.!S̷h̷a̷t̷t̷e̷r̷e̷d̷ ̷R̷e̷f̷l̷e̷c̷t̷i̷o̷n̷!.

part¹²

The funeral was a somber affair, with mourners dressed in black and white hanboks, their faces etched with sadness and disbelief. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the sound of wailing filled the room. Namjoon's mother was inconsolable, her cries echoing throughout the hall. She clutched a framed photo of her son, her tears staining the image.

Namjoon's friends stood in a line, their faces pale and drawn. They couldn't believe that their friend was gone, that they would never see his smile or hear his laugh again. They had lost a brother, a confidant, and a kind soul.

As the funeral procession began, Namjoon's soul followed closely behind. He watched as his coffin was carried out of the room, his heart heavy with sorrow. He wanted to reach out and touch his mother's hand, to tell her that he was still with her, but he couldn't. He was just a soul, a mere observer of his own funeral.

As the procession made its way to the cemetery, Namjoon's soul watched as his coffin was lowered into the ground. He felt a sense of finality washing over him, and he knew that he would never be able to hug his friends or express his love for Yoongi ever again. He was now just a memory, a ghost of his former self.

The funeral was a blur of tears and sorrow, with Namjoon's friends and family paying their respects. The traditional Korean funeral rites were performed, with offerings of food and drink placed at the gravesite. Namjoon's mother wept uncontrollably, her grief too much to bear. She collapsed onto the ground, her body wracked with sobs as she clung to her son's coffin.

As the mourners began to leave, Namjoon's soul lingered behind, trapped in a state of eternal sorrow. He watched as his mother, her face etched with pain, placed a bouquet of white lilies on his grave. The flowers, once vibrant and full of life, now symbolized the fragility and innocence that had been brutally taken away from him.

The weight of his tragic fate hung heavy in the air, suffocating those who loved him. His friends, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, stood together, their tear-stained faces a reflection of their shattered hearts. Yoongi, normally filled with a quiet strength, was now a mere shell of himself. His body moved mechanically, but his spirit was crushed, consumed by a darkness that seemed impossible to escape.

Namjoon's funeral was a somber affair, the air thick with grief and unanswered questions. The room was filled with a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional sob that escaped from a loved one's lips. The sight of Namjoon's lifeless body, once vibrant and full of laughter, now cold and motionless, sent shivers down their spines.

The details of Namjoon's final moments were too painful to bear. The realization that someone had violated him, subjecting him to unimaginable horrors, was a wound that cut deep into the souls of those who cared for him. The anger that simmered beneath their grief fueled their determination to seek justice, to ensure that Namjoon's memory would not be tarnished by the darkness that had taken him away.

But as Namjoon's soul observed the anguish and desperation in the eyes of his loved ones, he knew that justice would not come easily. The world was a cruel and unforgiving place, and he understood that he could not rely solely on others to avenge his death. He had to take matters into his own ethereal hands.

With a newfound resolve, Namjoon's soul vowed to become a force of justice. He would haunt the dreams of his assailant, tormenting them with the same fear and pain they had inflicted upon him. He would whisper in their ears, a chilling reminder that they could never escape the consequences of their actions.

Namjoon's soul knew that revenge would not bring him peace, but it was a necessary step towards closure. He would not rest until his tormentor was held accountable, until the world knew the name of the monster who had stolen his life. And as he embarked on his ethereal quest for justice, Namjoon's soul found solace in the knowledge that he would forever be with his loved ones, watching over them and protecting them from the shadows.

As the funeral came to a close, the rain began to fall, a torrential downpour that matched the anguish and despair that consumed the hearts of those left behind. Each drop seemed to carry the weight of a thousand tears shed, as if the heavens themselves wept for the loss of such a radiant and promising soul.

Namjoon's spirit lingered at the gravesite, his ethereal presence shrouded in a haunting mist. He yearned to reach out to his loved ones, to offer them solace and a glimmer of hope, but he was trapped in a desolate realm between the realms of the living and the dead. His voice, filled with sorrow and longing, remained forever unheard.

But now, a darkness began to consume his once gentle soul. The kind-hearted spirit that once radiated warmth and love was now twisted and contorted by the unspeakable horrors he had endured. The evil that had taken his life, the ones who had violated and tortured him, would not go unpunished. Namjoon's spirit, fueled by a vengeful rage, vowed to seek retribution upon those who had stolen his innocence and shattered his dreams.

In the depths of his ethereal existence, Namjoon's spirit grew stronger, fueled by the pain and suffering he had endured. His once bright eyes now glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light, as he plotted his revenge. The souls of his tormentors would tremble in fear as he descended upon them, a force of darkness and despair that would haunt their every waking moment.

The rain continued to pour, its relentless assault mirroring the torment that Namjoon's spirit had endured. Each droplet seemed to carry with it the echoes of his screams, the echoes of his pleas for mercy that had fallen on deaf ears. The world around him grew darker, as if the very fabric of reality had been tainted by the horrors he had experienced.

As the rain washed away the dirt from the freshly dug grave, it revealed a chilling truth. Namjoon's spirit, once a beacon of light and hope, had been consumed by the darkness that had taken his life. His presence, once a whisper in the wind, now loomed like a shadow, a harbinger of the horrors to come.

And so, as the mourners departed, unaware of the malevolent force that had been unleashed, Namjoon's spirit lingered, his ethereal form a testament to the depths of human suffering. In the darkness, he plotted his revenge, his heart filled with a mix of sorrow, rage, and a thirst for justice that would never be quenched.

Words: 1152
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