X-<

English isn't my first language so I sincerely apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes you may come across while reading.

I have re-edited this chapter three or four times to make it as polished as possible but a few errors may have slipped through.

If you happen to notice any, please feel free to let me know. I'll gladly correct them.

X-<

Enjoy Reading 🍒

___________

A U T H O R ' S    P O V

The city of Valmir was a paradox wrapped in both silk and sin. By the day, it gleamed a sprawling metropolis of glass towers, marble monuments and manicured gardens that whispered of prosperity and peace. It was the crown jewel of the country Vaeloria, a nation built on the bones of old empires and the promises of new ones.

But when the night fell, Valmir shed its skin, lights dimmed in the upper districts and the shadows grew heavier. The glittering facades hid rot beneath the corruption that festered in the halls of power, blood that stained the hands of the righteous, secrets that were buried deep beneath the earth where no sunlight could ever reach.

The city was not what it appeared to be. It never had been.

And at the core of this city stood a warehouse. The warehouse was not easy to find. In fact, it was impossible to find, unless you already knew where exactly to look. It sat in the middle of a dense forest, miles from the nearest road, hidden beneath a canopy of ancient trees whose branches twisted together like the bones of the skeletons.

The forest itself was a warning. Locals often avoided it whispering tales of flickering lights, ghosts and stranger disappearances. Hunters who ventured too deep never returned and animals fled from the area, sensing something wrong, something unnatural but even if someone was brave enough, to be exact foolish enough to venture into that forest and search for the warehouse, they would never find it.

Because it was not on the ground. It was in the ground.

An underground structure, buried deep beneath the earth, accessible only through a hidden entrance that blended seamlessly into the forest floor. It was a place that did not exist on any map or a record. It was a myth, a nightmare given physical form and the only smell that escaped from it was blood.

Raw. Sharp and Metallic..

It hit the senses like a physical blow - the coppery tang of fresh blood mixed with the sickly-sweet stench of decay, beneath it, layered like the notes of a foul perfume was the acrid bite of fire, the chalky dust of something rotten. It was the foul smell of suffering, of horrors that should never be witnessed by any human eyes.

The interior of the warehouse was a cavern of rust and shadow. The walls were corroded metal, eaten away by years of moisture and neglect, streaked with stains that could have been oil or could have been something far more sinister. The ceiling was high, lost in darkness, crisscrossed with pipes and chains that hung down like the limbs of some monstrous iron spider and the floor was stained concrete, cracked, uneven, slick with fluids that had long since dried into dark, sticky patches.

There were no windows, only a few bare bulbs that flickered weakly, casting sickly yellow pools of illumination that seemed to make the shadows deeper rather than dispel them and in the center of it all, suspended from a thick rope that descended from the darkness above, hung a body.

A dead body

Or maybe what remains of it.

It was tied upside down, the rope secured around its ankles, its arms dangling uselessly toward the ground below but calling it a body seemed wrong somehow, because what hung there was barely recognizable as human anymore. It had been tortured severely, methodically with a precision that spoke of experience and a cruelty that spoke of something far beyond hatred.

The skin that remained visible through the blood was pale and mottled, bruised in shades of purple and black while the clothes had been torn away in places, leaving gaping wounds exposed to the stagnant air. One arm was broken, shattered so completely that it hung from the shoulder joint at an unnatural angle, connected only by a few stubborn strands of muscle and skin. One good snap and it would fall to the ground, a useless piece of meat no longer attached to the whole.

The face was unrecognizable, its features had been obliterated, beaten and carved until there was nothing left but a swollen bloody mess of torn flesh and exposed bone. The eyes were gone, nose was crushed and the mouth hung open. If anyone had known this man in life, they would not have recognized him in death but beyond that the most horrific detail was the chest.

There was a hole where the heart should have been. A hollow cavity, deep and dark, the edges ragged and torn as if something had been ripped out burtually by force and from that hollow, the inner body parts hung ropes of intestines, glistening and dark, spilling from the wound and swaying gently as the body turned.

They swung with the slight movement, tracing patterns in the air, dripping blood onto the floor below in a slow, steady rhythm. The trail of blood on the concrete beneath the body had formed a dark pool, spreading outward in tendrils that followed the cracks in the floor like the roots of some corrupted tree.

It was a scene of absolute horror. It should have been a scene of absolute horror but instead it was calm.

From the other side of the warehouse, a voice slithered through the silence. It was soft, it belonged to someone who had long ago learned that true power did not need to shout, that true threat did not require volume. "...Took him longer than expected.."

The words drifted through the stale air, carrying the faintest hint of amusement. Another voice responded from a different corner, equally calm and detached. "He had a strong will but sad, it was just a waste.."

There was a pause and then a third voice joined the conversation. This one was lower, rougher but no less composed. " The body will need to be disposed of soon and the smell is beginning to worsen..., it's fucking annoying witnessing this thing swinging like a witch's locket.."

The three voices belonged to three figures who stood at different points around the warehouse, positioned like sentinels guarding a sacred space. They were not together, not huddled in conversation. They were spread out, each one occupying their own territory, their own shadow but their words flowed between them easily, naturally, as if they had been having conversations like this for years, because they had.

The first voice spoke again, the one that had slithered through the silence in a deliberate teasing tone. "We have enough time and the night is still young for another killing if we want.." A low hum of acknowledgment came from the second voice yet the third one said nothing instead of a small tch.

The three of them did not look at the body, they did not need to. His death was already a settled matter, a concluded transaction. There was no point in dwelling on it unless they have free time and certainly they don't.

But apart from them in front of that hanging dead body, there was a presence.

It was so still, soo silent, so perfectly integrated into the darkness that at first it seemed like there was no one there at all. The shadows clung to it, wrapped around it, swallowed it whole and it felt like it was not a person - it was a void, a gap in reality where life should have been but it was not, because there was a...

