The venue was unlike any other Y/N had performed in before.
An old opera house, long closed to the public, newly reopened for "one night only" under the pretense of an avant-garde classical showcase. The air smelled of velvet and dust. The stage was dimly lit, the acoustics haunting. The perfect stage for something poetic.
And dangerous.
Yoongi paced the wings of the stage, headset on, comms wired to every corner.
Jungkook was embedded in the lighting booth.
Hoseok and Jimin posed as event crew, scanning arrivals.
Namjoon and Jin monitored external perimeters from the surveillance van parked three blocks away.
Y/N, center stage, wore a midnight-blue ensemble with black silk gloves. Under her seat was a silent panic switch. Under her piano bench, a hidden earpiece connected only to Yoongi.
At exactly 9:13 PM, the last guest arrived.
Seo Inho.
He wore no mask. Just a smirk — the arrogance of a man who believed he controlled the room.
He took a seat in the front row, legs crossed, eyes locked on her.
Yoongi (in her earpiece): "He's alone. No confirmed backup. That doesn't mean he's not wired. Stay sharp."
Y/N pressed the pedal, and the opening notes of The Requiem Trap filled the hall.
It began like a lullaby. Calm. Innocent.
But within the melody, something darker brewed — variations that matched the code Yoongi had decrypted earlier that week. Inho's own ciphered music.
She had mirrored it… and inverted it.
Each theme she introduced was a direct contradiction to his — mocking his motifs, unraveling his intent. It was no longer just music.
It was warfare.
And Inho… began to notice.
His smile faded. His fingers curled.
He stood. Walked to the base of the stage. Eyes flashing.
Seo Inho (quietly): "You decoded me."
Y/N didn't stop playing.
Y/N (low): "And I'm rewriting the ending."
Suddenly, Yoongi's voice cut into her earpiece.
Yoongi (urgent): "We have movement in the upper boxes. Right balcony. Two shadows — armed."
Y/N didn't flinch.
Instead, she struck the piano keys harder — transitioning into the second movement. A coded alert. A signal to her brothers.
The lights flickered once — Jungkook's confirmation.
From the balcony, two sharp sounds:
Click. Click.
Silencers. Raised.
Before they could fire —
CRACK.
CRACK.
Two clean sniper shots from the shadows behind the red curtains.
Jin's voice over comms: "Threats neutralized."
Y/N's fingers never faltered.
Inho's eyes widened.
Seo Inho: "This isn't music."
Y/N (calmly): "It's your finale."
Security swarmed the front of the stage, surrounding Inho. He didn't resist. He simply looked at her with strange admiration… and hatred.
Seo Inho: "You're not like them."
Y/N (softly): "No. I'm worse. I'm both."
He was dragged away.
The audience — a carefully selected mix of neutral parties and unknowing civilians — thought it was all part of the performance. A dramatic flourish.
They applauded.
Thunderously.
The curtain fell.
And Y/N, still seated at the grand piano, lowered her head for a moment.
Her breath shook.
Yoongi entered from stage left, quiet as ever, coat draped over his arm.
Yoongi: "You okay?"
Y/N: "He almost had me."
Yoongi: "But he didn't. You ended it."
She looked up.
Y/N: "Not just for me. For all of us."
He nodded once.
Yoongi: "Then take a bow, maestro."
She stood.
And for the first time, when the curtain lifted again...
Y/N didn't see herself as a girl trying to survive her family's world.
She was the one leading it — note by note, heartbeat by heartbeat.