𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙏𝙤 𝙆𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞 《OT7× READER

⚠️ Disclaimer

This story is a work of imagination.

It is inspired by the idea of Kashi, known in mythology as the last city to survive after destruction.

However, this fanfiction has no connection to any real gods, religions, or beliefs.

All characters, events, and places are fictional and made only for creative storytelling.

I deeply respect all faiths and traditions, and I do not mean to hurt anyone’s religious or cultural feelings in any way.

The name “Devi” used for the female lead has no relation to the Divine Goddess. It is simply a character name chosen for the story.

◇ Chapter 1 ◇

“One night changed everything. Seven stars. One city. A world turned silent.”

The mirror reflected a calm face that didn’t quite match the storm building outside.

Namjoon ran a hand through his hair one last time, trying to fix the few strands that refused to stay down. The bright vanity lights painted his skin in gold, the air thick with the mix of cologne, makeup, and adrenaline.

He glanced at his phone —

4:30 p.m., September 6th, 2019

.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

He lifted the phone, tilted his head slightly, and clicked a selfie. The flash blinked, capturing a fleeting moment of peace — one he didn’t know would soon become a memory from another world.

Behind him, the dressing room buzzed with life.

Laughter echoed as Taehyung hummed a tune, Jimin adjusted his mic, and Jungkook kept pacing the floor, excitement bouncing off every move.

Hoseok’s bright laughter filled the room, while Yoongi leaned against the wall, headphones in, pretending to be calm. Jin stood near the door, checking each of them like the responsible elder he was.

Outside, the muffled roar of thousands of fans rose and fell like waves.

The stadium was full — every seat, every corner lit by ocean-blue lightsticks. The boys could hear their names being chanted, their songs being sung even before the music began.

This was their biggest concert yet — the night BTS became unstoppable.

The room had finally quieted down. The last of the staff hurried out with headsets and clipboards, their voices fading behind the heavy door. For the first time in hours, the seven of them were alone.

Namjoon dropped into the long leather sofa with a sigh, his shoulders relaxing.

“Finally,” he muttered, pushing his hair back. “I thought they were going to powder my face until I turned into a ghost.”

Jin laughed, plopping down beside him. “You already look like one, leader-nim. Maybe the lights will reflect off your forehead and blind the front row.”

Namjoon shot him a look. “Hyung, I swear—”

Before he could finish, Taehyung leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Wait, if Namjoon blinds the fans, does that mean they’ll love us even more? Like—literally, love at first ‘flash’?”

Jungkook groaned. “Hyung, that joke was worse than Jin-hyung’s.”

“Yah!” Jin frowned dramatically. “Don’t insult an artist’s sense of humor. Mine are world-class.”

“World-class painful,” Yoongi mumbled from the far end of the sofa, eyes half-closed. He had his hood up and looked like he might nap any second.

Hoseok grinned, clapping his hands once. “Okay, okay, stop roasting each other! We’re minutes away from performing in front of thousands of people — let’s focus on positive energy!”

“Positive energy?” Jimin tilted his head. “You mean like pretending we’re not all starving because someone—” he glanced at Jungkook, “—finished the last sandwich?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “What? I was growing! It’s not my fault!”

The laughter still lingered in the air when the door burst open.

Their manager, Mr. Han, stumbled inside — pale, sweating, and out of breath. His usually neat shirt was half untucked, his tie hanging loose. Before anyone could speak, he slammed the door shut behind him and twisted the lock with trembling hands.

The sudden noise silenced the room.

Everyone stared as he dragged one of the heavy sofa chairs across the floor and wedged it against the door. The sound of wood scraping tile echoed sharply in the quiet dressing room.

“Hyung?” Namjoon stood up slowly, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

Mr. Han didn’t answer right away. He pressed his ear to the door, listening. His chest rose and fell fast, like he’d been running for miles. Only then did he turn toward them, face ghost-white, eyes wide with fear.

“There’s… something wrong outside,” he whispered.

Yoongi frowned, lowering his hood. “What do you mean, ‘something wrong’?”

