BTSFicWriter

Read Whispers of Obsession Here:

The Model's Secret Muse

Pairing: park jimin x reader

Genre:Idol AU, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, possessive, obsession

Warnings: This story contains extremely dark and mature themes that may be disturbing to some readers. Explicit sexual content, emotional breakdown, toxic relationship, unprotected sex.

Status: completed

Read The Model's Secret Muse Here:

Forbidden lecture

Paring : jeon jungkook x reader

Genre: dark romance, obsession, possessive behavior, BDSM, yandere, smuts, teacher-student relationship, Forced marriage, age difference, sexual tension , Explicit content, smuts, professor jungkook,

Warring:This story contains extremely dark and mature themes that may be disturbing to some readers. Explicit sexual content, emotional breakdown, toxic relationship, unprotected sex.

Status: completed

Read forbidden lecture here

His Blood Marked Petals

Paring : kim taehyung x Y/N

Genre: vampire au, dark romance, obsession, soft × dark dynamics, possessive behavior, age-gap dynamics, forbidden love, emotional dependency, hurt/comfort, slow-burn tension, morally grey taehyung, supernatural themes, abandonment trauma, light violence, blood themes

Warring:This story contains dark and mature themes that may be disturbing to some readers. Includes blood, violence, emotional dependency, morally grey behavior, age-gap dynamics, obsession, supernatural themes, and sensitive content. Reader discretion is advised.

Status: coming soon

🌑 Tagline

“He found her in the cold… and she became the only warmth his immortal heart ever knew.”

Read His Blood Marked Petals here

📌 Title: Tangled Hearts

💞 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × Reader × Kim Taehyung

Genre: Dark Romance • Romantic Comedy • Slow Burn • Friends-to-Lovers • Love Triangle

⚠️ Warnings: Adult themes, explicit content, jealousy, complicated relationships, friends-with-benefits, slow burn, emotional tension

🖤 Tagline:Two men. One heart. A past that never let go—and a future that refuses to wait.

Status: completed

Read Tangled Hearts

Important notice

🩸Title:The Blood Price of Love

👥 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × Park Jimin × Kim Taehyung x Y/N

🖤 Genre: dark romance • vampire au • psychological horror • obsession • survival•blood themes•supernatural themes

⚠️ Warnings: violence • blood • power imbalance • manipulation • captivity • mature themes

Status: ongoing

🌑 Tagline

Vampires don’t love. They claim.

Chapter:15

Your eyelashes fluttered against Jimin's fingertips before you even realized he was tracing them. The morning light slanted through the curtains in lazy golden stripes, painting his bare shoulders in warmth as he leaned over you—not touching, just hovering, mapping your body with his gaze like a man memorizing scripture. His thumb brushed your lower lip when you inhaled sharply, your lashes finally lifting to meet his dark, amused eyes.

"Morning," Jimin murmured, voice rough with something that wasn't quite sleep.

You swallowed, throat dry. "Did we—"

Jimin's fingers traced the curve of your cheekbone, his thumb brushing away a strand of hair with exaggerated gentleness. "Nope," he murmured, lips quirking when you blinked up at him blearily. "You passed out before the fun part. But eventually—" His grin turned wolfish, fangs glinting in the morning light, "—it's my fault. I teased you too much. You're really so... fragile."

Your palm connected with his cheek before you'd fully processed the movement. The sharp crack echoed in the hotel room's stillness. "How could you do this to Mia?" Your voice cracked, raw with something between fury and shame. "She's your fiancée. She loves you." Your fingers trembled against the sheets. "I wasn't—not in my senses last night, but you were. Why would you let this happen?"

Jimin didn't flinch. A slow smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned across your parted lips. "You know, little human," he murmured, thumb brushing the racing pulse in your wrist, "you're like a porcelain doll. Requires so much careful handling—one wrong touch and you shatter." He stepped back abruptly,"Tell me honestly, even once—did you never want to steal me from Mia?"

"No, I—"

"Liar." Jimin tilted your chin up with two fingers, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and disappointment. "But you're stronger than I thought. My rejection should have awakened Ava's power inside you—yet you controlled yourself."

Your fingers curled into the sheets. "What are you talking about?"

Jimin's fingers tightened around your wrist, his grip cool and unyielding. "Let me give you a little teaser of my past," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Before you could protest, he whispered a word in a language that slithered against your eardrums.

The world dissolved into ink.

You stood in a void of absolute darkness, the only sound the ragged breathing of a child. Then—light. A narrow alleyway materialized, the scent of rotting garbage and wet pavement thick in the air. A group of boys, no older than ten, circled a smaller figure against the brick wall. Their laughter was jagged, cruel.

*"It's him—the son of a whore!"* one sneered, kicking the boy's shin. *"Lowly scum. You're not worth playing with us."*

The child in the alley raised his head—and your breath caught. Those dark, liquid eyes were unmistakably Jimin's, but younger, sharper with a hunger that hadn't yet learned to hide itself. The boy who'd kicked him froze mid-sneer as little Jimin's fingers twitched. Shadows unspooled from the cracks between cobblestones, wrapping around the bully's ankles with eerie precision.

You lurched forward instinctively—"Stop!"—but your voice melted into the memory . The shadows surged upward in a black wave, swallowing the boy's scream whole. One by one, the other children fell, their bodies crumpling like discarded puppets as the darkness seeped into their mouths, their eyes. Little Jimin watched with detached curiosity, tilting his head as the last child gurgled blood onto the pavement.

Your knees buckled, as you stumbled back—only to collide with a solid chest. Jimin's arms encircled you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed his own memory with you. "See?" he murmured, lips brushing your ear ,"You're not ready to love me fully yet."

The vision shattered like glass. You gasped awake in the hotel bed, sheets tangled around your thighs, Jimin kneeling beside you with his fingers still laced through yours—cool and unyielding. You jerked your hand back as if burned, scrambling upright until your spine hit the headboard. "Don't—" Your voice cracked, raw with something between horror and betrayal. "What was that?"

Jimin sighed, long-suffering,. He reached for you again, fingertips brushing your temple. "This look on your face," he murmured, thumb tracing the furrow between your brows, "is really torturing me. So for your own good—" His palm flattened against your forehead, icy against your feverish skin, "—let me erase last night's memories."

"No!" You twisted away, but his grip tightened, fingers threading through your hair to hold you still. "Jimin, stop—"

"Sleep." The word slithered into your ears like liquid night. Your eyelids fluttered shut against your will, limbs going heavy as honey poured into your veins. The last thing you heard was Jimin's whisper, lips grazing your earlobe—"Soon, you'll be my whole world's queen"—before darkness swallowed you whole.

----- 

The library ladder wobbled beneath your feet as you stretched toward the leather-bound grimoire, fingertips brushing its gilded spine—just barely, not enough. You bit your lip, rising onto your toes, when a cool hand closed over yours, plucking the book free with effortless grace.

"Little human," Jimin murmured, the book balanced elegantly between his fingers, "sometimes asking for help isn't a bad thing." Moonlight caught the curve of his smirk as he leaned against the ladder, deliberately crowding your space.

You snatched for the tome, but he held it just out of reach. "I can manage," you insisted, wobbling as the ladder shuddered under your shifting weight. The moment your toes left the rung, the world tilted violently—Jimin's arms caught you mid-fall, his laughter vibrating against your back.

"Clearly," he mused, adjusting his grip so your thighs pressed against the lean muscle of his forearms, "you're terrible at managing." His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear—too close, too cold—as the ladder clattered to the floor behind you.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders. "Put me down."

Jimin's smirk deepened, arms tightening just enough to make your stomach swoop. "I just saved your life, little human," he murmured, breath skating along your jawline. "Where are my thanks?"

Your fingers twitched against his shoulders—whether to push away or pull closer, you weren't sure. "Thank you," you muttered through gritted teeth. "Now put me down."

With exaggerated care, Jimin lowered you until your slippers touched the Persian rug, though his hands lingered at your waist a heartbeat too long. The grimoire dangled from his fingertips  You reached for it, but he tsked, holding it aloft. "Um, Master Jimin..." You hesitated, watching his eyebrows lift. "When is Master Taehyung coming back?"

Jimin's thumb brushed the grimoire's embossed cover. "Why so eager for Taehyung's return?" The question came out light, but his fingers tightened imperceptibly on the book's spine.

You smoothed your skirt, avoiding his gaze. "Morning training—he was supposed to—"

Jimin snapped the book shut. "Taehyung needs more time." His thumb traced the grimoire's embossed cover—too slow, too deliberate. "I'll train you starting tomorrow."

You turned sharply toward the shelf, fingers brushing another leather spine. "No, Master Jimin. I can manage myself. You already have enough—" The words died as cold fingers circled your wrist, yanking you backward into his chest. His fangs grazed your pulse point before sinking in deep.

You gasped, knees buckling. Jimin's free arm banded around your waist, holding you upright as he drank in ragged pulls. The book slipped from your fingers, hitting the carpet with a muffled thump.

"Master Jimin—" Your voice cracked when his tongue lapped at the wound, the vibration of his low hum traveling straight to your toes. His grip tightened as you pressed trembling fingers against his chest—only for his fangs to sink into your index finger with a sudden sharpness that drew a gasp.

The metallic tang of your blood bloomed between his lips just as something shattered upstairs—glass fracturing, wood splintering, the unmistakable sound of Jungkook's fury echoing through the mansion. Jimin sighed against your fingertip before releasing it with a wet pop. "Looks like Jungkook's going to reduce this entire estate to rubble before the week's out," he mused, licking a stray droplet from his lower lip.

You stepped back from Jimin. The door creaked open behind you, and a maid slipped in, her eyes downcast. "Master Jimin," she murmured, twisting her apron between nervous fingers, "Master Jungkook refuses to eat again. He's shattered the fourth tray this morning."

Jimin exhaled through his nose—half exasperation, half exhaustion—and waved her away. "You're dismissed." When the door clicked shut, he rubbed his temples with thumb and forefinger.

You hesitated, fingers curling into your skirt. "Should I... try talking to him?".

Jimin's fingers paused mid-temple-rub, his dark eyes flicking to yours with something between amusement and warning. "It's not going to help," he said, voice dropping to a velvet murmur. "My advice? Stay away from Jungkook. Mia already tried—he won't even look at her." His thumb traced the curve of his lower lip, smearing a faint streak of your blood there. "And trust me, little human. You don't want to see what happens when he's cornered."

The window rattled with another distant crash—porcelain shattering, wood splintering. You flinched, but held your ground. "I know how Master Jungkook feels," you whispered, fingers twisting in your skirt. "That darkness—I've lived in it too." Your throat tightened around the confession. "Blindness isn't just about sight. It's... drowning in silence."

Jimin's fingers stilled against his temple. "Fine," he exhaled at last, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. "Try. But if Jungkook so much as scratches you—" His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up until "—you'll report to me immediately. Understood?"

You nodded, the motion jerky against his hold. Jimin's fingers lingered a heartbeat too long before releasing you, his expression unreadable as he stepped back into the shadows of the library shelves.

Outside Jungkook's bedroom door, your knuckles hovered in mid-air, trembling. One deep breath—then your knuckles grazed the wood three times. Silence.

You turned the knob.

A porcelain vase exploded against the wall two inches from your head—shards skittering across the floorboards. You froze mid-step, pulse hammering against your ribs as Jungkook's voice lashed from the shadows: "Get. Out."

The porcelain shards crunched under your slippers as you stepped forward. "Master Jungkook," you murmured, voice barely louder than the fragments grinding beneath your feet.

A wine bottle sailed past your ear, smashing against the doorframe in a burst of crimson and glass. Jungkook's silhouette loomed in the gloom, his bandaged eyes gleaming faintly beneath the stained gauze. "I said fucking get lost," he snarled.

You stepped over the shattered crystal, your slippers crunching on debris. "Master Jungkook—"

"Don't." His hand shot out, fingers clamping around your wrist hard enough to bruise. "You don't get to pity me." The bandages shifted as he tilted his head, listening to your accelerated pulse. "Leave before I make you."

Your free hand rose—slow, deliberate—until your fingertips grazed his cheek. The contact stilled him. "I know this darkness," you whispered, thumb brushing the dampness beneath his bandages. "The silence that gnaws at your ribs until you’re hollow." His grip slackened just enough for you to twist your wrist free and cup his face properly. "Stop behaving like a child, Master Jungkook."

Jungkook recoiled as if burned. "You—" His bandaged gaze snapped toward your voice, though you knew he couldn't see the way your fingers trembled against his jaw. "I never thought you were this type of weak person," you continued, voice low ,"Just crying over lost eyesight like a spoiled child who dropped his candy."

Jungkook laughed—a sharp, jagged sound that scraped against the walls. "I have no power now," he rasped, fingers digging into the bandages covering his eyes. "Can't see. Can't hunt. Just a useless fucking burden." His voice cracked on the last word, the bitterness twisting his lips into something that wasn't quite a smile.

You didn't flinch when his hand shot out, gripping your chin with bruising force."Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, leaning close enough that his breath—ghosted over your lips. "To see me like this?"

"You gave me my eyes, Master Jungkook," you whispered, sinking into a deep bow  "Because of you, I can see the world. So please—let me take care of you until your sight returns." The plea hung between you.

Jungkook's laugh was a serrated edge against your skin. "Fucking get lost," he snarled, fingers knotting in the stained fabric of his shirt. "I don't need anyone's—"

The pillow hit him square in the chest before he could finish. Goose feathers exploded into the air as Jungkook staggered back a step. "Taking help isn't weakness," you said, voice sharpening as you seized another cushion from the chaise. "Pride tastes bitter when you're choking on it alone, Master Jungkook."

His bandaged face snapped toward the sound of your voice. "You—" Jungkook snarled, arms outstretched as he lunged blindly—only for you to sidestep neatly. He crashed into the chaise lounge, knees buckling against the upholstery with an undignified *oomph*.

A giggle escaped before you could swallow it. "Apologies, Master Jungkook," you murmured, pressing a hand to your lips—though your shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

Jungkook's head whipped toward the sound, bandages askew. "Yah—" he snarled, scrambling upright with the grace of a drunk kitten, hands flailing until they smacked against the bedpost. "I'll rip your throat out and feed it to the hounds!" He lunged again—only for you to sidestep neatly, sending him crashing into the velvet drapes. Fabric ripped as he tangled himself further, his curses muffled by brocade.

You pressed both hands over your mouth, shoulders shaking. A feather from the demolished pillow clung to his disheveled hair, bobbing absurdly with every enraged jerk of his head. "Master Jungkook," you wheezed between suppressed giggles, "you look like an angry chick—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll pluck *you* like a chicken," he hissed, finally untangling himself with a vicious yank that brought the curtain rod down with a metallic clatter. You clapped both hands over your mouth, watching the feather drift from his hair onto his shoulder.

Jungkook's head whipped toward the feather's landing spot with uncanny precision. "What—" His fingers swiped at his shoulder blindly, batting at the feather . "What the hell is that?"

"A baby chick," you deadpanned, dodging the pillow he hurled in the general direction of your voice. It hit the tea tray instead.

"You're dead," he growled, stalking forward—only to trip over the fallen curtain rod with a spectacularly un-princely yelp. You caught his forearm on instinct, but his momentum sent you both crashing onto the chaise in a tangle of limbs. His knee dug into your thigh, one hand braced beside your head as the other gripped your wrist—both of you breathing hard. The feather, still clinging to his hair, chose that moment to drift down onto the bridge of his nose.

Jungkook froze. "What the fuck is—" His stomach roared, a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the wreckage of his bedroom. The feather trembled on his nose with each aggravated breath.

You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking. "Master Jungkook," you whispered, "even your stomach is rebelling against your pride." His grip tightened around your wrist—but then, inexplicably, you reached up with your free hand and brushed the feather from his nose.

His bandaged face snapped toward the movement. "Little mouse," he growled, voice rough with something between fury and exhaustion, "don't forget your place. I could kill you."

Your fingers paused mid-air, inches from his ribs. "Master Jungkook," you said softly, watching the way his shoulders tensed at your proximity, "I don't think in this stage you can." Then—before he could react—your fingertips skated over his side in a feather-light tickle.

Jungkook jerked, a strangled noise catching in his throat. His hands flew down to catch your wrists, but you danced just out of reach, grazing his other side with quick, teasing touches. His breath hitched—a sharp, startled sound—before he clamped his lips shut, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Yah—" He swiped blindly at your hands, missing by inches. "Hey! What are you—stop—" His voice cracked on the last word as your fingers found that sensitive spot just above his hipbone.

Jungkook's breath hitched as your fingers danced along his ribs again—this time deliberately slower, teasing. His hands flailed blindly, catching only air as you ducked under his swinging arm. "Little—*hah*—mouse," he growled between clenched teeth, the muscles in his jaw twitching with the effort to suppress his laughter. "I swear when I—*nh!*—get my sight back I'll—

"—skin you alive," Jungkook finished weakly, his breath hitching as your fingers found the dip of his waist again. His knee buckled against the chaise, sending you both sprawling sideways in a tangled heap of limbs and laughter. The bandage over his eyes had slipped halfway down his nose, revealing the angry red scars beneath—but you didn't pull away. Instead, your thumb brushed the dampness collecting at the edge of the gauze.

"Master Jungkook," you murmured, watching his chest heave with suppressed breaths, "you're forgetting something." His head tilted toward your voice, the muscles in his jaw working silently. "You're human like me now," you continued, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from his damp forehead. "So please—let me take care of you until your eyesight returns."

Jungkook's lips parted on a sharp inhale. "It's my fault," you admitted softly, thumb tracing the edge of his bandages. "If I hadn't met Yoongi—"

Jungkook jerked upright, shoving you away with enough force to send you sprawling onto the ruined carpet. "Get lost," he snarled, fingers clawing at the bandages slipping down his nose. "I don't need anyone's fucking pity."

You caught yourself on a splintered bedpost, your palm stinging from the impact. "I'm not pitying you," you said quietly, watching his shoulders tense at the sound of your voice. "I'm your fiancée too, if you remember." Your fingers curled around the bedpost. "You told me your health is my responsibility."

Jungkook didn’t say anything. His fingers twitched against the ruined sheets, the silence between you. Then, without warning, his hand shot out, gripping yours with bruising force. You gasped as he yanked you forward, your knees hitting the edge of the chaise before you tumbled into his lap. His thighs were rigid beneath you, his breath ragged against your temple.

"I hate attachment," he muttered, the words raw, as if dragged from somewhere deep and festering.

You barely had time to process them before his teeth sank into your throat.

The pain was sharp, immediate—a white-hot lance that dissolved into liquid fire as he drank. His fingers tangled in your hair, holding you still as his tongue lapped at the wound, each pull drawing a shudder from your spine. You whimpered, fingers scrabbling against his chest, but he only tightened his grip, his other arm banding around your waist to crush you closer.

----

Dawn bled through the curtains in thin, watery stripes when you stirred—only to freeze. Jungkook’s head lay heavy in your lap, his breathing slow and even, lips slightly parted against the fabric of your skirt. His bandages had slipped entirely off in the night, Your fingers hovered above them, trembling.

The realization crept over you—every time Ava's power had awakened within you, Jungkook had been there. You stared down at his sleeping face in your lap.

Your fingers trembled against Jungkook's hair—too soft, hesitant—when his arm suddenly shot up, wrapping around your waist with startling strength. "Five minutes more," he mumbled into your thigh, voice thick with sleep, his nose pressing against the fabric of your skirt. The intimacy of it stole your breath. His lashes—long and unfairly pretty—fluttered against his cheeks.

You opened your mouth—to protest, to say anything—but the door burst open before sound could form.

"Jungkook, you seriously need to—" Mia's voice cut off with an audible gasp. You jerked upright, sending Jungkook's head sliding off your lap. He growled, fingers tightening possessively around your wrist before rolling onto his side with a disgruntled snort.

Behind Mia, Hobi silhouette filled the doorway, one hand still raised mid-knock. His eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Omo," he breathed, eyes darting between Jungkook's tangled limbs and your flushed face. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Did we interrupt... naptime?"

Jungkook didn't bother lifting his head from the wrecked chaise cushions. "Guys," he growled, voice muffled by brocade, "it's my fucking bedroom. Ever heard of knocking?" The feather still clung stubbornly to his hair, bobbing with each irritated twitch of his head.

Mia hovered in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the doorframe. "Sorry," she murmured, though her gaze kept darting between Jungkook's disheveled state and your rumpled skirts. "I'm just... glad you're talking to someone."

Hobi whistled low as he scanned the destruction—shattered porcelain embedded in the walls, feathers clinging to every surface, the chaise lounge now. His nose wrinkled at the coppery scent still clinging to your collar. "Damn, kids," he drawled, kicking a pillow fragment aside with his boot. "You two have a fight? Or just a very aggressive cuddle session?"

"no, it's not like that," you blurted out too quickly, your fingers twisting in the ruined fabric of your skirt as Hobi's smirk widened. Jungkook lifted his head just enough to glare in their general direction, the morning light catching on the dried blood still smeared at the corner of his lips.

"Hyung," Jungkook growled, voice rough with sleep and something darker, "I'm not in the mood for joking." His fingers dug into the chaise cushions, claws shredding velvet. "So both of you can leave my room."

Mia hesitated in the doorway, her gaze lingering on the way Jungkook's free hand had subconsciously curled around the hem of your sleeve—like a child clinging to a security blanket. "I hope you come out for breakfast," she said softly, fingers tightening around the doorframe.

Hobi opened his mouth—probably to make another inappropriate comment—when Jungkook's head snapped toward the sound of shifting fabric. "Yah," he snarled, "I said out." The command cracked through the room. Hobi just sighed, dragging a hand down his face before nudging Mia gently backward into the hallway.

Jungkook's face was turned toward the candlestick when he spoke, his bandaged eyes giving the illusion he was addressing it rather than you. "Hey," he muttered, fingers tracing the gilded base absently, "I hope you don't forget what you said to me last night, my fiancée."

You pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh, the sound escaping as a soft huff of air. "Master Jungkook," you whispered, shoulders shaking, "you're talking to a candlestick."

His head whipped toward your voice the bandages slipping down his nose. "I know where I'm fucking facing," he snapped, though the tips of his ears flushed pink. He kicked the leg of the dressing table, sending the candlestick wobbling. "And don't change the subject."

"I remembered my words, Master Jungkook," you whispered to the empty air, fingers tracing the phantom warmth where his head had rested in your lap. The memory of his sleep-soft mumbling—*five minutes more*—your skin as you smoothed your rumpled skirt and stepped into the hallway.

You were halfway through buttering toast when Mia's voice cut through the breakfast chatter. "Morning, Y/N." She slid into the seat opposite, her fingers tapped restlessly against the tablecloth.

"Mm. Morning," you mumbled around a bite of toast, eyes fixed on the butter knife trembling between your fingers.

