Present Time

Taehyung and Namjoon and Mr Choi’s Pov

The office is sleek, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering Seoul skyline. The room is bathed in the warm glow of a single desk lamp, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany desk cluttered with files, a laptop, and a steaming cup of black coffee. Taehyung, dressed in a tailored navy suit, leans back in his leather chair, his sharp eyes scanning a document. His usual playful demeanor is replaced by a quiet intensity, his jaw tight with focus. Across from him, Namjoon sits on the edge of a plush couch, his long fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee, a black hoodie and jeans making him look more like a hacker than a mastermind. The air is thick with tension, the weight of their covert mission hanging unspoken.

The door swings open, and Mr. Choi enters, a wiry man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a deceptively unassuming presence. He’s dressed in a plain gray suit, clutching a manila folder, his eyes darting around the room as if instinctively checking for threats. The folder is a prop, a pretext for his visit, but his real purpose burns in the glances he exchanges with Namjoon and Taehyung.

**Taehyung** (glancing up, voice smooth but edged): “Mr. Choi, you’re late. I hope that file’s worth the wait.”

**Mr. Choi** (with a slight bow, his tone calm but professional): “My apologies, Mr. Kim. Traffic was a nightmare. The file’s for Mr. Jeon—Jungkook’s quarterly projections. He requested a hard copy.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, setting his document down and folding his arms. He knows the file is a cover, but he plays along, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile.

**Taehyung**: “Jungkook’s picky about his paperwork, huh? Figures. He’s been holed up in that fortress of his lately. What’s the deal with that?”

Namjoon shoots Taehyung a subtle look, a warning to keep the conversation on track. He leans forward, his voice low and deliberate, cutting through the pretense.

**Namjoon**: “Let’s cut to the point, Mr. Choi. You’ve got the device, right?”

Mr. Choi nods, patting the inner pocket of his suit jacket where a small, nondescript gadget—about the size of a USB drive but packed with tracking tech—rests. He steps closer to the desk, lowering his voice, though the office is secure.

**Mr. Choi**: “It’s here. I can plant it in the Jeon mansion, no problem. But there’s a wrinkle—Jungkook’s decided to work from home indefinitely. He’s not stepping foot in the office anytime soon.”

Taehyung’s smile fades, his fingers drumming on the desk as he processes this. The Jeon mansion, a sprawling, high-security estate on the outskirts of the city, is a fortress of surveillance cameras, guards, and reinforced gates. Getting in without an invitation is near impossible—unless you’re someone like Mr. Choi, who’s spent years cultivating trust with the Jeon family.

**Taehyung** (leaning forward, voice sharp): “That’s inconvenient. Jungkook’s paranoid, but he’s not stupid. If he’s staying home, he’s keeping Y/N close. We need that device planted tomorrow, or we lose our window to track her.”

Namjoon nods, his mind already racing through contingencies. He adjusts his glasses, a habit when he’s deep in thought, and fixes his gaze on Mr. Choi.

**Namjoon**: “You said you know how to get him to the office. How?”

Mr. Choi sets the manila folder on the desk, using the motion to mask a quick glance toward the door, ensuring they’re still alone. His voice drops to a near whisper, laced with confidence.

**Mr. Choi**: “Jungkook’s been waiting on a deal with the Park Group. I’ve got a contact there who can request an urgent in-person meeting tomorrow morning—something about finalizing contract terms. Jungkook won’t pass it up; it’s too big. I’ll offer to deliver the file personally tonight, say it’s critical for the meeting prep. That gets me inside the mansion.”

Taehyung’s eyes gleam with approval, though his tone remains cautious.

**Taehyung**: “And the device? Where do you plant it? The mansion’s huge, and we need it somewhere it won’t be found but still picks up Y/N’s signal.”

Mr. Choi pulls a small blueprint from his jacket—not the file, but a folded map of the Jeon mansion’s layout, acquired through means he doesn’t disclose. He spreads it on the desk, pointing to a corridor near the east wing.

**Mr. Choi**: “Here. The east wing’s ventilation system. It’s close to the private quarters where Jungkook’s likely keeping Y/N. The device can transmit through the ducts, and no one checks those vents unless there’s a problem. I’ll need five minutes, tops.”

Namjoon studies the blueprint, his analytical mind assessing the plan. He traces the corridor with a finger, calculating distances and risks.

**Namjoon**: “Five minutes is tight, but doable. The device will sync with my system as soon as it’s active. Once it’s in, I can track Y/N’s location within a ten-meter radius. We’ll know exactly where she is in that maze.”

Taehyung exhales, running a hand through his hair, his usual charisma giving way to a rare moment of vulnerability.

**Taehyung**: “This has to work, Namjoon. Y/N’s been in there too long. If Jungkook suspects anything…” He trails off, the unspoken threat hanging heavy.

Namjoon’s expression hardens, his voice steady but fierce.

**Namjoon**: “He won’t. Mr. Choi’s got this. Tomorrow’s the day we get her out. We stick to the plan—Choi plants the device, I track her, and we move in before Jungkook knows what’s happening.”

Mr. Choi folds the blueprint, slipping it back into his jacket. His face is unreadable, but his eyes burn with determination.

**Mr. Choi**: “I’ll be in and out before anyone notices. Just make sure your end’s ready, Namjoon. Once that device is live, there’s no turning back.”

Namjoon nods, standing and extending a hand to Mr. Choi, a silent acknowledgment of the risk they’re all taking.

