"Some wounds bleed in silence. Others scream with thunder."
It was raining that night. The kind of rain that carried weight—not just water, but grief. Regret. Secrets.
Inside the towering Kim Mansion, the walls trembled not from thunder, but from the storm within.
Seven boys once called this place home. But home should never hurt like this. It should never echo with screams and shattered glass. It should never be covered with blood stains and weapons. It should never be full of an army of armed robotic guards, surrounding it.
Kim Jaehyun, head of the Kim Empire, was feared by the world—worshipped by some, obeyed by many. A man who wasn't respected out of admiration but out of fear. But to his sons, he was a monster dressed in silk suits. A father by title. A tyrant by choice.
And buried beneath his empire was a name they dared not speak—their mother.
She was light. She was fire in the frost of the underworld. She was everything he wasn't.
But fate decided to play a rather too cruel game through their father's cold hands.
One morning, ten years ago, as the boys sat at the breakfast table, the silence broke—not from a voice, but from a sound no child should ever hear.
A body hitting metal. A scream tearing through the air.
"EOMMA!" Jungkook had screamed, rushing out with his brothers.
Their mother lay sprawled on the car roof, blood painting her white dress crimson. Her eyes… still open, still soft.
On the rooftop above, their father stood, expression unreadable, phone already in hand.
"Call an ambulance," he had said coldly.
But they knew it was too late.
And they also knew…
...it was no accident.
From that day on, their lives weren't just bound by blood. They were shackled by it.
She was the tenderness that they now weren't even allowed to remember.
And now, years later, on another stormy night, history threatened to repeat itself.
Jungkook's voice cracked the silence. "Why can't we be happy? Don't we have the right to be? Aren't we humans?"
A chair shattered over his back in response to his defiance, harshly. His blood met the floor like rain meeting earth.
Another young boy but seemingly a bit older than Jungkook, Taehyung couldn't contain it anymore, he muttered a soft plea "Please Appa, leave him, he would die!"
"THEN LET HIM DIE!" Jaehyun roared. "HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO LIVE IF HE CAN'T UNDERSTAND THAT MAFIAS DON'T FEEL. BETTER DIE THAN DARE DISOBEY ME"
"WHY?! We're not your puppets! You killed Eomma just to secure the Mafia Queen's position, but when her title went to her best friend instead, you killed her too! And you say you deserve this position?!" Jungkook hissed. But it only made the time bomb's ticking reach it's end.
Doors slammed. Screams rang out. Blood splattered everywhere. The past clawed its way back.
Tears streamed down all their faces. Even Yoongi, usually the coldest of them all, stood frozen, eyes glassy. Watching Jungkook in pain felt like seeing a machine cry — a machine their father had built. It felt just like that day.
Crashes, roars, and the sound of shattering glass echoed from the room where their father held Jungkook. The rest of the boys banged on the door, fists bruising, voices cracking. Eventually, they slumped down in exhaustion, leaning against the door in tears.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. Their father stepped out, drenched in blood. Not his own.
Hoseok, usually the sunshine despite the darkness of the world, stood trembling with rage. They rushed in to find Jungkook collapsed on the floor, barely conscious, soaked in blood.
Namjoon — the ever-calm one — was visibly shaking with anger. Jimin — the flirty, playful one — was deadly silent. Even Jin — who joked in the darkest of times — couldn't speak.
After drinking, Jungkook staggered to his feet, heading toward the main door. All six felt their frozen steel hearts—molded so by their father—piercing and shattering into millions pieces by the horrible, unbearable state of their beloved maknae. But none of them dared stop him, knowing their comfort would only make the person's—whom they called their father unwantedly—his rage accelerate and the destruction faced would become insufferable.
And when Jungkook ran into the storm, blood mixing with rain, he didn't run from pain—he ran from becoming it.
Until she appeared.
An umbrella. A soft voice.
Eyes that had seen war. Hands that knew how to heal. Hands that knew how to kill.
"Cry, little one. Don't hold it in. Not this time."
He looked at her and remembered—another rainy day, another time she had said the same words.
"I promise this Noona will protect you, little bunny."
He hadn't believed her then.
But maybe, just maybe, he could believe now.
Because fate has a strange way of bringing back those meant to stay.
And this time, the storm didn't just bring pain.
It brought hope with a hidden crown.
By name Song Haseul