Mr. Han swallowed hard.

“People— they’ve gone mad. I don’t know how else to say it. They’re—” his voice broke for a second, “—they’re attacking each other. I saw them outside the parking area. Staff members. Security guards. Everyone.”

Hoseok laughed nervously, glancing at the others. “You’re joking, right? Some kind of prank before the concert?”

Mr. Han shook his head violently. “Does this look like a joke to you?” He pointed to a smear of blood on his sleeve — not his own, by the looks of it.

“They were biting people. Actually biting. I barely got away.”

The room fell silent.

No one moved. The distant roar of the crowd outside suddenly sounded strange — not cheering, but something else. Shouting. Screaming.

Namjoon’s heart pounded. He stepped toward the television mounted on the wall, grabbed the remote, and turned it on.

The screen flickered to life.

Every channel showed the same chaos — reporters speaking over sirens, shaky camera footage of people running, streets filled with confusion and terror. The words on the bottom of the screen froze everyone in place:

“Breaking News: Unidentified Virus Spreads Rapidly — Citizens Advised to Stay Indoors.”

The anchor’s voice cracked as she read from her script. “Officials are describing the infected as violent and unresponsive to pain. We urge everyone to—”

The broadcast cut to static.

The boys stared at the screen, their reflection trembling in the flickering light.

No one spoke, but the same thought ran through every mind in that silent room.

Then the room erupted into chaos.

“Call your parents!” Jin shouted, fumbling with his phone. “Call them now!”

“I can’t get through!” Jimin cried, voice shaking as he pressed redial again and again. The phone only buzzed in his hand — no signal.

Taehyung’s hands trembled as he tried to unlock his screen. “Hyung, the lines are dead! It’s not working—”

“Try again!” Hoseok yelled, pacing the floor. “Someone has to answer—someone—!”

Across the room, Jungkook sat on the floor, clutching his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. “My mom… she’s not picking up,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “She always answers. She always—”

The words dissolved into a sob.

Namjoon sat frozen on the couch, eyes locked on the flickering television. The static hissed softly, white noise filling the silence between their shouts. He could barely hear them anymore — the ringing in his ears drowned everything out.

His hands rested on his knees, motionless. The world was collapsing, and all he could do was stare at the ghostly blur of light on the screen. He could see it — the empty streets, the fires, the faces twisted by hunger and fear. A future no one was ready for.

Mr. Han was near the door, his back pressed against it, his voice desperate. “

"Keep it down! Please!” he hissed. “They’re outside! They can hear noise— they follow sound!”

The words hit like a slap. The room went silent in an instant.

Only the sound of quiet sobbing and shaky breaths filled the air. Hoseok covered his face with both hands. Taehyung leaned into Jimin’s shoulder, crying softly. Jin held Jungkook close, trying to keep his voice steady even as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Yoongi sat beside Namjoon, wiping at his eyes in frustration. “This can’t be real,” he muttered, voice low. “It’s just… some mistake. Some sick joke.”

Mr. Han shook his head. “I saw it. I saw them bite a man’s neck until he stopped moving.” His voice cracked. “This isn’t a joke, Yoongi.”

No one replied.

One by one, the boys drifted toward the sofa, sinking down beside Namjoon. Eight people now — huddled close, surrounded by silence and fear. The air felt heavy, the kind that pressed down on your chest until breathing hurt.

Namjoon finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

“What do we do now?”

No one had an answer.

The minutes dragged like hours. The only sound was the soft hiss of static and the faint hum of the air conditioner that still ran, unaware that the world outside was breaking apart.

Then Taehyung stood up and walked toward the wide glass window at the end of the dressing room. His voice trembled.

“Guys… you should see this.”

The others joined him one by one.

Outside, the evening light had dimmed into a strange, copper shade. The stadium lights flickered weakly over the parking lot, where shadows moved — slow, uneven, wrong.

Bodies stumbled against cars, some crawling on the ground. The air was filled with distant screams, the kind that made your stomach twist.

