Stigma Love's Algorithm [ A BTS x Reader Poly ]

Chapter 128: A Glass House

Yoongi's POV

"They just left another fingerprint. And this one was deliberate."

The words land with the weight of certainty. Not a whisper, not an accusation-just the hard truth sitting between me and Si Woo like a second cup of black coffee we don't want to drink.

Si Woo's face is half-lit by the monitors, exhaustion bleeding into the sharp lines around his eyes. He's been riding on two hours of sleep, six shots of espresso, and a level of anxiety that makes mine look tame.

On the wall-to-wall screen behind us, mirrored data logs blink. Steady. Precise.

Too precise.

Another anomaly. A second cluster of micro-profile updates. Not identical to the first breach, but timestamped exactly seven days later.

Same pattern. Same code signature.

Different path.

My jaw ticks. "Whoever this is... they're watching. Marking. Testing how we react."

Si Woo nods slowly, breath shallow. "Same code. Same structure. But different destination path. It's like... they're mapping how we seal wounds."

"And learning from it," I add, eyes narrowing. "Which means we're not fixing the breach. We're feeding it."

My hands hover over the keyboard.

Everything about this feels engineered-not like a system error, but an observation test.

I lean closer, tapping a mirrored string that flickers for a second, then vanishes.

"Two separate data trails. Same code signature. That's not coincidence."

"Yoongi..." Si Woo's voice drops an octave.

"I found something else. In the authorization logs. Not direct access-but a shadow copy of the permissions matrix."

"What does that mean?"
He hesitates, swallowing.

"It means someone granted access. Not brute-forced. Not externally hacked. Someone let them in."

The bottom drops out from under me.

"What?"

"It's like... someone with mid-level credentials cloned the access mask from a system admin-but they covered it with a ghost signature. It shouldn't be possible unless someone inside knew how to do it."

I sit back, slowly.

Every part of me goes ice cold.

A mole. Or worse-an unwitting collaborator.

We don't know who. Not yet. No names. No proof. But the implications are already breathing down my neck.

Inside the house, the early morning silence hangs like it knows what's coming.

Y/N's POV

I carry the tea tray in both hands, careful not to spill. The cups clink softly as I push the door open with my hip.

"You need to eat," I murmur as I set the tray down, brushing my shoulder against Yoongi's as I slide into the desk chair beside him.

His shoulders finally relax-just a little. The kind of stillness that only comes when you're not alone.

He doesn't say anything at first, but his pinky brushes against mine where our hands rest on the desk.

The gesture is subtle. Intentional. Home.