A man.

Yes, a man..

He was standing directly before the dead body, close enough that the blood dripping from the corpse's wounds could have touched him if it had fallen at the right angle but it did not touch him. The blood pooled on the ground near his feet, dark and thick but he stood just beyond its reach, as if even the blood itself was not worthy for his acknowledgment.

He was wearing black, full black. He always wears black, no not for mourning but because he was always ready for a funeral, for death.

A black shirt, tailored to fit his frame with a precision that spoke of immense wealth, the fabric dark and smooth against his skin with black pants, perfectly pressed, falling to a pair of black boots that were polished to a mirror shine though that shine was now marred by the filth of the warehouse floor.

Over it all, a black long coat draped over him, reaching just below his knees, the fabric heavy and rich, swallowing what little light dared to touch him. His hands were gloved, black leather, immaculate, but wet soaked with blood that was not his and never had been his.

The blood of others clung to the gloves, staining them in shades of deep crimson that were almost black in the dim light. It dripped from his fingers in slow, lazy drops, falling to the floor below with a sound too soft to hear and in one hand, he played with a single bullet. His fingers moved with a skill that was almost hypnotic, rolling the bullet between them, tossing it lightly and catching it, spinning it in a dance that was both casual and entirely controlled. It was a habit, a compulsion, a way of keeping his hands busy while his mind worked.

While his eyes - hidden in shadow, unreadable and cold, moved over the body with clinical precision, the inner parts hanging from its chest swayed with it, a grotesque pendulum keeping time with a clock that had already stopped and the figure watched it with a detached, bored look as if he was assessing a piece of art that had failed to impress him, ironically it had.

The assessment was complete.

The verdict was rendered.

The body was nothing.

Such a waste.

"..His wife is becoming suspicious..." The same voice came from the other corner of the warehouse but this time it was controlled and extremely cautious of someone who knew exactly to whom he was speaking and understood the cost of speaking wrong.

The one who spoke stood at the corner, half-hidden in darkness. He was wearing a grey shirt and black pants, simple but well-made, practical clothing for practical work. A pair of glasses rested on his face, the lenses catching the flickering light and reflecting it back in brief flashes. His gaze was down, fixed on the iPad in his hand, his fingers scrolling through information that would have been worth more than gold in the wrong hands.

He did not look up as he continued,voice steady and professional. "..That women has been asking questions, irritating questions and she is preparing to go to the legal authorities for this shit...." a pause as he looked at the body with calmness, "..and If the authorities become involved, a big massacre can occur in the country as he is the-".

The man stopped for a second, his gaze snapping back towards the other two shadows who stood across the warehouse. The pause was not one of fear but of caution - to carefully select his choice of words.

The figure in black did not react. He remained calm, his fingers still playing with the bullet, his gaze still fixed on the dead body. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as if the entire warehouse was holding its breath.Then the man with the glasses took that as a sign and completed his sentence with a small sigh."...mayor of this country.."

The title echoed in the air, settling over the scene like a shroud. The mayor hung dead and mutilated, it was not just a murder. It was a declaration, a message written in blood and power but the figure in black did not react to the revelation.

He simply continued to watch the body for a few more seconds, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed and then slowly, his gaze finally left the dead body. It swept across the warehouse with a calm that was surgical, taking in the rusted walls, the flickering lights, the pools of blood, his three shadows who stood in their corners.

Then without turning back, he finally spoke. His voice was calm, controlled, the kind of calm that came from certainty and control. It was the voice of a man who had never once in his life doubted himself, who had never once questioned his own authority, who had never once felt the need to raise his voice because the world listened when he whispered.

"Isn't too much darkness here?", The words were twisted, wrong somehow - a question that was not a question, a statement that was not exactly a statement. It was as if he was not asking about the physical darkness of the warehouse but about something deeper, something more profound. Like..

The darkness of the act itself, the darkness of the world, the darkness that lived inside every human heart.

Silence that followed was absolute for a second and then, from one corner, one of his shadow immediately responded."Yes, Hades...", The title hung in the air like a crown .

The figure in black turned around to face them, his movement unhurried while his coat swirled around him, the fabric catching the air and settling back into place with a whisper. The blood on his gloves glistened in the flickering light and the bullet in his hand paused for a moment, held between his thumb and forefinger.

His gaze passed over them, through them, as if they were not people but shadows, extensions of himself that did not require his attention. He had no need to look at them, they existed for his will, his purpose, his command. They were not individuals - they were tools and they fucking knew it.

Instaed he began to walk towards the exit. Each step echoed softly on the concrete floor, the sound of his boots mixing with the distant drip of blood and the faint creak of the rope as the body continued to sway.

The three shadows stood in silence, watching him go, but they did not move nor spoke. They simply waited, their hearts beating in time with his footsteps, their eyes fixed on his retreating form and as he reached the edge of the darkness, just before he disappeared into the shadows that would carry him back to the surface, he spoke again.

His voice drifted back through the warehouse, cold and final.

"Burn the forest down.."

Then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness, leaving behind only the echo of his footsteps and the weight of his command while his three shadows watched it with same calm precision.

__________

N E X T    M O R N I N G

The morning light spilled over the city of Valmir like honey over glass - golden warm and soft. It was a different world from the one that had existed mere hours ago in the night, a different reality entirely and the streets of city were already alive with the rhythm of routine.

Vendors had thrown open their shutters arranging fruits and flowers with freshly baked bread in displays that caught the light and made the air smell like sugar and earth. Baristas pulled shots of espresso behind fogged windows, the hiss of steam rising like music over the murmur of conversation and office workers hurried past with briefcases,their faces set in expressions of quiet determination.

It was chaos but it was a beautiful one - the type that only a city fully awake could produce. Car horns blared in the distance while street dogs barked from somewhere unseen and the world was moving, breathing, living and in the midst of all that movement, noise and life, there was a boy.