Mia's teacup clinked against its saucer. "So," she began, voice deceptively light, "how did you manage to talk Jungkook down? It's really rare to see him speaking with anyone in... that state." Her gaze flicked to the faint bruises peeking above your collar before darting away.

You smiled, fingers tightening around your own cup. "I just reminded him I'm currently in the position of Master Jungkook's fiancée—"

Mia's teacup froze halfway to her lips. "Y/N," she said slowly, eyes darting to the fresh bite marks barely hidden beneath your collar, "you're really too innocent, calling your master your fiancée." Her knuckles whitened around the porcelain. "Do you even understand what that actually means?"

You opened your mouth—but the chair beside you scraped back as Jimin slid into the seat, his fingers brushing your shoulder as he reached for the jam. "Morning, Mia," he murmured, lips quirking when she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Good morning," Mia whispered against his skin, her fingers lingering on his wrist a second too long before pulling away.

Jungkook's knee bumped yours under the table as he slumped into the chair beside you, his bandages askew and his hair still rumpled from sleep.

Jimin's spoon hovered mid-air, his lips curling into something between amusement and relief. "So finally," he drawled, "my little brother crawls out of his cave." The spoon clinked against his bowl as he added, "Should we send for the royal painter to commemorate this historic occasion?"

Mia kicked Jimin under the table—hard. "Yay, Jimin, don't bully him," she chirped, pouring tea with excessive cheer. "I'm glad you're finally out of your room, Jungkook. We missed your charming personality." Her smile strained at the edges when Jungkook didn't respond.

Jungkook's knee bumped yours again—harder this time—as he growled, "Feed me." His claw-tipped fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You froze mid-bite, toast crumbling between your fingers. "Me?" you squeaked, staring at Jungkook's bandaged profile as he tilted his head toward your voice.

Jungkook's lips curled, revealing the faintest glint of fang. "Do you forget what you said to me last night?" His voice was velvet wrapped around steel. "I'm under your care now, my fiancée." The last word dripped with mocking emphasis, yet his fingers twitched against the tablecloth—waiting.

Jimin's spoon clattered against his bowl. "Jungkook," he sighed, rubbing his temple, "you're not a fledgling. Feed yourself."

Jungkook's fingers curled tighter around the table edge, knuckles whitening. "My fiancée doesn't have a problem with it,"His bandaged face tilted toward you with unnerving precision. "Right?" The silence stretched until you sighed, fingers trembling as you reached for the buttered toast.

Jimin's spoon froze mid-air when you lifted the crust toward Jungkook's lips. "You're really indulging him?" His incredulous gaze darted between your trembling fingers and Jungkook's expectant mouth.

The toast grazed Jungkook's bottom lip before his teeth snapped shut—missing the bread entirely and grazing your fingertips instead. You yelped, jerking back as he growled, "Wrong side." His fingers twitched toward his bandages in frustration.

Hobi dropped into the chair beside Jimin with an exaggerated sigh. "Aigoo," he groaned, draping an arm over his eyes. "Sometimes I wish mercy upon this poor single soul—first Mia and Jimin's sickening sweetness, now you two ." He peeked between his fingers at your flushed cheeks. "At this rate, I'll develop diabetes before lunch."

"Professor Hobi!" You nearly knocked over the juice pitcher in your haste to explain. "It's not—we weren't—" Your words tangled as Jungkook's fingers closed around your wrist, guiding the toast back toward his waiting lips with deliberate slowness. The bastard was smirking.

Mia snorted into her tea. "Hobi, you forgot Jungkook's reputation as the palace womanizer." Her gaze lingered on the way your fingers trembled against the crust. "Y/N, don't fall for his wounded puppy act—this is the same vampire who made three court ladies faint last summer by licking jam off his—"

"Can we focus," Jungkook interrupted loudly, "on breakfast instead of my supposed crimes against propriety?" His bandaged face tilted toward you. "The toast's getting cold, fiancee."

You barely had time to lift the crust before Mia leaned across the table, eyes glinting. "Did I hurt the precious reputation of my dear brother-in-law?" Her fingers drummed against the teacup. "That's rich, coming from the vampire who—"

"Enough." Hobi sighed, rubbing his temples. "Every meal with you lot is like attending a royal tribunal."

Jimin set his spoon down with deliberate calm. "Mia. Jungkook." His voice carried the quiet weight of command. "That's enough."

Mia's lips pursed, but she exhaled through her nose. "Fine, fine." She flicked her bangs aside, suddenly brightening. "I have an idea—why don't we all go to Asumemt Park tomorrow night? Jungkook's mood could use fresh air, and..." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I heard there'll be shooting stars. I want to see them with you." Her fingers brushed Jimin's wrist.

Jungkook's scoff was muffled by toast crumbs. "Not interested."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Y/N could go with you," she insisted, gesturing toward you with her teaspoon. "After all, since coming here, she hasn't had a single normal day off—has she?" Her tone was light, but her gaze flicked toward Jimin for half a second too long before landing back on you. "And Jungkook loves the rides—he's just like a kid when no one's watching."

Jungkook's spoon clattered against his bowl. "I'm not some invalid who needs—"

"Actually," Jimin interrupted, fingers drumming against the tablecloth, "Mia has a point." His gaze slid to you with calculated lightness. "Little human, you want to go?".

Mia clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat. "Come on, Y/N! It'll be fun!" Her grin widened as she leaned across the table, tapping your wrist with her teaspoon. "And most importantly—you're responsible for taking care of Jungkook now, right?" Her eyes flicked to Jimin's impassive face before adding, "So you can't say no."

Hobi snorted into his coffee, stirring lazily. "Don't worry, Y/N. This girl's always bossy." He smirked when Mia kicked him under the table—harder this time. "But seriously," he continued, rubbing his shin, "what's the worst that could happen? Blind vampire prince and his blood bag strolling through carnival games?" His grin widened as Jungkook's chair screeched backward.

Jungkook stood abruptly, bandages askew. "I'm not interested," he repeated flatly, turning toward the door with eerie precision. His shoulder clipped the doorframe—a rare misstep—before he vanished down the hall.

Hobi whistled low, rubbing your head like you were some kicked puppy. "Aww, poor Y/N," he cooed, fingers mussing your hair with exaggerated sympathy. "Don't worry—if His Grumpiness won't go, you can always count on—"

A silver butter knife embedded itself in the chairback inches from Hobi's ear with a dull *thwack*.

Jimin didn't even glance up from his tea. "Accident," he murmured, stirring sugar cubes with infuriating calm as Hobi slowly peeled the butter knife from the woodgrain behind his ear.

You stood abruptly, chair legs scraping against marble. "I'm getting late for college," you murmured, fingers brushing crumbs from your skirt. The others barely glanced up—Jimin engrossed in Mia's whispered conversation, Hobi still examining the butter knife lodged in the woodwork behind his head.

You were halfway down the east corridor when soft footsteps hurried after you. "Y/N—wait!" Mia's fingers caught your sleeve, her breath coming in quick puffs. "About this morning... I was really rude to you. I'm really sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," you murmured, turning away, as you took another step down the corridor—but Mia's fingers tightened on your sleeve.

"Wait—" Her voice dropped, barely audible over the distant chatter drifting from the breakfast hall. "Why... why are you suddenly so soft with Jungkook?" There was something strange in her tone—something too careful, like she was holding her breath while balancing on a tightrope.

You smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Mia... you know Master Jimin understands human emotions better than anyone. But some things—girl things—only another girl would understand." Your fingers plucked at your sleeve where she'd gripped it moments before. "The way your eyes follow Master Jimin—it's completely different from how you look at Master Jungkook."

Mia blinked rapidly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her skirt. "Y/N, what are you—

"Your eyes get very soft," you interrupted softly, gaze drifting past her toward the stained glass window . "Like you're afraid he'll disappear if you blink too long."

Mia's breath caught—just a quick, sharp intake—before she forced a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're imagining things," she said, too lightly, fingers fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve.

You smiled and patted Mia's hand lightly. "You should focus on Master Jimin instead of Master Jungkook," you said, already stepping back. "I need to go—I'm getting late for college."

Mia's fingers twitched against your sleeve before letting go. "Y/N," she called as you turned away, her voice suddenly sharp, "for Jungkook, you'll always just be a blood bank. By the way..." Her tone softened into false sweetness. "I hope we'll enjoy the amusement park tomorrow." Before you could respond, she whirled on her heel and strode down the opposite corridor, her footsteps unnaturally loud against the marble.

The car ride to campus was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of rain against the windows. You pressed your forehead to the cool glass, watching droplets race each other down the pane. Could you have been wrong about Mia? The way she'd gripped your sleeve—too tight, too desperate—when you mentioned Jungkook. The sharpness in her voice when she insisted you were imagining things. The way her eyes always lingered a beat too long whenever Jungkook entered a room...

"Heyyy," Jungkook's voice cut through your thoughts, his knee bumping against yours as the car hit a bump. His bandages were fresh this morning, stark white against his tousled hair. "Why do you need to attend class everyday?" His fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against the leather seat. "It's not like you're actually learning anything humans can teach you anymore."

You sighed, peeling a loose thread from your skirt. "Because I don't have vampire powers like you to get top marks without trying." The words came out sharper than intended. Outside, the university gates loomed into view—ornate ironwork dripping with rainwater. "Master Jungkook, you should be resting at the mansion instead of coming to college like this."

Jungkook scoffed, tilting his head toward the sound of your voice ,"Resting sounds boring." His fingers twitched toward his bandages before curling into fists. "Besides, my fiancée," he drawled, dragging out the title like it amused him, "you forget—I'm under your care now. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, you need to be around me." His lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. "Didn't you promise to take responsibility?"

You sighed, pressing your forehead against the cool window glass as the car pulled into campus. *Hope I don't regret this decision*, the thought flickered through your mind before you could stop it.

The classroom buzzed with stifled whispers the moment Jungkook’s knee pressed against yours beneath the desk—again. Every feminine gaze in the room flickered between his bandaged face and the way his fingers absently twisted the hem of your sleeve between them. You kept your eyes glued to the professor’s notes, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you. Jungkook,oblivious, let his forehead thunk onto your shoulder with a quiet groan.

"Master Jungkook," you hissed, trying to shrug him off without drawing more attention, "you’re making a scene."

His response was to nuzzle closer, his breath cold through the fabric of your blouse. "Don’t care," he muttered, the words muffled against your arm. "This lecture is fucking boring." His fingers slid down to entwine with yours, squeezing once—too tight—before relaxing.

The bell rang . You shot up from your seat before the professor had even finished dismissing class—but not fast enough. A dozen perfumed bodies closed in before you could disentangle Jungkook’s fingers from yours, their voices overlapping in high-pitched concern.

"Oppa, what happened to your eyes?"

"Jungkook oppa, do you need help walking?"

You rolled your shoulders back, ready to slip through the crowd—playboy could handle his own fanclub—but then you felt it. Jungkook's fingers trembled against yours, the slightest uneven pressure where his grip tightened reflexively.You froze mid-step.

"Don't go." His voice was barely audible under the chatter of the girls crowding around him.Jungkook turned toward the gaggle of admirers with an apologetic tilt of his head. "Sorry, ladies," he murmured, fingers sliding down to twine with yours in a gesture so deliberate it silenced the room, "but I already have someone taking care of me." Before you could react, he lifted your joined hands—and pressed his lips to your knuckles with exaggerated tenderness, his smirk hidden behind the motion.

The library's musty silence pressed against your eardrums as you slumped against the bookshelf, knees drawn to your chest. "Now girls are really going to kill me," you whispered to your reflection in the polished floorboards, "They already had a misunderstanding thinking I'm dating Master Taehyung—and now this?" Your fingers worried at the spot Jungkook's lips had brushed earlier, still tingling with phantom warmth.

Jungkook's knee bumped yours as he sprawled beside you, his bandaged face tilted toward the sound of your voice. "It's your fault," he muttered, fingers blindly tracing the length of your forearm before capturing your wrist. His thumb pressed into your pulse point—as he dragged your hand into his lap. "Why were you trying to leave me with those girls?" His grip tightened when you tried to pull away, fingers measuring the span of your palm against his own . "Too small," he scoffed, though his fingers curled protectively around yours.

You yanked your hand back with more force than necessary. "I thought you'd enjoy spending time with your fan girls," you huffed, rubbing your wrist where his grip had left faint pink marks. "After all, whenever you come to college, you're always busy with girls." The accusation slipped out before you could stop.

Jungkook froze mid-reach, his bandaged face eerily still. "So someone was stalking me," he murmured, lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl. His fingers twitched toward his bandages before curling into fists. "Interesting."

"I'm not—" The denial caught in your throat when he leaned in abruptly, his cold breath fanning across your cheek.

"Why agree to go to that stupid amusement park?" His voice dropped to a whisper,"Do you still love Jimin?" Jungkook's bandaged face tilted closer, his cold breath ghosting over your lips.

" What about you, Master Jungkook?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, fingers twisting in your lap. "Do you still love Mia?"

Jungkook's fingers twitched against his bandaged temple—a telltale sign of irritation. "Little mouse," he murmured, voice dripping with false sweetness as his thumb traced the pulse point beneath your jaw, "don't think you have been forgotten your place." His grip tightened when you inhaled sharply. "Questioning your own master? How daring." The last word came out as a growl, his fangs glinting in the library's dim light.

You swallowed hard, fingers digging into your skirt. "Even if I deny having feelings for Master Jimin," you whispered, watching Jungkook's nostrils flare at the name, "that's my stupidity—misunderstanding his care for something else."

Jungkook's fingers twitched against your pulse point. "Love is weakness," he hissed, his breath frosting your skin. "Pathetic." The word cracked—but his grip loosened fractionally, betraying hesitation.

"Then why," you breathed, tipping your chin up to meet the invisible weight of his bandaged gaze, "You never confess to Mia?"

Jungkook's fingers spasmed against your throat,"Stay at your limits," he growled, the words sharp enough. His thumb pressed harder into your pulse point. "Or do you need another lesson in obedience?" The threat should have sent you scrambling back—but something about the slight tremor in his grip made you hold your ground.

"Maybe," you whispered, watching his bandaged face tilt toward the sound of your voice. "Because Mia's happiness matters more." You didn't flinch when his claws pricked your skin. "That's why you never told her, isn't it?"

Jungkook's fingers froze against your throat.The library's dim light caught the tension in his jaw as he exhaled sharply through his nose. "Stop imagining things," he muttered, but his grip loosened completely, fingers sliding away to curl into fists at his sides. The motion left faint crescent marks on your skin where his claws had pressed too hard.

You rubbed your throat absently, watching the way his shoulders hunched forward—like the mere mention of Mia was a physical weight. "Maybe you should confess to her," you said softly. "Holding back... doesn't it hurt you more than anything?"

Jungkook's spine stiffened, his bandaged face turning sharply toward you. The silence stretched taut between you, broken only by the distant rustle of pages from another student across the library.

You exhaled, leaning back against the bookshelf. "Hmm. I'm sad Master Jimin doesn’t return my feelings." Your fingers plucked at a loose thread on your skirt. "But my heart is light. At least I can move forward now—focus on my life."

Jungkook stood abruptly, knocking a stack of books off the shelf with a careless swipe of his arm. They hit the floor with a series of dull thuds. "I don’t need your advice," he hissed, voice jagged. "Stay in your fucking limits."

Jungkook's footsteps echoed down the marble corridor—before the library doors slammed shut behind him. You exhaled through your nose, pressing your forehead against the cold bookshelf. *Maybe I overdid it.* You pushed yourself upright, smoothing your rumpled skirt with unsteady hands.

The hallway was eerily quiet as you walked—until a sharp voice sliced through the silence. "So this is the two-timer?" A girl with perfectly curled hair stepped into your path, flanked by three others. "First clinging to Taehyung-oppa, now forcing yourself on Jungkook-oppa?" Her crimson nails tapped against her crossed arms. "Don't you have any shame?"

You blinked slowly, adjusting your book bag strap. "Yeah," you said, voice deliberately flat, "I don't have shame. I did what my heart desired—no shame or embarrassment." You sidestepped her, but another girl blocked you.

"Pathetic," she spat, jabbing a finger at your chest. "Jungkook-oppa was just being polite because —"

"Ah-ah!" A cheerful voice cut through the venom. Hobi materialized beside you, draping an arm over your shoulders with exaggerated camaraderie. "No bullying my favorite student, ladies~" His grin widened as their faces paled. "Unless you'd like me to suspend your entire fanclub from campus?" He tapped his chin mock-thoughtfully. "Three months should suffice—just in time for midterms."

The gaggle of girls scattered like startled pigeons when Hobi waggled his eyebrows at them. You exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping as their shrill whispers faded down the hallway. "Now your fan club's going to target me too," you groaned, rubbing your temples.

Hobi gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "This generation! Can't even say 'thank you' when someone saves them from certain doom." He leaned in conspiratorially, his silver earring glinting. "Those girls were totally about to shove you in a locker. I saw it in their eyes—that specific brand of crazy only teenage girls can muster."

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. "Professor Hobi, can I ask you something?"

His grin turned shark-like. "Of course, little lamplight~" He paused meaningfully. "In exchange for letting me draw three vials of your blood for research tomorrow."

"You really never change," you groaned, swatting away his hands as he started ruffling your hair. "One day you're actually going to drain me dry if I give you the chance, aren't you?"

Hobi gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you'd wounded him. "My precious student! How could you accuse me of such villainy?" His fingers fluttered to his forehead in mock distress. "I'm wounded. Truly wounded." The theatrics lasted precisely three seconds before he grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the hallway. "Come on—my office has better chairs for interrogation."

His "office" turned out to be a glorified storage closet stuffed with mismatched furniture and a suspiciously stained chaise lounge. You perched on the edge of a armchair while Hobi rummaged through drawers, humming off-key.

"Here we go~" He brandished a syringe with unnecessary flourish. "Three vials, as promised. Now—ask away, little lamplight." The needle glinted as he tapped it against the glass vial. "Though I can already guess what—or rather who—you're curious about."

You rolled your eyes so hard your vision blurred. "I just want to understand Master Jungkook better," you muttered, watching the crimson swirl into vial.

Hobi's grin turned wolfish. "Ahhh, the Jungkookie mystery~" He swapped vials with a theatrical sigh. "Well, from childhood, our little Kook was a sweet kid—also a menace. Ran wild, climbed everything, stole desserts from the royal kitchens." The needle glinted as he tapped it. "But here's the juicy part—Jungkook-ah was terrified of girls."

You snorted so hard your ribs hurt. "Professor Hobi, stop joking. Master Jungkook's the biggest playboy on campus—he flirts with girls like it's an Olympic sport."

Hobi's fingers froze mid-twist as he uncapped another vial. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed—just for a second—before he forced another grin. "Ahhh, but lamplight~ That's precisely why it became his trauma." The needle hovered over your vein as his voice dropped to something darker. "Imagine—royal vampire blood running through your veins, yet your powers flicker like a dying candle while your half-human brother commands shadows with a snap of his fingers." He jabbed the needle in with more force than necessary. "And the girls? Ohhh, they flocked to him alright—until they realized the golden boy couldn't even summon a basic illusion to impress them."

Hobi's fingers paused mid-draw, the syringe trembling slightly as crimson crept up the glass. "Second Queen was... particular about Jungkook's training." His grin flickered—something darker passing beneath the surface before he forced it back. "Imagine this—seven years old, midnight drills in the freezing courtyard until his fingers turned blue. Every failed spell meant another hour chained to the obsidian pillars in the east wing." He tapped the vial sharply, watching your face pale. "And when little Kookie cried? Ohhh, she'd smile that pretty smile and say—" His voice pitched high in mocking imitation, "Tears are for humans, darling. You're a prince."

You flinched when he suddenly jabbed a second needle in without warning. "That's cruel," you whispered, watching your blood swirl into the new vial.

Hobi hummed, tilting the glass to examine the viscosity. "Hmm. But here's the funny thing—Jungkook loved being powerless back then." His smirk softened at the edges as he recalled something distant. "Caught him sneaking into the human markets every weekend just to feel the sun on his skin like them. Pathetic, right?" The syringe twirled between his fingers before plunging into your vein again. "And there was someone—someone who made him forget he was supposed to be a weapon."

Your fingers curled into the armrest when he withdrew the needle too fast. "Who?" The word slipped out before you could swallow it.

Hobi's syringe paused mid-air, his playful grin freezing into something sharper—like a knife balanced on its edge. "Ahhh, little lamp~" he crooned, tapping the glass vial against your forehead with deliberate lightness. "My gossip has limits, and we’ve hit the ceiling for one afternoon. Let’s just say that the version of Jungkook you see now—this jagged, possessive creature—is the Second Queen's finest creation. She sculpted him into this, because once he realized his powers were flickering, he lost the only things that actually mattered to him."

Hobi leaned in," Jungkook lost his pride, his peace, and most tragically," Hobi whispered, his voice devoid of its usual theatricality, "he lost the wish to ever live a human life. He stopped wanting to be like the people he used to sneak off to see. He decided it was better to be a monster who commanded fear than a failure who deserved pity."

You felt a sudden, sharp ache in your chest. "Professor Hobi," you murmured, your voice barely a thread, "the person he didn't want to lose... that person was...?"

Hobi didn't answer immediately. He stepped back, admiring the three vials of rich, crimson blood, his expression unreadable. He let out a low, melodic hum, the sound vibrating in the small, cluttered space. "Little lamp," he crooned, his voice returning to that sing-song, playful cadence, "I think I’ve already given you enough breadcrumbs to find your way into Jungkook’s heart—or at least, enough information to get close to him without getting bitten."

"Wait, no!" you protested, your voice cracking as you tried to scramble off the armchair. "Professor Hobi, you’ve got it all wrong! It’s not like that—".

Hobi’s laughter erupted, a bright, melodic sound that filled the cramped storage closet. He waved a hand dismissively, shooing you toward the door. "Okay, okay! Out you go, little lamp! My generosity has its limits, and I currently have a mountain of paperwork threatening to bury me alive." He gave you a playful nudge, his eyes remained calculating as he watched you stumble back into the corridor.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Hobi’s expression shifted. He held the three vials of blood up to the dim light, the crimson liquid swirling in a slow.. A slow, knowing smile crept across his lips,"So, the little lamp is starting to find the switches," he murmured to the empty room. "Now that she's beginning to find the way to awaken Ava’s power," Hobi whispered, his voice devoid of its usual playfulness, "I suppose it's time I played my own card."

----

"Was it her?" you whispered to the empty hallway, the question echoing against the cold stone walls. You walked toward your next lecture, your mind spinning in dizzying circles. If Jungkook had been a sweet child who loved the human world, and if there was someone who made him forget his royal burdens, could that person have been Mia? You shook your head, the thought feeling physically impossible. Mia was your age. Unless... unless she was a reincarnation.

"Y/N! Earth to Y/N!"