**Namjoon**: “We’ll be ready. Get that device in place, and we’ll handle the rest.”

Taehyung stands too, his usual playful demeanor returning as a mask to ease the tension. He flashes a grin, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

**Taehyung**: “Alright, gentlemen. Tomorrow’s the big day. Let’s not screw this up.”

Mr. Choi gives a curt nod, clutching the fake file as he heads for the door. The weight of the mission lingers in the room as he exits, leaving Namjoon and Taehyung in the dim light, the city skyline stretching endlessly beyond the glass.

**Namjoon** (quietly, to Taehyung): “You okay?”

**Taehyung** (staring out the window, voice soft): “Yeah. Just… let’s get her back, Joon.”

The room falls silent, the hum of the city below the only sound as they brace for the high-stakes rescue ahead.

Meanwhile Yoongi's Pov

The study is a dimly lit sanctuary of chaos and order, tucked away in a quiet corner of Yoongi’s sleek, minimalist apartment. The walls are lined with bookshelves stuffed with tech manuals, vinyl records, and scattered notes. A large desk dominates the room, cluttered with dual monitors, a keyboard, empty coffee mugs, and a tangle of cables. The faint hum of the computer fills the air, punctuated by the occasional click of keys. Yoongi sits hunched over his desk, his pale fingers flying across the keyboard, his sharp eyes narrowed at the screen. His black hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, and his dark hair falls messily over his forehead, a sign of hours spent deep in focus. The glow of the monitors casts harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

Yoongi’s been digging for hours, piecing together fragments of information about Y/N—her background, her connections, anything that might explain why Jungkook’s so obsessed with keeping her locked away in the Jeon mansion. The deeper he digs, the heavier the pit in his stomach grows. He’s always known Jungkook’s fixation was dangerous, but what he’s uncovering now is something else entirely.

The screen flickers as a new file loads—a classified document Yoongi shouldn’t have access to, pulled from a dark web database he’s hacked into countless times before. His eyes scan the text, and his breath catches. The name, the photo, the connections—it all clicks into place. Y/N isn’t just some random person Jungkook’s fixated on. She’s tied to *him*—a figure so powerful, so ruthless, that even Jungkook’s wealth and influence pale in comparison. Yoongi leans back in his chair, his heart pounding, a rare flicker of fear crossing his usually stoic face.

**Yoongi** (muttering to himself, voice low and gritty): “Fuck… Jungkook, you’re screwed. You’re so fucking screwed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing. The document details Y/N’s identity: her real name, her family, and her connection to a man whose name sends shivers through even the most hardened criminals—a kingpin with a reputation for wiping out anyone who crosses him. If this man finds out Jungkook’s holding Y/N hostage, Jungkook’s days are numbered. Yoongi’s seen Jungkook’s recklessness before, but this? This is suicide.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor, his hands clenched into fists. The urge to storm the Jeon mansion and drag Y/N out himself surges through him, but he stops short, exhaling sharply. His mind flashes to Jungkook—his friend, his brother in all but blood, spiraling deeper into paranoia and obsession. Yoongi’s seen the way Jungkook talks about Y/N, the manic edge in his eyes, the way he’s convinced she’s his to keep. Confronting him now would be like talking to a brick wall. Jungkook won’t listen. He never does when he’s like this.

**Yoongi** (pacing, muttering again): “You idiot. You think you’re untouchable, but you’re digging your own grave.”

He stops by the window, staring out at the city lights flickering in the distance. His reflection in the glass is grim, his eyes haunted. He remembers meeting Y/N briefly, months ago, at one of Jungkook’s lavish parties. She’d been quiet, unassuming, but something about her had stuck with him—a sharpness in her gaze, a strength she didn’t flaunt. He hadn’t been sure then, but now, with the truth staring him in the face, he knows. She’s not just a victim. She’s a ticking time bomb, and Jungkook’s too blind to see it.

Yoongi’s fists unclench, and he leans against the desk, his mind shifting gears. He can’t sit back and watch this unfold. He won’t. But charging in headfirst isn’t his style—he’s not Namjoon with his grand plans or Taehyung with his reckless charisma. Yoongi’s a strategist, a shadow. He’ll wait, bide his time, and find the perfect moment to act.

**Yoongi** (to himself, voice resolute): “I’m not letting you rot in that fucking mansion, Y/N. Not now. Not when I know who you are.”

He sits back down, pulling up a new window on his computer—a blueprint of the Jeon mansion he’d swiped from a contact weeks ago, just in case. His eyes trace the layout, noting entry points, security blind spots, and the east wing where Y/N is likely being held. His fingers hover over the keyboard, itching to send a message to Namjoon or Taehyung, to loop them in, but he hesitates. They’re already planning something—he’s caught whispers of it—but Yoongi works better alone. For now, he’ll keep this to himself, gather more intel, and wait for the right moment to move.

**Yoongi** (whispering, a dark edge to his voice): “Hang in there, Y/N. I’ll get you out. And Jungkook… you’re gonna have to deal with me when this is over.”

He leans back, the weight of his decision settling over him like a shroud. The computer screen glows, casting his face in cold light as he dives back into his research, mapping out every detail of the mansion, every guard rotation, every possible escape route. Tomorrow might be the day for Namjoon and Taehyung’s plan, but Yoongi’s playing a longer game. For Y/N’s sake—and for Jungkook’s, whether he deserves it or not—Yoongi will be ready when the time comes.

The city hums outside, oblivious to the storm brewing in Yoongi’s mind. The clock ticks past midnight, and he keeps working, a lone figure in the dark, determined to pull Y/N from the jaws of a nightmare.

To be continued