chapter 3: the sound between worlds

The room remained silent long after the man had left.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched at his sides, his body still locked in place. The words lingered in the air like an unshaken echo.

"The Silence will come for you."

It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

Namjoon finally broke the silence, his voice laced with quiet urgency. “Who was that?”

Yoongi exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “More importantly, how did he get in here?”

Jin turned toward the door, pushing it open just enough to check the hallway. The security guards stood exactly where they should have been, unaware that an uninvited stranger had slipped past them.

Jin shut the door again, his jaw tightening. “That’s impossible.”

Jimin was still staring at the spot where the man had stood. “What if…” He hesitated. “What if this has something to do with Moonlit Echo?”

Jungkook swallowed. “It has to.”

The song had always felt different—from the moment they first recorded it. The lyrics had come naturally, as if they had been waiting to be sung. The melody haunted him even when he wasn’t listening to it, lingering in his dreams like a voice from somewhere beyond.

And then, tonight happened.

Jungkook’s voice had touched something. Changed something.

And someone had noticed.

Taehyung’s deep voice broke through the haze. “There’s only one way to find out.”

J-Hope tilted his head. “Find out what?”

“If our music is really different now,” Taehyung said. His gaze flickered toward the piano in the corner of the room. “We test it.”

A quiet ripple of unease passed between them.

It was reckless. It was dangerous.

But BTS had never been the kind to back down from the unknown.

Jungkook stepped forward first, lowering himself onto the piano bench. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he took a deep breath and began to play.

The first notes of Moonlit Echo filled the space, soft and slow, weaving through the room like a whisper of something ancient.

Then—something shifted.

The air vibrated. The fluorescent lights flickered once, twice.

And the walls… changed.

They weren’t in their dressing room anymore.

The posters, the furniture, the mirrors—everything melted away, dissolving into a vast, open space. A place that wasn’t a place.

Jungkook’s fingers froze on the keys.

No one moved. No one breathed.

They were standing in a world made of sound.

And someone—something—was listening.

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