Who stood near the bus stop, just in front of a small flower shop whose windows were bursting with colors.The shop's awning cast a soft shadow over him, protecting him from the worst of the morning glare but the light still found him anyway, curling around the edges of his silhouette like it could not bear to let him go. He was...

Jeon Jungkook.

He was leaning against the wall, body relaxed, his weight shifted to one side with an ease that spoke of youth and quiet confidence. A bag hung from his one shoulder, it's strap slightly frayed while the fabric soft from years of use. It was the bag of someone who carried his life with him everywhere he went, filled with camera lenses, notebooks and small treasures that only he understood.

His headphones rested around his neck, the black wire trailing down to the phone in his hand as his attention was fixed on the screen before him while his thumb moved across the phone, scrolling through comments, liking posts, occasionally pausing to read something that made his lips curve into a small private smile.

He was replying to his fans, typing out responses with a speed that came from years of practice. He never ignored them and he could not imagine ignoring them because they had given him so much more than he could ever repay and the least he could do was offer them his time, his attention and his gratitude.

And he was selecting some new pictures to post also. A week ago, he had taken a series of photographs at the city's old botanical gardens, some close-ups of dew drops clinging to spider webs, the veins of leaves backlit by the dying sun. They were beautiful, if he did say so himself as he scrolled through them now, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration, his teeth catching his lower lip as he debated which ones to post.

A black goggle rested on his face, shielding his eyes from the bright morning sunlight and beneath them, his eyes were soft and warm, the color of dark honey in the light, filled with a gentle focus that made him seem present.

He was wearing a simple, comfortable outfit. A soft cream-colored sweater that hung loosely on his frame, the sleeves long enough to cover half his hands with a faded blue jeans, slightly worn at the knees, cuffed at the ankles to reveal a pair of white sneakers that were clean but not new. He looked soft and approachable as he waited for someone.

He was lost in his own world, thumb still moving across the screen, mind half-occupied with thoughts of lighting and composition along the perfect caption for his next post, when a sudden weight yanked him downward as an arm circled around his neck unexpectedly with a rough push.

Jungkook let out a yelp, a high startled sound that was swallowed by the noise of the street as he was suddenly pulled down, his body bending at an awkward angle, his phone nearly slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he did not understand what was happening while his heart lurched, breath catching in his throat and his free hand flew up to grab at the arm that had him trapped until a voice hissed in his ear.

"Where the fuck were you last night, you absolute disgrace of a human being..? I called you like five million times and you just ignored me? Who do you think you are, huh..? Some kind of celebrity? Should I bow to you now? Should I get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on, Your Royal Highness of Never-Picking-Up-His-Goddamn-Phone-BASTARD..?"

Jungkook groaned. He knew that voice better than he knew his own, a voice that had been cursing at him, laughing with him and threatening to murder him for as long as he could remember. It was the voice of his best friend -- his other half, his partner in crime and his personal tormentor.

Park Jimin.

Jungkook tried to pry the arm off, his fingers tugging at the sleeve of Jimin's jacket, his body squirming in protest. "Shorty -let go....I can't breathe-"

"Good, bitch," Jimin snapped, tightening his grip slightly, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Maybe if you suffocate, you will finally understand how I felt last night when I was dying of worry and you were probably off frolicking in a field or whatever it is you do when you are not answering my fucking calls..."

A small smack landed on the back of Jungkook's head earning a wince from him,"Ouch-.!!!"

Another smack.

"That's for making me think you were dead in a ditch somewhere..."

Followed by third smack.

"And that's for being a terrible friend.."

Here comes the fourth one.

"And that's just because I felt like it and you deserves it.."

Jungkook squirmed harder, finally managing to twist out of Jimin's grip. He stumbled forward a step, then straightened up, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his head where the smacks had landed. His hair was mussed now, falling into his eyes in soft, dark strands and his cheeks were flushed with a combination of embarrassment and exertion as he turned to glare at his best friend.

"Are you insane..?" he demanded, his voice rising with exasperation. "We are in public, you lunatic.!! People are staring..!!"

Jimin completely unbothered, simply shrugged. He looked, as always, effortlessly put-together. His hair was styled perfectly - not a single strand out of place and his skin seemed to glow in the morning light. He was wearing a light jacket over a simple t-shirt, paired with fitted jeans and boots that added an inch to his height because he definitely needed it.

His eyes sparkled with mischief while his lips curved into a grin that was equal parts charming and infuriating.."Let them stare," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Maybe they will learn something...like how to properly grieve when their best friend goes missing and doesn't even have the decency to send a single text..."

Jungkook sighed, his glare softening into something more like fond exasperation. "I didn't go missing, Jimin. I was at home and studying..."

"Studying," Jimin repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief and he crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side. "..hmm...at twelve o'clock at night and you expect me to believe that shitty shit..!?"

"Yes, because its true and I felt like studying at that time..."

"Liar.." The short one snickered, his hand reaching to pull a strand of hair playfully while jungkook winced glaring back at him. "Jimin-"

"Don't 'Jimin' me, you mother's daughter's brother..," Jimin interrupted, pointing a finger at Jungkook's chest. "I called you ten times, fucking ten and you didn't even bother to pick it up...what was I supposed to think, that you were sleeping or had your phone on silent..? Please, I know you, Jeon Jungkook...you sleep with that thing glued to your hand and if it vibrated, you would wake up instantly, so what was it, huh..!?..what was sooo important that you couldn't answer your amazing gorgeous pretty best friend in his time of need..?"

Jungkook blinked. "Your time of need?" he repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. He let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Why? What happened..!?"

Jimin's expression shifted, the playful anger melting away into something more dramatic - that looked suspiciously like a pout."I thought you died, kookie" he said simply.

