The room was bathed in the soft glow of neons, the muffled sound of music and laughter from the club below now nothing but a distant echo. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey, sweat, and something far more intoxicating—them and sex.

The fire that had raged between them moments ago—the desperation, the anger, the hunger—had now burned itself out, leaving only embers in its wake.

What remained was a hollow silence.

The sheets beneath them were a battlefield, soaked with the remnants of everything they couldn't say. The frustration of being apart, the resentment, the aching loneliness—it had all been poured into every touch, every kiss, every bite, and every thrust. And now that it was over, now that the storm had passed, all that was left was the cold, creeping in between them despite the heat of their bodies.

Their limbs were still entwined, but their hearts... their hearts had never felt farther apart.

Taehyung kept his arm slung over her waist, his fingers barely gripping her hip, as if he didn't know whether to pull her closer or let go entirely. She remained there with her back pressed against his chest, her breathing steady, controlled—too controlled. Neither of them dared to move, to turn, to meet the other's gaze. Because if they did, if they looked into each other's eyes, the weight of what they had just done would come crashing down on them like a tidal wave.

So they stayed like this—trapped in a silence that was louder than any words they could have spoken.

A thick lump rolled down Taehyung's throat, his jaw clenching. He could still taste her on his tongue, still feel the way she had trembled beneath him, the way her nails had sunk into his skin like she was trying to carve herself into him as if that would make the distance between them disappear.

But it hadn't.

It was still there, a gaping chasm neither of them knew how to cross.

She laid awake with eyes open, staring blankly at the dim glow of the city outside. She should have known it would feel like this. That no matter how much they tried to consume each other, no matter how deep their bodies fit together, it wouldn't be enough.

Because what they had lost... wasn't something that could be reclaimed between the sheets.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to move away.

She hated him for this. Hated him for making her weak. Hated herself even more for still wanting him, for craving the way he made her feel—even when it hurt.

Taehyung exhaled sharply, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck, sending an uninvited shiver down her spine. His fingers twitched against her hip like he wanted to hold her tighter, but he didn't.

Because this—whatever this was—was already falling apart before it had even begun.

And neither of them had the strength to admit it.

The weight of his arm draped over her waist, the heat of his bare skin against hers, the steady rhythm of his breath against the back of her neck. It was comforting. Familiar. A warmth she had convinced herself she no longer needed.

But wasn't that the cruelest part? That her body still craved his touch, even when her mind screamed for her to leave.

She shut her eyes, her thoughts waging war inside her.

This isn't right, this isn't love. This is just a reckless mistake, a moment of weakness, a desperate attempt to cling to something that's already gone.

Then why does it feel so good? it shouldn't after all the chaos we have been through, why does every part of me ache for him? Why do I feel like I belong here?

She swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down.

Because it's a lie, a cruel illusion we keep feeding because it's easier to pretend than to face the truth. We are not the people who face the same world. His life is different from mine and it certainly isn't a part of my revenge. Then, why should I let him burn in this fire? We lost each other that night, and no matter how much we try to fool ourselves, we can never go back.

She could still taste him on her lips, feel the ghost of his hands tracing her skin, the way he had kissed her—desperate, hungry like a drowning man gasping for air. He had poured everything into that, all his pain, his longing, his frustration. And she had taken it, devoured it, let herself believe—if only for a fleeting moment—that this was enough.

But now, with the aftermath settling around them like an unbearable weight, all that remained was silence.

This has to end. The thought pressed against her ribs, suffocating. There's no future in what we are. Our paths have been sliced apart, and all we're doing is clinging to the ruins.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, her heart hammering in her chest as she made her decision.

Go before you fall any deeper.

With a sharp inhale, she pushed the sheets away, the warmth of their entanglement vanishing in an instant. The cool air hit her bare skin, but she didn't care. She needed to get out. Now!

Taehyung barely had time to react before she was sitting up, her hands scrambling to gather her scattered clothes in a frantic rush. Her fingers trembled, but she ignored it, pulling on her undergarments with quick, almost desperate movements.