"Y/N! Earth to Y/N!"

The voice snapped you back to reality. You blinked, realizing you had been standing dead-still in the middle of the corridor, staring blankly at a locker. Soomin was leaning against the wall, her eyebrows arched in a look, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Seriously, Y/N, you need to clear the air," Soomin huffed, stepping closer to inspect your dazed expression. "What in the world is going on between you, Professor Kim, and Jungkook? I saw you disappearing into that storage closet with Hobi, and before that, you were practically glued to Jungkook’s side in class. It’s like you’re collecting the most chaotic men on campus as a hobby."

"I'm sorry, Soomin, I really can't explain it all right now," you sighed, waving a hand dismissively as you finally stepped away from the locker. "But trust me, there is absolutely nothing between me and Jungkook—or Professor Kim. Professor Hobi just saved me from being torn apart by Jungkook’s fan club."

Soomin’s gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing as she scanned your face for a lie. A small, mischievous smirk played on her lips. "Let me guess," she teased, leaning in closer, "your family arranged this dramatic engagement with Jungkook for some  reason, but your heart actually belongs to the mysterious Professor Kim? A forbidden romance in the faculty lounge? How tragic!"

"Soomin!" you gasped, your face flushing a deep crimson. You tried to swat her shoulder, but she stepped back, her expression suddenly shifting. The playfulness vanished, replaced by a heavy, awkward silence .

"Well, Y/N... actually, I want to say sorry to you," Soomin murmured, her voice losing its edge.

You paused, your hand still mid-air. "Why? What did you do?"

Soomin looked down at her shoes, shifting her weight from side to side. "Remember that college party? The one where the drinks tasted... off? A few of our classmates spoiled the punch. They were jealous—so jealous of the attention you were getting from Jungkook and Professor Kim. They wanted to humiliate you, to make you look like a fool in front of the them." She bit her lip, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I knew about it, Y/N. I saw them slipping things into the glasses. I should have told you, but..." She trailed off, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. "I liked Jungkook too. I wanted you to stumble. I wanted you to look pathetic so he would finally notice someone else."

You stared at her, the memory of that night—the sudden dizziness, the way the room had spun, the confusing gaps in your recollection—suddenly snapped into focus. "You let them do that to me," you whispered.

"I'm really sorry," Soomin whispered, She didn't look at you, her gaze fixed on a loose thread on her own sleeve. "I know I don't deserve your friendship. I know we can't just... go back to how things were. But please, Y/N, can you forgive me just once? I really want to be your friend again. Truly."

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again, Soomin," you whispered, the words feeling heavy and cold in the air. You looked at her—and realized the girl you had shared secrets with for months was a stranger.

Soomin bowed her head, her shoulders slouching. "I know it’s hard. Take all the time you need," she murmured, her voice sounding fragile. Then, she let out a small, shaky laugh, glancing toward the faculty wing. "But for what it's worth... I don't even have feelings for Jungkook anymore. Turns out, my heart actually belongs to Professor Hobi. I’m hopelessly smitten." She looked up at you with a glimmer of hope. "I still hope you can support me as a friend, eventually. But for now, class is about to start. Let’s go before we’re late."

You stepped back, the distance between you feeling like a canyon. "You go, Soomin. I have something to do." You didn't wait for her response, turning your back as she gave a small, sad wave and disappeared around the corner. You stood there for a moment, the silence of the hallway pressing in on you. Your mind drifted back to that night—the party, the flashing lights, and the hazy gaps in your memory.Someone had played with your consciousness, turning you into a puppet for their amusement.

"You’ve got a real talent for disappearing, little mouse. I didn't realize my nursing care came with scheduled intervals of abandonment."

You spun around to find Jungkook leaning against a limestone pillar, his bandaged face tilted in a way that suggested he was sensing your heartbeat rather than seeing you.He didn't wait for you to answer, his lip curling into a pout. "How can you leave me for a single second? Your only purpose right now is to ensure I don't trip over my own feet or die of boredom. You're a truly incompetent nurse, Y/N."

The arrogance was there, but it was wrapped in a strange, childish dependency that made the bite of his words feel more like a plea for attention. You stepped toward him, your voice soft but hesitant. "Master Jungkook, I—I actually need to go see a friend. There's something... a settlement I need to make with them. I think it would be best if you went home and rested. I need to catch the bus."

"I'll go with you," Jungkook declared, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

You blinked, glancing at his bandaged eyes. "But Master Jungkook, you're... you're recovering. And this is a personal matter, something I need to handle alone."

A small, predatory smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist with a lingering warmth before his grip tightened, pulling you a fraction closer. "Since when does a blind man walk himself home? You’re my caretaker, little mouse. Where you go, I follow. Now hurry up, unless you want me to carry you to the bus stop in front of the entire student body."

You groaned, knowing that fighting his stubbornness was like trying to stop a landslide with a silk ribbon.

----

The city skyline loomed like a jagged crown of glass and neon, but your eyes were fixed on one specific structure—the monolithic estate where the gala had been held.

This is the place where everything started, you thought, a shiver running down your spine. If I hadn't come here for work that night—if I hadn't been a witness—maybe I wouldn’t have ended up entering this world at all.

​"Seriously, what work could you possibly have in a dump like this?".

Jungkook’s voice broke the silence, heavy with its usual arrogant tilt. He stood a pace behind you, his bandaged face tilted toward the building as if reading the shifting air. Even with his eyes covered, his presence was overwhelming. A small, reminiscent smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

​"If I remember correctly, this is where we first meet, little mouse," he drawled, stepping closer until his coat brushed your shoulder. His tone dropped into a low, teasing vibration that felt like a physical touch. "You were so brave back then. Climbing right into our bed—

" Master jungkook, I—" You started, your voice wavering as you looked up at the imposing estate. "that before, but please, just for a moment, could you wait here? I have a small errand to run, and I’ll be back before you can even count to ten."

Jungkook let out a scoff, his head tilting as he tracked the sound of your anxious breathing. "You’re stuttering, little mouse. That usually means you're hiding something, or you're terrified. Either way, it's boring to wait outside in the wind." Without waiting for your consent, he reached out and snagged your wrist, his grip firm but not bruising. "Let’s go inside."

As he steered you through the grand mahogany doors. You couldn't let him follow you. You scanned the room, searching for a diversion, and found it in the form of a cluster of socialites and students who had gathered for a late-afternoon viewing.Their eyes widening the moment they spotted the handsome, bandaged man leading you by the hand.

An idea sparked. You didn't just need a distraction; you needed a chaotic one. Taking a deep breath, you stepped back from Jungkook and cupped your hands around your mouth, shouting with a sudden, theatrical brightness, "Oh my goodness! Is that actually him? Everyone, look! It's Jeon Jungkook!"

The effect was instantaneous. The cluster of socialites, who had been merely curious, shifted into a frenzied swarm. The mention of his name acted like a signal flare, and within seconds, a wall of perfume and high-pitched gasps surrounded him. "Jungkook-ssi!" "Are you okay?" "What happened to your eyes?" they wailed, their collective energy creating a physical barrier from you.

Jungkook froze, his expression twisting into a mask of pure irritation. He tried to reach for your wrist again, but a group of overly eager girls stepped into his space, fluttering their fans and blocking his path. He let out a low, guttural growl of annoyance, but the sheer volume of the crowd drowned him out. Seizing the golden window of opportunity, you ducked low, weaving through the gaps in the crowd and slipping away before he could pinpoint your scent. You didn't look back, your heart hammering against your ribs as you sprinted toward the service corridor.

Breathless and flushed, you pushed through the heavy velvet curtains of the side gallery, stumbling right into the path of a woman holding a silver tray of champagne. She gasped, nearly dropping the glasses, but her eyes widened in recognition. "Y/N? Is that really you?"

"Hana!" you exhaled, leaning against the wall to catch your breath.

"Y/N! What a surprise!" Hana exclaimed, setting the champagne tray on a nearby marble plinth with a clatter. She stepped forward, her eyes scanning your face and your expensive—albeit slightly disheveled—clothing. "It’s been ages since we worked the same circuit. I actually heard from your grandmother that you’d landed some sort of position in a private mansion. I thought you'd moved to the countryside to escape the city noise!"

You leaned in, your voice a hurried whisper, the adrenaline from escaping Jungkook still humming in your veins. "Hana, I’ll explain the mansion and everything else later, I swear. But first, tell me about that night—the last party where I worked as a waitress. The one before the... change. Who hired me? Do you remember who the agency manager was?"

Hana’s expression shifted, her brows knitting together in a look of genuine confusion. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "Y/N, this is the crazy part. The morning after that party, I actually went looking for you. I wanted to see if you’d made any tips from the high-rollers. I asked the other girls, the floor managers, even the cleaning crew... but something strange happened."

You blinked, "What do you mean?"

"No one remembered you," Hana said, her eyes searching yours. "It was like you’d been wiped from the record. They told me there was no waitress by your name on the payroll. They looked at me like I was insane, claiming you didn't exist at that party at all. It was as if the universe had just... edited you out of the room the moment you clocked out."

You felt a chill settle in your stomach. "But someone had to hire me. I didn't just appear there out of thin air, Hana. Who was the manager?"

Hana paused, a knowing smile touching her lips. "I don't remember his name—the agency was a temporary setup for the gala—but I was a bit smitten, so I snapped a photo of him while he was checking the guest list. He was far too handsome to be a mere middle-manager." She reached into her pocket and flicked open her phone, sliding the image across the screen.

You froze. The man in the photo had sharp. It was Min Yoongi. The realization hit you like a physical blow; it wasn't a coincidence. Yoongi had been the one to bring you into this world.

"Get your hands off me!" Jungkook roared, his voice a jagged blade cutting through the high-pitched chorus of admirers.

Jungkook was a storm of indignation, his blind eyes focused on the space where your scent had just vanished. "That little mouse," he hissed to himself, his chest heaving, "how dare she trick me? How dare she leave me to the wolves?"

But as he pivoted to track you, the gold-leafed opulence of the gallery suddenly bled into a void. The noise of the crowd vanished, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt like water filling his lungs. The world went black, and in that darkness, a flicker of light appeared—a memory he had spent a lifetime trying to bury. He saw himself as a small, trembling child, his tiny fingers gripping the hem of a cold, velvet gown. "Please, Mother," the young Jungkook sobbed, his voice echoing in the hollow of his mind. "Don't leave me here. Please, don't put me back in the dark!" But the Second Queen had only looked down at him, her silence more brutal than any scream, before she stepped away and closed the door on his light.

The darkness surged, dragging him through a torrent of fractured images. He saw the crushing expectations, the blood-soaked training sessions, and the loneliness that had carved his heart into a jagged stone. Then, a final image crystallized: Ava. She was draped in ruined silk, her dress soaked in a crimson that matched the gore on her pale skin. Her eyes, once full of a power he both feared and craved, were wide with a betrayal that transcended death. "Why did you do it, Jungkook?" she whispered, her voice a haunting wind that tore through his soul. "Why did you do this to me?"

Meanwhile, you were walking briskly down the corridor, the image of Yoongi on Hana's phone burned into your mind. *It can't be a coincidence,* you thought, your pace quickening. *But why would he hire me? What did he see in me back then?* The pieces of the puzzle were shifting, but they didn't quite fit. You needed answers, and you needed them from Yoongi himself.

As you rounded the corner toward the exit, you spotted a familiar silhouette. Jungkook was slumped on the polished marble floor, his bandaged head tilted back, his chest heaving in ragged, uneven gasps.

"Master Jungkook?" you asked, stopping beside him. You knelt on the cool marble,"What on earth are you doing on the floor?"

He didn't answer. You reached out to touch his shoulder and recoiled when you felt him trembling, his entire frame racking with a violent, rhythmic shudder. His breathing had shifted from ragged gasps to a guttural, choked sound, as if he were fighting a war inside his own self. Then, his hand flew upward, fingers clawing at the bandages covering his eyes, tearing away the gauze with a desperate. He was trying to rip the skin from his face, his nails digging into his own flesh in a blind, frantic attempt to claw out the memories that were currently suffocating him.

"Master Jungkook! Stop it!" you cried, throwing yourself over him to pin his arms to the marble. You struggled against his sudden, explosive strength, your small frame barely enough to hold him down as his fingers continued to claw desperately at the skin around his eyes.

In a sudden surge of blind panic, Jungkook let out a choked sound—half-sob, half-snarl—and shoved you away with a force that sent you skidding across the polished floor. Your back hit a decorative plinth with a dull thud,

. He didn't even notice you were gone; he was already curling into himself, his forehead pressed against the cold stone, shaking.

"Please, Master Jungkook, stop please,Come to your senses!" you pleaded, crawling back toward him. You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his knuckles.

As you gripped his hand, squeezing tightly to anchor him to the present, you felt something warm and wet trail down his cheeks. Jungkook was weeping.

Before your mind could register the impulse, your body moved. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. For a few heartbeats, the world stood still. The violent tremors in his frame subsided, his muscles unclenched, and the ragged quality of his breathing smoothed into a heavy, shuddering sigh.

As you slowly broke the kiss, pulling back just a few inches, you found yourself staring directly into his eyes. The bandages had been torn away, and the milky, sightless haze that had plagued him for weeks was gone. His iris were sharp, focused, and shimmering with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"Master Jungkook..." you whispered, your voice trembling. "Your eyes... can you see?"

For a moment, he didn't answer, his gaze searching your face with a raw, starving intensity, as if he were memorizing every line of your existence. Then, the sky outside the gallery windows fractured. A sudden, violent flash of lightning ripped through the horizon, followed by a crack of thunder that shook the very foundations of the estate.

The sound triggered something primal in him. Jungkook’s composure shattered instantly; he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you in a grip so tight it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his voice a broken, guttural whisper. "Don't leave me in the thunder... please, just stop it. Don't let the dark come back."

As you held him, you realized his skin was scorching. A feverish, unnatural heat radiated from his body. He was shivering again, not from cold, clinging to you as his only anchor in a world that had just become too loud and too bright.

"Master Jungkook? Can you hear me?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant rumble of the storm. He was barely conscious, his grip on you slipping into a rhythmic, desperate trembling, his breathing coming in short, jagged hitches.

A sharp, melodic whistle echoed from the distance, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. High above on the neighboring rooftop, Hobi leaned back against a stone ledge, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked down at the scene in the gallery. "Now that," Hobi drawled, his voice carrying on the wind, "is what I call a romantic scene. Who knew the brat had it in him to be so sentimental?"

Jimin, standing beside Hobi, didn't even turn his head. He simply narrowed his eyes, a flicker of gold shimmering in his pupils. The air around Hobi suddenly condensed, turning into a vacuum that squeezed the breath right out of his lungs. With a wet, hacking sound, Hobi choked, a spray of crimson blood erupting from his mouth and staining his pristine white shirt.

"Yah, Jimin! I was just joking!" Hobi wheezed, clutching his throat and coughing into his hand, his face twisting in a mixture of shock and amusement.

Nearby, Namjoon sighed, his expression weary as he shifted a heavy, limp form from the rooftop ledge to the gravel. He looked over his shoulder, glancing at the other shapes sprawled across the concrete like discarded dolls. "How many are there now?" Jimin asked, his voice a cold.

"Five this time," Namjoon replied, his voice gravelly. He looked at the latest body—a high-ranking vampire assassin who had tried to ambush Jungkook during his period of blindness. "I warned you not to let Jungkook go outside alone. His scent is too potent, and his blindness only made him a target for those who thought he was weakened."

Jimin didn’t respond immediately. He simply glanced at the pile of bodies, his gold pupils pulsing with a sudden, violent light. In an instant, the air around the corpses detonated. A shockwave of raw psychic pressure slammed into the corpses, and they exploded in a gruesome spray of crimson, their bodies bursting from the inside out.

Namjoon let out a long, exhausted sigh, stepping back to avoid the splatter. "Jimin, control your power. You're making a mess of the skyline."

Hobi wiped the remaining crimson from his chin with the back of his hand, a wicked grin dancing on his lips despite the sudden lack of oxygen. "Seriously, Jimin, your temper is getting as short as Jungkook's patience," he teased, leaning back against the gravel of the rooftop. "Nowadays, you can't even look at a human without your power spiking. Tell me, is it because of that little human girl? Does the sight of her make your blood boil, or is it just that you hate seeing Jungkook get all the attention?"

Namjoon stepped forward, his heavy boot clicking against the stone. He reached out and clamped a firm hand over Hobi’s mouth, sliding it across his face with a weary expression. "Yah, your mouth really needs to shut up," Namjoon muttered, his voice a low rumble of warning. He turned his gaze toward Jimin, whose eyes were still shimmering with the remnants of that violent psychic surge. "Jimin, don't let your emotions control you. We are royal blood".

Jimin’s expression smoothed over, the gold fading from his pupils as he regained his characteristic mask of serene indifference. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his voice returning to that soft, melodic tone that hid a razor's edge. "Hyung, don't worry. I am perfectly in control." He cast one final, lingering glance toward the gallery below, where the silhouette of Y/N was still cradling a shivering Jungkook. "Besides, we shouldn't forget the weight of Ava’s curse lingering on Jungkook." With a slight, mocking tilt of his head, Jimin turned away. "Let’s go, hyung."

Namjoon followed, his heavy footsteps echoing with a sense of grim finality as the two of them vanished into the blurring shadows of the cityscape.

Left alone on the rooftop, Hobi let out a long groan. He slowly peeled off his tactical gloves, the leather snapping against his skin, and shook his hands out to relieve the tension. "Aish, I used way too much power on that diversion," he muttered, hobi leaned over the ledge, his eyes fixed on the intimate, desperate scene unfolding in the gallery below. A slow, wicked smile crept across his lips as he watched Jungkook cling to you.

Hobi shifted his weight, his voice barely a whisper against the whistling wind of the rooftop. "Poor little Jungkook," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the desperate way the vampire clung to you. "Once was enough to break him, but losing the love a second time? Now that is a tragedy worth a front-row seat." He chuckled, a dark, melodic sound that lacked any real warmth, before vanishing into the city's smoke.

----

The morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of Jungkook’s bedroom. Jungkook opened his eyes slowly, the transition from the suffocating void of his memories to the tangible world feeling like waking up from a drowning spell. For several long moments, he simply stared at the ceiling, Then, he felt it—a warmth, steady and grounding, anchoring his right hand to the cool marble of the floor.

He shifted his gaze downward. You were there, curled up beside the bed, your head resting against the mattress and your fingers locked tightly around his. As he looked at you, something strange happened—a rhythmic thrumming started in his chest, a frantic, heavy beat that didn't belong to the stillness of a vampire's heart.

Your eyelashes fluttered, and you blinked awake, your eyes wide and searching as you looked up at him."Master Jungkook?" you whispered, your voice thick with sleep and worry. "Are you okay? Can you... can you actually see me?"

The rhythmic thrumming in his chest— frantic heartbeat—seemed to spike at the sound of your voice. For a fleeting second, his gaze softened, tracing the curve of your cheek with a vulnerability then, the mask slid back into place, cold and impenetrable.

Jungkook ripped his hand away from your grip. He sat up, his movements stiff, his eyes now clear and piercing, though they lacked any of the warmth from the previous night.

"I'm fine," he snapped, his voice raspy but laced with an immediate, defensive arrogance. "Stop hovering. What the hell possessed you to be clutching my hand like a frightened child?"

You blinked, your expression flickering between relief and confusion. The warmth of the previous night—the way he had buried his face in your neck and begged you not to let the darkness return—seemed to have evaporated with the morning dew. "I didn't clutch your hand, Master Jungkook," you replied softly, your voice still thick with sleep. "You were the one who refused to let go. You were shaking... the thunder, the fever... you wouldn't let me leave."

"Get lost," Jungkook spat, the words sharp and jagged, though he didn't look at you. "Your presence is suffocating. Get out of my room before I decide your face is an eyesore."

Without a word, you reached over to the plush, oversized velvet pillow resting on the edge of the mahogany bedframe. With a sudden, decisive flick of your wrist, you launched it straight at his face.

"Yah!" you exclaimed, your voice ringing with a boldness that surprised even you. "Admitting you were scared of the thunder isn't going to make you weaker, Jungkook. But pretending you didn't cry into my neck for an hour definitely makes you look like a coward!"

The pillow collided with his face with a soft *thwump*, For a heartbeat, the room fell silent. You froze, the adrenaline of the act clashing with the sudden realization that you had just assaulted a man who could snap your wrist with a flick of his finger. Jungkook didn't move; he simply let the velvet fabric slide slowly off his face, his eyes narrowing into slits of shimmering gold.

"You've grown quite the appetite for boldness, haven't you, little mouse?" he drawled, his voice regaining that silk-wrapped edge of arrogance. He leaned forward, pinning you against the bedframe with the sheer intensity of his gaze. "First, you take advantage of my blindness to play the benevolent nurse, bullying me with your 'kindness.' Then, you have the audacity to press your lips to mine as if you were claiming a prize. And now? You're throwing household linens at me and shouting in my bedroom."

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, the boldness of the moment evaporating as the memory of the kiss crashed back into your mind. You scrambled backward, your voice trembling but stubborn. "I didn't—I wasn't claiming anything!" you stammered, your hands fluttering nervously. "I just... I don't even know why I did it! I don't understand why I thought that would help!"

Jungkook’s gaze didn't waver; it remained locked on yours. A slow, cruel smile curled the corner of his lips. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your skin, his voice dropping to a chilling, melodic hum.

"Since you've developed such a fondness for chaos, perhaps we should explore more... creative forms of discipline," he murmured, his eyes shimmering with a dark playfulness. "How should I punish this insolence? Perhaps I’ll boil you alive in a cauldron of salted water, or maybe I'll slide you into an oven until you're golden-brown and crisp. Or better yet," he paused, his voice dipping into a low, menacing growl, "I could simply plunge you into a vat of boiling oil and watch you sizzle until you remember your place."

You lowered your gaze,"I know my place, master Jungkook. I’m just a servant here, nothing more. I was just... doing my work, helping my master recover."

For a moment, Jungkook’s expression shifted; the cruelty in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flash of genuine frustration—as if he hated that you had fallen back into the role of the obedient servant so easily. He opened his mouth, his chest heaving as if he were about to say something that didn't fit his usual script of insults.

"Jungkook, stop scaring her. She stayed awake all night nursing you while you were sobbing like a lost pup; the least you could do is offer a thank you instead of a menu of execution methods."

Jimin stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a small, knowing smile. He stepped into the room, the soft click of his designer loafers on the marble.

Jungkook stiffened, his posture snapping back. He glared at Jimin, his lips curling. "I wasn't scaring her. I was educating her on the consequences of assaulting a royal."

