It's cooler outside once you begin to stroll through the dimly lit sidewalk.

The evening breeze laces through your black curls as you pass by another street light that arduously flickers under the mild darkness that surrounds you.

At this hour, a walk through your city isn't really the safest. So you keek over your shoulder occasionally, physically prepared to pounce like a cat over the imaginary stalker you're convinced is striding behind.

Sometimes, you think it's your delusional nature that makes life so much harder. If your nose hadn't been stuck into those fictional books and T.V shows, then this little journey to your interview wouldn't be so complicated.

Another gust of cool breeze whisks around you, yet this time, the chills that drive down your body isn't entirely because of the wind.

You feel as though you're being watched.

For God's sake, Y/N, stop being such a wimp.

Regardless, you push yourself into a brisk jog, feeling your skin prickle from the paranoia of being watched. At first, you aren't too concerned, but when you hear a faint creak of gravel chomping behind, fear escalates through your guts immediately. And when you increase your pace, the shuffling of feet behind do so as well.

A teenage boy in a uniform crosses the road across from you while there's bright orange earbud plugged in his ears. So if you scream, it is liable to be muffled by whatever he's listening to.

So screaming isn't an option. Besides, you're not sure how much volume you can get out. The only thing that could help is your father's self-defense techniques you learned ever since you were little. And of course the classic: sprinting like you're escorted by a bunch of pea-brained zombies.

Currently, the street is empty, totally devoid of any (helpful) humans that are reachable. And with your interview around the corner, you don't think much before forcing your legs into a run.

You speed through the boulevard, your hair whipping across your face, falling right back in your line of sight by another gust each time you tuck it away hastily. Curiously, you turn your head slightly to get a glimpse of the person striding behind.

Your heart springs in your chest when you take in his hooded figure with a nasty smirk flitted over his lips.

Well, you think sarcastically, at least it's not a dementor.

The rhythmic thumping of the person's shoes soon fades into thin air, and your peripheral vision stops displaying the hooded figure escorting you. Confused, you bring your legs to slow down to a halt, whirling on your heels to take in the desolate streets of Seoul.

The heck? Were you hallucinating?

The sidewalk behind is currently devoid—with no hints of the dementor-like figure you believe was hovering behind. You turn to the right then, taking in the lady with a baby scroller who just made it through the doors of a Bazar about two blocks down the road.

Panic grips your heart when a massive hand abruptly muffles your mouth, making you whimper from his arm twisting your body in pain. "Shh, don't worry pretty thing," cooes a voice with a sickening cord of affection. "Just hand over the file and we won't hurt ya, alright?"

The man lets out a yelp once you twist his arm before pushing yourself off of his body. With a desperate lunge, you force your legs to sprint, but a hand sneaks under your top, a feeling of nausea eroding the pits of your stomach.

"Ah careful pipsqueak," another voice comes around, "Being feisty will get you killed. So just hand it over, yeah?"

"Hell no," you spit out and a repulsive chuckle leaves the man's mouth, the sound giving you shrills.

"Who knew Bangtan hired pretty girls?" another voice snarls, and a flurry of their laughter poisons the air in distaste.

But their laughter subsides immediately once you hear gunshots booming in your ears. The sound causes your body to wince before you feel a tender hand on your shoulder.

"Hey again Y/N," an enchanting, familiar voice says. "You alright?"

With your brain swimming in temporary dizziness, it hadn't occurred to you that your body had been flung into the arms of a man. Stunned that he knows your name, you twirl around quickly.

Then, you find yourself gazing directly into the deep chestnut brown eyes of the honey-brown-haired cashier. You wack your brain for his name. Jim, Jimmy? Jimin?

His brown-hued eyes are gazing into yours with concern, but there's a notion swaying in the back of your mind, telling you that it's a wicked trick in this game of life.

And if he knows your name, then he's definitely something else.

"I'm fine, thanks," you say, untangling yourself from his arm draped around you. Disappointment twinkles in his eyes briefly before he blinks it away.

"I'll get going now, see you around," you say, your tone dismissive. There are a series of gasping, yelping, and feet scrabbling behind you, and you realize they're probably Jimin's friends taking down the men that almost killed you.

