Something unrecognizable. Something rabid. I felt it crawling under my skin already. I could see myself walking away from the stage, the spotlight, the fans. Giving up Jisoo, the idol, just to be his. To be seen by him the way he sees Lisa.

Because in that moment, when he spoke her name, it wasn't just protection. It was worship. It was madness in the purest form. And I wanted it. I ached for it.

I saw her obsession in his reflection.

Lisa was never crazy.

She was just the only one brave enough to love him the way he needed to be loved.

And now, even though I should be terrified, I find myself smiling. Because I finally understand her darkness. Because a small, sinful part of me wants to fall into it, too.

Let the world crumble. Let the fame rot. Let everything burn.

Just let me feel what Lisa feels.

Even for a second.

Rosé's POV: 

My heart is still racing. Gun's words still echo inside my skull like a curse.

"If you touch a strand of her hair..."

I believed him. Every syllable. Every quiet breath. He would slaughter the heavens for her.

And I... I am so ashamed.

Because in that moment, when he promised to became the Shiro Oni, the monster wrapped in love, a woman's love, I wanted him more than I've wanted anything in my life. I wanted him to wrapped in my love my devotion and in everything that is mine just like I would have make him mine.

Not the music. Not the fame. Not the endless tours or number ones.

Just him.

I thought Lisa was losing herself.

Now I see she was just the first to find what we all crave.

A love so sharp it can cut reality in two.

Gun didn't just protect her. He claimed her with his soul. And we... we were interlopers. Invaders in a holy space.

When he looked at us, he didn't see global superstars. He didn't see icons.

He saw threats.

I can still hear his voice. Not raised, but deadly. Not panicked, but certain. Like a predator coiled around his mate.

Lisa. The woman he would raze the sky for.

And I wanted to be her so badly it hurt.

If I had known a man like him existed, I would have torn apart every contract, every tour, every dream. Just to belong to him. Just to be his.

Lisa's madness isn't madness at all.

It's clarity.

She loved him before we even knew what we were missing.

And now we can never have it. Never have him.

Because he has already given his darkness to her.

And she has drowned herself in it willingly.

I envy her.

And some twisted, broken part of me loves her more for it.

Jisoo took a step forward calming her inner demon the part that slowly started to fall for him. "She's in love with you, Gun. Obsessively. We didn't know how bad until a few weeks ago. You were gone, unreachable. She started breaking down. Whispering your name in her sleep."

Rosé sat down across from him. "You met her. Twice. But it wasn't just any meeting. You… changed her."

Gun raised a single brow. "Lisa, her eyes like fire. Asked me if I would burn the world for her. I said yes. Not because to impress her cuz after so many years I started to feel something for someone rather than rage and emptiness."

"She didn't think it was a joke," Jisoo said softly but firmly.

Jennie added, "She's not okay. She's obsessed. Not with you. For you. It's different. It's dangerous."

Gun didn't blink. Didn't twitch. But his jaw tightened.

"What kind of dangerous?"

Rosé leaned forward. "She talks like nothing matters except you. Like… she'd give up the world for a moment with you."

Jisoo nodded. "She said you belong to her. That she'll carve her name into your heart if she has to."

Gun exhaled deeply, almost weary. He stood, walked behind the counter, and poured four cups of black coffee. Silent. Measured. Then returned with them and placed one in front of each girl and one for himself.

"You're scared. Of her," he said.

"Yes," Jennie admitted. "And not because she's angry. But because she's willing to lose herself. She's not sleeping. She writes your name in her diary like it's a spell and draws you. He talks to a locket you gave him like it's you himself."

Gun looked down into his coffee. His reflection was tired. Haunted.

"No one's ever loved me. Not really. I was a weapon. A shadow."

The city was quieter than usual, wrapped in the kind of midnight silence that clung to alleyways and glimmered off the rain-slicked roads. The only place still humming with low life and soft music was the Midnight Throttle Cafe. Inside, the air was warm with the scent of strong espresso and the faint oil of worn-down bike chains. Gun sat near the back, his knuckles resting against a ceramic mug that had gone cold.

He hadn't said a word in a while. Across from him, Jennie, Rosé, and Jisoo looked at him with a mix of caution, sadness, and a tinge of awe and madness the same that consumed Lisa completely, they same that they want to drown too but can not. They had just told him everything—Lisa's obsession, her descent into something that felt more like religious devotion than love, the terrifying things she had said, and how the girl they once knew was barely recognizable.

He had listened. Silent. Still. Like a statue. Like he'd known pain intimately, and this, somehow, wasn't unfamiliar.

"So," Jennie broke the silence finally, "You really didn't know?"

Gun leaned back, fingers running down the scars across his forearms. "I meant what I said. I don't know much about K-pop. I don't know who she was before those two nights. But..."

He looked out the window. His voice was softer now. "But I remember her eyes."

Rosé blinked. "What about them?"

"They were... real. Not fan eyes. Not dream eyes. Real. Raw. And when she asked me that question—if I'd burn the world alone for her—I didn't hesitate. I said yes because... I know what it feels like to be willing to walk into hell for someone who might just give you a hand to hold."

Jisoo exhaled slowly. "Then why walk away?"

