Fatescript

"Disarmed and Protected"

His eyes widened.

The footage.

In a split-second decision, Taehyung darted forward, his arm shooting out just before the doors could seal him inside. He slipped back into the hallway, ignoring the startled glance of an employee walking past, and sprinted down the corridor toward his office again.

He burst through the door, grabbed the tablet from the desk, and scrubbed back to the clip he had saved—the figure in black, motionless at the mansion’s gates, limp etched into every slow step. He raised his phone, snapping picture after picture of the screen, making sure to capture every angle: the posture, the shoes, the timestamp.

When he was done, he exhaled hard, checking the gallery. The images weren’t perfect, but they were clear enough.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Taehyung bolted out again, this time not hesitating as he stormed into the waiting elevator. The mirrored walls caught his reflection—sharp jaw, tense shoulders, eyes that burned with purpose.

By the time the elevator descended into the garage, his mind was racing ahead—already planning how to present this at the station, how to shield Jisoo from having to explain every painful detail herself.

The heavy doors opened to the dim garage. The air was cool, tinged faintly with oil and rubber. His car sat waiting, sleek and polished under the fluorescent lights. Without breaking stride, he unlocked it, the low beep echoing off the concrete walls. He slid into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking faintly under his weight, and gripped the wheel tight.

Engine roaring to life, he pulled out of the space in one clean motion, determination burning in his chest. Whatever Jisoo thought she would do alone—he wouldn’t let her.

***

Taehyung’s car idled at the curb outside Jisoo’s company building, his hand drumming lightly against the steering wheel as he waited. He’d sent her a short message—I’m here—and now he scanned the doors, eyes narrowing against the midday glare.

Five minutes later, his wait ended. Jisoo appeared, her pace hurried, the soft breeze tugging strands of hair loose around her face. Her eyes darting quickly until they found him. Even from inside the car, Taehyung’s lips pulled into a smile.

The passenger door opened, and she slid in, breath catching slightly as if she’d rushed more than she wanted to admit. Her perfume filled the small space instantly—warm, familiar, grounding.

Taehyung’s gaze shifted to her, softer now but laced with something unspoken. He let the corners of his mouth curl. “You look beautiful.”

Jisoo blinked, caught off guard. Her cheeks colored faintly, and she ducked her head with a small, awkward laugh. “Thank you,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He chuckled lowly at her shyness, fingers wrapping firmly around the gearshift as he started the car and eased into the street. “No need to thank me. I’m just stating facts.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was comfortable, filled with the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the city outside. After a few turns, Taehyung cast her a sidelong glance, voice gentler but edged with curiosity. “So… why the sudden decision to talk to her?"

Her eyes stayed forward, fixed on the view through the windshield. “I just want to know why,” she said softly. “Why she did all that to me.” There was no anger in her tone—just that quiet ache of someone who had lived too long with unanswered questions.

Taehyung’s grip on the wheel tightened, but his tone stayed calm. “Are you sure you’re not hiding something from me?” His words carried the shape of a tease, but his eyes flicked toward her, sharp, studying. He knew her well enough now—knew that she wouldn’t withhold the truth anymore. Still, he asked, giving her the chance to either confirm or surprise him.