Jungkook stared at him with a face that screamed, 'what the hell are you even saying' and then he sigh at his dramatic soulmate, "I didn't answer my phone for one night, jiminshii..."

Jimin looked at him for a second, took a deep breath and then again...."One night is a lifetime, you bastard...do you have any idea how many terrible things can happen in one night, First..you could have been murdered, Second...you could have been kidnapped, Third..you could have slipped in the shower and cracked your skull open and lain there for hours while your blood slowly drained into the drain..did you think about that..?..did you think about my feelings..? NO...you only think about yourself and your stupid pretty face and your precious account and-"

Jungkook pinched Jimin's arm hard.

"OWW..!! " Jimin shrieked, yanking his arm away and cradling it against his chest. His eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open in exaggerated betrayal. "Did you just pinch me?, here I am telling you all the possibilities and you assaulted me???.."

Jungkook laughed - a soft, breathy sound that was swallowed by the noise of the morning. It was a genuine laugh, the kind that came from deep in his chest."You are soo dramatic" he said, shaking his head again.

"And still you love me," Jimin replied, his pout melting into a grin. "admit it, you would be lost without me.."

"Probably," Jungkook agreed, his smile softening. "..but that doesn't mean I have to admit it out loud, shorty."

Jimin gasped, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Rude...so rude man,. I am standing here--",

"The bus," Jungkook interrupted. Jimin blinked. "Excuse me..!!?"

"The bus," Jungkook repeated, nodding toward the street. "It's coming and my amazing gorgeous pretty bestfriend if we miss it, we are going to be late.."

Jimin's eyes went wide and he spun around to look, the bus was approaching, its engine rumbling low though it was still a few blocks away but it was coming fast and if they didn't start moving now, they would definitely miss it.

"Shit..." Jimin cursed, grabbing Jungkook's arm and pulling him toward the bus stop. "Why didn't you say something sooner!? We are going to be late and that squidward Professor is going to murder us...she is going to skin us alive and put our corpses in a big jar as a warning to other students..."

Jungkook stumbled after Jimin, his sneakers scuffing against the pavement. He wrinkled his nose, his upper lip curling in a mix of disgust and confusion while his brow furrowed deeply, eyes narrowing as he stared at the back of Jimin's head.

Jungkook said, his voice laced with a grimace. "Why do you get these types of ideas every single time..?" He pulled a face as if he had just bitten into something sour. "Like, why is your brain always going straight to blood and bad things...".

He shook his head, his expression still twisted in distaste. "I swear, sometimes I think you enjoy talking about violence more than you enjoy breathing".

"It's actually fun, jungkookookie..," Jimin shot back as he glanced at his watch, his expression mixed with teasing as the bus pulled up to the stop just as they reached it, the doors hissing open with a sound like a sigh of relief. Jimin practically shoved Jungkook through the doors, following close behind him, already fumbling for his bus pass.

"Good morning," Jungkook said politely to the driver, offering a small smile as he tapped his card.

The driver, an older woman with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair smiled back. "Good morning, dear...you boys heading to the university..!?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jungkook replied.

"Running late, are you?" The women push the button closing the door.

"A little..," Jungkook admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. Jimin leaned in, his voice dripping with exaggerated tragedy. "We are going to be executed.."

The driver laughed, shaking her head. "Well, you better find a seat then..traffic's a nightmare this morning.."

"Thank you," Jungkook said, and then he was moving toward the back of the bus, Jimin trailing behind him, their footsteps echoing on the worn floor.

The bus was crowded, filled with a mix of students and workers and elderly passengers clutching shopping bags. The air smelled like coffee and exhaust and the faint sweetness of someone's perfume. Jungkook found a seat by the window, sliding in and dropping his bag onto his lap, while Jimin collapsed into the seat beside him with a dramatic sigh.

__________

E V E N I N G

The sun had long since surrendered to the horizon and the city of Valmir was now draped in the soft velvet of evening.The air had cooled, carrying with it the faint scent of rain that had not yet fallen and the distant aroma of food being prepared in nearby houses.

It was 8:00 PM and two figures were walking out of the university gates, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone pathway.

Jeon Jungkook was giving Park Jimin side eyes..

Not the kind that could be mistaken for a passing glance instead these were deliberate, pointed, full of silent accusation. Every few seconds, his head would turn, eyes would narrow and he would stare at his best friend with an expression that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Jimin, for his part, was completely unbothered.

He walked with a bounce in his step, his hands shoved casually into his jacket pockets, his face tilted toward the sky as if he were admiring the stars. There was a faint smile playing at the corner of his and it was definitely a smug while his eyes sparkled with the kind of careless satisfaction that only came from knowing you had caused chaos and felt absolutely no freaking regret about it.

He knew Jungkook was looking at him, he could feel those brown big eyes boring into the side of his head like twin lasers and honestly he was enjoying every second of it. There was something deeply entertaining about watching Jungkook try to contain his frustration, watching the way his jaw tightened and his lips pressed together in that particular way that meant he was trying very hard not to yell.

After a full minute of this silent treatment, Jimin finally turned his head, his expression shifting into something that was supposed to look innocent but came across as entirely insufferable."Can I help you with something?, Mr.." he asked, his voice light and airy. "..Or are you just admiring my profile..?, I know I am devastatingly handsome but really, kookie, there's a time and a place..."

Jungkook's glare intensified."Don't..," he said, his voice low and warning.

"Don't what..?" Jimin asked, batting his eyelashes with exaggerated sweetness. "Don't acknowledge the fact that you have been undressing me with your eyes for the past five minutes? I'm flattered and if you want we can-"

"Jimin...", Jungkook snapped, his cheeks flushed slightly both with irritation and well yk.

"Kookie dookiee.." Jimin sang, his hands dancing in the air.

"Why did you do it .?", The question came out as a hiss, sharp and exasperated and Jungkook finally stopped walking, turning to face the short one with his arms crossed over his chest. The strap of his bag slipped slightly from his shoulder and he pushed it back with an impatient huff, never breaking eye contact.

