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The Dining Hall

A  U  T   H  O  R 'S   P  O  V

The grand dining hall was bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier, casting long shadows against the mahogany walls. The air was thick with tension, the weight of power pressing down on everyone in the room. The seven men who had arrived earlier that day sat at the long table, their expressions unreadable, their presence suffocating.

Kayla, however, remained unfazed.

She lounged in her chair, idly twirling a fork between her fingers as if the world revolved at her pace. A smirk played at her lips, her eyes dancing with mischief as she studied the men before her.

“So, this is what the great Godfathers look like,” she mused, voice laced with mock curiosity. “I expected something… different.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Oh? And what exactly were you expecting, little one?”

Kayla shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe men who didn’t look so.... old.”

A beat of silence.

Jimin nearly choked on his wine, his lips twitching as he fought back a grin. Jimin leaned forward with a smirk,amusement flickering in his eyes. “ But You’ve been staring at us for a while now, sweetheart. Like what you see?”

Kayla scoffed, crossing her arms. “Not particularly. Just wondering how long you plan to loiter in my house.”

The room fell silent. Again....

Taehyung let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Your house?” His voice was laced with mockery, a slow smirk forming on his lips. “That’s bold of you, little one.”

Kayla tilted her head, unfazed. “Is it? I don’t see your names on the walls.”

Hoseok whistled under his breath. “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

Hoseok let out a low whistle, shaking his head in amusement, while Jungkook outright smirked, finding her audacity entertaining.

Namjoon, who had been watching her with calculating eyes, finally spoke. “It’s not about names on the walls, Kayla. It’s about power. And power doesn’t need validation from words.”

Kayla narrowed her eyes. “If you say so.”

Namjoon, however, simply leaned forward, fingers steepled together. “And what does that make you?” His voice was calm, calculated. “A child playing house?”

Kayla met his gaze, unblinking. “No. A queen in her own kingdom.”

Seokjin leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “We’re here for a reason. Let’s not waste time with unnecessary bravado.”

Kayla grinned, propping her elbow on the table. “Oh, but I love unnecessary bravado. It makes things interesting.”

The amusement in the air quickly turned into something darker as Yoongi, who had been silent up until now, set down his glass with a sharp clink. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, unamused.

A dark chuckle rumbled from Yoongi’s chest. “A queen?” He repeated, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve got quite the mouth for someone who doesn’t understand the weight of her words.”

Kayla smirked, feigning innocence. “Oh, I understand perfectly. You just don’t like the fact that I don’t bow to you.”

The amusement in the air shifted into something colder.

Yoongi’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening around the silverware. He had tolerated her attitude long enough, but now she was testing the limits of his patience.

Before she could utter another cocky remark, Yoongi moved.

The room fell into silence as he grabbed the knife beside his plate and, in one swift motion, slammed it into the wooden table between them, mere inches from Kayla’s hand.

A sharp gasp escaped one of the maids standing nearby, but Kayla… she didn’t flinch.

Instead, she merely glanced down at the embedded blade, then back up at him, amusement still dancing in her eyes.

“You think this is a game?” His voice was low, a warning.

Kayla’s smile didn’t falter. “Isn’t it?”

Faster than she could react, Yoongi stood and leaned forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. The room tensed. Even the servants around them stilled, holding their breath.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, little girl,” he murmured, his tone void of warmth. “I’d advise you to watch that tongue of yours before someone decides to cut it out.”

Kayla’s heart pounded, but she refused to back down. Instead, she smirked. “Would that someone be you?”

Yoongi’s gaze darkened. “Don’t test me.”

“Subtle,” she mused.

Yoongi’s gaze burned into hers. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Layla. Be careful you don’t lose.”

Something flickered in his mind—a memory from long ago, one he had buried deep.

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[  F   l   a   s   h   b   a  c  k  ]

The lavish estate was bathed in golden sunlight, the vast gardens stretching endlessly before him.

Yoongi was twelve when he first arrived here, nothing more than a stray pulled from the streets, hardened by a life of survival. He was the son of a feared assassin, trained to kill without hesitation, without mercy. He had no name, no home—until he gave him one.

Yoo-na's father.

The man who saw potential in him, who took him in and called him son.

It should have felt like a second chance. A fresh start.

But then there was her.

Five-year-old Yoo-na, with a silver spoon in her mouth and the world at her feet. She ran through the estate like she owned it, laughing, taunting, commanding.

