The mansion used to feel like stone.
Every wall echoed with silence. The rooms were too large, too clean, too untouched — like they were built for ghosts. No warmth. No memories. No life.
Until now.
Now the kitchen smelled like cinnamon in the morning. The hallway had soft rugs she picked out, mismatched on purpose. There were shoes by the door — his and hers. And in the east wing, near the window he never used, Y/N had planted yellow daisies.
She called them 'sun-spots for the soul.'
He never told her, but sometimes he sat by those flowers and just… breathed.
---
It was late autumn when it happened — something unspoken finally clicked between them.
Taehyung had come home earlier than expected. It was raining, and thunder cracked the sky in two. He walked through the door, expecting silence — but found Y/N curled up on the couch in the main hall, sketchbook in her lap, firelight dancing over her features.
She looked up and smiled. Not surprised. Not afraid.
Just… warm.
"You're home early," she said, patting the space beside her.
He didn't answer. Just walked over and sat.
The fire crackled.
For the longest time, there was only the sound of rain and breathing. Then she spoke — not as a girl trying to fix him, but as someone who saw him.
"You walk like you're carrying a war on your back."
He tensed.
"I'm not asking you to drop it… but maybe you don't have to carry it alone."
Her words settled into him like the rain outside — slow, steady, quiet.
He swallowed hard.
"You don't know the things I've done, Y/N."
She looked at him — eyes soft, unwavering.
"I don't have to know them to know you're trying to be better. That means something. That means everything."
---
Later that night, he stood outside her room, as he often did. But this time, he knocked.
She opened the door without surprise.
He didn't ask to stay.
He just whispered:
"The mansion doesn't feel cold anymore."
And she smiled — not with her lips, but with something deeper.
"Because now you live here," she said.
"Not just survive."
---
The next morning, he woke up on the couch, a blanket over him, sunlight painting gold over the dark marble floors. He heard the sound of her humming from the kitchen. He saw her slippers beside his.
And in that fragile, perfect moment, Kim Taehyung— the king of the underworld — felt something terrifyingly unfamiliar.
Peace.
It didn't roar like his empire.
It whispered.
Like a hand brushing his cheek.
Like laughter echoing down a once-lifeless hallway.
Like daisies blooming in cold soil.
He didn't say "I love you." Not yet.
But when she walked into the room and handed him a cup of coffee — the one she learned he liked with two spoons of sugar and a drop of milk — he looked at her, and for the first time in his life…
He felt like he was home.