You dart Jimin a faint smile before turning to leave. "Hey!" he calls, grabbing your wrist, his touch sending a mere shiver to run through your arm. "Let me walk you home, it's not safe for a lady to walk alone at this hour."

His voice miraculously eases all the turmoil in your chest, almost like a tension-free verbal medicine. But you remind yourself to not give in.

"Thanks, but I'll take it from here." You send him a reassuring smile.

He doesn't let go. "I'll walk you," he offers, more like insists.

Jimin—you believe, gives your hand a slight tug before steering you down the opposite way. You gnaw on your inner lip in hesitation.

"Um, I need to get somewhere else. This isn't the way." When you try to jerk your hand out of his iron grip, he only holds on tighter that it suddenly hurts.

For God's sake. Is there anyone you can trust?

A faint smile of reassurance smears over his lips but it doesn't seem as appealing to you anymore. In fact, it's creeping you out.

"Sorry cutie. You'll have to forgive me for this." Before your brain can comprehend his words, you feel his hand muffle your mouth right when you hear an exhaust of a black SUV pulling by a curb.

With a striking impact, you elbow him hard in the chest. "Damn it!" his sweet voice curses once you slip away from his arms, panting heavily while not daring to glance back once you push your body into a sprint.

"Jungkook!" You hear the man cry out, "I lost the girl!"

Then a growl comes.

It's not loud, but it somehow echoes in your ears threateningly, that it works like a booster in your getaway. But the name suddenly rings something in you, and your heart plummets when the realization hits you like a bus.

Your brain goes into overdrive, taking you back to your father's list of criminal records. Somewhere between those stacks of parchments in his office, you think you've seen his name printed on a black and white overlaid rap sheet.

And if his name's on there, then he's definitely bad news.

A shiver runs through your body and you tug the file deeper in the hem of your jeans. Your heart staggers in your chest once you hear a steady rhythm of shoes beating against the ground, the sound faint yet very close by. You push past your body's warning, ignoring the aches shooting through your ankles.

Jungkook, you realize—the man in your father's list of criminal records—is chasing after you, but to make things a tad optimistic, you convince yourself it's rather a monster-sized bunny hopping after you for stealing his carrots. Oh god, Y/N, looks like you've finally gone mad. Get a grip!

"Stop!" he growls, making you run faster while glancing back at your shoulder to watch the black-clad guy from the bakery barely a foot away. Panic gnaws your chest.

"I won't hurt you!" the man cries, but his words fade entirely into thin air.

Yeah, right.

With a desperate lunge, you leaped over a curb and kept on running, your shoes thrashing against the hard sidewalk. The sound of his timberlands is dangerously loud, causing you to add another burst of speed into your getaway.

You're fast but apparently, Jungkook's faster.

His hand lurches out to grab your shoulder, making you stumble to the side from the weight of his heavy arm drawing you to lose your balance. His arm then sneaks around your waist, slamming your body towards his toned chest.

You bring your fists against his chest but your attempt to push him away pushes you backward instead. Arrg!

Every little detail of your defense techniques is thrown onto the man before you, yet none of it seems to affect him.

Immediately, his hand strikes to clasp your wrist with an iron grip. "Will you stop!" he roars, the sudden volume of his voice making you wince. "You have something of mine. My fi—" You cut him off by driving your leg upwards to knee him in the crotch.

"Ah, shit!" he curses, a low grunt leaving his lips once you slip away from his arm. You glance over your shoulder to watch his jet black eyes bearing into yours with so much venom that makes you shudder.

With a sharp exhale, you lurch over a curb before freezing to your feet when you take in the sight in front of you.

It's dead end.

You have got to be kidding.

You've been so aching to get away from the stranger chasing behind you that you couldn't concern your sense of direction. Because in front of you, stood a series of railings above a goddamn ocean.

You peer down at the dark blue sea, the whispers of the waves crumpling in your ears almost in mockery. Great. You're absolutely screwed.

When you look back, you find Jungkook staring right through your soul with a cunning smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh Red, you don't know what I'm going to do to you now."

~~~~~

Unedited.