“You’re boring,” she had declared the first time they met, standing before him in a dress far too expensive for a child. “Why don’t you talk?”

Yoongi ignored her. He wasn’t here to play.

But she didn’t stop.

“Father says you’re going to live here now,” she continued, crossing her arms. “That makes you my brother.”

Yoongi’s expression remained blank. “I’m not your brother.”

Yoo-na huffed, stomping her tiny foot. “Fine. Then you can be my knight.”

Yoongi scoffed, turning away.

And then she said something that made him freeze.

“You look sad.”

He stiffened.

Yoo-na tilted her head, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Did someone hurt you?”

Yoongi clenched his fists. “No.”

She smiled, as if she knew better. “Liar.”

For the first time in his life, someone saw through him. And Yoongi hated it.

[  E  n  d   o f   F  l  a  s  h  b a  c  k  ]

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[  P  r  e  s  e  n  t  ]

Yoongi blinked, snapping back to the present.

Across from him, Kayla was still smirking, unaware of the storm she had just stirred in his chest.

But Yoongi saw it now.

The resemblance.

She wasn’t just a reminder of the past—she was the past, reincarnated in a body that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore.

His grip tightened around the knife handle as an unfamiliar emotion coiled in his gut.

Seokjin, who had been watching him closely, finally broke the silence. “Let’s eat.”

The tension eased slightly as the servants moved to serve the food, but Yoongi barely touched his plate.

Kayla, however, took a slow bite of her meal, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, is this how it’s going to be? A battle of wills?”

Namjoon smirked. “You started it.”

Kayla leaned back, stretching her arms. “Good. It would’ve been boring otherwise.”

Jimin chuckled. “You’re going to be fun.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow. “Was there ever any doubt?”

The table fell into a brief silence before Seokjin sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is going to be a long night.”

Across the table, Yoongi watched Kayla closely, his mind still trapped in the echoes of the past.

And for the first time in years, he felt something stir within him.

Something dangerous.

Something that felt a lot like regret.

They were here to control her.

But It seems like,

They're all In Her control.

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Private Study Room

The grand dining hall had fallen into silence after the meal, but tension lingered in the air. The seven men, rulers of the underworld, had retreated to a private study, away from the ears of servants and Kayla herself. The room was dimly lit, the heavy scent of cigar smoke curling into the air as Namjoon leaned against the desk, arms crossed, surveying his brothers.

Jungkook was the first to speak. "She's too cocky," he muttered, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Doesn't even realize what’s at stake."

Hoseok scoffed, reclining in his chair. "What did you expect? She’s been raised in a gilded cage, completely unaware of the power she holds."

Yoongi’s fingers tapped against the wooden surface, his expression unreadable. "We don’t have time for her games. The lawyer is coming soon, and if we don’t secure her cooperation before then, we might lose the inheritance rights to that land."

"The land," Seokjin murmured, his voice low, almost nostalgic. "It’s not just land."

Namjoon nodded. "It’s a legacy. Her father’s empire. The very thing that could tip the balance in this war."

Jimin exhaled sharply, resting his chin on his hand. "So, what’s the plan? Scare her into submission? Persuade her? Or force her hand?"

Taehyung, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice dangerously soft. "She doesn't need to know the truth—yet. We’ll ease her into it. Make her trust us."

"Trust?" Yoongi scoffed, his eyes flickering with an emotion none of them could place. "You think that girl is capable of trust? She doesn’t even realize she’s a pawn in a game bigger than her existence."

A heavy silence settled over them, until Seokjin chuckled darkly.

"You’re all so impatient," he murmured, eyes glinting with something distant, something buried deep in the past. "This isn’t just about the land. It’s about unfinished business."

His mind drifted back—back to a time when he wasn’t the ruthless man he was today.

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[   F   l    a  s   h   b  a   c  k   ]

The scent of aged whiskey and burning firewood filled the grand study, the thick velvet curtains drawn shut to the world outside. Bookshelves towered over the room, their spines heavy with secrets, while the faint clinking of ice against a glass echoed in the suffocating silence. Behind the mahogany desk, the most feared Mafia boss in the underground sat with an unreadable expression, his sharp gaze fixed on the boy standing before him.

Kim Seokjin was twenty. A boy by years, but nothing in his soul was young. He stood stiffly, his fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding, though his face betrayed none of it.

The man before him was the devil himself—the king of this empire. And tonight, Seokjin was here to sell his soul.

"You’re asking me to protect you from your own blood?" The deep voice was calm, almost amused, but the weight behind it was suffocating.