Jimin stopped too, turning to face him with an expression of pure, unapologetic innocence. "Do what?" he asked. Jungkook let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl. "Why did you licked the professor's coffee mug that too right infornt of him.."

Jimin's smile widened."I wanted to make sure it was clean..."

"Clean..?" Jungkook's voice cracked with disbelief. "You picked up his mug, looked him dead in the eye and licked the entire rim while maintaining eye contact, who even does that..!?"

Jimin shrugged his shoulders, the movement loose and casual, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the weather."I felt like doing it," he said simply. Jungkook gasped, his mouth fell open, his eyes going wide with a mixture of horror mix with disbelief and for a moment, he just stared at his best friend as if seeing him for the first time.

"You felt like it?" he repeated, his voice rising in pitch. "You felt like licking a professor's coffee mug..in the middle of a lecture...infront of other students and you felt like that..!?"

Jimin shrugged again, utterly serene. "The mug was calling me while sitting there, Jungkook, full and all alone, looking at me...what was I supposed to do.!?..Ignore it?"

"Yes.!!" Jungkook half-yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "..you were supposed to ignore it, that's exactly what you were supposed to do, you were supposed to sit there and take notes obediently,"

"Obediently," Jimin repeated, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "That's a bit boring, don't you think?"

"BORING..!!??" Jungkook let out a short, incredulous laugh. "We got detention and we spent the entire day in that classroom, listening to Professor Han lecture us about respect and decorum and professional conduct while I had to cancel my photoshoot because you decided to-to-"

"Assert my dominance," Jimin finished, nodding sagely.

"Assert your-" Jungkook sputtered, his face flushing with frustration. "You are not a wolf, shorty!! You can't just lick things to claim them!"

"First of all, that's offensive to wolves, they are majestic creatures who would never lick a professor's mug, they have high standards." Jimin paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "..and secondly, I didn't lick the mug to claim it, I licked it to make a statement that I don't respectfully respect him.."

Before Jungkook could respond or he could reach out and smack his best friend upside the head like he so desperately wanted to, Jimin's phone rang, The shorty frowned, his hand automatically reaching into his pocket, and when he pulled out the device and glanced at the screen, his entire demeanor changed in an instant as the color drained from his face.

And then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, he muttered a string of curses so creative and so profane that even the street lamp seemed to flicker in response."Shit.. Shit... Shit. Fuck..No, Mother of all-no. No, NO, no, not now. Why now..!?? Why is he-oh my God, Oh my actual God... "

Jungkook's own irritation faded, replaced by a flicker of concern. "Shorty,..what's wrong?". Jimin looked up from the phone, his expression a mask of panic and horror. "It's my sperm donor," he said, his voice tight. "He is calling.."

Jungkook blinked. "Sper--, what the hell, WHAT..!!??"

"MY FATHER, YOU NONSENSE BUNNY!" Jimin hissed, already beginning to pace in a small, agitated circle. "I was supposed to go with him to a business meeting tonight!!..a veryy important one and I completely forgot, now he is calling and if I don't pick up, he's going to think I am making babies with someone or sold into slavery-"

Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, but Jimin was already moving, already shifting into panic mode with a speed that was almost impressive.

"Okay...,Okay...I can fix this, I can still make it, meeting doesn't start until nine, so-" He glanced around wildly, his eyes scanning the street for a taxi, a bus, anything that could get him across the city in time. "-if I can just get to the main road, I can grab a cab and then-"

He stopped suddenly, turning back to Jungkook and before the younger boy could react, Jimin reached out and flicked him hard on the forehead."YAAH-!"

"Listen to me..," Jimin said, his voice dropping into something serious, something almost stern. "I have to go, right now but before I do, I need you to promise me something..."Jungkook rubbed his forehead, wincing. "What..!?"

"Promise me..," Jimin spoke, his eyes locking onto Jungkook's with an intensity that was rare for him. "..no stopping to take pictures of random street cats and no wandering into sketchy alleys just because you hear some weird noises, just go straight home, okay?",.

Jungkook's expression softened, the last traces of his earlier frustration melting away."I promise, jiminie" he said quietly.

Jimin stared at him for a moment longer, as if searching for any sign of dishonesty, and then he nodded, satisfied."Good," he said. "Good because if anything happens to you, I will kill you myself and then I will kill whoever hurt you and then I will probably kill myself out of guilt..."

Despite everything, Jungkook smiled as Jimin returned the smile briefly and then he spinned on his heel and started walking off towards the main road with a speed that was almost comical.His footsteps echoed against the sidewalk, his jacket flapping behind him and as he ran, he called back over his shoulder, "Take care of yourself, you greasy goblin.!!,Don't talk to strangers and don't accept candies from anyone and don't forget to eat something when you get home!"

Jungkook laughed, raising a hand to wave. "Bye, Jiminieee..!!!"

"Bye kookieee..!!!" Jimin yelled back, his voice already fading with distance. "Make sure to text me..!!". And then Jimin was gone, swallowed by the shadows of the city, his figure disappearing around a corner and vanishing from sight.

Jungkook stood there for a long moment, his hand still raised in a wave, his smile still lingering on his lips. The street was quiet now, the only sounds coming from the distant rumble of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. The lamp above him hummed softly, casting its amber glow over the empty sidewalk as he shook his head, letting out a soft fond laugh.

"Pabo..," he murmured to himself with a warm affection as he shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his bag and began walking again.

His destination was home -- a small apartment on the other side of the city, modest but comfortable, filled with his photographs and his books and the quiet solitude that came from living alone. He had been in Valmir for two years now, ever since he had moved here for his studies and while there were days when he missed his family terribly, there was also something liberating about having his own space, his own routine, his own little corner of the world.