Jimin chuckled, a light, melodic sound as he walked toward you. He reached out, his fingers grazing your shoulder. "Don't worry, little human," Jimin murmured, his voice dripping with a sweetness that felt almost predatory. "He’s only joking. We can't afford to waste your blood in a vat of oil; it’s far too precious to let go to waste on a whim of temper." He paused, his gaze softening as he took in your wide-eyed, shaken expression. "You really are so innocent, aren't you? It’s almost cute how much you believe his nonsense."

Jungkook’s face twisted into a scowl. "Enough with the sentimental prattle," he barked, his voice echoing against the high ceilings. "Can you both just get out of my room? Or do I need to personally kick both of you out of this wing of the estate?"

Jimin didn't seem bothered by the outburst; he merely hummed, his gaze sliding from Jungkook’s simmering rage back to your wide eyes. He reached out, his hand lingering for a second too long on the small of your back, guiding you toward the door with a gentle pressure that felt like a velvet shackle. "Go on, Y/N. You're already late for your classes" Jimin murmured, his voice a melodic contrast to the tension vibrating in the room. "Hurry along now. Leave the grump to his brooding."

You didn't need a second invitation. With one final, lingering look at Jungkook—who was now staring intensely at the spot where you had been standing, his expression an unreadable—you hurried out of the room. The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind you, muffling the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere.

Inside, Jimin let out a long, slow sigh, his posture shifting from playful to probing. He didn't look at Jungkook; instead, he traced the ornate carvings of the bedpost with a slender finger. "What actually happened yesterday, Jungkook?."

Jungkook remained seated on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, his fingers digging into the silk sheets. He didn't look at Jimin. The image of the thunder and the crushing weight of his mother’s neglect still flickered behind his eyelids . "Someone used my own power against me," Jungkook finally rasped,"They didn't just attack me; they played with my mind, digging into the things I've spent a lifetime burying."

Jimin’s gaze drifted to the window, He let out a long, weary sigh. "Listen, Jungkook, for the next few days, you stay within these walls."

"I’m going to meet my mother," Jungkook announced, his voice cutting through the room. He didn't look at Jimin; instead, he stood and began to dress.

Jungkook," Jimin said, his voice dropping an octave, echoing with a suffocating authority that physically pressed down on the room. "I am not requesting you. It is my order. You stay within these walls."

Jungkook didn't even bother to look back. He was already halfway through the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light of the corridor. "I don't follow orders, Jimin," he replied, his voice a low, jagged rasp. With a final, dismissive flick of his wrist, he vanished around the corner, the sound of his heavy boots echoing against the marble floors.

----

The Second Queen did not look up when the heavy mahogany doors of her study creaked open, her focus remained fixed on the parchment before her. She leaned back in her chaise lounge, swirling a glass of deep, viscous crimson wine . Beside her, a stack of territorial treaties and documents waited for her seal. She signed the final page with a sharp, decisive flick of her wrist, the gold nib of her pen scratching harshly against the paper.

"Your Highness," her manager murmured, stepping cautiously into the room, "Prince Jungkook has arrived. He requests an audience. Shall I let him in. "

The pen slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the mahogany desk. The cold, calculating expression she wore melted away instantly, replaced by a radiant, triumphant joy.

​"Jungkook," she breathed, pushing herself up from her velvet chair.

​She hurried across the polished marble floor of the grand foyer. She met him just as he stormed through the heavy double doors, jungkook expression was unreadable. Before he could even utter a word, she threw her arms tightly around him, pulling his rigid, tense body into her embrace.

​"My son, finally you come home!" she cried, her voice thick with emotion as she held him close. "I missed you, my son. Why did you stay away from your mother for so long?"

Jungkook didn't return the hug. He stood there like a statue, his muscles coiled and rigid under her touch. Slowly, he peeled her arms off him, stepping back with a suddenness that bordered on violence.

"Why did you do it?" he rasped, his voice shaking not with sadness, but with a suppressed rage that made the crystals in the chandelier above them rattle. "Why did you take my power? Why did you use it against me, mother?"

The Second Queen paused, her expression shifting from maternal warmth to a mask of practiced confusion. She tilted her head, a small, amused smile playing on her lips as she smoothed the silk of her gown. "Jungkook, my darling, what on earth are you talking about? I have no idea what this 'taking' is about."

"Stop pretending!" Jungkook roared, the sound echoing through the cavernous foyer, causing the manager to flinch and retreat a step. "Yesterday, someone tore through my mind. They played with my memories, digging into every scar and every failure I’ve tried to bury.Only you know the architecture of my mind well enough to dismantle it."

The Second Queen let out a light, airy laugh—a sound that lacked any genuine warmth. She stepped toward him, her fingers reaching out to brush a stray hair from his forehead, though her touch felt more like a claim of ownership than an act of affection.

"My sweet, stubborn son," she murmured, her voice dripping with a calculated softness. "Think logically. What benefit would I possibly gain by stripping you of your power?" She paused, her eyes narrowing with a sudden, sharp curiosity. "You suspect the wrong person, Jungkook. I thought you came here today because you finally realized how much you needed your mother’s guidance."

"If I find out you are the architect of this nightmare, Mother, the fallout won't be something you can simply brush aside with a smile," Jungkook warned, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration that seemed to rattle the very foundations of the foyer.

The Second Queen didn't flinch. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, melodic sound that carried the weight of centuries of arrogance. "My dear, stubborn son," she purred, circling him. "Look at yourself. You are trembling. Without your full power, what exactly do you intend to do? You are a king without a sword, a shadow without a sun."

Jungkook’s lips curled into a cold, mirthless smirk. "Oh, Mother, you forget one thing. Without my power, how exactly do you plan to secure the crown of the Vampire Queen? You’ve always needed a champion to clear your path. Now, your favorite weapon is broken."

The Queen’s smile faltered, her eyes sharpening. "How long do you intend to remain in Jimin’s shadow, Jungkook?".

Jungkook rolled his eyes, a gesture of profound boredom . "I have zero interest in Jimin’s crown," he replied, his voice flat. "But it’s a shame, really. All that effort you put into molding me into your perfect weapon, and now? Completely useless."

The Second Queen’s expression hardened, the maternal mask finally cracking to reveal the jagged ice beneath. "Sometimes you are truly pathetic," she sneered, her voice losing its melodic lilt. "Just like your father. Weak, sentimental, and delusional. But don't flatter yourself with this sudden streak of independence. I know you. Soon enough, the void where your power used to be will start to ache. You will crave the strength you once had, and you will crawl back to me to fill it."

"I would rather spend eternity as a ghost than be anything like you," Jungkook snapped. He turned on his heel, as he made a move to leave the suffocating opulence of the foyer.

"Wait," she called out, her voice echoing with a sudden, sharp curiosity. "Tell me, my son... it has been centuries since a heart beat in your chest, yet lately, I can hear it. A rhythmic, clumsy thumping. But the strange thing is, it isn't beating for Mia. That human girl is already entwined with Jimin. Tell me, Jungkook—are you truly prepared to lose against your brother for the second time in one lifetime?"

Jungkook froze, his back still turned to her. The mention of Mia sent a jolt through him, but it was the memory of Y/N—the way she had looked at him with that infuriating, genuine kindness—that made the thumping in his chest accelerate. He closed his eyes, fighting the vulnerability. "Save your manipulations for someone who still believes them. I’m not five years old anymore, Mother."

The Queen let out a soft, calculating hum. "If you are so desperate to be rid of the 'burden' of your heritage, perhaps a deal is in order. I can give back your power, Jungkook. Not just what you lost, but something more. I can make you more powerful than any royal who has come before. All you need to do is—"

"No need," Jungkook interrupted, finally looking back at her with a look of genuine disdain. "You know, Mother, I think I’m actually quite happy with the prospect of a human life. The silence of a heart that doesn't crave power is far more peaceful than the noise of your ambitions."

Jungkook didn't wait for her response, turning his back on the Queen with a final, frigid silence that spoke louder than any shout.

----

The lecture hall was a humming hive of hushed whispers and the scratching of pens, a sea of students oblivious to the storm brewing in the corridor. You were just about to cross the threshold, adjusting the strap of your bag and bracing yourself for another hour of academic monotony, when a hand shot out from the shadows.

Before you could even gasp, you were being hauled backward, your heels clicking frantically against the polished linoleum as you were dragged away from the crowd. You looked up to see Jungkook’s face.He didn't say a word, his grip on your wrist firm enough to make it clear that resistance was a futile effort. He navigated the corridor, steering you away from the lecture hall and toward a dormant wing of the building.

He swung open the door to an empty classroom. With a definitive *thud*, the door slammed shut, cutting off the distant murmur of the student body.

You stumbled back, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. "Master Jungkook?" you whispered, your voice echoing in the void of the room. "What happened? Why did you pull me away from class? You're going to get us both in trouble!"

Jungkook didn't answer immediately. He stood there for a moment, his eyes searching for something he couldn't quite name. He stepped into your personal space, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. "I need to confirm something," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that seemed to hum in the small space between you.

"Confirm what?" you whispered, your heart beginning to drum a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You tried to step back, but your heels caught on the edge of a nearby student desk, leaving you unbalanced and breathless.

Jungkook didn’t answer with words. Instead, he lunged forward, his hand sliding from your wrist to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back with a sudden, possessive urgency. His lips crashed against yours with a hunger that felt less like a kiss and more like a reclamation, a silent demand for an answer he couldn't voice.

Startled, you pressed your palms against his chest, trying to create some space between you, but he only groaned low in his throat. He surged forward, pinning you firmly against the cold surface of a chalkboard, his body a heavy. He didn't let you push him away; instead, he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips as if he were searching for a hidden truth buried in your very breath.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark and swirling with a conflict he refused to name. He looked at you "Confirmed," he whispered, his voice a jagged remnant of a growl. Without another word, he released you so abruptly that you nearly stumbled, leaving you shivering in the sudden vacuum of his presence as he turned and walked out of the room.

----

The classroom had faded into a blurred haze of chalk dust and droning lectures, the sunlight filtering through the blinds in rhythmic stripes. You had drifted off, your head resting on the cool surface of the desk, slipping into a dream that felt more like a memory.

The classroom disappeared, and you found yourself in a dark, foggy dream. Suddenly, Ava appeared out of the mist. ​"You're running out of time, Y/N," Ava warned, her voice sounding like a distant ech. "The only way to awaken my power and protect yourself is to get closer to him —." Her ghostly form faded, leaving you with a heavy sense of urgency and a lingering warmth in your chest.

"Y/N! Wake up!"

​A sharp shake to your shoulder snapped you out of the dream. You blinked, waking up to see the class had already ended, the lecture hall nearly empty save for a few lingering students .

Soomin’s voice was a playful hiss in your ear. She leaned over you, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Honestly, did you decide to hibernate? You slept through the entire lecture. I think you were snoring in your sleep."

You sat up slowly, your head feeling heavy, the echo of Ava’s warning still vibrating in the marrow of your bones. *Get closer to him.*. You rubbed your eyes, the sterile scent of chalk and old paper feeling suddenly oppressive.

"Are you actually okay?" Soomin asked, her playful smirk softening into a look of genuine concern. She reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, her eyes scanning your pale face. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost".

"I'm fine," you lied, your voice sounding small and hollow in the cavernous room. "I just... I need to go. Bye, Soomin!" You gathered your things in a frantic scramble, nearly knocking over your water bottle as you bolted from the seat. You didn't wait for her response, fleeing the lecture hall and stepping out into the evening air.

As you walked toward the university gates, the fog from your dream seemed to cling to the edges of your vision. *Get closer to him.* The words looped in your mind like a broken record, rhythmic and insistent. You walked in a daze, wondering why these visions of Ava had begun to haunt your sleep.

"Y/N! Wait a moment, please."

You stopped short, turning to see Professor Lee jogging toward you, his spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose. He held out a thick manila folder, his expression urgent. "Could you deliver these documents to the Principal’s office immediately? I’m running late for a faculty meeting and the administration is breathing down my neck for these signatures."

You nodded quickly, taking the heavy manila folder from Professor Lee's hands. "Of course, Professor. I'll take them right now."

​"Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate it," he said with a sigh of relief before turning on his heel and rushing off toward the faculty lounge.

Holding the folder tightly against your chest, you turned away from the university gates and walked back inside, the corridors feeling was silent. You paused before the heavy oak door,with a hesitant breath, you knocked three times, the sound echoing sharply in the stillness.

"Principal Namjoon?" you called out softly, your voice barely a ripple in the quiet. When no answer came, you slowly pushed the door open. The office was bathed in the amber glow of a desk lamp. You stepped inside, intending to leave the documents and slip away, but you froze when you spotted a figure draped across the velvet sofa.

It was Jimin. He was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic cadence that seemed almost too peaceful for a predator. As you leaned over to place the folder on the mahogany desk, your eyes drifted back to him. You gasped softly, noticing something unsettling. Along the column of his pale throat, the veins had turned a bruised, ink-black, spiderwebbing upward toward his jawline. It looked like a poison or a violent surge of power was coursing through him, staining his skin from the inside out.

Driven by a sudden surge of worry, you reached out, your fingertips trembling as you leaned closer to touch the blackened skin.

"Taking advantage of a sleeping man? You're quite the little pervert"

You jumped back so violently you nearly knocked over the desk lamp. Jimin’s eyes were snapped open, shimmering with a playful, predatory glint. A smirk played on his lips as he watched your face.

"I—I wasn't! Your neck—it was black!" you stammered, gesturing wildly toward his throat.

Jimin reached up, casually brushing a hand over the veins, which seemed to recede slightly under his touch. "Oh, this? It's nothing. Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he replied, his voice a smooth, dismissive purr. He shifted on the sofa, the velvet fabric rustling beneath him. "I finished my shoot a few hours ago and came by to discuss a few things with Hobi hyung, but he was nowhere to be found. I must have dozed off while waiting."

Jimin let out a long, languid yawn, arching his back as he stretching. In the process, his silk shirt slid halfway off one shoulder, revealing the pale, sculpted expanse of his chest and the lean muscles of his torso. The sight was too much for your racing heart to handle; you whipped your head away, staring intensely at a random stack of papers on the desk, your cheeks flushing a deep, vivid crimson.

A soft, melodic chuckle vibrated through the room. "What happened, little human?" Jimin murmured, his voice dripping with an amused warmth. "Do you have a fever? Your face has turned completely red."

Before you could retreat, jimin was suddenly there,he reached out, pressing the cool palm of his hand firmly against your forehead. The contact sent a jolt through you, the contrast of his icy skin against your heated skin making you shiver. You instinctively tilted your face the other way, leaning away from his touch.

"No, I don't!" you stammered, your voice high and breathless.

Jimin’s hand didn't move; instead, his fingers slid down to cup your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were shimmering, reading the frantic rhythm of your pulse beneath your skin. "You know I hate liars, little human," he murmured,"And since you're so fond of hiding, let me remind you—nothing stays hidden from me for long."

You opened your mouth to protest, your voice caught in the sudden magnetism of his presence, when the heavy oak door swung open with a resounding crash.

"Jimin! I am so sorry for the delay, the students were—" Hobi stopped mid-sentence, blinking at the intimate proximity between you and jimin. He cleared his throat, a playful glint in his eye. "Am I interrupting a private lesson in anatomy, or should I come back in ten minutes?"

Jimin reluctantly pulled his hand from your jaw, though his gaze lingered on your flushed cheeks for a second too long. "Hobi hyung, your timing is as impeccable as always," Jimin sighed, sliding back onto the sofa with a lazy grace.

---

Across town, the heavy glass doors of a luxury apartment complex slid open, Mia stepped out with a bright smile, but as she reached the curb, her heel caught on a loose piece of pavement. With a startled yelp, she tumbled forward, landing in a heap of designer silk and scattered makeup.

A sharp, melodic laugh echoed from the shade of a nearby pillar. Jungkook was leaning against the stone, his arms crossed, watching her struggle with an expression of pure amusement.

Mia sat up, brushing dust from her skirt, and shot him a lethal death glare. "You're a menace, Jungkook. Truly." She paused, squinting at him. "Wait... your eyes."

The clouded, milky haze that had plagued his vision for weeks was gone. His eyes were clear, dark, and piercing.

"Hmm. Recovered," Jungkook murmured, his voice lacking its usual edge of irritation.

Mia let out a joyful shriek and lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. For a fleeting second, Jungkook froze, his body stiffening as he looked over her shoulder into the distance, but he didn't pull away. Mia broke the embrace, her face glowing. "That is truly great news! But wait—what are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Y/N. We’re on a double date tonight, right? Jimin is coming to pick me up, let me just call him—"

As she reached for her phone, Jungkook’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist. His gaze softened, a rare flicker of something genuine crossing his features. "Don't," he said quietly. "Just for tonight... I want to spend time with you only."

***

"Hold still," Hobi murmured, his voice laced with a clinical sternness as he pressed a cold, silver instrument against the pulsing vein in Jimin’s neck.

Jimin winced, his shoulder twitching beneath the silk of his shirt. The black veins that had previously spiderwebbed across his throat had receded, but the skin there remained unnaturally pale. Hobi sighed, pulling the instrument back and casting a concerned glance at jimin. "This is exactly why I told you to control your power surge, Jimin. Your demo—"

"Hyung, stop worrying so much," Jimin interrupted, cutting Hobi off with a lazy wave of his hand. He sat up, the predatory grace returning to his limbs as he flashed a reassuring, if somewhat sharp, smile. "It’s a minor glitch in the system. I’m perfectly fine."

You stood by the desk, your eyes darting between the silver tool and the dark marks on Jimin's neck. "Did something go wrong, Professor Hobi?" you asked.

Jimin turned his head toward you, his gaze softening into that familiar, deceptive sweetness. "Little human, it's just a normal check-up for vampires. Think of it like a human catching a cold—just a temporary imbalance of the blood." He paused, his eyes shimmering as he caught the scent of your anxiety. "Though your concern is almost touching. Should I be flattered that you're worried about my health?"

Hobi let out a short, dry laugh, packing the silver instruments back into a leather roll with efficient precision. "Enough teasing her, Jimin. Don't you two have a date tonight?"

Jimin hummed, a thoughtful sound that vibrated in his chest. He reached for his phone, his thumb scrolling through his notifications with a languid flick. "Hmm, I'm going to pick up Mia soon," he murmured, though his gaze remained fixed on the screen, his expression unreadable.

Hobi turned to you, his eyebrows arching. "Speaking of dates, where is Jungkook? Last time I saw you, you were practically glued to his side. Did he actually let you out of his sight for more than five minutes?"

You shifted your weight, "I don't know," you replied softly, glancing toward the door. "But... I don't think Master Jungkook will come today. He seemed... preoccupied."

Hobi let out a theatrical sigh, leaning back against the mahogany desk. "A tragedy. How could he possibly leave such a cute thing behind? The boy has no taste in timing."

Jimin didn't look up from his screen, but his thumb paused its rhythmic scrolling. A strange expression flickered across his face—not quite a frown, but a tightening of his jaw. "Change of plans," Jimin announced, his voice devoid of its usual playful lilt. "Our date is canceled. Mia just messaged me; she has some urgent work to finish for her director's portfolio. She can't come."

Hobi paused, blinking in surprise. "Canceled? Jimin, you literally booked the entire amusement park for tonight. You paid a fortune to clear the crowds so you could have your 'romantic sanctuary.' Surely a portfolio can wait until tomorrow?"

Jimin didn’t look up from his screen, but a slow, calculating smile curved his lips. "Hmm."

"Well, we can't let a perfectly good reservation go to waste," Hobi declared, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Before you could process the shift in conversation, Hobi’s hand shot out, catching your wrist in a firm but gentle grip. "Since the romantic lead is suddenly free, allow me to hijack this beautiful lady for a date! I’ve always wanted to see if the Ferris wheel is actually scary at midnight."

You let out a small gasp, your feet barely touching the floor as Hobi began dragging you toward the door with an enthusiastic laugh. "Professor Hobi! Wait—!"

Hobi didn’t give you a chance to resist, his laughter echoing through the quiet office as he practically swept you off your feet. He was halfway to the door, chatting animatedly about the thrill of midnight carnival rides, when the heavy oak door didn't just open—it exploded inward.

The impact was sudden and violent. The door slammed back against the wall with a deafening crack, hitting Hobi square in the back. The force was so immense that hobi was propelled forward, his head connecting with the edge of the mahogany desk with a dull *thud* before he crumpled to the floor, limbs splayed and eyes rolling back into his head.

"Professor Hobi!" you shrieked, You scrambled toward him, hovering over his unconscious form. "Are you okay? Professor Hobi! Wake up!"

Jimin didn't even flinch. He remained perched on the sofa, his gaze cool and detached as he looked at the unconscious man on the rug. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips. "He'll wake up soon," Jimin murmured,"Vampire constitutions are sturdy. A little concussion won't kill him, though the embarrassment of waking up on a floor might."

You looked back at the shattered door, then back to Hobi, your heart hammering against your ribs. You reached out to touch Hobi’s shoulder, but Jimin was already standing, his movement a fluid, seamless blur that placed him directly behind you. His chest was a solid wall against your back.

"He's fine, Y/N. Truly," Jimin murmured, his voice a low, soothing vibration near your ear. "Hobi hyung has a very thick skull—physically and metaphorically. He’ll wake up in a few minutes, realize he’s been played, and probably laugh about it over a drink." He didn't wait for you to agree; his hand slid firmly around your waist, steering you away from the unconscious hobi and toward the wreckage of the door. "Now, let's go."

You stumbled slightly,"Go? Go where?"

Jimin paused, tilting his head as if you had asked the most obvious question in the world. A slow, feline smile spread across his face, one that didn't quite reach the predatory shimmer in his eyes. "Where else, little human? The amusement park, of course. The crowds are gone, the lights are shimmering, and the reservation is already paid for."

Before you could protest that leaving a semi-conscious professor hobi on a mahogany floor. Jimin’s grip tightened. With a sudden, blurring burst of speed, the office dissolved into a smear of amber and brown. The air whipped past your face, and in the blink of an eye, the suffocating silence of the administration building was replaced by the distant, mechanical hum of a carnival.

You blinked, your vision swimming as you found yourself standing before the towering gates of the park. The midnight air was electric, charged with the scent of popcorn, ozone, and the distant scream of riders. Thousands of shimmering bulbs draped over the entrance like frozen waterfalls, casting a surreal, neon glow over the empty walkways.

"First time?" Jimin asked, his voice sliding over you like silk. He didn't look at you, instead surveying the skyline of steel tracks and rotating lights.

You nodded slowly,"But... Master Jimin, I don't think this is a good idea. What about Mia? Shouldn't we be—"

"The only 'idea' that matters right now is which ride you want to experience first," he interrupted, finally turning to you. He stepped closer, the scent of expensive cologne clinging to him. "Choose, Y/N. The entire kingdom of neon is yours for the night."

You looked up at the horizon, where the silhouette of the 'Dragon’s Spiral' loomed, its tracks twisting into a dizzying knot of steel against the midnight sky. "The roller coaster," you whispered, a sudden spark of mischief overcoming you.