Seokjin didn’t hesitate. "I’m asking you to help me destroy them."

The Mafia boss chuckled, swirling his whiskey in his glass. "And why would I do that?"

Seokjin met his gaze. "Because I can be useful to you."

The older man raised a brow, unimpressed. "How so?"

Seokjin took a slow step forward. "I know their operations—their smuggling routes, their buyers, every hidden tunnel, every offshore account. My family runs the largest organ trafficking syndicate in the country. You help me take them down, and their empire is yours."

A heavy silence settled over the room, thick with tension.

Then, the Mafia boss leaned forward, a slow smirk curling on his lips. "A tempting offer," he admitted. "But I don’t trust men without roots."

Seokjin felt the sharp sting of a rejection claw at his chest. He had spent months planning every possible argument, but before he could speak again, the doors to the study burst open.

And she walked in.

Yoo-na.

She was fourteen, dressed in an expensive silk dress that barely brushed her knees. Dark raven locks cascaded down her back, her delicate features sharp with confidence. She was the very picture of a Mafia princess —untouchable, powerful, a girl who had never known fear.

"Father," she huffed, crossing her arms, "you’re being too harsh on Namjoon."

The older man sighed. "Yoo-na, this is not your concern."

"It .  is . my . concern," she argued, stepping closer, her voice holding an authority that no child should possess. "If Namjoon is supposed to be my right hand, you can't keep breaking him in training. He won’t be any good to me if he’s half-dead all the time."

Seokjin barely breathed.

She was young—too young. And yet, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, she wasn’t a child. She was a force of nature.

And for the first time in his life, Seokjin felt something shift inside him.

She was the daughter of the man who could decide his fate. But more than that, she was his future.

And then, she said something that burned itself into Seokjin’s soul.

"If Namjoon wants to stand beside me," she continued, "he needs to be strong, not broken."

She spoke of  someone named Namjoon with such ease, with such eagerness, that it made Seokjin's jaw clench. He hated the way her voice softened when she spoke about  that Namjoon. He hated that she cared.

A foreign, ugly feeling twisted in his gut—jealousy.

He had only just met her, and yet, he despised the idea of her looking at someone else with that kind of importance.

And For The First time, He wanted something or someone.... She was someone who's not Afraid of Anyone..... He wanted Her, Beside him....

Yoo-na: I want him as he is father...

And with that she left the place like a queen who demanded something and everyone needed to fulfill it without any other words.....

The moment he opened his mouth, he knew he was about to do something reckless. 

"I have a counteroffer " Seokjin said, voice steady.

Her father arched a brow. "Oh?"

Seokjin looked straight at him, ignoring the way Yoo-na’s piercing eyes studied him with curiosity. "I’ll destroy my family and their empire," he said, "but I want your backing. And in return, I’ll become the leader of their operations—under your command."

Yoo-na’s father studied him for a long, quiet moment before a slow smirk curved his lips.

"Ambitious," he mused.

Seokjin’s fists tightened. "Efficient."

The older man chuckled, lifting his glass. "Very well," he said. "You have a deal."

And just like that, Seokjin had sold his soul to the devil.

But as his gaze flickered back to Yoo-na, he knew—she was the reason he had done it.

And she would be the reason he would never turn back.

[ E  n  d  o f   F l  a s  h  b a c k  ]

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[  P  r  e  s  e  n  t ]

Seokjin blinked back into the present, his lips curling ever so slightly as he glanced at the others.

"She has no idea," he mused. "No idea of the power she holds."

Namjoon studied him carefully. "And what about you?"

Seokjin’s smirk deepened. "She looks just like her, doesn’t she?"

Yoongi stiffened. The others exchanged glances.

Jimin exhaled. "This is dangerous."

Hoseok nodded. "If you let your past get in the way, you’ll ruin everything."

Seokjin only chuckled. "I don’t plan on ruining anything. But tell me—can any of you truly say you look at her and don’t see her ?"

Silence.

Because they couldn’t.

Kayla was more than just a girl.

She was the past. A haunting shadow. A ghost of what they had lost.

And whether she knew it or not, she held the power to change everything.

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AUTHOR'S RANT:

hi!!! I came back again with a new chapter of Whispers Of The Stolen Legacy!!!!

Hope you will like it!!

I am updating it beforehand because the chapter was ready a very long time ago alongside with chapter 2 !!!!

So, How is it story going so far?!

What are you thoughts about it?!

Any predictions?!

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