He had just reached the end of the street, his hand moving toward his pocket to pull out his phone when it rang. The screen lit up with a familiar name and Jungkook's expression softened instantly.

His smile turned big, brighter than it had been all day and there was a warmth in his chest that only came from seeing that particular contact appear on his phone. He swiped to answer, pressing the device to his ear with a happiness that was impossible to hide.."Noona..."

A voice answered from the other side, warm, familiar, laced with the kind of love that could cross any distance."Jungkook-ah...I was starting to think you had forgotten my number..".

He laughed softly, his steps slowing as he walked, his attention completely absorbed by the conversation."Never..," he said. "I would never forget and I was just....busy a little nowdays..."

"Busy getting detention..!?" his sister teased, her voice carrying a note of amusement. "Jimin's been a bad influence again, hasn't he..!?"

Jungkook let out a small, sheepish sound. "How did you know?"

"I got a call from university, baby brother and I know Jimin...I know that whenever you two are together for more than five minutes, something catastrophic happens." There was a pause and then she added, "What was it this time..!? did he set something on fire..?"

"Worse..," Jungkook mumbled. "He licked Professor Han's coffee mug infront of the whole class..,". There was a silence and then, a burst of laughter so loud that Jungkook had to pull the phone away from his ear. "Oh, that boy," his sister wheezed, still laughing. "He is going to get you expelled one day...,"

"Probably," Jungkook admitted, shaking his head. "...but honestly, the professor kinda deserved it...he is been picking on one of the international students for weeks..so..",

"Well then i guess he actually deserves it." His sister's laughter finally subsided, and her voice softened. "But enough about this, tell me about yourself...how are you..? Really? You have been working too hard again, haven't you? You look tired every time you video call...".

Jungkook felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. "I'm okay, noona, just busy with classes and the photography account, but...it's good and I love it..."

"Are you eating properly?"

"Yes.."

"Sleeping?"

"Everytime..," Jungkook admitted honestly, while his sister voice softened as she spoke, "That's better, take care of yourself, do not overwork, I don't want my baby to look like a panda with dark circles around his big big eyes".

"Noonaa..," he winced, his cheeks heating up at her teasing earning a small chuckle from her and then he asked, his voice softening,"How's dad..?"

"He is good," she replied. "Grumpy as ever but fine, he keeps asking when you are coming home, I think he misses you more than he lets on.."

Jungkook's chest tightened. "I miss him too, I miss both of you...I was thinking... maybe I could come visit next month? During the break..!?"

"That would be wonderful, He would love that and we both would." There was a pause and then she added, her voice gentle, "You know you can always come home, right..!? If things get too hard over there, you don't have to do everything alone.."

"I know," Jungkook said quietly. "I know.."

"Do you?" She asked again.

"Yes, noona. I do, but... I like it here. I like the city...my classes....I like being able to chase my dreams and I have Jiminieee. He is...a lot but he is also always there for me.."

"I know he is," his sister said. "I am glad you have him but still, don't be a stranger, okay? Call more and be in touch", She sighed softly, and he could hear the fondness in it. "I should go now...Dad's giving me the look again..."

Jungkook smiled. "Okay, bye noona and make sure to greet dad from my side..."

"Bye jungkookah, I will, don't worry",His sister laughed one last time, and then the line went quiet.Jungkook lowered his phone, his smile still lingering on his lips and continued walking. There was only the quiet rhythm of his own footsteps now, soft whisper of the evening breeze and the gentle glow of his phone screen as he unlocked it with a practiced swipe of his thumb.

His account opened to a familiar sight - the grid of his latest post which he had posted earlier morning and the comments had exploded below it as he scrolled through them slowly, his smile widening with each line of text. His fans - his people, his community - had shown up in full force, filling the comment section with words that made his chest feel too full, too warm, too bright.

Jungkook bit his lower lip reading each one, his cheeks flushing slightly as he continued scrolling. He would never get used to this, the outpouring of love, the way strangers from across the world reached out to tell him that his work meant something to them. It humbled him and it reminded him why he had chosen this path in the first place.

His finger paused on one comment, his thumb hovering over the screen."Your photos make me believe that there is still beauty in this world and thank you for sharing your light with us...", He pressed his lips together, overwhelmed for a moment by the simple sincerity of the words. Then he tapped the heart icon, watching it turn red, and typed out a quick response."Thank YOU for being here, your words mean more than you know and keep finding your own light...",He posted the reply and kept scrolling, his smile still firmly in place.

The street around him had grown quieter. The shops were beginning to close for the night, their owners pulling down metal shutters and locking doors with jangling keys and the cafes had emptied, their chairs stacked on tables, their windows gone dark. The crowd had thinned to almost nothing - just a few scattered figures here and there, hurrying home with heads down and collars turned up against the cooling air.

Jungkook did not notice because he was lost in his phone, thumb moved automatically, scrolling, tapping, responding with the same care and attention he gave to everything else in his life but then, out of habit - that universal instinct that all pedestrians develop, to glance up and make sure the path ahead was clear, he lifted his gaze and froze for just a second or maybe less.

His steps faltered, breath catching in his throat because at the other end of the street, not too far but not close either, there was an antique shop at the end of the road. Its front was dominated by a large glass window, framed in dark wood and brass. The display behind the glass was shadowed but antiques could be visible.

And in front of that glass window, there was someone.

Jungkook's steps halted completely now, his heart giving a small, unexpected skip of anxiousness. His fingers tightened around his phone, eyes narrowing as he squinted into the darkness, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Was there really someone there?

For a moment, he could not tell. The figure was so perfectly blended into the shadows, that it seemed almost like a trick of the light, a shape conjured by the flickering street lamp and the movement of the leaves overhead, but no, it was real and it was a man.

He was standing in front of the shop,body angled toward the glass window,posture relaxed but purposeful. He was wearing a black hoodie, the hood pulled up and casting his face into deep shadow and black pants that disappeared into a pair of heavy black boots.