"Because I'm not built for love like hers," Gun said. "I was raised in chaos. I came from nothing. Orphaned. Abused. I learned to fight before I learned to read. Underground rings. Blood money. I was a ghost before I became a man. Lisa... Lisa is light. Or she was. I didn't want to drag her into my world, it has nothing."

His voice wavered for a moment. Just a moment.

"But knowing someone out there loves me like that? I don't want to run anymore I want to be her till my last breath. I want to prove till my last breath that she did not choose wrong."

Before anyone could speak, the bell above the door chimed.

It wasn't just the sound of a door opening. It was the slow creak of fate itself entering the room.

All eyes turned.

And there she was.

Lisa stood in the doorway like a storm cloaked in silence. The hoodie she wore swallowed her small frame. Her hair was loosely tied back, strands falling across her face. She looked pale, eyes darker than usual, makeup absent, but there was something ferociously beautiful in her rawness.

Jennie gasped softly, clutching Rosé's hand without realizing. Jisoo stood slowly, as though bracing for something inevitable.

"Lisa," Rosé whispered, shocked.

Lisa didn't flinch at their reaction. She didn't even look at them.

Her eyes were locked on Gun. Unblinking.

"I heard everything," she said. Her voice was fragile, but it cut like glass.

Gun placed the cup down. Time seemed to slow.

"Lisa?"

She stepped forward. Not wild. Not twisted. Just... broken.

"I heard them. Jennie. Jisoo. Rosé. I followed them. I needed to know what they were saying about me. About you."

Her voice cracked, and for a moment she looked as if she might collapse.

Gun walked around the counter and came to her slowly, as though afraid any sudden movement might shatter her. "You shouldn't be here so late. This isn't a place for stars."

"I'm not a star right now," she said. "I'm just a girl who fell in love with a ghost, the white ghost, like you said you will become for me."

His heart clenched.

She stepped closer. "Gun... tell me the truth. Did you mean it? All of it."

Gun's mouth parted slightly. He took a step forward.

"Lisa—"

"No." Her voice cracked, desperate now. "Tell me you meant what you said. That if I leave, you'll burn down the world. That... that you really meant it when you said you'd love me for the rest of your life. I need to hear it. Not from them. Not through a door. From you."

Gun felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He hadn't expected this. Not now. Not like this.

He slowly approached her. Each step he took felt heavier than the last.

He reached for her hands.

And Lisa, broken but holding on, gave them freely.

Gun took a deep breath, eyes searching hers.

"I'm not a man who gets scared easily, Lisa. I used to fight in underground rings. I know what it's like to bleed. To lose. To wake up alone. I was an orphan. I grew up with nothing. Not love. Not warmth. Not even a damn bed I could call my own. Just fists. Pain. And survival."

Her eyes shimmered.

He continued, his voice raw. "I don't have a mansion, Lisa. I don't have a yacht or a credit card with no limit. All I have is this cafe, my bikes, and a little home upstairs. That's it. That's all I am. Just a man with calloused hands and a bleeding heart."

"I was afraid to love you after they said you are one of them, because I thought I might just be another fleeting spark in your world of fireworks. A... celebrity affair. Something that doesn't last. That terrifies me. I don't want to love you only to become a name you forget in a year."

She opened her mouth, but he gently lifted a hand.

"And because... if you leave me, Lisa... I won't just break. I might destroy everything. I might lose myself so completely that I become someone even I don't recognize. A monster that shouldn't exist."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, one after the other, painting trails of light in the shadows of the room.

Lisa stepped in closer, pressing her forehead to his chest.

"Do you want to know what scared my members?" she asked softly. "It wasn't just my obsession. It was how gentle my love for you became. How fierce. How consuming. How pure."

Gun closed his eyes.

"When you said yes, when I asked if you'd burn the world for me… it unlocked something inside me. Not just the darkness. No. A home. A home that I never knew I needed. I could hear it in your voice, in the way you didn't hesitate. You became the one man in this world who didn't want anything from me except my truth, my heart, my soul. And you gave me yours."

She looked up, eyes blazing with sincerity.

"I don't care about fame. I don't care about stages or awards. I'd trade it all, every bit of it, for a lifetime in your arms. I want your mornings. Your coffee. Your oil-stained fingers. I want to live in the same rhythm as your breath, Gun. I want to hold our child one day. Grow old next to you. Watch the stars fall from the sky together."

Gun looked down at her, lost in her words. Something inside him trembled.

"Lisa..."

"I know I scared them. I know I sounded like a madwoman. But I'm not mad. I'm just in love with you in a way that makes me feel whole. In a way that makes me human. In a way that makes me believe I was born to be yours."

Silence stretched like eternity.

Then Gun dropped to one knee.

Not with a ring. Not with a diamond. But with his heart bared and his eyes lifted to hers like she was the only star in his sky.

"Marry me," he whispered.

Lisa gasped.

"Not now. Not next month. But someday. Someday when the world finally stops demanding pieces of you. When I can give you a home without fear. Because I don't believe in boyfriend and girlfriend bullshit. I believe in forever. And I want that with you."

Tears flowed again, this time from Lisa and the three girls watching in stunned silence.

She collapsed to her knees with him, cupping his face with trembling hand.

"Yes," she whispered.

And their kiss was not of fire, but of rain.

Of peace.

Of souls returning home.