This was a mistake.

The thought crashed into her, rattling against her ribs, making it harder to breathe. She needed to leave before she lost herself even more than she already had.

But just as she reached for her shirt, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, a bare chest pressing against her back, halting her escape. His grip was firm. His arms caged her in, his body refusing to let her go.

"Let me go" she whispered, her voice low, but not nearly as steady as she wanted it to be.

"No" he murmured against her shoulder, his lips grazing her skin in a way that sent unwanted shivers down her spine. "I won't."

Her hands clenched into fists over the fabric she was holding. "Taehyung—"

"Don't" he cut her off, his voice raw. He tightened his hold around her waist, resting his forehead against the curve of her neck. "Don't do this. Don't run."

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting the inside of her cheek. "What else is left for us, Taehyung? What are we doing?"

He didn't answer immediately. His fingers curled around her wrist, as if afraid she'd slip through his grasp the moment he loosened his hold. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with something dangerously close to desperation.

"Everything is left," he whispered. "Us. We are left."

Venom let out a bitter laugh, her nails digging into her palms. "Us? There is no 'us' anymore. Our paths, they tore apart, remember how you asked me to get out? That was what you wanted! You wanted me to disappear—" she gestured vaguely to the bed, the sheets still a mess from what they had just done. "This won't fix anything."

"It doesn't have to fix anything," he shot back. "It just has to mean something. And it does, doesn't it?"

His grip on her wrist softened slightly, but he didn't let go. He was waiting—for her to deny it, for her to confirm it. She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch the look in his eyes. Dark, tormented, pleading.

She hated that look. Hated that he still had that power over her.

"Please" he breathed. "Don't walk away from me again."

"And do what? Explain to you why I did what I did. You won't understand"

His jaw tensed. "Then make me understand," he said, voice low, raw. His fingers curled around her wrist again, a silent plea, a desperate anchor. "I don't care how ugly it is, how painful—just don't leave me in the dark again."

She let out a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves. The weight of his words pressed into her ribs, suffocating. Make him understand? How could she tell him that his bloodline was the reason she was an orphan? That the very name he carried was carved into her nightmares, dripping in the blood of her family? That she had spent years drowning in the fire of revenge, letting it consume her, only to find herself tangled in his arms like she belonged there?

Her breath shuddered as she tried to push away the thought, but it clung to her, an iron weight around her heart. He doesn't know. He can't know.

If she told him, would he look at her differently? Would he feel the same gut-wrenching torment that she did? Or would he hate her, knowing that the woman in his arms had once sworn to destroy everything he was?

She felt his fingers brush against her bare skin, warm, steady—so unaware of the war raging inside her. It made her sick. He doesn't know he's holding the very person who was meant to ruin him.

And yet... he wasn't the monster she had imagined. Not the cold, cruel heir to his family's sins. He was Taehyung—the man who looked at her like she was something worth holding onto like she wasn't made of broken glass and sharp edges.

And that made it worse.

Because if he had been the villain, this would have been easier.

"It's not that simple."

He let out a humorless laugh, one filled with bitterness and something else—something that made her stomach twist. "Isn't it?" he asked. "You and I both know what this is. What this always has been." His grip loosened slightly, but his warmth didn't leave her skin. "We keep coming back to each other like we have no choice."

"That's the problem, Taehyung," she whispered. "We don't have a choice. We never did. We're caught in something that will only ever end in destruction."

His lips parted as if to argue, but she pushed forward. His fingers twitched against her skin, his grip faltering for the briefest moment before tightening again, as if he was afraid she'd slip through his grasp entirely. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling against her back, warm and solid—too real.

And his voice? It was quieter this time, but no less intense. "Then tell me."

She closed her eyes. I can't.

She could still feel the ghost of his lips against hers, still taste the whiskey and want, still hear the way his voice had cracked when he told her not to leave. And it was cruel—so cruel—because even now, even when she knew she had to walk away, she wanted to stay.

