Wrong Number | Han Jisung

The Edge of the Thread

[Yuna's POV]

I told them everything.

Not all at once.

Not in some dramatic, cinematic scene where I spilled my heart and they all gasped.

It came out in pieces. Like pulling thorns from skin, one at a time. I told them about the way my brother used to scream at me, then laugh like nothing happened. How he'd lock the door when he got angry, like he was doing me a favor by keeping me from "ruining the world."

I told them about the time I ran, and he dragged me back. How I kept it secret so long I forgot what "normal" even felt like.

And the worst part?

He'd never once laid a hand on me.

But somehow, that made it worse.

Because people don't take bruises you can't see seriously.

They listened.

All of them.

In total, chaotic silence.

Felix cried quietly.

Jeongin sat so still, I thought he'd frozen.

Minho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes deadly calm.

And Jisung — my Jisung — held my hand like he was anchoring me to the world.

⸻

[Chan's POV]

"Okay," I said after a long silence. "Here's what we do."

Because I knew this feeling. The quiet panic behind everyone's eyes. That invisible line between safe and not safe anymore. I'd crossed it before. We all had.

But not with someone we couldn't punch.

And that made it worse.

"We change numbers. Tomorrow," I said. "No more traceable phones. I'll set you up with a dummy one in case he tries to contact you again — we can track it from there."

Minho nodded. "I already found an old report from her high school. There was a complaint. Anonymous. I'd bet anything it was her."

"It was," Yuna whispered. "They didn't do anything."

That made Changbin swear under his breath.

"I'll check the apartment building security footage," Minho said. "If he's been watching, we'll know."

"I don't want to put you guys in danger—"

"You're not," Hyunjin said gently, standing behind her. "You're family. You don't get to argue."

Jeongin held up a frying pan. "I'm ready for war."

"...Why a frying pan?" Seungmin asked, deadpan.

"Emotional damage," Jeongin answered without blinking.

⸻

[That Night – Yuna's POV]

I couldn't sleep.

Even with Jisung on the floor beside my bed, snoring softly into a hoodie pile, my heart wouldn't slow down.

Something felt... off.

A chill. A pressure in the room. I got up to check the window.

It was cracked open.

I never left it open.

My blood turned cold.

I looked down — a small folded paper sat just inside the frame.

No. No. No.

I grabbed it with trembling hands and unfolded it.

You think they can save you?
Cute.

I dropped it like it burned.

I didn't scream.

I didn't wake anyone.

I just sat on the floor, trying to remember how to breathe.

He knew where I was.

He'd been here.

⸻

[Morning]

I didn't hide the note.

I walked into the kitchen and dropped it on the table like a grenade.

Eight pairs of eyes stared at it. Then at me.

"He was there," I said simply. "At the dorm."

And everything exploded.

"WHAT?!"

"HE WAS HERE?"

"WHERE IS MY BAT?!"

"Frying pan's not enough, I need something cursed—"

Chan didn't yell.

He just read the note three times, face blank.

Then he said, "He crossed the line."

Minho looked up, jaw clenched. "We move her out. Now."

"Where?" Jisung asked.

"Our old practice house," Chan said. "Still vacant. Secure. I still have the code."

"I'm coming too," Jisung said without hesitation.

"So are we," Hyunjin added.

"All of us," Felix insisted, holding my hand like it might disappear. "No way you go through this alone."

⸻

[Moving Day]

We didn't pack like normal people.

We packed like a SWAT team.

Minho drove. Seungmin handled cameras. Changbin lifted literal furniture like it was paper. Felix packed snacks for "trauma fueling." Jeongin made a playlist called "Don't Die, Yuna."

Jisung never left my side.

The practice house was old but warm — still smelled like floor polish and late-night ramen. It felt like a safehouse.

We triple-locked every door. Covered windows. Set up motion lights. Chan tested the alarm system himself.

I didn't even know what to say.

All of this... for me.

⸻

[Late That Night – Yuna's POV]

We sat on the couch, the whole group.

Movie playing, nobody really watching.

I was tucked against Jisung's side. He hadn't said much all day, but his arm around me felt solid. Steady.

"You okay?" he whispered.

I nodded, then whispered, "You're mad."

"Not at you," he said instantly. "At him. For making you feel like this. For ever touching your life."

"I hate that he still gets to be in my head."

"He won't forever."

His eyes were dark.

"I swear to you, Yuna. One day, he's just gonna be a story you tell. One where you win."

I didn't cry.

Not because I wasn't overwhelmed.

But because... I believed him.

And in that quiet, in that space filled with eight tired but determined boys and one terrified girl clinging to safety by a thread —

I finally felt like that thread was tied to something strong.

Something that wouldn't let me fall.