His face was covered completely - a mask, perhaps or something wrapped around his features to conceal them while Jungkook could not tell from this distance. He could only see the shape of him, the dark silhouette against the darker glass.

The man was not looking at him. His face - if he had one, if there was anything visible beneath that covering, was turned toward the shop window, and he was staring at it with an intensity that was almost palpable. He was looking at something inside, beyond the glass that seemed to have captured his full and complete attention.

Jungkook stared at him for a long moment, confusion flickering through his mind. There was nothing particularly unusual about someone standing in front of a shop at night because people stopped to admire window displays all the time but there was something about this man that made Jungkook's stomach tighten with unease yet he pushed the feeling down.

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear the thought from his mind and continued walking, gaze flickered back to his phone, the bright screen glowing softly in the darkness, his mind already beginning to drift back into that safe, familiar space and after some steps, then out of instinct, or habit, or perhaps primal sense of curiosity - he lifted his eyes again.

And this time, it was not a small skip of anxiety, it was a full freaking stop, his feet locking against the pavement as if they had suddenly grown roots. His eyes widened slightly, lips parting in a soundless breath and his grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

The man had moved as he was no longer standing in front of the window. He had shifted toward the door, his body now angled toward the entrance, his head turned slightly to the right as if checking the street and then his right hand was reaching for something, pulling it from his pocket but even from this distance, Jungkook could see it was a hookbar.

Jungkook's heart dropped, his mind raced, connecting the pieces with a speed that left him breathless. The dark clothing, covered face, late hour, tool, this man was not a customer nor an admirer of antiques.

He was a thief.

There was about to be a robbery. Right in front of Jungkook's eyes.

His head whipped around, his gaze darting desperately up and down the street, searching for something or someone but the street was empty and the shops were closed. Jungkook looked back at the man, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. The thief was still working at the lock, his movements careful and deliberate, head turning every few seconds to check his surroundings.

He had not seen Jungkook yet. He was too focused on his task, consumed by the mission at hand and Jungkook knew, with a certainty that made his stomach clench, that he could not just stand there and let this happen.

He hesitated for a second, breath came in short, shallow gasps while his hand moved before his mind could stop it, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a force that nearly tore the fabric. His fingers were trembling, clumsy with fear but he forced them to move, forced them to reach for the side pocket of his bag.

The metal was cold against his palm, his water bottle as he pulled it out slowly, gripping it tightly, his knuckles white around the stainless steel surface. He took a breath and then, with his heart slamming against his ribs and his legs threatening to give out beneath him, he started walking toward the man, not running because running would alert the thief. So Jungkook walked slowly, carefully, each step measured while his eyes fixed on the dark figure ahead.

The man was still working at the lock, his movements were precise, the hookbar sliding into the keyhole with the kind of ease that came from years of practice. There was no hesitation in him, no sign that he was doing anything other than exactly what he intended to do. The night had wrapped itself around him like a second skin, and he moved within it calmly.

Jungkook's footsteps were soft against the pavement, barely audible over the distant hum of the city but every step felt like thunder in his own ears. His heart was pounding so loudly, so violently, that he was certain the thief would hear it and would turn around at any moment and see him standing there, trembling and foolish and hopelessly out of his depth.

But the man did not turn nor did he stop, he kept working at the lock, head tilted slightly towards the door, his focus absolute and then Jungkook was there, close enough to see the details now, to notice the way the man's shoulders were broad but relaxed, the way his stance was balanced and ready, the way the black hoodie hung over his frame like a shroud.

Jungkook stopped. His fingers tightened around the water bottle, he could feel the sweat on his skin, the tremor in his muscles, the way his breath came shallow and fast through his parted lips. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run, to turn around and forget this madness, to go home and lock the door and pretend the world was safe.

He did not run instead he stood his ground, then, with a voice that was somehow harsh and calm at the same time, that seemed to come from somewhere deep and stubborn inside him, he spoke. "Step away from the door.."

The words came out steady, strong but inside he was shaking, he was a mess of fear and adrenaline with the desperate foolish hope that this would end without any harm. The man stilled for a moment - just a moment, so brief that Jungkook might have imagined it - the movement of the hookbar stopped. The man's body went still, as if the sound of Jungkook's voice had frozen him in place.

It was a pause, a single breath of absolute stillness that felt heavier than any movement could have been.

And then, with a slowness that was almost unbearable, the man straightened his bent body. It was not a hurried movement nor the jerk of someone caught in the act, the panicked scramble of a criminal who had been discovered.

It was deliberate, measured and utterly calm. He unfolded himself from the door with the ease of someone who had all the time in the world, his spine straightening inch by inch, his shoulders rolling back in a way that made him seem larger, more imposing, more dangerous, then he tilted his head slowly, very slowly.

His head tilted towards Jungkook, the movement smooth and calm as if he were merely curious about the source of the interruption. The hood shifted slightly with the motion, the shadows deepening around his face and for the first time, Jungkook caught a glimpse of his side profile and flinched.

He could not help it, the reaction was involuntary, a physical response to something his mind had not yet fully processed. His hands shook and he had to swallow hard to keep the fear from choking him.

The man's profile was sharp, angular, carved from shadows and silence. There was nothing soft about it, nothing yielding and even though his face was hidden, there was something in the line of his jaw, the angle of his neck, that radiated a quiet, absolute menace.

Jungkook forced himself to speak again.

"I said step away.." His voice cracked slightly and he hated himself for it. "I am not going to let you do this... I will..I-I will call the police and I will scream if you dared to do a-anything -"The words tumbled out of him, desperate and thin, and they seemed to hang in the air between them like smoke.

The thief remained calm, deliberately calm and then, as slowly as he had turned his head, he turned it back towards the lock and bent down again while he resumed unlocking it.