She wanted to turn into his embrace instead of away from it. She wanted to press her lips to his collarbone, trace the ridges of his knuckles with her fingertips, let him hold her the way he always did, like she was something precious instead of something doomed.

But wanting had never been enough.

"You have no clue how bitter the truth is," she whispered, and the words felt like ash in her mouth.

His hold stiffened. "Then tell me," he repeated, voice lower, rougher. "Tell me what it is you think I don't know."

Her throat ached, but she forced herself to swallow it down. "That this," she gestured between them, her fingers grazing his bare arm, sending a shiver through both of them, "was never meant to happen. We were never meant to be."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "But we are."

She let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "And look at what it's made of, Taehyung. Look at us. Do you think this is love? Do you think love should feel like a knife pressed to your throat, like a wound you can't stop picking at? I am not some vanilla girl you expected me to be, my name alone is enough to speak of my deeds"

Taehyung slid his hand to her face cradling her cheek in it gently and directing it towards his own. Their eyes met enchanting them both under a forbidden spell. "Fine, You wear blood like perfume, and your name alone makes men tremble. But do you know what you are to me?"

She inhaled sharply, her heartbeat thudding against her ribs like war drums.

"You're the wound and the cure," he whispered, his forehead pressing against hers. "The sin I can't repent for. The prayer I don't deserve to be answered."

His fingers curled around her wrist, thumb brushing over her pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath her skin. "You say love shouldn't feel like a knife to the throat," he murmured. "But I'd rather bleed by your hands than be saved by anyone else's. Because no matter what I just can't let you go"

Her breath caught, fingers twitching in her lap.

His grip didn't waver. "Tell me you don't want this," he challenged. "Tell me you don't feel it—this thing between us, this ruin we keep falling into."

Her lips parted, but the words refused to come. His silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

"Do you think love should ruin you?" she added, voice barely above a whisper.

His forehead dropped against her shoulder, and for a moment, she thought she had finally shattered him. That maybe, just maybe, he'd let her go.

But instead, he let out a slow, shuddering breath.

"Yes," he murmured. "If it's you."

Her heart clenched so hard it hurt.

He turned her slightly, his arms still wrapped around her, forcing her to face him once again. His eyes were dark, filled with something deeper than desperation.

"You think I don't know what this is doing to me?" he asked, voice hoarse. "You think I don't feel it? The way it's ripping me apart every time you walk away? Every time I think I've let you go, you show up and I—" His breath hitched. "I can't do it. I can't pretend that you're not a part of me."

She inhaled sharply, because God—how was he always able to put into words the things she was too afraid to admit?

His thumb brushed against her jaw, so gentle, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he held her too tightly. "You keep saying we weren't meant to be," he murmured. "But tell me, why do we always find our way back?"

She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

She could lie. She could pull away. She could finish what she came here to do.

But instead, she whispered the only truth she knew.

"Because we don't know how to stop."

His grip on her wrist tightened again, just for a moment, as if he could tether her to him by sheer will alone. "No, because we are fated to be together, you're still here," he murmured. "Still in my arms, still running back to me like you can't help it."

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Because he was right.

No matter how much she fought it, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself otherwise, she did keep coming back.

Because he was her weakness. And that terrified her more than anything else.

"Then... What now?" she whispered, her voice barely audible in the thick silence.

Taehyung exhaled sharply, his grip on her tightening. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. That he'd just let the silence stretch between them like an unspoken agreement—like a line they'd both crossed but had no idea how to come back from.

Taehyung pressed a kiss against the back of her neck, slow and lingering, like he was savoring the taste of her skin. "I should hate you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with something she couldn't quite place. "But I can't and I don't want to."

Venom closed her eyes.

This was dangerous.

Because loving Taehyung had never been soft. It had never been safe. It had always been like standing on the edge of a knife, never knowing whether the next step would lead to salvation or ruin.

And yet—

She turned in his arms, finally meeting his gaze.

And fuck.

The way he was looking at her.

Like she was the beginning and the end of every war he had ever fought. Like she was the only thing in this world that made sense.