Jimin’s expression shifted. He looked at the plummeting drop of the coaster and then back at you, his posture stiffening. "Hmm. Perhaps we should start with something... more sophisticated. The Ferris wheel, perhaps? Or the mirrored carousel?"

A small smile tugged at your lips. You had never seen Jimin look at a piece of machinery with such suspicion. "Master Jimin... are you actually scared of the roller coaster?"

Jimin froze, his ego visibly bruising in real-time. He let out a sharp, scoffing laugh that sounded a bit too forced. "Scared? I am a royal vampire, Y/N. Fear is a concept for humans ." He pivoted on his heel, gesturing toward the queue with a flourish of his hand. "Follow me. The coaster is, in fact, my favorite ride. I simply wanted to ensure you were mentally prepared for the intensity."

The ride was a blur of centrifugal force and screaming wind. While you shrieked with a mix of terror and exhilaration, Jimin remained unnervingly silent, his knuckles white as he gripped the safety bar. Every time the coaster plunged into a vertical drop, his face transitioned from a pale ivory to a ghostly, translucent green. By the time the carriage glided back into the station with a heavy metallic clunk, Jimin didn't move for a full ten seconds.

The moment he stepped onto the platform, he lurched toward a nearby trash bin, his shoulders shaking as he violently retched.

You hovered over him, your eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay, Master Jimin? Do you need water?"

Jimin straightened up, wiping his mouth with a silk handkerchief, his eyes still swirling with a lingering sense of vertigo. He looked at you, his pride battling the remaining nausea in his gut. "I am totally fine," he lied, his voice a pitch higher than usual. "The air pressure was simply... suboptimal. Let’s go again. Right now."

You stared at him, blinking. "Another one? But you were just—"

"Did I stutter, little human?" He flashed a sharp, determined grin, though he leaned slightly against a nearby railing for support. "The second time is where the true thrill begins."

---

Meanwhile, across the city. Mia was a whirlwind of laughter, her voice ringing out as she spun around in a dizzying blur of joy. She clung to Jungkook’s arm, her eyes sparkling under the neon lights of a separate, "I honestly can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much!" she exclaimed, her voice breathless and light.

Jungkook leaned back, a small, smug smile playing on his lips as he watched the sheer delight on her face. "Thanks to me," he murmured, his voice lacking the usual bite.

Mia rolled her eyes, leaning her head back to look at the velvet sky, where the stars were beginning to flicker through the city's haze. "You know," she murmured, her voice drifting into a dreamy cadence, "the rumors say that if two lovers see a shooting star together tonight, it's a sign they are destined soulmates."

Jungkook’s expression flattened, his gaze shifting toward the horizon. "You want to see them with Jimin, then?" he asked, his voice returning to that cool, detached cadence.

Mia let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, shaking her head. "Jungkook, I can't change my fate. Besides, those are just nonsense stories for tourists. Let’s go, there’s one more ride I want to try!"

As she turned to lead the way, Jungkook’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist and pulling her flush against his chest. The suddenness of the movement stole the air from her lungs, her back arching as she was pressed into the hard lines of his body. He leaned in, his breath cold against her skin, his lips hovering mere millimeters from hers. Mia’s eyelids fluttered closed, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"I love you, Mia," Jungkook whispered, the words sounding like a confession and a sentence all at once. "I always loved you. For you, I would have happily traded my immortality just to be human, because you were the only place where the noise in my head finally stopped."

Mia’s breath hitched, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his chest, but as he shifted, the warmth she expected never came. Jungkook didn’t close the gap. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes searching hers with a clarity that felt clinical, almost distant. "But I don't know if you changed, or if I simply stopped feeling the pull," he continued, his voice regaining its steady, cool composure. "You’re right, Mia. We can’t change fate. We aren't meant to be together."

He stepped away abruptly. Jungkook took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as if a physical burden had been lifted from his frame. "That little mouse was right; confessing things really is like removing a weight from the heart. Let’s just be friends again."

Mia froze, the shock transitioning into a fragile, bittersweet smile. She reached up, affectionately rubbing the back of his dark hair. "Of course, you idiot. You'll always be my favorite brother-in-law." Jungkook gave a short, clipped nod, his gaze flickering toward the exit. "I have some business left to attend to," he murmured, turning on his heel and vanishing into the neon haze of the park without a second glance. The moment he was out of sight, Mia’s composure shattered. She sank to the pavement, burying her face in her hands as a jagged sob escaped her. "Why is it always like this?" she whispered to the empty air.

A shadow lengthened over her, and a cold, familiar voice drifted from the darkness behind her. "Because you let yourself be fragile, Mia. And in this world, fragility is an invitation for disaster."

----

Across the park, the neon lights of the midway blurred into a dizzying smear of color as Jimin lay sprawled across a wide, wooden park bench,his chest heaving in a rhythmic, shuddering struggle for air. You sat beside him, your expression a mask of exaggerated concern while your shoulders shook with the effort of suppressing a laugh. With a piece of discarded promotional cardboard, you began fanning him with rhythmic, frantic swipes.

"Do you need another fan, Master Jimin? Or perhaps a bucket?" you asked, your voice tilting upward in a way that was far too playful.

Jimin let out a long, suffering groan, his eyes closed tight as he tried to ignore the spinning world. "Stop that," he muttered, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel. "Stop fanning and just... be silent."

"You know," you whispered, leaning in closer, "if you were scared of the roller coaster, you could just say so. It’s okay to be afraid, even for a royal vampire."

"I'm not scared," Jimin groaned, though his voice lacked its usual velvet authority. He shifted on the wooden slats of the bench, his eyes still closed as he fought the phantom sensation of a vertical drop. "I simply... forgot for a moment that my internal equilibrium is calibrated for stillness, not being flung through the air like a piece of discarded luggage."

You leaned in, the cardboard fan fluttering against his cheek. "So, you were scared. You just used very big words to hide it."

Jimin finally cracked one eye open, glancing at you with a flicker of his usual mischief. "Careful, little human. Don't forget that I am significantly older than you. There is a level of respect that comes with age and seniority."

You paused, your mind whirling. A slow, mischievous grin spread across your face as you tilted your head. "Seniority, huh? Hmm. I guess that makes you... like an uncle? Or maybe a great-uncle?"

Jimin actually barked out a laugh, the sound genuine and devoid of its usual predatory edge. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at you with an amused, squinted gaze. "An uncle? Truly, Y/N, in what possible way do I look like an uncle to you?"

"The way you're complaining about your equilibrium," you teased, fanning him one last time with a flourish. "It’s very 'grandfatherly.' You're just a few centuries away from shaking a cane at the clouds and telling the neighborhood children to get off your lawn."

Jimin’s eyes snapped open, his pale skin flushing with a mix of indignation and amusement. In one fluid, blurring motion, he sat bolt upright, the vertigo finally vanquished by his wounded ego. "Who exactly are you calling a grandpa?" he demanded, though his voice was laced with a playful warmth. He reached out, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him with a sudden, firm tug.

For a moment, the chaos of the park faded into a backdrop of blurred neon.He looked at you, his gaze softening, his thumb grazing the fabric of your shirt. "You’ve grown quite bold, little human. Perhaps too bold for your own—"

The sentence was sliced clean through by a sound like a thunderclap. A massive explosion ripped through the far end of the midway, sending a plume of orange fire and black smoke billowing into the midnight sky. The shockwave rattled the wooden bench and sent a shower of glass raining down from a nearby popcorn stand.

Jimin’s expression shifted instantly. The playful lover vanished, replaced by the cold, lethal precision . He stood abruptly, his posture rigid and his eyes scanning the perimeter. "Stay here," he commanded, his voice now a low, commanding vibration. "Do not dare move from this spot, Y/N. Do you understand?" Without waiting for an answer, he vanished into a blur of speed, heading toward the source of the blast.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur, but the screams that followed the explosion weren't just from the startled crowds—they were jagged, terrified sounds of people being hunted. Against Jimin’s strict command, you stood up, your curiosity warring with your fear. You began to move toward the chaos, the distant orange glow illuminating the smoke. Suddenly, a sharp *crack* echoed through the air. A bullet, invisible and lethal, sliced through the atmosphere, aimed directly for the center of your forehead.

Before you could even blink, a wall of solid muscle crashed into you, knocking you sideways. You gasped, glancing up to see Taehyung’s cold, sharp jawline inches from your face. He had moved with a speed that defied physics, his arm wrapped firmly around you as he pinned you to the ground to shield you from the line of fire.

"Master Taehyung!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling.

Taehyung didn’t look at you, his eyes scanning the shadows with a lethal intensity. "You really are careless, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Walking straight into a kill zone. Do you have a death wish, or are you simply that naive?"

"There was an explosion, and people were screaming—" you started, but your voice died in your throat. You noticed a glint of steel in the periphery. A sniper, perched atop a nearby carnival game booth, had his rifle aimed directly at Taehyung’s head. The trigger clicked.

The world didn't just slow down; it shuddered and locked. The bullet, a jagged piece of lead, froze an inch from Taehyung’s temple, suspended in the air . The billowing orange smoke from the explosion turned into a static painting, and the screams of the crowd became a haunting, silent void. Taehyung’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he looked at the frozen projectile, then slowly turned his gaze toward you.

"Don't tell me, little mouse," Taehyung murmured, his voice the only thing moving in the stillness. A flicker of genuine curiosity crossed his normally frozen features. "You've actually learned how to stop time?"

You blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Um... I think so?" you whispered, feeling a strange, humming warmth radiating from the center of your chest—the dormant power of Ava’s heart pulsing in rhythm with the frozen world.

"Hmph. Actually impressive," Taehyung replied, his tone lacking its usual bite. "It’s really cool, in a chaotic sort of way."

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Taehyung reached out and plucked the bullet from the air. He stepped back, his movements fluid and effortless, and with a violent snap of his arm, he hurled the lead slug back toward the sniper's nest. The moment he released it, time slammed back into gear. The sonic boom of the bullet returning to its source shattered the remaining glass of the game booth, followed by a startled yell and the sound of a rifle clattering to the pavement.

"We should go," you urged, glancing around as more sirens began to wail in the distance.

As you turned to leave, a sudden streak of silver tore across the midnight sky—a shooting star, bright and fleeting, cutting through the smog of the explosion. You paused, mesmerized by the light, remembering Mia’s words . For a fleeting second, you felt a strange pull toward the horizon, a sense that the night was far from over.

Taehyung followed your gaze, his eyes softening just a fraction. He looked at the star, then back at you, his expression becoming unreadable. "Oh," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, "I almost forgot something."

Before you could ask what he meant, he closed the distance between you. His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. In one swift, possessive motion, he pressed his lips against yours.

"I missed you, my bride," he whispered against your lips, the words sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

Behind a thick oak tree at the edge of the carnival grounds, Jimin was watching the two of you, his eyes dark with a dangerous, volatile rage. His jaw was clenched so tightly, and his hands were completely covered in fresh, dripping blood.

​Before you or Taehyung could even react, the entire amusement park seemed to react to Jimin's fury. All at once, the remaining carnival game booths, the lights, and the nearby structures blasted outward in a synchronized explosion. Debris rained down as a shockwave tore through the fairgrounds, driven entirely by the raw, untamed anger radiating from Jimin’s position behind the oak tree. The neon skyline collapsed into a roar of fire and twisting metal, turning the place of leisure into a graveyard of glowing embers.

Taehyung didn’t flinch, though the ground beneath him shuddered. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest to shield you from the falling ash. "The chaos has reached its peak," Taehyung murmured, his voice a cold contrast to the heat surrounding them. "We need to go before the Council’s cleaners arrive to scrub the scene." Without another word, he swept you off your feet and vanished in a blur of speed.

The next morning, the bright sunlight filtering into the grand dining room felt completely at odds with the chaos of the night before. You sat quietly at the long breakfast table, your mind still trying to process why the amusement park had suddenly blown up.

​The tense silence in the room was shattered when Jimin cleared his throat. Jimin sat at the head of the table, He looked around at the gathered faces, his expression cold and unreadable.

​"I have an announcement to make," Jimin stated, his voice smooth but cutting through the room like ice. He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the table before landing directly on you. "In one week, I will be celebrating my marriage. Mia and I are getting married."

A/N : ​I know this was a really long chapter, but I hope it didn't bore you! 🙈 There was just so much to uncover.

who do you think is actually the most dangerous character here?

Drop your comments and theories below—I love reading what you think! 💜

Taglist:

Chapter :14

Morning light bled through the curtains in thin, accusing stripes. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel dragging through damp hair Jungkook sprawled across your bed , one arm flung over his face, the other curled possessively around your pillow. His lips were still stained red from last night—from your blood.

You poked Jungkook's cheek with your index finger—once, twice—before resorting to flicking his forehead. His nose scrunched, but he didn’t stir, merely rolling onto his side with a muffled grunt. The pillow he’d stolen from you was now half-swallowed by his embrace, his fangs indenting the fabric. "Master Jungkook," you hissed, resisting the urge to yank the pillow away. "Morning training."

He snored louder in response, burying his face deeper into your pillow with a muffled growl when you dared to shake his shoulder.

You sighed, staring down at Jungkook’s sprawled form. *Literally drank half my blood last night, snored like a chainsaw, kept me awake until dawn, and now won’t even wake up?* You flicked his forehead again, harder this time. His nose scrunched, but he only rolled onto his stomach, burying his face deeper into your pillow with a muffled groan.

You gave up. Let him sleep. You tugged on your training clothes, ignoring the dull ache in your neck where Jungkook had fed too greedily the night before. The bite marks hadn’t fully healed—a testament to how much he’d taken. Bastard. You glared at his still form, one last time, before slipping out the door.

The training grounds were eerily silent at this hour, the morning mist curling around the stone pillars. You stretched your arms overhead, rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension. Alone. Good. You needed the space—needed to prove you could do this without them hovering, mocking, pulling your strings like some fragile puppet—

"Late."

The voice came from directly behind you—low, mocking, close enough that you felt his breath stir your hair. You whirled, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Taehyung stood inches away, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk already in place. "M-Master Taehyung," you stammered, pressing a hand to your racing heart. "Are you here for training?"

His smirk widened. "My little bride," he drawled, stepping closer, "are you forgetting? I'm your sworn protector now." His fingers brushed your collarbone—too light to be a threat, too deliberate to be accidental. "Which means it's my responsibility to make you strong."

You swallowed hard. "Master Taehyung, you really don’t have to take that seriously," you whispered, sidestepping his touch. "I only said it so they’d—"

Taehyung’s grin sharpened. "Get ready," he interrupted, rolling his shoulders with a predator’s grace. "Because I’m not gentle like Jungkook."

Your laugh was brittle. "Master Jungkook was never gentle."

The words hadn’t fully left your lips before the training ball whistled past your ear—close enough to stir your hair—and embedded itself into the stone pillar behind you with a sickening crunch. Dust rained down as the sphere lodged halfway through solid marble, cracks spiderwebbing outward. Taehyung didn’t blink. "Let’s start," he said, and the world narrowed to the glint of his canines.

---

Your knees hit the gravel with a sharp crack that echoed through the empty training grounds. Sweat dripped from your chin, pooling between your trembling fingers as you gasped for air. "Please," you choked out, voice shredded from panting, "stop. I can’t—"

Taehyung’s shadow loomed over you, blocking the sun. He tilted his head, the morning light carving his smirk into something cruel. "Only a warm-up," he repeated, nudging your knee with the toe of his boot. "Stand up."

Your muscles screamed when you tried. The gravel bit into your palms as you collapsed again, coughing. "I’m human," you spat, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Don’t forget that."

He crouched beside you suddenly, close enough that his scent flooded your senses. "Very weak human," he mused, plucking a leaf from your hair with deliberate slowness.

"I’m not weak," you snarled, batting his hand away.

Taehyung scoffed, dragging his thumb across the still-red burn marks encircling your wrist—the ones left by the enchanted chains when you'd foolishly tried to free him. "Yeah? Like a pig squealing in mud," he mused, watching your pulse jump beneath his touch.

You jerked your hand back, wincing as the movement pulled at tender skin. "I'm not—"

"Still paining?" he interrupted, catching your wrist again with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed over the raised, angry skin where the chains had scorched you—a touch so light it shouldn't have burned, yet your breath hitched anyway.

You yanked your hand back. "No. Professor Hobi said it'll take time to fade, that's all." The words came out sharper than intended—defensive, like you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

Taehyung's fingers lingered in the air where your wrist had been, his expression unreadable. You swallowed hard, watching the morning light catch on the silver rings adorning his fingers. "Master Taehyung," you ventured cautiously, "can I ask you something?"

He made a noncommittal sound—half hum, half scoff—as he straightened to his full height, casting a shadow over you. The training grounds were too quiet. You pressed your palm flat against your chest, feeling the steady thrum beneath your ribs—Ava's heart, not yours, never yours. "What kind of person was Ava?"

Taehyung's fingers flexed at his sides. "Why ask?"

"Because this heart belonged to her," you whispered, pressing harder, as if you could reach through flesh and bone to touch the ghost living inside you. "I want to know whose heartbeat I’m borrowing."

Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose before dropping onto the gravel beside you with effortless grace, close enough that his knee brushed yours. The morning sun caught the silver rings on his fingers as he plucked a blade of grass, twisting it between his thumb. "Ava?" His smirk didn’t reach his eyes this time. "Cruelest queen in three centuries. Entire courts would tremble just hearing her heels click against marble."

You swallowed, watching his fingers methodically shred the grass to green pulp. "So she was...ruthless."

"Ruthless?" Taehyung's fingers shredded the grass blade into pulp, his smirk twisting into something darker. "Ava wasn't just ruthless, little bride. She was the kind of queen who'd peel the skin from traitors while sipping tea. Entire courts fainted when she smiled—because it usually meant someone was about to lose their head." His knee pressed harder against yours,"But for Jungkook?" His laugh was a low, "She'd kneel in broken glass if he asked. Burn cities to ash if someone glanced at him too long. That girl was obsessed—the kind of love that leaves corpses in its wake."

Your fingers curled into the gravel. "She sounds...terrifying."

Taehyung flicked the shredded grass aside, watching it land on your knee. "She had to be." His voice dropped to a whisper, cold and deliberate. "Now answer my question."

You stiffened. "What question?"

His hand clamped around your chin, forcing your gaze up."When I first kissed you," he said slowly, "you reacted like I'd put a knife in your mouth instead of my tongue." His thumb pressed against your lower lip, dragging it down. "Now we fuck. And suddenly you're quiet. Normal." His smirk twisted. "I expected tears. Screaming. Not this...compliance."

​"When you first kissed me," you whispered, gravel digging into your palms as you held Taehyung's gaze, "it felt like betraying someone I loved most." The admission hung between you.

Taehyung's fingers tightened imperceptibly on your chin. "And now?" His thumb still pressed against your lower lip, a silent demand for honesty.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "I'm not so weak that a broken heart destroys me." The morning mist curled around his shoulders. "I accept that Master Jimin was never my destiny. The wound isn't so deep that it won't heal."

Taehyung's thumb still pressed against your lower lip, his rings cold against your skin. "So you hate him now?"

"No." You leaned away from his touch. "We can fall in love—but that doesn’t mean the person we love must love us back." The gravel shifted beneath your palms as you pushed yourself up, your knees stinging. "That's not how love works."

Taehyung stood abruptly, the gravel crunching under his boots as he loomed over you. His shadow swallowed you whole, the morning light carving sharp angles across his face—all hard lines and unreadable darkness. "Little bride," he murmured, voice , "don't mistake this for permission." His fingers caught your chin again, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "When I fall," he continued, thumb brushing your lower lip in a mockery of tenderness, "I don't accept 'no' as an answer."

Taehyung released your chin with a final brush of his thumb against your lip—before turning on his heel. His boots crushed gravel into dust as he walked away without another word. You exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, fingers trembling where they pressed into the ground. *When I fall, I don’t accept ‘no’ as an answer.*

You dragged yourself to your feet, dusting gravel from your knees as you staggered toward the palace corridors. The hallway stretched endlessly, its gilded mirrors reflecting your disheveled state—hair tangled from training. You pressed a hand to your chest, Ava’s heartbeat steady beneath your palm. *Obsessed enough to burn cities for Jungkook.* The thought slithered through you, unwelcome.

"Morning, Y/N!"

Mia’s voice snapped you back to the present. You blinked—when had she appeared? Her fingers waved in front of your face, her brows knitted. "Good morning, Y/N."

You swallowed the dryness in your throat. "Morning."

Her lips twisted into something apologetic, fingers tugging at the sleeves of her dress. "Listen, about the other day—" A deep breath. "I wasn’t in my right mind. I’m… really sorry for the slap." Her gaze flickered to your cheek, as if she could still see the imprint of her palm there.

You shrugged, rolling your stiff shoulders. "It’s okay." A lie, but one you’d both pretend to believe. "What are you doing here this early?"

Mia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as she gestured vaguely down the hall. "Nothing special. Just breakfast with family." Her nose wrinkled. "Though I need to drag that idiot Jungkook out of bed first." She moved to brush past you.

"He’s in my room," you blurted without thinking, watching Mia's back stiffen mid-step. "Sleeping. He was awake all night." The words tasted like betrayal the moment they left your lips—why had you admitted that? Why did it matter?

Mia turned slowly, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "Your room?" Her voice was too light, too controlled. The morning sun caught the silver embroidery on her sleeves as she tilted her head. "Well then, I suppose I’ll have to wake him there."

Your pulse stuttered. "I can do that myself." The protest sounded weak even to your own ears.

Mia’s smile sharpened. "Really? I’d love to see how you wake Jungkook." The words dripped with something venomous beneath their sweetness. Before you could protest, she was striding past you.

When Mia pushed open your door without knocking, the sight that greeted you was absurdly domestic—Jungkook sprawled diagonally across your bed, one arm dangling off the edge, your pillow clutched to his chest like a child’s stuffed toy. His lips were slightly parted, a stray lock of hair flopped over his forehead.

You cleared your throat. "Master Jungkook." Nothing. You flicked his ear. He grunted, rolling onto his stomach, burying his face deeper into your pillow. You sighed—this was ridiculous. Mia hovered in the doorway, arms crossed, one perfectly manicured brow arched.

"See?" Her voice dripped honeyed amusement. "Jungkook's not exactly a morning person." Mia leaned over the bed, fingers brushing his shoulder—then, with practiced precision, she pinched his nose shut between thumb and forefinger.

Three seconds. Four. Jungkook's brows furrowed, his lips parting in a silent gasp for air that never came. Five—his eyes flew open. His hand shot up, fingers wrapping around Mia's wrist with terrifying speed. "Mia," he growled, voice thick with sleep, "a million times I've told you not to wake me like this."