Jimin covered his mouth. “Oh my god…”

Yoongi pressed his hand against the cold glass.

Mr. Han shook his head, whispering to himself. “No, no, no… this can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s voice broke through the silence — hesitant, small. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

Everyone turned to him. His hands were still shaking, but his eyes were fixed on the chaos outside.

“In… in a Hollywood movie,” he continued. “People were like this. Dead people… walking around, hunting others. They looked just like that.”

Hoseok’s face twisted in disbelief. “Stop, Jungkook. Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious!” Jungkook insisted. “It’s exactly the same. They— they bite people. And when someone’s bitten, they turn too.”

Jin let out a nervous laugh, trying to push away the thought. “That’s… just a movie, Jungkook. That’s fiction. This—this is something else.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Tell me that doesn’t look the same, hyung,” he said softly, pointing toward the street below.

No one answered.

The silence stretched until Hoseok finally whispered, “Then what are they?”

For a moment, no one spoke.

Namjoon’s voice was the one to cut through the tension — quiet, calm, but heavy as stone.

“They’re zombies.”

The word hung in the air like poison.

Everyone froze. Jimin’s breath hitched; Jin stepped back, shaking his head in denial. Hoseok’s eyes filled with tears, and Taehyung gripped Jungkook’s sleeve, his lips trembling.

“Z-Zombies?” he stammered. “That’s not real. That can’t be real—”

But outside the glass, one of the figures turned its head — slow, twitching, and wrong — and slammed itself against the window of a car, leaving a streak of blood.

No one spoke again.

Somewhere deep inside, every one of them already knew:

This wasn’t a movie.

This was the beginning of the end.

For a long moment, none of them could look away from the glass. The world outside had turned into something unrecognizable — broken, blood-streaked, and full of silent screams.

Then suddenly, Jimin let out a sharp sob.

“This can’t be happening!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the window so hard that the glass trembled. “It can’t— it just can’t!”

Tears streamed down his face as his voice broke apart. He hit the glass again, weaker this time. “Wake me up! Someone, please— just tell me this is a nightmare!”

Yoongi was beside him in a heartbeat, grabbing his wrist before he could hurt himself.

“Jimin, stop!” he said, his own voice cracking despite the effort to stay calm. “You’ll break your hand.”

But Jimin couldn’t stop shaking. His breath came in short gasps as he pointed outside with a trembling hand.

“Look… look at them!” he cried.

“Those girls— they were standing near the front gate when we came in. They had our banners, our lightsticks…” His voice faltered as his eyes filled again. “Now look at them…”

Down below, a group of young women in sparkly fan outfits stumbled along the street. The glitter on their dresses caught the fading light, making them shimmer faintly as they moved — lifeless, empty.

“Our fans…” Jimin whispered, falling to his knees. “They were our fans.”

His sobs filled the room, raw and broken. “Whatever this is— it killed them. It killed our fans… it killed our love…”

Nobody could speak. The words hung in the air, heavy as a curse.

Taehyung covered his face with both hands, shaking silently. Hoseok turned away, biting his lip until it bled. Jungkook crouched down beside Jimin, wrapping his arms around him tightly though his own body trembled.

Namjoon stared out the window again, his reflection ghostly against the glass.

“All those people,” he murmured. “They came here for us. And now…” His voice cracked before he could finish the sentence.

Mr. Han stepped forward, his face pale but gentle. He crouched beside Jimin, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Boys,” he said softly, his voice breaking despite the calm he tried to project. “You can’t blame yourselves. You didn’t do this. None of us did.”

Jimin shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “But they came here because of us, hyung… they came to see us sing, and now they’re…”

Mr. Han pulled him into a careful embrace. “I know, son,” he whispered. “I know.”

The room was silent except for the quiet, uneven sound of their breathing — seven boys and a man, all holding onto the only thing they had left: each other.

Outside, the undead crowd drifted past the stadium, their faint groans mixing with the wind — a haunting echo of what once had been cheers.

A/N: Trying something new.. I hope you guys like this

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Xo, Authorr-bee

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