Like he didn't regret a single thing they had just done. "I want us to work out, please tell me everything I need to know"

"And start from where?" she whispered, voice barely above a breath. "Venom isn't even my real name."

Taehyung tensed slightly behind her. "Then what is?"

She exhaled sharply, her fingers curling into the sheets. "I... have none," she admitted, her voice colder now, distant. "The thirst for revenge burned everything else from my memory. All I can remember is that one night—the night they all died. That one moment when those men in black ripped my world apart."

Her breath shuddered. "I was a child. That's all I was. And yet, I remember their screams like they happened yesterday."

Taehyung's arms tightened around her, but she didn't stop. If she did, she'd fall apart.

"I don't remember my mother's scent. Or the sound of my father's laughter. But I remember the way his voice broke when he begged for our lives. I remember the metallic stench of blood. I remember the way my mother's body went limp as she fell infront of me, her warmth fading, her eyes still open."

She swallowed, hard. "I don't even remember what she looked like when she smiled."

Taehyung's breath was uneven now, his grip firm, like he was afraid she'd slip through his fingers if he loosened it even slightly.

"Hey-" His voice was barely a whisper.

She closed her eyes. "That's all that's left of me, all I remember is I was referred by this name when Father brought me here" she murmured. "A name that tastes like poison. A ghost in the underworld. A girl who only knows how to destroy."

A thick silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

Then, after a long pause, Taehyung shifted. Slowly, carefully, he turned her to face him, their bare skin brushing, his gaze burning into hers.

"Then let me be the one thing you don't have to destroy" he said, his voice low, firm. "Let me be something more than another casualty in your war."

She let out a bitter laugh. "And how do you expect that to work?"

"I will give you a name"

She froze.

It slipped from his lips like a vow, like a lifeline thrown into the storm that had swallowed her whole.

"Sarang."

Love.

Her breath caught in her throat, something sharp and unbearable twisting inside her chest. No one had ever given her a name that didn't taste like blood and war. Not even Father did!

She should have laughed. Should have scoffed and told him that love was the cruelest illusion of all. Instead, she whispered, "You can't name something that was never meant to exist."

His fingers brushed against her jaw, tilting her face toward him, forcing her to meet his gaze. "But you do exist," he murmured. "You exist in every part of me. In every moment I spent wanting you, in every night I dreamed of you. You exist even if you don't want to."

Her lips parted, but no words came.

She had spent her whole life being nothing more than a monster, bloody thirsty, a weapon forged from grief and fury. And now here he was, trying to make her into something else.

Trying to make her human.

"I don't know how to be Sarang," she admitted, her voice barely a breath.

His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles against her skin, his warmth grounding her in a way she didn't know she needed. "Then let me teach you" he whispered.

Her eyes burned. A part of her wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto this moment, onto him.

But the other part—the part that had been raised in darkness, the part that had only ever known how to survive—knew better.

Because names had power. And the moment she accepted his, the moment she let herself believe in something beyond revenge... She would lose.

"I can't." Her voice was hoarse, unsteady. "I can't be what you want me to be. You have no clue about anything and no I can't tell you, I just can't, it will destroy you completely"

Taehyung's jaw clenched, his fingers curling into the sheets as he stared at her back, at the way her shoulders trembled ever so slightly. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, just like she always did. Just like she always would—unless he stopped her.

"Then let it," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Let it destroy me."

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"I don't care," he shot back. "If it means understanding you, if it means having you without all these walls between us, then I don't care."

She turned her gaze away, but he could see it—the fear buried beneath the steel.

"This is insanity, Taehyung" she said softly, but there was nothing gentle about the way she spoke. "You think love can survive in a world like mine. But it can't. It never will."

He was quiet, so quiet all of sudden that she felt suffocated under the pressure of that stillness.

"Maybe I wanted to believe, for just one night, that I was something other than what they made me. That's why I am here"

Taehyung turned her again, forcing her to look at him. His fingers tilted her chin up, making sure she saw the sincerity in his eyes.

"You are."

