One year later.
The city had changed.
Not entirely — its bones were still sharp, its shadows still moved — but something in its heartbeat had shifted. The name "Kim" still commanded fear, respect, loyalty. But now, it carried something else too.
Hope.
The youth music foundation Y/N established had expanded to five schools. No one outside the underground knew who funded it. No one asked why ex-gang leaders and retired smugglers served as music teachers in after-school programs.
They just saw results. Heard them. Felt them.
On a crisp autumn morning, Y/N stood in front of a class of ten students, most no older than sixteen, all of them clutching secondhand instruments like lifelines.
Y/N: "We don't play to escape. We play to remember who we are. What we survived. What we're becoming."
One girl raised her hand.
Student: "Is it true you used to play concerts with gangsters in the audience?"
Y/N smirked.
Y/N: "Sweetheart, they were the orchestra."
That night, back at the penthouse — quieter now, rebuilt after its secrets — the brothers gathered on the rooftop.
Jin grilled skewers. Hoseok poured drinks. Jimin was dancing barefoot to old vinyl jazz. Namjoon watched the skyline like he still ran the chessboard. Jungkook sparred with shadows for fun.
And Yoongi?
He sat beside her, legs stretched, hands tapping a silent beat on his thighs.
Yoongi: "You're restless."
Y/N: "I'm not done."
Yoongi: "You'll never be. That's what makes you dangerous."
She turned to him.
Y/N: "Do you miss him? Jihoon?"
A pause.
Yoongi: "Every day. And I'll carry what I couldn't save… for the rest of my life."
Y/N: "But you also saved me."
He looked at her, really looked — not as a sister, not as a soldier in training, but as the woman who had transformed pain into performance. Who took their world and rewrote the tempo.
Yoongi: "No. You saved us."
As the stars emerged — one by one — a piano began to play behind the glass walls of the living room.
Y/N had left the door open.
Her latest composition echoed through the halls — not a requiem, not a warning.
Just music.
Alive. Unafraid. Unfinished.
Because her story wasn't over.
And in a city of wolves and whispers, she had become the melody no one could silence