The night had already collapsed into hysteria by the time Taehyung dragged Jimin out of the burning house, both of them coughing, eyes watering, hair singed at the ends, every guest in the lawn running like scattered ants while the air thickened with smoke and panic. 

People were yelling names into the blaze, mothers clutching their children, men rushing for water, and the sky itself seemed to pulse with the rhythmic glow of flames devouring wood. Jungkook’s grandma sat trembling on a garden chair someone had dragged out for her, her frail hands shaking around a rosary she could barely hold steady.