Mia didn't flinch. She merely smiled,. "But it works," she sing-songed, twisting her wrist free with practiced ease. Jungkook's grip loosened, his arm flopping back onto the mattress with a muffled thump. His gaze flickered past her shoulder—to where you stood frozen in the doorway—and something unreadable flashed across his face before he buried it in the pillow again.

"Idiot, wake up now," Mia announced, yanking the blanket off him in one fluid motion. "Breakfast time. Namjoon and Hobi are already waiting downstairs." She paused, tilting her head with exaggerated sweetness. "And most importantly—*I* made breakfast."

Jungkook groaned into the pillow, muffled but unmistakably derisive. "Must be tasteless."

Mia's slap to the back of his head echoed off the walls. *Crack.* "Come eat, idiot." She straightened her dress with prim efficiency before turning toward the door—only to pause beside you, her fingers brushing your elbow in a whisper of fabric and something colder.

Her lips barely moved when she spoke, voice low enough that Jungkook—now grudgingly sitting up and rubbing his head—couldn’t hear. "Y/N, what you don't know, no need to pretend you know." A pause, her eyes darting to Jungkook's bare shoulders before flicking back to you. "And my advice? Don’t get attached to them." Her smile was knife-sharp. "You’ll leave soon anyway."

The door clicked shut behind Mia with unsettling finality, leaving you standing there with her words curling like poison in your ears. *Don’t get attached. You’ll leave soon anyway.* You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms.

"Tch. That woman hits harder than Taehyung," he muttered, flopping back onto your pillow with a dramatic sigh. "Hey, little mouse," he called just as you reached the bathroom door, voice still thick with sleep. "Bring me a coffee."

You froze mid-step, fingers tightening around the bathroom doorknob. "Master Jungkook," you said without turning, voice deliberately flat, "why not ask Mia? I don't know how much sugar you take. Or what roast you prefer." The words tasted like defiance. "I'm late for college." You shut the door before he could retaliate, turning the lock with a satisfying click.

The shower drowned out Jungkook's inevitable growl of protest. Steam curled around your shoulders as you scrubbed last night's sweat and phantom touches from your skin. When you emerged, towel clutched to your chest, the bedroom was empty—just rumpled sheets and the faint scent of Jungkook's cologne clinging to your pillowcase. You dressed quickly, fingers fumbling with buttons.

You paused at the top of the grand staircase, fingers tightening around the banister as laughter drifted up from the dining hall below. Through the carved wooden balusters, you could see them—Jimin leaning over to steal a bite from Mia's plate while she swatted his hand away, Jungkook scowling into his coffee as Namjoon nudged him with an elbow, Hoseok grinning at something whispered just for him.

Your chest constricted. This wasn't your world. These weren't your people. You backed away silently, heels barely touching the marble steps.

Downstairs, Jungkook pushed his plate away with a dramatic sigh. "Tasteless," he declared, nose scrunched in disgust. "Who serves salmon for breakfast?"

Jimin didn't glance up from buttering his toast. "No one's forcing you to eat, brat."

Mia's fingers tapped her coffee cup. "Where's Taehyung oppa?" Her gaze flicked to the empty chair beside Jungkook. "And Y/N?"

Hoseok stretched lazily, chopsticks dangling between his fingers. "Taehyung left hours ago—said he had 'work.'" He made air quotes with his free hand, grinning at Jungkook's scowl.

Jimin signaled a passing maid with two fingers. "Where's Y/N?"

The maid bowed deeply, hands folded. "Miss Y/N left for college, Master Jimin. Said she had an early exam."

Jungkook scoffed into his coffee cup. "Tch. Running away again." He slammed the cup down hard enough to make Mia jump, liquid sloshing over the rim. "I'm leaving. This is boring." His chair screeched against marble as he stood abruptly, tossing his napkin onto his untouched salmon.

Jimin's fingers twitched around his fork. "Jungkook you can't go outside right now." His voice was deceptively light, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "Not after the poisoning incident."

Jungkook smirked, already shrugging into his leather jacket with deliberate slowness. "Seriously, jimin?" He tilted his head, the morning light catching the silver rings on his fingers as he gestured mockingly. "You believe I'll stay locked in this gilded cage all day? That's torture." His smirk widened into something sharper. "Besides—" He winked, the motion exaggerated. "I need to spend quality time with my fiancée."

The silence that followed was palpable. Mia's fork clattered against her plate. Namjoon sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose as Jungkook sauntered toward the exit. "Don't worry, Jimin-ah," Namjoon murmured, already rising. "I'll keep an eye on him."

---

The exam results were pinned to the bulletin board in crisp, merciless black and white. You blinked twice—three times—but the name at the top didn’t change. *Jeon Jungkook: 98%.* Your own score—a respectable 82%—sat squarely in the middle of the list.

"Impossible," you muttered under your breath, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag as you stared at the exam results. The ink seemed to blur—Jeon Jungkook's name floating mockingly above yours.

A cold breath brushed your ear. "Well, I'm quite the genius." Jungkook's voice dripped with smugness as his chin settled on your shoulder, his chest pressing against your back. His fingers plucked the exam sheet from the board with deliberate slowness. "Admit it. You're impressed."

You spun around, your bag swinging violently. "Impossible." The word hissed between your teeth. "You never paid attention in lectures—not even once. You didn’t even study."

Jungkook's smirk deepened, one brow arching as he folded the exam sheet into a neat square. "Baby," he tsked, pressing the paper into your palm with mocking gentleness, "you’re forgetting something." His fingers lingered too long, tracing the lines of your hand. "I’m a vampire." His lips brushed your earlobe, voice dropping to a whisper. "I've lived through centuries. Memorized entire libraries. Watched civilizations rise and fall." He leaned back just enough for you to see the glint in his eyes—dark amusement . "A university exam?" His laugh was a low, "Child’s play."

"It's unfair," you muttered under your breath, glaring at Jungkook's name still hovering above yours on the exam board. His fingers tightened around your wrist before you could pull away.

"Why didn't you come for breakfast?" Jungkook's fingers tightened around your wrist.

You tried to jerk away, but his grip was iron. "I wasn't hungry."

Jungkook's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Not hungry?" His voice dropped to a whisper only you could hear, his free hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with mocking gentleness. "Or couldn't bear watching Jimin feed Mia strawberries?"

Your pulse stuttered beneath his fingers. "That's not—"

"Liar." He cut you off with a laugh, dragging you forward so abruptly your shoulder slammed against his chest. His fingers slid down to intertwine with yours—cold, unyielding—as he marched you toward the cafeteria. "Well, I'm quite hungry. Let's eat something."

You dug your heels into the linoleum, fingers twitching in his grip. "I'm not—"

The cafeteria doors swung open before you could finish. Heads turned—whispers erupting as Jungkook steered you toward an empty table. His boot hooked around a chair leg, yanking it out with a screech that silenced the nearest tables. "Sit."

You hesitated, fingers flexing where they were still trapped in his grip. "I said—"

Jungkook shoved you down with enough force to make the chair skid backward. His palm slammed onto the tabletop, caging you in as he leaned down until his lips brushed your ear. "Sit up and eat properly," he growled, the words vibrating against your skin. "Or I'll eat *you* instead. I'm fucking starving."

You sighed, stabbing your fork into the cafeteria pasta with deliberate slowness. The strands slipped between your lips just as a loose curl fell forward, dangling precariously close to the sauce. Before you could tuck it back, Jungkook's fingers were there—cold and precise—gathering your hair with unexpected gentleness.

"Hold still." Jungkook's fingers tangled in your hair, his touch unexpectedly careful as he gathered the loose strands.

The silence stretched. You stared at your half-eaten pasta, acutely aware of the stares burning into your back—whispers ricocheting between tables. "Master Jungkook," you muttered without looking up, fingers tightening around your fork, "in university, we pretend we don’t know each other. I don’t want any more problems."

Jungkook’s fingers paused mid-motion, tangled in your hair. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the distant clatter of trays and the hum of student chatter. Then—slowly—his grip tightened. "Pretend?" His whisper curled against your ear,"You think you can pretend I don’t exist?"

Before he could retaliate—you shoved your chair back with a screech loud enough to make the nearest students flinch. "I have class." You didn’t glance back, didn’t wait for his response. Just grabbed your bag and bolted for the exit.

The hallway stretched endlessly, sunlight filtering through the high windows as you adjusted your bag strap with trembling fingers. You were almost at the classroom door when—

"Soomin?" You blinked as she materialized in front of you, hands planted on her hips.

"There you are!" Her voice echoed off the marble floors as she grabbed your wrist. "Where have you been, Y/N? Three days without a single text! Do you know how worried I was?"

You swallowed hard, the lie forming effortlessly. "I... caught a fever." Your fingers brushed the bite marks hidden beneath your turtleneck. "Needed rest."

Soomin's eyes narrowed. "Is that so?" She leaned closer, sniffing dramatically. "Funny how Professor Kim also canceled lectures this week." Her grin turned wicked as she flicked your flushed cheek. "Resting together, were you? No wonder your skin's glowing."

Heat crawled up your neck. "There's nothing between Professor Kim and—"

"Literally why are you denying it?" Soomin interrupted, rolling her eyes. "The man's sculpted by the gods. Those cheekbones could—

You exhaled sharply through your nose. "He's handsome, yes." The classroom door creaked behind you. "But trust me—as a man? he Absolute worst."

"Pardon me for being the worst," came Taehyung's voice—cold, precise—from directly behind you. His footsteps echoed against the polished marble as he strode past, his tailored suit swallowing the morning light. "Take your seats. Now."

Soomin squeaked, her grip on your wrist tightening painfully before she released you with a nervous laugh. "Y-Yes, Professor Kim!" She dragged you toward your usual row, but before she could slide into the seat beside you, Jungkook materialized from the aisle shadows—one hand braced on the desk, the other already pulling out the chair next to yours.

His smirk was all teeth. "Soomin-ssi," he purred, tilting his head with exaggerated politeness, "if you don't mind, can I sit here?" His fingers drummed the desk—once, twice—before he added, "Please?"

Soomin's flush spread from her collarbones to the tips of her ears. "O-Of course!" She scrambled backward, nearly tripping over her own bag strap. "I'll just—" She gestured vaguely toward the front row, already retreating.

Jungkook dropped into the seat with feline grace, stretching his legs into the aisle. His knee bumped yours deliberately. "What?" he murmured when you glared. "She said it was okay."

Jungkook's finger jabbed into your cheek with infuriating persistence—once, twice—until you swatted his hand away. "Master Jungkook," you hissed under your breath, acutely aware of Taehyung's glacial gaze sweeping over the lecture hall, "why are you here? Master Taehyung already monitors my classes for safety."

His grin widened as he slouched lower in his seat, knees splaying into your space. "Ah, little mouse," he drawled, plucking a pen from your notebook and twirling it between his fingers, "you misunderstand." The pen stilled abruptly, its tip pressing into your forearm. "I'm spending quality time with my fiancée." His thumb brushed the ink smudge it left behind—a mockery of tenderness. "And my health is your responsibility now, remember? Doctor's orders."

The pen clattered onto the desk as he stretched, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal the faint discoloration where Yoongi's poison had lingered. His fingers drummed an idle rhythm against his stomach. "Besides," he added, tilting his head toward the sunlight streaming through the windows, "no power means I'm practically human now. Might as well enjoy the perks." His grin was all teeth when he caught your skeptical look. "What? You don't like me like this?"

You turned a page in your notebook with deliberate slowness. "You could be enjoying this newfound humanity with Mia," you said, keeping your eyes fixed on the lecture notes you weren’t actually reading. "She actually likes your company."

Jungkook's fingers stilled on the pen he'd been twirling between them. "From morning," he said slowly, eyes narrowing as he leaned closer, "I notice you taking Mia into our conversations." His knee bumped yours under the desk—deliberate, insistent. "Could it be..." His lips curved into something dangerously amused, "Are you jealous, little mouse?"

" Master Jungkook," you muttered under your breath, pressing your pen so hard against your notebook that the tip nearly tore through the paper, "can you give me one reason why I would be jealous of Mia?" You finally turned to face him, meeting those dark eyes. "And more importantly," your voice dropped to a furious whisper, "why would I ever be jealous of her because of *you*?"

A chalkboard duster whizzed through the air—Jungkook's hand shot up without looking, catching it mid-flight with unnatural reflexes. At the front of the lecture hall, Taehyung's glacial stare pinned you both in place. "Attention," he commanded, the single word slicing through the room. " On lecture." You straightened instantly, gripping your pen until your knuckles whitened.

The moment Taehyung turned back to the board, Jungkook's knee bumped yours beneath the desk again—harder this time. His gaze burned into your profile, relentless. When you refused to acknowledge him, he exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned closer. "Stop staring," you muttered under your breath, deliberately keeping your eyes fixed ahead.

"My eyes," Jungkook countered, voice dripping with amusement. His fingers drummed an idle rhythm against the desk—once, twice—before adding, "I can stare wherever I want."

"Then stare at the board," you hissed, flinching when his cold fingertip traced the curve of your ear.

"But you're far more interesting than Taehyung's dreary lecture." His breath ghosted over your neck as he tilted his head, studying your reaction with predatory focus. "Tell me something, little mouse—why did you save me that day?"

Your pen stilled mid-note. The question hung between you.

"Could it be..." Jungkook's voice dropped to a whisper only you could hear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, "because of Jimin? If I'd died, Jimin would've been devastated." His fingers tightened around your wrist beneath the desk,"And you can't bear to see him hurt—is that the reason, little mouse?"

You didn't flinch. "Master Jungkook," you said slowly, turning your head just enough for your noses to almost touch, "you also did the same, didn't you? Risked your life but saved Mia." His grip slackened slightly—just enough for you to twist your wrist free. "But I didn't do that for Master Jimin." Your fingers curled into fists against the desk. "I did it for Master Taehyung. I don't want him punished because of my stupidity."

Jungkook's lips parted—whether to sneer or snarl, you couldn't tell—but you barreled on before he could speak. "You're the Second Queen's son," you whispered, the words barely audible beneath the scrape of Taehyung's chalk against the board. "I thought... maybe you could stop your mother." Your fingers crept toward your sternum, where Ava's heart pulsed beneath your skin. "And maybe this heart—" you swallowed hard, "—couldn't bear to watch you die. I think Ava loved you so much. Even she died—

Jungkook's fingers twitched against the desk, the knuckles whitening before he abruptly turned his head away. "Ava was a stupid woman," he muttered, voice low enough that the words barely reached you. His fingers curled into fists, pressing into the wood grain. "Blind with love. Never listened to her own brain." His lips twisted into something bitter. "Fell for someone like me."

You blinked, the words hanging between you . "What do you mean?" you whispered back, fingers tightening around your pen.

For a heartbeat, Jungkook didn't move. Then—with deliberate slowness—he folded his arms across the desk and dropped his forehead onto them. His voice was muffled against his sleeves when he spoke next. "Focus on class."

The dismissal was so abrupt it left you blinking at the back of his head. His dark hair spilled across the desk, hiding his expression completely. You hesitated—fingers twitching toward him instinctively—before forcing yourself to face forward again. Could he... miss Ava? The thought settled uncomfortably in your chest. You exhaled sharply through your nose. *Shouldn't have mentioned her.*

---

The whistle shrieked, cutting through the sticky summer air as you doubled over, hands braced on your knees. Sweat dripped from your temple onto the scorching pavement—five laps around the field in this heat was borderline torture.

A sharp cheer erupted from the basketball courts.

You lifted your head just as Jungkook spun away from his defender, the basketball a blur between his fingers before he launched it—effortless—straight through the hoop without touching the rim. The girls clustered along the bleachers screamed, their cheers dissolving into giggles when he winked at them, sweat-darkened bangs clinging to his forehead. He looked almost human like this—just another university student showing off during gym class, not an ancient vampire prince.

Scooting backward into the shade of the equipment shed, you pressed your icy water bottle to your flushed neck and groaned. "Why are we even doing PE in summer?" The words slurred slightly from exhaustion as you rolled your head back against the wooden planks. "This is torture."

Taehyung's voice cut through the sticky air like a blade. "At least you have some brain left."

You startled so hard your water bottle slipped, liquid splashing across your knees. "Master Taehyung?" You twisted to find him lounging in the shadows of the equipment shed, one leg propped up, arms crossed. His tie was loosened—the first time you'd ever seen him less than immaculate. "What are you doing here?"

"Sleeping." He didn't open his eyes. "Can't. Not with humans screeching over inflated leather." His nose wrinkled as another whistle pierced the air. "Stupid games in stupid heat."

You bit back a laugh, pressing your water bottle to the underside of your wrist where veins pulsed too fast. "Could it be..." You tilted your head, watching Jungkook fake a stumble just to make the girls squeal. "...you're here for Master Jungkook's safety? Since he's powerless now—"

Taehyung's eyelids lifted halfway—just enough for you to see the dangerous glint beneath. "Stop using your tiny brain before I remove it permanently," he muttered, but there was no real heat behind the threat. His fingers flexed against his folded arms, the morning light catching silver rings you'd never noticed before.

You ducked your head in apology, watching Jungkook from beneath your lashes as he dribbled past another defender with inhuman grace. "I'm sorry, but..." Your water bottle crinkled in your grip. "Master Jungkook seems to really enjoy playing human games. I just wonder..." Your thumb traced the condensation on the plastic. "What was so special about him that made Ava fall so hard?"

Taehyung's hand shot out faster than you could blink—cold fingers digging into the flesh of your cheek as he yanked your face toward his. "It's—"

You caught his wrist instinctively, pulse jumping when his skin registered like marble in midwinter. "Hmm." Your thumb slid over his knuckles without thinking. "Master Taehyung, you really are a vampire." The words escaped in a breathless laugh. "Your hands are freezing."

Taehyung's fingers twitched against yours—not pulling away. His eyes dropped to where your palm pressed against his pulse point. The silence stretched. Then—slowly—his other hand lifted to brush your cheekbone, the touch featherlight. "And yours," he murmured, voice rough with something unnameable, "are always warm."

You tried to pull back instinctively, but his fingers tightened—interlocking with yours before you could retreat. "Master Taehyung," you stammered, heat crawling up your neck, "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to hold your—"

The apology died in your throat as his free hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Then—without warning—his lips crashed against yours. Cold. Insistent. You gasped against his mouth, heels skidding backward in the dirt until your spine hit the equipment shed's wooden wall. His knee slotted between yours, pinning you there as his tongue traced the seam of your lips.

"Hmm—*stop*—" you managed, turning your face away just enough to break the kiss. His teeth grazed your jaw instead, trailing down to your pulse point.

Taehyung's hand slid from your waist to the hem of your PE shirt, fingers skating under the fabric. "My master," he murmured against your collarbone, breath chilling your damp skin, "is burning up." His palm pressed flat against your stomach—icy against the heat of your flushed body. "My responsibility... to cool you down."

You twisted away, fingers catching on the equipment shed's splintered wood. "I said *stop*—we're *outside*—"

He caught your wrist before you could bolt, dragging you backward until your spine hit his chest. "So inside," Taehyung murmured against the shell of your ear, fingers already working at the buttons of your sweat-damp PE shirt, "you don't have a problem?" The words were barely out of his mouth when the world tilted—your stomach lurching as shadows swallowed you whole.

You blinked. The equipment shed's wooden planks were gone, replaced by sterile classroom fluorescents. Your palms slapped against a desk still warm from afternoon sunlight. "Master Taehyung—" The words choked in your throat as his teeth grazed your collarbone, fingers already working the last button of your PE shirt. The fabric slid from your shoulders, pooling around your elbows before you could react.

His palms skated up your ribcage—icy against sweat-damp skin—thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts with calculated slowness. "Tell me," he murmured against your pulse point, nose nudging aside the strap of your sports bra, "why your heartbeat triples when I do this." His tongue followed the path his fingers had taken, tracing the swell of your breast before his teeth closed—lightly—over the peak.

You gasped, arching backward into the desk's edge. "S-Stop—" The protest dissolved into a whimper when his hand slid between your thighs, fingers pressing through the damp fabric. "Someone could—*ah*—walk in—

Taehyung's palm slammed onto the desk beside your head, his breath chilling your damp skin as he loomed over you. "Foreplay," he murmured against your collarbone, teeth grazing the pulse fluttering there, "or should I just enter you directly?" His knee nudged your thighs apart with deliberate pressure, the desk digging into your back.

"Shameless," you gasped, twisting away from the cold brush of his lips. "Get off—" The words died when crimson streaked down his cheekbones like tears. "Master Taehyung—your eyes—"

He recoiled , swiping at the blood with the back of his hand. "Nothing." But you'd already caught his wrist, fingers prying open his clenched fist to reveal smeared red across his knuckles.

You moved before thinking—hands fumbling at the buttons of his dress shirt. Taehyung caught your fingers halfway, but you wrenched free with a sharp twist. The fabric parted to reveal jagged gashes spanning his ribs—wounds crusted black at the edges, weeping fresh blood where movement had split them open. Your breath hitched. "Why aren't these healed?"

Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose, buttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. "It's nothing." His cufflinks clicked together with finality. "I'm not some weakling who can't handle a few scratches."

"But it's happened because of—" Your fingers twitched toward his ribs, stopping just short of touching him again. Taehyung's glare silenced you before the words fully formed. He straightened his sleeves with a sharp jerk.

"Go to your class," he said, voice colder than his fingertips had been moments ago. His shadow stretched long across the classroom floor as he turned away, the door clicking shut behind him with finality before you could protest.

---

The library in the east wing of the mansion smelled like old paper and candle wax. You hunched over the mahogany desk, fingers smudged with ink as you copied the looping symbols from the ancient grimoire. Three failed attempts already littered the floor.

The fifth candle guttered when you whispered the incantation again. Nothing. Just the hollow ache behind your ribs where Ava's power slept.

"You're writing it backwards."

Jimin's breath ghosted over your shoulder as he plucked the quill from your stiff fingers. You hadn't even heard him approach.

"Master Jimin—"

The book snapped shut under his palm before you could finish. "I told you from the start," he murmured, thumb brushing ink from your cheekbone, "call me Jimin." Moonlight caught the silver rings on his fingers as he flipped the grimoire open to an earlier page. "Why are you torturing yourself with intermediate spells when you haven't mastered the basics?"

You curled your fingers into the desk's edge. The wood bit into your palms. "Master Taehyung's wounds aren't healing," you whispered. The candlelight flickered across Jimin's face as he turned a page with deliberate slowness.

Jimin's thumb stilled against the grimoire's parchment. "Hybrids take time to heal," he murmured without looking up. "Little human, you don't need to worry about Taehyung's wounds." His fingertip traced a line of ancient script, deliberately avoiding your gaze. "They'll close when they're ready."

You pressed your palms flat against the desk, ink smearing beneath them. "Master Taehyung has saved me many times," you said slowly, watching Jimin's fingers pause mid-page turn. "I can't just—"

Jimin snapped the grimoire shut with enough force to send dust motes swirling in the candlelight. "Aren't you too concerned for Taehyung?" His fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face up with the spine of the book. The leather binding pressed cold against your skin. "Little human, you don't need to—"

"I just want to return his favor." You turned your head away sharply, breaking contact.