Jungkook's eyes widened, for a moment, he did not understand what he was seeing, disbelief crashed over him first, then embarrassment, fear, anger, every emotions mixed up inside him. It rose up from somewhere deep inside him, hot and sudden, flooding his veins with a fire that burned away the cold edge of terror.

His cheeks heated, flushing with a combination of rage and humiliation, and his teeth ground together so hard that his jaw ached. Who did this man think he was..? What gave him the right to stand there, to break into a shop, to act as if Jungkook's presence was so insignificant that it did not even warrant acknowledgment..?

The fear was still there, thrumming beneath the surface but the anger was louder, it pushed him forward as he took a rough step toward the thief, his foot landing hard on the pavement and the sound echoed in the quiet street like a gunshot.

"Hey..!!" he yelled, his voice rising, cracking with the force of his emotion. "I'm talking to you, you - you bastard !! What the hell do you think you are doing?!",

The curse felt foreign on his tongue, sharp and unfamiliar but it gave him strength which made him feel braver than he was as he raised the water bottle high, his arm trembling with the effort and without thinking he swung it toward the thief's head.

The strike never landed as a hand shot out, faster than Jungkook could track, faster than he could even comprehend, fingers wrapped around his wrist - the wrist holding the bottle and squeezed. The grip was like iron, cold and unyielding but before Jungkook could react, before he could even gasp, he was yanked forward.

A sharp yelp tore from his lips, the world tilted, street spinning around him and then his back slammed against something hard and flat, to the glass window.

A hiss escaped him, sharp and pained, as the impact rattled through his spine. The glass vibrated behind him, humming with the force of the collision, and for a terrifying moment, he thought it might shatter but it held, solid and unbroken, pressing against his shoulder blades like a wall of ice.

The thief's hand was still wrapped around his wrist, now pressing it against the glass beside his head, holding him in place with a strength that made struggle seem impossible and the thief's other palm was behind Jungkook's head, cushioning the point of impact, preventing his skull from cracking against the window.

He was pinned

By a FREAKING THEIF .

The realization hit Jungkook like a blow and his eyes squeezed shut, his entire body going rigid with fear and panic. He could feel the heat of the man's presence now, close and overwhelming, surrounding him like a storm. The distance between them had vanished, erased in the space of a single heartbeat and now there was nothing but the cold glass at his back and the dark figure looming before him.

Jungkook's fingers went slack, the water bottle slipped from his grasp, tumbling from his trembling hand and falling to the ground below. It landed with a loud clatter, the sound sharp and sudden in the silence and Jungkook jumped - a full-body flinch that rattled through him like electricity. The bottle rolled away, coming to a stop away from their feet.

Neither of them moved

Jungkook's eyes flew open and his gaze collided with a wall of black fabric. The thief's chest was directly in front of him, close enough that he could see the weave of the hoodie, the way the material stretched across the man's shoulders, the faint rise and fall of his breathing.

He could smell him now, it was something dark and clean, like leather and smoke and the cold night air. It was not a bad smell yet it was not a comforting smell either. It was the smell of danger,of something that did not belong in Jungkook's, simple peaceful world.

He was scared now, truly, deeply, bone-shakingly scared, his heart was beating so fast that he could feel it in his temples, in his throat, in the tips of his fingers. His body was shivering slightly, the tremors running through him like aftershocks and his breath came in short, shallow gasps that fogged the air between them.

Because he can feel it, a hard burning gaze, it was pressing down on him, boring into the top of his head and even though he could not see it, he could the weight of those eyes, the intensity of that attention. It was like standing too close to a fire, the heat of it licking at his skin, threatening to consume him.

Slowly...very slowly, almost hesitantly but with a stubbornness that refused to be extinguished, a fake courage that was braver than the real thing, he craned his neck upward and his brown eyes, wide and trembling, rose to meet the thief's gaze.

And then he saw them.

His eyes.

The man's face was fully hidden, a black mask covering the lower half, the fabric pulled tight over his nose and mouth, erasing every trace of human expression. The black hoodie was draped over his head, the shadows pooling beneath it, swallowing his forehead and brow and leaving nothing but darkness above.

Between the mask and the hood, between the black fabric and the blacker shadows, there was only a pale of skin visible - the narrow strip around the eyes.

And the eyes themselves.

They were unlike anything Jungkook had ever seen in his twenty two years of life.

Two different fucking shades.

Heterochromia.

The man's right eye was grey.

Not the soft grey of storm clouds or the pale grey of winter skies but something deeper, darker, the grey of ashes after a fire has burned itself out. It was cold and empty and endless, a void of smoke and silence that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it. There was no warmth in that eye, no softness, no trace of anything that could be called human feeling.

And his left eye was dark green.

Not the green of grass, leaves or the fresh growth of spring but the green of deep forest shadows, of ancient moss growing over forgotten graves, of poison and secrets and things that should not be disturbed. It was a color that did not belong in the face of a man - it belonged in the heart of a jungle, in the depths of a swamp, in the eyes of a predator that hunted in the dark.

Together, they were devastating.

Together, they were beautiful in the way that a forest fire was beautiful, in the way that a storm at sea was beautiful - terrible and breathtaking and utterly, completely terrifying.

Jungkook felt his whole body shake.

The goosebumps rose on his skin, spreading across his arms and the back of his neck, every hair standing on end. A chill ran down his spine,cold and sharp and he could not look away. He could not move, he could not even breathe.

Those eyes held him captive, pinned him in place more effectively than the hand on his wrist, and for one horrifying, endless moment, he forgot how to exist as anything other than prey.

___________

Thank you for reading 🐞

Make sure to vote and leave a comment, pretty ladies.

So, how many times times did our shorty cursed in this chap

How was the chapter?

.

.

And yeah since you all will get only one chapter in a week, so the chapters will be long as a compensation 🫶

.

.

Love you so much

Take care 💋