She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. "No, Taehyung. I'm exactly what they made me."

"You're more than that," he insisted. "You're more than revenge. More than bloodshed." His thumb brushed over her cheek, a touch so painfully gentle it made her chest ache. "You're still you. Somewhere in there, beneath all of it."

Her throat tightened.

"You say that like you know me," she whispered.

He exhaled, his forehead pressing against hers. "I do."

She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to.

But belief was dangerous.

Hope was deadly.

"If I... I believe you and walk through these minefields with you, will you promise me that you'll never hate me for anything, even if I'm the one who placed them there?"

"I am madly in love with you, this might be insane, this might come at a hefty price but I want you I need you" Taehyung's words hung between them, raw and desperate, the weight of them pressing into her skin like a brand. Before she could breathe, before she could think, his hands cupped her face, fingers trembling against her jaw.

And then—

His lips crashed onto hers and moved against hers like a man starved like he was trying to devour every doubt, every fear, every wall she had built around herself.

Her breath hitched, hands flying to his chest, nails digging into his skin—but she didn't push him away. She couldn't. Instead, she melted, let herself drown in the way he tasted. Something that made her want to believe in the impossible.

Her gasp barely left her lips before he captured them again, his mouth moving against hers with unrestrained hunger. His fingers made quick work of the clothing she had hurriedly put on, peeling away the barriers between them, exposing her inch by inch to the fire burning between them.

She shuddered as the cool air kissed her bare skin, but his touch was anything but cold—hot, searing, branding. His hands traced the shape of her, firm, possessive, as if memorizing every curve, every dip, every scar.

She tried to catch her breath, but he wouldn't let her.

Taehyung kissed her like he was trying to drink the air from her lungs, like he was trying to consume every hesitation, every lingering doubt. His lips were insistent, devouring her whole, sucking every last bit of resistance from her soul.

A whimper escaped her throat, her fingers curling into his shoulders, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. And god, the way he groaned against her mouth, the way his body trembled with restraint—it only pulled her deeper into the madness.

They were playing with fire.

"Ah~ Taehyung" Her breathy moan sent a violent shiver down his spine, his name on her lips like a prayer—like a curse. His fingers dug into her waist as he deepened the kiss, his desperation pouring into every movement, every heated press of his mouth against hers.

"Say it again" he murmured against her lips, his voice hoarse, rough with desire.

She barely had time to inhale before his lips trailed down her jaw, down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her arch into him.

"Taehyung," she breathed, her hands tangling into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening as if she might slip away if he let go for even a second. But she wasn't going anywhere. Not now. Not when she felt like this—like she was peeled vulnerable in his hands, like she was finally allowing herself to need him.

And he needed her.

More than air. More than reason. More than anything in this world.

She was struggling to keep her eyes open, but he was making it so hard, his large hands gripped the flesh on her inner thighs holding them apart, holding them hostage while his sinful long tongue touched the forbidden flower overflowing with sweet nectar and then she couldn't see anymore. Her eyes rolled shut and she threw her head back pressing it against the pillow.

Her moans combined with the hungry wet slurping sounds and once again she watched the raven head devour her in the mirror stuck to the ceiling. All of him against all of her.

Sinfully Beautiful!

The reflection above them was sinful in the most beautiful way. Her body writhed beneath him, bare and vulnerable, but there was no fear, no hesitation, only fire. Only the desperate push and pull of two people who had lost too much and found too little, clinging to the only thing that still felt real.

His name fell from her lips in breathless moans, each syllable dripping with pleasure, with longing. And god, the way he moved against her, the way his lips worshipped every inch of her skin, it was intoxicating.

"Sarang, you're mine" he rasped, his tongue tracing sinful paths down her body, his voice raw and possessive. "Every inch of you—mine." The wet sounds of his lips against her made her toes curl.

She couldn't deny it! Because the truth was written all over her body, painted in every shiver, every gasp, every desperate clutch of her fingers as she pulled him closer.

And in that moment, there was no revenge, no war, no blood-soaked past.

There was only him. Only them.