Jimin's exhale stirred the candle flames. "You're really stubborn." His thumb brushed over the grimoire's embossed cover, tracing the serpentine patterns. "Let me help you then."

"No." You shoved back from the desk, the chair legs screeching against the hardwood. "I can do it myself."

Jimin's fingers stilled on the book's spine. Without looking up, he murmured, "Really?" His nail tapped against an indecipherable passage. "Can you even read this, little human?"

You pushed back from the desk, the chair legs scraping against hardwood. "I can manage," you said, fingers tightening around the grimoire's spine. "If I need help, I'll ask Professor Hobi. You don't need to help me all the time—it's late now, Master Jimin. Good night."

The words tumbled out too fast as you hurried toward the door, but the handle refused to turn under your trembling grip. Behind you, Jimin's shadow stretched long across the parchment-strewn floor. "Little human," he said, voice deceptively soft, "you're avoiding me on purpose, aren't you? Because I can't return your feelings."

"No." Your forehead pressed against the cold wood, fingers still gripping the stubborn handle. "Because I'm embarrassed of myself." The confession spilled out before you could stop it—raw, aching. "I dreamed something impossible from the start. I know I'm only here as a blood servant. That was the deal—my grandmother and brother get safety, and I..." Your nails bit into the doorframe. "But I fell for my master, so now I'm just—ashamed on myself."

Jimin's exhale stirred the candle flames behind you. "Blood servant," he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue. "Then you should take your duty seriously."

"What—"

The book slammed onto the desk. Suddenly his chest pressed against your back, one arm caging you against the door. His free hand wrenched your head sideways by the hair, exposing your throat. "If you're truly just a blood servant," Jimin murmured, lips brushing the frantic pulse beneath your skin, "then stop trembling when I do this." His tongue traced the vein—slow, deliberate—before his fangs grazed the surface.

You gasped, fingers scrambling against the woodgrain. "Master Jimin—" The protest dissolved into a whimper when his fangs pierced skin, your body arching against the door as warmth bloomed beneath his lips. His forearm braced across your collarbones, pinning you in place while his other hand tangled in your hair—gentle and vicious all at once. The scent of copper filled the air, thick and cloying.

Jimin's tongue lapped at the wound, his groan vibrating against your throat. "Sweet," he murmured against your skin.His hand slid from your hair to your waist, pressing you flush against the door as he drank deeper, the rhythm of his swallows obscenely loud in the silent library.Your knees buckled, vision swimming—his forearm braced beneath your ribs kept you upright as the world tilted.

Blood dripped down your collarbone when he finally pulled back, lips stained crimson. His thumb swiped the excess from your chin before bringing it to his own mouth, sucking it clean with a slow drag of his tongue that sent heat crawling up your neck.

"Master Jimin—" Your voice cracked. The library spun around you, shadows stretching unnaturally long as your knees threatened to buckle.

Jimin caught your waist before you could collapse, fingers digging into your hipbone as he guided you back toward the desk. The grimoire's pages fluttered beneath your elbow when he sat you down, his other hand still tangled in your hair—gentle and unyielding all at once. "Breathe," he murmured against your temple, but his lips were already trailing down to the fresh bite mark, tongue lapping at the sluggishly bleeding punctures. You gasped when his fangs grazed the wound again—not piercing, just teasing—your fingers scrambling against the desk's edge as warmth pooled low in your stomach.

The sudden vibration of his phone against your thigh made you flinch. Mia's name flashed across the screen, the caller ID illuminating the dim library for one stark second. "Master Jimin—" you managed, pushing weakly at his shoulders, but he merely caught your wrist and brought your fingertips to his lips. His fangs scraped the pad of your index finger before piercing deep, drawing another startled gasp from you.

Jimin's tongue curled around your bleeding finger, his groan vibrating against your skin as he sucked gently. The obscene wet sounds filled the silent library, mingling with your ragged breathing. You tried to pull back instinctively, but his grip tightened.

"I told you to stop trembling when I drink," Jimin murmured against your fingertip, his lips stained crimson as he sucked gently. His grip tightened when you tried to pull away, fingers digging into your wrist hard enough to bruise. "I hate weak things."

"But it's—" You gasped when his fangs scraped the pad of your finger again, the sharp sting radiating up your arm.

Jimin tilted your chin up with his free hand, his thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat. "A blood servant should be quiet when her master feeds." The words ghosted over your lips before he dragged you forward, his mouth sealing over the bite mark on your neck with a low groan. Your back arched off the desk instinctively, fingers scrabbling against the wood grain as his tongue lapped at the sluggishly bleeding wounds. Every swallow sent heat coiling low in your stomach—shameful, electric—your pulse rabbiting beneath his lips.

Meanwhile, across town, Mia's phone clattered onto the marble countertop with a sharp click. The call had ended mid-ring, the screen flashing "Missed Call" beneath the dim glow of restaurant pendant lights.

"Maybe he's still on set," Mia muttered, swirling her straw through an untouched mojito, Jungkook's fingers twitched toward his own phone—screen already lit with Jimin's contact pulled up—but Mia snatched it from his grasp with a scoff. "Leave it. My date's already spoiled." She tossed phones into her purse.

Jungkook's fingers twitched against the leather menu, the corner peeling under his restless grip. "Jimin told me to come here," he muttered, flipping his phone screen-down against the tablecloth for the third time in five minutes. "Now the bastard's not picking up." His knee bounced beneath the table, rattling the silverware—Mia's untouched mojito rippled in its glass.

Mia rolled her eyes, plucking the menu from his hands . "You're impossible." The laminated pages snapped open . "I'm hungry—let's eat something. What do you like to order?" Her gaze slid over the options, lips pursing. "Actually, never mind. I know what you like."

Jungkook's chair screeched backward as he jerked upright. "Mia." His voice cracked on the single syllable—too sharp, too loud. The couple at the next table glanced over before quickly looking away. "Stop," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Stop giving me hope."

Mia didn't even glance up from the menu, her fingertip trailing down the cocktail list. "What hope?" she murmured, the words deliberately light. A strand of hair slipped over her shoulder as she tilted her head. "I just meant you always order the same thing. Wagyu tartare, extra truffle oil. No onions." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Like clockwork."

Jungkook's chair screeched against the marble floor as he shoved back from the table. "Stop this," he hissed, fingers curling into his palms. "You know me too well—my habits, what I like—just stop." The couple at the next table froze mid-bite, forks hovering. "I'm leaving," he announced too loudly, snatching his jacket from the chairback. "I have a shoot tomorrow morning."

Mia finally looked up. "Jungkook." Her voice dropped to a whisper,"You heard what I said to Y/N this morning, didn't you?"

The air between them crackled with something unspoken. Jungkook turned on his heel and stormed out without another word, the restaurant door slamming behind him with enough force to rattle the chandelier.

----

-

The first thing you registered was the sharp sting in your neck—then the dull ache radiating through your spine. Sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, painting stripes across your legs where they dangled off the sofa's edge. You blinked crusted eyes open to find Jimin crouched beside you, a steaming bowl balanced on his knees.

"Morning," he murmured, nudging the soup toward you."Eat. It'll help replenish your blood." His thumb brushed your cheekbone—too gentle for someone who'd fed from you so ruthlessly hours ago.

You jerked back instinctively, the movement sending pain lancing through your bruised neck. The porcelain bowl clattered against the coffee table as Jimin caught your wrist. "I'm sorry for last night," he said, fingers tightening when you tried to pull away. "I lost control." His thumb traced the fresh bite marks peeking above your collar—the motion almost tender.

"There's no need to apologize," you whispered, staring at your reflection in the untouched soup. The dark circles under your eyes made you look hollow. "It's my duty, after all—to serve my master." Your fingers twitched toward the spoon but didn't lift it.

Jimin's lips parted—whether to argue or apologize again, you'd never know—because the library doors burst open with enough force to rattle the shelves. Taehyung stood silhouetted against the morning light, his jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder. "I really hate night patrol," he announced to no one in particular, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.

Then he froze. His gaze flickered between Jimin's hand still gripping your wrist, the steaming bowl of soup, and the fresh bite marks peeking above your collar.

Jimin sighed without releasing you. "Taehyung. Where are your manners? Knock first."

Taehyung's slow blink conveyed utter disdain. He gestured vaguely at the towering bookshelves. "Well, it's the library. Not your bedroom." His nose wrinkled as he took in the scene properly—the rumpled blankets on the sofa where you'd apparently slept, Jimin's disheveled hair, the lingering scent of blood in the air. "Looks like I interrupted something."

You wrenched your wrist free and scrambled upright too fast—the room tilting as blood rushed from your head. "I'm getting late for college," you blurted, voice cracking. You bowed hastily, knees wobbling. "Morning, Master Taehyung." Then you bolted past him before either could react, the library doors swinging shut behind you with a hollow thud.

Taehyung's fingers drummed against the nearest bookshelf, the rhythmic thud echoing through the silent library like a countdown. "Why," he said finally, voice stripped of inflection, "when you have Mia?"

Jimin's thumb traced the rim of the abandoned soup bowl—once, twice—before answering. "Taehyung-ah," he murmured, tilting his head with deliberate calm, "don't tell me you're getting soft for a human. It's really rare to see my little brother changing." His fingers lingered near his own collar, where a single drop of dried blood darkened the white fabric.

Taehyung's knuckles whitened against the bookshelf. "You didn't answer my question." The words came out clipped, glacial.

Jimin exhaled through his nose, pushing the soup aside. "I lost control last night." His fingers flexed, as if remembering the weight of your wrist in his grip. "Taehyung-ah, don't tell me you're getting attached to her. That would be... inconvenient."

Taehyung's laugh was a sharp, brittle thing. "Only in your imagination." He pushed off the bookshelf, jacket swinging as he turned toward the door. His fingers lingered on the handle—just a fraction too long—before he left without another word, the library doors clicking shut behind him with deliberate softness.

---

The bathroom mirror fogged with steam as you twisted to examine the fresh bite marks on your neck, fingers trembling against the sink’s edge. The clip of your bra snapped open before you could register the cold fingers brushing your spine—your gasp echoed off the tiles as Taehyung’s reflection materialized behind you, his crimson-streaked gaze locked on the bruises Jimin had left.

"Master Taehyung—" You clutched the towel to your chest, heart hammering. "Get out—" The words died when his fingers traced the fresh bite marks on your collarbone—cold, deliberate—each touch sending tremors through your overheated skin.

Taehyung's reflection smirked in the steam-streaked mirror. "Tell me," he murmured, his fingers trailing down your bare spine with glacial slowness, "did you enjoy last night?" His thumb pressed into the fresh bite mark below your ear—the one Jimin had left—and your knees nearly buckled.

"Master Taehyung—" You twisted away, clutching the towel tighter. "Please get out—"

His palm slammed against the mirror beside your head, cracking the glass. "Answer the question." The words slithered against your damp neck. "You still love him even knowing he'll never choose you over Mia?" His fingers hooked into the towel's edge, yanking it down just enough to expose Jimin's bite marks purpling your collarbone.

"it's none of your business whom I like—him or not!" You wrenched the towel back up, fingers digging into the damp fabric. "My feelings never matter in this mansion—I'm not even from this world, not part of this family—I'm just a blood ser—"

Taehyung's mouth crashed into yours before you could finish—cold, insistent, swallowing your protest with bruising force. His fingers tangled in your damp hair, yanking your head back as his tongue slide against yours. You gasped against his lips, fingers scrabbling against his chest, but he only pressed closer—his other hand sliding down to cup your breast through the towel.

The fabric slipped lower as his thumb brushed your nipple—the sudden friction drawing a sharp whimper from your throat. Taehyung's teeth scraped your bottom lip in response, his grip tightening when you tried to twist away. Steam curled between your bodies where his chest pressed against your bare back, the cold metal of his rings biting into your hip as his hand slid lower—then stopped.

Your entire body trembled against his, breaths coming in shallow gasps that fogged the cracked mirror. Taehyung went rigid behind you, fingers twitching against the lace edge of your underwear before wrenching away like you'd burned him. "Stop," he hissed—to himself or to you, you couldn't tell—as he shoved you back against the sink. "Stop coming into my mind like this." His knuckles whitened around the towel rack. "I hate humans. I can't—

"What—

Taehyung's tongue dragged across your bottom lip with deliberate slowness, catching the last remnant of your shared breath before pulling away. The steam from the shower curled between you both as he stepped back, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket with practiced indifference. "Go get ready for college," he muttered, his gaze lingering on your towel-clad body for a fraction too long before he turned on his heel.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him, rattling the cracked mirror. You exhaled sharply, fingers trembling against the damp towel as the cold seeped into your skin where his touch had been moments before. Outside, footsteps echoed down the hallway—before fading into silence.

---

The library's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, bleaching the pages of your textbook into an indecipherable blur. You blinked hard, trying to force your eyes to focus on the same paragraph you'd been staring at for twenty minutes—but the words kept dissolving into Jimin's fingers tracing your collarbone, Taehyung's cold lips swallowing your gasp against the bathroom mirror. Your pen slipped from suddenly-sweaty fingers, rolling across the table with a clatter that made several students glance up.

"Earth to Y/N." Soomin's elbow jabbed into your ribs as she slid into the adjacent chair. Her grin faltered when you flinched. "Whoa. You look like you just ran a marathon in a sauna." Her fingers brushed your forehead "Are you sick? Your face is burning up."

" No just whether so hot," you mumbled, swatting at Soomin's persistent fingers pressing against your clammy forehead. She rolled her eyes and shoved a folded flyer into your textbook, the garish neon letters announcing TOMORROW NIGHT: EPIC COLLEGE KICKOFF PARTY.

"Look alive, zombie girl," Soomin chirped, snapping her gum. "You're coming. No isn't an answer." She leaned in, her perfume overwhelming as she stage-whispered, "Three words: open bar, hot seniors, and—"

Jungkook's chin abruptly settled onto your shoulder, his breath reeking of whiskey. "Can I come, Soomin?"

Soomin's squeal made three nearby students drop their pencils. "Oh my god, are you serious? It'd be insane if you showed up—the girls would literally combust." Her phone was already in hand, thumbs flying. "If you don't mind, can I have your number? Just in case—"

The reek of whiskey intensified as Jungkook's nose brushed your earlobe. You recoiled, chair legs screeching against the library floor, but his arm snaked around your waist—anchoring you in place with bruising force. "Wear something hot," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear before his teeth nipped the tender flesh.

Soomin's phone clattered onto the table. "Um." Her wide eyes darted between Jungkook's possessive grip on your waist and the fresh bite mark blooming on your earlobe. "Okay, what the hell is going on between you two?" Her voice rose enough that a librarian shushed them from across the stacks.

"Nothing," you hissed, wrenching free only for Jungkook's fingers to dig into your hips, hauling you flush against him. His whiskey-laced breath scalded your cheek as he nuzzled into your hair with a drunk, contented hum.

"She's my fiancée," Jungkook slurred, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your temple that made your stomach flip violently.

Soomin's eyebrows vanished into her bangs. "Bullshit. She is Professor Kim—

You shoved back from the table hard enough to send chairs screeching across the library floor. Jungkook's whiskey-heavy weight slumped against your shoulder, his fingers slipping clumsily from your waist as you twisted free. "He's completely wasted," you announced to Soomin's stunned face, already steering Jungkook toward the exit by his elbow. His steps wobbled like a newborn fawn's. "I'm taking him to the clinic before he vomits on someone's thesis paper."

Soomin's mouth opened—probably to demand explanations about the fiancée claim—but you were already dragging Jungkook past the circulation desk, his drunken giggles drawing glares from studying students. He nuzzled your hair with a contented sigh, lips brushing your earlobe. "Pretty," he slurred, fingers tangling in your sweater. "Smell like..." His sentence dissolved into a hiccup as you shouldered through the emergency exit.

The crisp morning air did nothing to sober him. Jungkook tripped over his own feet twice before you half-carried, half-dragged him across campus toward the faculty housing complex. His weight shifted dangerously when he abruptly went limp against your side. "No more stairs," he whined, forehead pressing into your neck. "Carry me, princess."

"You're insufferable," you hissed, adjusting your grip as his knees buckled again. Jungkook giggled against your neck, as you dragged him up the cabin's porch steps. Before you could knock, the door swung open to reveal Namjoon's exhausted face.

"Again?" Namjoon sighed, stepping aside to let you haul Jungkook's limp form inside. "This boy brings nothing but trouble. Thank you for—" He paused, watching Jungkook slump face-first onto the couch with a groan. "—whatever this is." His gaze flicked to your bruised earlobe, then away just as quickly. "Sit. Tea?"

You backed toward the door, fingers already curling around the knob. "I should—"

Jungkook's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with surprising strength for someone who'd just been dead weight moments ago. "Stay," he mumbled into the couch cushions, fingers tightening when you tried to pull free. "Just...stay a little longer."

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, already shrugging on his coat. "Y/N, I have a faculty meeting that can't be postponed." He hesitated, glancing between Jungkook's sprawled form and your trapped wrist. "Could you stay with him until Hoseok arrives? He should be here within the hour

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching under Jungkook's persistent hold."Okay," you heard yourself say, though every instinct screamed to run.

Namjoon's shoulders relaxed as he grabbed his satchel. "Thank you." He paused at the door, keys jingling in his hand. "There's blood bags in the fridge if he..." A meaningful glance at Jungkook's slumped form. The door clicked shut behind him with finality.

Jungkook's fingers spasmed around your wrist—hot, too tight—before abruptly loosening. You wrenched free, rubbing the reddened skin as you retreated two steps. The couch groaned under his weight as he rolled onto his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His lips moved silently before forming words so soft they barely disturbed the stillness: "I wanted to be loved." Then his breathing evened out—the deep, slow rhythm of sleep pulling him under.

The grimoire's pages crackled under your fingertips as you traced the faded ink—words in a language you shouldn't understand but somehow did, curling through your mind. Outside the cabin window, dusk painted the trees in long violet shadows. You'd lost track of time hunched over Ava's spellbook, the symbols rearranging themselves whenever you blinked.

The front door creaked open. "Y/N?" Hobi voice sliced through the dim cabin air. "Sorry I'm late—is he still sleeping?"

You nodded without looking up, fingers still tracing the grimoire's shifting runes. The ink pulsed faintly beneath your touch, responding to something unseen. Hoseok's shadow fell across the page as he leaned over your shoulder.

"Y/N," he murmured, breath stirring your hair. "If you really want to understand that book..." His fingers hovered near the spine but didn't touch. "Why not meet Yoongi instead? He's Ava's brother, after all."

The suggestion landed like a stone in still water. You froze mid-page-turn, the parchment crinkling under your grip. Somewhere behind you, Jungkook sighed in his drunken sleep, his fingers twitching against the couch cushions.

-----

The café's overhead lights buzzed flickering intermittently over the empty tables—too bright for midnight, too clinical for a place meant to feel welcoming. You curled your fingers around the lukewarm teacup.

Your knee bounced under the table—a nervous twitch that sent ripples across the tea's surface. The chair opposite yours scraped against the tiled floor without warning. Yoongi folded himself into it with the deliberate slowness .His fingers—pale, unadorned—drummed once against the Formica tabletop.

"You came alone." His voice carried none of the surprise the statement warranted. "Brave. Or stupid."

The teacup rattled against its saucer as you pushed it aside. "Did you steal Jungkook's power?".

Yoongi's fingers stilled against the tabletop. "If you called me here for this nonsense," he said, voice low as, "then you're dumber than I thought." The café's flickering lights cast shadows beneath his eyes.

Your fingernails bit into your palms. "Then why send people that night to kill me? What did I ever do to you?".

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, the sound bordering on disgust. "Listen, human. First—I don't need Jungkook's pathetic power. Second—killing you? What benefit would that give me?" His fingers twitched toward the grimoire before curling into a fist. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be ashes."

The café's flickering lights caught the hollows under his eyes as he leaned forward. "You performed the ritual. Jungkook lost his powers. Connect the dots yourself." His stare dropped pointedly to Ava's book between your hands. "Now give it to me."

You hesitated—then slid the grimoire across the table. Yoongi's pale fingers traced the spine with reverence before abruptly freezing. His nostrils flared. "Someone else touched this." The words came out sharper than intended.

"What?" Your fingers twitched toward the book instinctively.

Yoongi flipped the grimoire open to a page you'd never seen. "If your interrogation is over," he muttered, already standing, "I don't have time to waste on you."

You caught his sleeve. "Wait—why do you hate Jungkook so much?" The fabric strained between your fingers. "If Ava loved him, why—"

Yoongi whirled, sending the chair clattering behind him. The café's flickering lights carved shadows into his sudden snarl. "For him, my sister never knew happiness." His voice dropped to a whisper that scraped like claws against stone. "She suffered every day of her immortal life—and when the villagers bound her to that pyre, do you know how long she burned?"

Your breath hitched as he leaned across the table, the café’s flickering lights catching the raw fury in his eyes. "Three days," Yoongi repeated, "Three days screaming his name while her flesh peeled from bone. Three days refusing to die because she believed—" His fingers curled into the grimoire’s cover until the leather groaned. "She believed he’d come. That he’d fight for her." His laugh was a jagged thing. "Pathetic, isn’t it? Even burning, she loved him more than herself."

" Ava was immortal," you whispered, fingers tightening around the teacup's cracked handle. The lukewarm liquid trembled. "Then how could humans have killed her? Jimin said she died in the last war—"

Yoongi's laugh cut through the café's buzzing lights like a blade. "Do you really believe them?" His fingers tapped the grimoire's cover once—hard. "Little human, you don't even know what they—"

The café window shattered inward. Jungkook's fist connected with Yoongi's jaw before the glass hit the floor, sending the grimoire skidding across the table. He moved with terrifying precision for someone who'd been dead drunk an hour ago, his other hand yanking you upright by the wrist. "What the hell," he hissed, pupils dilated with fury, "are you doing with him?"

Yoongi wiped blood from his split lip, grinning. "Oh, Jungkook." His smile widened as he rose slowly. "You actually had the guts to come here powerless? How could I lose this chance to torture you?" Shadows pooled at his feet, writhing like living thing.

Jungkook shoved you behind him just as Yoongi lunged. Their collision sent tables flying—wood splintering against the tile as Yoongi's shadow tendrils lashed out. One wrapped around Jungkook's throat, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack plaster. You screamed his name, scrambling forward, but Yoongi flicked his wrist—another shadow snaring your ankle, yanking you off balance.

"Pathetic." Yoongi's shadows tightened around Jungkook's windpipe as he advanced on you. The grimoire levitated into his waiting hand, pages fluttering wildly. "Look at him—the mighty prince, choking on his own—"

You grabbed a shattered teacup and slashed at the shadow binding your leg. It recoiled with a hiss. Yoongi whirled, but you were already moving—diving for the grimoire midair. Your fingers grazed the spine just as his shadow blade materialized, aimed straight for Jungkook's heart.

Time slowed. You didn't think—just threw yourself between them. The shadow blade halted an inch from your throat, vibrating with contained energy. Yoongi's eyes widened. "You—"

"Stop!" Your voice cracked as you pressed both palms against his chest. Something primal surged through your veins—Ava's power, reacting to imminent threat. Violet light erupted from your fingertips, searing through Yoongi's shirt. He staggered back as the light solidified into thorned vines that lashed around his wrists, yanking him to his knees.

Jungkook gasped when the shadow tendril evaporated from his neck. He slumped against the wall, rubbing his throat with dazed eyes fixed on your glowing hands. "Y/N—" His voice cracked.

Yoongi's fingers twitched as violet energy crackled around his palms—the same thorned vines that had pinned him now dissolving into smoke. "Ava's power," he hissed, staring at your glowing hands with something between disgust and fascination. "How can this—" His head snapped up, eyes burning. "Why the hell would you save him?"

The café lights flickered violently as dizziness slammed into you. Your knees buckled—only for Jungkook's arms to lock around your waist, yanking you back against his chest. His breath came ragged against your temple. "Y/N—"

Yoongi laughed—a sharp, broken sound—as he raised one hand and murmured words too fast to catch. The air shimmered. Jungkook's grip spasmed. "Ah—!" He recoiled, hands flying to his face as his knees hit the floor.

"Master Jungkook!" You whirled toward Yoongi,"What did you do?"

Yoongi wiped his bleeding lip with deliberate slowness. "Nothing special." His grin widened as Jungkook groaned between you, fingers clawing at his own eyelids. "Just took his eyesight. Temporary." He kicked the grimoire toward you with his boot. "Think of it as a return gift for punching me."

The violet glow around your hands pulsed erratically. You dropped beside Jungkook, fingers hovering over his trembling ones. His pupils were blown wide—unseeing. "Can you—"

"Shut up." His voice came out raw. He swatted your hands away only to clutch at your sleeve a second later, as if terrified you'd vanish. "Don't...don't touch me right now."

Yoongi's shadow stretched unnaturally long across the shattered teacups as he turned to leave. "Next time," he tossed over his shoulder, "I'll take more than his sight."

-----

The curtains in Jungkook's bedroom were drawn so tightly that not even moonlight dared intrude. Hobi fingers hovered over Jungkook's face, glowing faintly gold as they traced the hollows beneath his sightless eyes. Jungkook sat stiff-backed on the edge of his bed.

Jimin leaned against the carved bedpost, arms crossed. "How long until he gets his sight back?" The question was calm, but his fingers dug into his own sleeves hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

Hoseok exhaled, the golden glow around his fingertips flickering as he withdrew from Jungkook's face. "If Yoongi says it's temporary..." His shoulders lifted slightly. "Three days. Maybe a week."Jungkook's jaw tightened, his unseeing eyes fixed on some middle distance as his fingers dug into the silk duvet.

Namjoon's sigh cut through the tension. "Y/N," he began, rubbing his temples, "what possessed you to meet Yoongi alone?" The words landed heavy in the dimly lit room, his disapproval palpable.

Jungkook's fingers curled tighter into the silk sheets, his blind gaze flickering toward the sound of your voice. You opened your mouth to respond, but Taehyung's voice sliced through before you could form words.

"She went for me," he said, stepping forward, his boots scuffing against the hardwood. His gaze remained locked on Namjoon, unblinking. "To heal my wound. Only one person understands Ava's book—it was Yoongi she needed." His fingers twitched at his sides, the ghost of a restraint. "Not an excuse. A fact."

Namjoon exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Taehyung, stop defending her. This wasn't some—

Jimin cut in smoothly, his voice a soft "Hyung, leave it." His fingers brushed Jungkook's shoulder—a fleeting touch, withdrawn when Jungkook flinched. "Y/N doesn't fully know Yoongi. It's not her fault either." His gaze flicked to you, lingering on your trembling hands before adding, quieter, "We've all made reckless choices for someone we—"

"Everyone out." Jungkook's command cracked through the room. His sightless eyes remained fixed on the far wall, fingers twisting the duvet into knots. "Now."

The dismissal hung heavy. You backed toward the door first, shoulders bumping into Taehyung's chest as he turned sharply. His fingers brushed your elbow, steering you into the hallway with silent urgency. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing away Jungkook's ragged breathing.

"Um—Master Taehyung," you whispered, catching his sleeve before he could stride away. The corridor's torchlight gilded the sharp angle of his jaw as he paused. "Thank you. For—"

Taehyung whirled so suddenly your shoulder blades hit the stone wall. His palm slammed beside your head, caging you in. "Don't." His breath ghosted over your lips. "Did you sprout a death wish overnight? Or just lose your last brain cell?" The torchlight carved shadows under his eyes—exhaustion and something darker. "I never asked for your help. Did I beg for your concern?"

Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them, hot and shameful as they streaked down your cheeks. "I—I'm sorry, Master Jungkook," you choked out, fingers twisting in the fabric of your skirt. The apology tasted bitter—too small for the enormity of what had happened, for the way Jungkook now sat sightless in his darkened room because of your recklessness.

Taehyung's scoff cut through the hallway's heavy silence. He leaned in, his forearm braced against the wall beside your head. "My wound will heal on its own," he said flatly, his breath stirring your hair. His thumb swiped roughly across your wet cheek, the gesture almost cruel in its abruptness. "And Jungkook lost his eyesight for his own stupidity." His fingers tightened on your chin, tilting your face up with deliberate force. "Never meet Yoongi alone again. The man has a sister complex that could fill an ocean—Ava wasn't just his blood. She was—" His jaw flexed. "More."

"What more?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Jimin's voice cut through the tension. "Because Ava and Yoongi weren't related by blood." The torchlight caught the weary slant of his smile. "For Yoongi, she was always... more than a sister."

Taehyung's fingers dug into your chin before abruptly releasing. "Now you understand," he said flatly, stepping back. "Never meet him alone again."

You nodded, swallowing hard.

Jimin reached out to ruffle your hair—a gesture that should have been comforting. "Taehyung-ah, don't scare her."

Jimin's fingers lingered in the air where your head had been, his smile faltering as you stepped back from his touch. "Taehyung," he sighed, "this little human went to meet Yoongi because of your wound. So you'll have to take responsibility—the Italy meetings require attendance, and Jungkook can't go now."

You twisted your skirt between your fingers, the fabric damp from nervous sweat. "But Master Jimin, it's my fault only—"

Taehyung rolled his eyes a sharp exhale through his nose as he turned on his heel. "Fine," he bit out, already striding down the torchlit corridor, his boots echoing against the stone. "I'm leaving now. And little mouse—" He paused just long enough to glare over his shoulder. "Don't you dare do any stupidity again."

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind Taehyung's retreating form, his footsteps fading down .You stared at the space where he'd stood, your fingers still twisted in your skirt fabric.

Jimin exhaled through his nose—a sound caught between amusement and exhaustion—before reaching out to flick your forehead. "Go take rest, little human." His fingers lingered, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that made your throat tighten.

You hunched your shoulders, staring at the uneven stone beneath your feet. "I always bring trouble," you muttered, fingers picking at the frayed edge of your sleeves.

Jimin's quiet chuckle made you flinch. "Hmm," he mused, tapping one finger against his lips as he studied your guilty expression. "You really are a troublemaker, aren't you?"

Your head snapped up—only to find his eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to flick your nose lightly. The unexpected gentleness made your breath catch. "I'm joking. It's not your fault, okay?" Jimin's fingers lingered near your cheekbone, cold against your skin. "Jungkook's eyesight will return in a few days—he'll be fine." His thumb brushed the corner of your eye where tears still clung stubbornly. "But if you disobey me next time..." The threat dissolved into a sigh as he stepped back, motioning toward the hallway. "Go take rest. I have work."

You hesitated, fingers twisting in your skirt,"Master Jimin—"

"Ah." He held up a hand, silencing you with a look. "No more apologies. Go."

You nodded, turning toward your room with your shoulders hunched, the weight of Jungkook's blindness pressing against your ribs like a stone.

----

The next day's sunset bled across the horizon, staining the royal gardens in hues of dying amber. You perched on the stone bench, fingers curling around the cool edges as you watched the light fade. Jungkook's chambers remained stubbornly dark—no movement behind the drawn curtains since yesterday.

"Halmoni," you whispered to the empty air, throat tightening, "why does everything I do for someone twist into poison?" The breeze carried your words away, unanswered.

Yoongi's sneer flashed behind your eyelids—*If I wanted you dead, you'd already be ashes.* But if not him, then who sent those assassins that night? Your fingers crept up to press against your sternum, where Ava's heart pulsed beneath fragile human ribs. How many enemies had she made in centuries of living? And why—why—would a vampire queen's heart end up stitched inside an orphan's chest?

The garden's twilight blurred as your nails dug into your collarbone. "Mother," you whispered to the gathering dark, "what am I?" The wind carried no answer.

The invitation fluttered in your trembling hands. You pressed the card to your chest and exhaled sharply. "I can't stay weak," you muttered to the empty bedroom, fingers curling into fists. "Mother... wherever you are, I'll find you."

Jimin's study door was slightly ajar when you arrived. He sat bathed in lamplight, script pages spread across his desk, lips moving silently as he rehearsed lines. You hesitated—knuckles hovering above the wood—before tapping lightly. "Hm, Master Jimin?"

He didn't glance up. "It's just Jimin, little human." His finger traced a highlighted passage in his script

You hovered in the doorway, picking at the frayed hem of your sleeve. "Can I...go to the college party tonight? Please?".

Jimin's pen stilled mid-annotation. "Why suddenly?" His gaze remained fixed on the script, but his voice carried a peculiar sharpness. "I thought you hate parties." The lamplight caught the tension in his jaw as he turned a page with deliberate slowness.

Your fingers twisted in the folds of your skirt. "I-I need something..." You swallowed, searching for a word that wouldn't sound like a lie. "Normal."

Jimin's pen hovered over the script for a suspended moment before he sighed. "My bodyguard will accompany you." His gaze remained fixed on the page as he circled something with practiced precision. "Don't wander off."

"Thank you." You backed toward the door, shoulders hitting the frame before you turned—only for Jimin's quiet voice to halt you.

"Come back before midnight." His fingers flipped a page with deliberate slowness. "Not a minute later."

You nodded even though he wasn't looking. "Okay." The door clicked shut behind you, sealing away the rustle of script pages.

The party's bass pulsed through your ribcage like a second heartbeat. You clutched your phone, the screen dark despite checking it every thirty seconds. Jin should've called by now. Neon lights strobed across Soomin's flushed face as she shoved a red plastic cup toward you. "Y/N! Why're you standing here like a ghost?" Her breath smelled faintly of cvodka. "Come drink!"

You pressed the cup away with your elbow. "I don't drink, Soomin."

Her fingers closed around your wrist, sticky with spilled cocktail. "Come onnn," she whined, dragging out the vowel, "One sip won't kill you." The cup pressed against your lips before you could protest, the sickly-sweet burn of cheap liquor coating your tongue.

You coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as Soomin giggled. The neon lights painted her drunken grin in garish pinks and blues. "There! Now you're officially—" Her words cut off as your phone vibrated violently against your thigh.

Jin's name flashed across the screen like a lifeline. You stumbled back from the crowd, pressing the phone to your ear just as the bass dropped. "Jin oppa?" The music swallowed your voice.

Static crackled, then his strained whisper: "West garden gate. Now." The line went dead.

The lamplight in Jimin's study pooled golden over the script pages. He rubbed his temples, the words blurring slightly as exhaustion tugged at his focus—until warm arms encircled his shoulders from behind.

"Missed you," Mia murmured against his nape, her breath tickling the fine hairs there.

Jimin exhaled through his nose—half amusement, half resignation—as her chin settled on his shoulder. "Hmm," was all he offered, flipping another page without looking up.

Mia snatched the script from his hands, twirling away with it held hostage behind her back. "Focus on me, Mr. King," she teased, eyes glinting with playful challenge.

Jimin swiveled his chair toward her, elbows resting on his knees. "Okay, okay," he conceded, tilting his head. "What does my queen need?" The words dripped with exaggerated formality, but his fingers twitched toward the stolen script.

Mia sighed dramatically, tossing it onto the chaise. "Too bad," she lamented, stepping into his space, "I'm not in the mood anymore." Her fingers toyed with his collar. "First tell me—how's Jungkook? Did he not come out of his room yet?"

Jimin exhaled through his nose—half amusement, half exasperation—as he leaned back slightly. "Nope," he murmured, fingers drumming against his knee. "Still sulking." His gaze flicked toward the darkened hallway where Jungkook's room lay silent.

Mia huffed, smoothing her skirt as she turned toward the door. "Let me try—"

Jimin's hand shot out, catching her wrist,"You came here," he said slowly, thumb brushing the delicate bones beneath her skin, "for Jungkook?".

Mia's lips curved. "Oh?" She stepped closer, her free hand settling on his shoulder. "Is my king jealous?" The tease dripped from her words, but Jimin's expression didn't waver—only his fingers twitched against the armrests when she leaned in, her breath warm against his lips. At the last second, he tilted his head away, her kiss brushing his cheekbone instead.

A sharp ring shattered the moment. Jimin's phone vibrated across the desk, Jin's name flashing like a warning. He exhaled through his nose, muttering, "Why now—"

Mia pulled back, frowning. "Pick up. It must be important."

Jimin snatched the phone, thumb jabbing the screen. "What do you need, Jin?" His voice was flat, but his grip whitened around the device.

Jin's reply crackled through, too loud in the sudden stillness: "Jimin, you need to find Y/N."

The script pages scattered as Jimin surged to his feet. "What?"

Static, then Jin's harried whisper: "She messaged earlier—wanted to meet me. I told her to wait, but Isla overheard. She's gone after Y/N—"

Jimin's phone hit the floor with a crack. He was already halfway to the door when Mia caught his sleeve. "Jimin—"

He wrenched free without looking back. The hallway blurred—torchlight streaking—as he sprinted toward the gate.

-----

The garden gate loomed ahead, the wrought iron cold under your fingertips as you leaned against it, breathing hard. The party's bass still thrummed in your skull, mixing with the pounding of your pulse.

"Jin-oppa?" you whispered into the dark, fingers tightening around your phone. No answer—just the distant thump of bass from the party and your own ragged breaths.

Footsteps crunched on gravel. You whirled toward the sound— A woman stepped into the lamplight, her black trench coat swallowing her slight frame. "Are you Y/N?" she asked, tilting her head.

Your fingers twitched toward your phone again. "Yes, but—who are you?"

"Isla." Her smile didn't reach her slate-gray eyes. "Blood Hunting Society." The lamplight caught the silver pendant around her neck.

Your pulse throbbed in your throat. "Where is Jin-oppa?"

Isla's coat rippled as she stepped closer. "You're the one with Ava's heart," she murmured, tilting her head as if inspecting livestock. "If I kill you now, the vampire royals lose their precious weapon." Her hand slid into her coat pocket.

You stumbled back, gravel skittering beneath your shoes. "Wait—"

Metal glinted under lamplight. The gun's muzzle stared at you like a single unblinking eye.

"Die, monster."

The crack of gunfire split the night.

Time stretched—the bullet's trajectory burned into your vision—until a pale hand materialized between you and death. Jimin's palm pressed flat against the gun's barrel an inch from your sternum. The shot reverberated through his flesh with a wet crunch, blood spraying across your collarbone.

"Jimin!" Your scream tore raw from your throat as he twisted Isla's wrist with a crack of snapping bone. The gun clattered onto gravel as he slammed her face-first into the ground, his knee between her shoulder blades pinning her with inhuman force.

"Listen well, you insignificant insect," Jimin hissed, his voice molten with fury. Blood dripped from his ruined hand onto Isla's cheek, sizzling where it touched her skin. "This little human belongs to me." His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back at an unnatural angle. "If you ever—"

"Master Jimin!" Your trembling fingers clutched his forearm. "Stop—you're killing her—"

His pupils bled black, fangs elongating as he snarled down at Isla's twitching form. "Exactly the point," Jimin hissed, fingers tightening in her hair—until gravel crunched behind you.

"Jimin." Jin's voice sliced through the night air like tempered steel. "Leave her."

Jimin didn't turn. Blood dripped from his shattered hand onto Isla's cheek, sizzling where it touched her skin. "You're interrupting."

A metallic click echoed. Jin's gun pressed cold against your temple. "Or I won't think twice," he said calmly, flicking off the safety with his thumb. "Kill Y/N." The moonlight caught the tremor in his trigger finger. "My men are already in this place, Jimin. Leave Isla."

Jimin's grip slackened. Isla gasped as he released her hair, her body collapsing onto the gravel. His bloody hand found yours instead, fingers intertwining with a possessiveness that made your pulse stutter.

"You disappoint me, Jin." Jimin's voice carried the quiet lethality . The gunshot wound in his palm knit itself together with unnatural speed, flesh weaving back together as he tightened his grip on your hand."Next time," he said, turning his back on Jin without another glance at Isla's crumpled form, "I won't spare her."

You stumbled as Jimin dragged you forward, his grip bruising around your wrist. Jin's voice chased after you,Y/N, I'm sorry—about Isla—just contact me again—" The words dissolved into static as Jimin wrenched you around the garden path, your vision swimming with each step.

Your head spun—too fast,the lamplights streaking into golden ribbons above. *One drink,* you thought dumbly, pressing a hand to your forehead. *Only one—why—* Your knees buckled. Jimin caught you effortlessly, hauling you upright with a snarl. "Wait—Master Jimin," you slurred, fingers clutching at his sleeve for balance. The fabric felt strangely distant beneath your fingertips.

Jimin whirled, gripping your chin hard enough to bruise. "What," he hissed, eyes black with fury, "the fuck did you need from Jin that couldn't wait?" The torchlight carved shadows under his cheekbones, making him look half-feral. "Tell me that college party wasn't just an excuse to—" His words cut off as you slumped forward, forehead thudding against his chest.

Your body burned. The world tilted at a nauseating angle as you mumbled into his shirt, "Hmm... cold..."

"You're really making this difficult," Jimin murmured against your temple, his breath cool where your skin burned.

The hotel room door clicked shut behind you with finality, the lock engaging with a soft snick. Jimin's fingers curled around your waist, pressing you flush against him as he backed you toward the plush bed. The world swam in dizzying circles—your limbs heavy, thoughts sluggish.

"Cold," you whimpered, arching into the glacial press of his palms sliding up your sides. The heat beneath your skin pulsed in time with your rabbit-fast heartbeat, feverish and aching.

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose—half amusement, half exasperation—before tilting your chin up with two fingers. "Such a troublemaker," he murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip. The pad of his thumb caught on the soft flesh, pulling it down slightly before releasing with a quiet pop.

You whimpered, pressing closer to the glacial chill of his body. Fever burned beneath your skin in erratic waves, making his touch the only relief. "Cold," you slurred again, fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt.

Jimin caught your wrists effortlessly, pinning them to your sides as he leaned down. His breath fanned across your lips—cold,before he bypassed your mouth entirely to press his lips to the frantic pulse in your throat. "Hmm," he hummed against your skin, the vibration making you shudder. "What did they give you, little human?"

His tongue flicked out—a quick, testing swipe—before he sank his fangs in without warning.

The mattress dipped beneath Jimin’s weight as he dragged you onto his lap, your feverish body arching instinctively into the glacial press of his skin. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose the frantic flutter of your pulse. "Look at you," he murmured against your throat, lips brushing the tender skin there. "Burning up for me." His teeth scraped lightly—not enough to break skin, just enough to make you gasp.

Your fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, clumsy with whatever poison coursed through your veins. Jimin caught your wrists, pinning them behind your back with one hand as the other traced the damp hollow of your collarbone. "So eager," he chided, thumb brushing your parted lips. "But patience makes the meal sweeter."

The room tilted when he pushed you backward onto the mattress. Jimin's weight settled over you—cold silk against your fevered skin—his knee pressing between your thighs with deliberate pressure. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he dragged his fangs down your throat, stopping just above your pulse. "Taste like poisoned honey," he murmured, tongue tracing the path his teeth had marked. Your gasp dissolved into a whimper when his hand slid beneath your skirt, fingertips skating up your inner thigh.

His chuckle vibrated against your collarbone. "So responsive," Jimin murmured, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear as your hips jerked against his thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunched around your waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare skin—each touch leaving trails of frostbite fire.

You whimpered, nails scraping down his back as he pulled away just enough to study your flushed face lips parted around ragged breaths. Jimin's thumb pressed against your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose the uneven bite of your teeth. "Pathetic," he whispered—but his own breath hitched when your tongue darted out to lick his thumb. The mattress groaned beneath shifting weight as he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding beneath your skirt to trace the lace edge of your underwear. "Still so warm here," he mused, fingertips skating along damp fabric until you arched against him with a broken noise.

The sound seemed to unravel something in him. Jimin's mouth crashed against yours, teeth catching your lower lip as his free hand yanked your blouse open buttons scattering across the sheets. Cool air kissed feverish skin where his palm slid up your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast in slow circles that made your hips jerk. "Jimin—" His name dissolved into a gasp when he ducked his head to drag his tongue across your nipple, the sudden heat of his mouth shocking against your overheated skin.

You writhed beneath him fingers twisting in the sheets as he sucked bruises along your collarbone each sharp pull of his mouth timed with the press of his thigh between your legs. "Look at you," he murmured against your skin, lips traveling lower teeth scraping over your ribs "dripping through this cheap lace." His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pausing just long enough to watch your stomach quiver before ripping the fabric away with a snarl.

The first brush of his tongue nearly made you scream. Jimin's grip on your wrists tightened as you thrashed, his other hand pinning your hips down while he licked slow deliberate stripes through slick heat. "Tastes like sin," he growled against your inner thigh biting down hard enough to leave crescent marks his tongue soothing the sting immediately. Your back arched off the mattress when he sucked your clit into his mouth the sharp pleasure-pain drawing a sob from your throat.

He pulled back just as your thighs began to shake, leaving you trembling on the edge. "Not yet," Jimin murmured, crawling up your body to kiss you deeply letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His erection pressed against your thigh through the fabric of his slacks, the heat of it startling against your fevered skin. You whimpered against his lips, hips canting up seeking friction he denied you with a sharp nip to your jawline.

The mattress dipped as Jimin rolled onto his back taking you with him until you straddled his lap. His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the crease of your hips as he guided you to rock against him, the rough fabric of his trousers delicious torture against your bare skin. "You're trembling," he murmured against your lips, the words vibrating through you as his fingers traced the lace clinging to your damp thighs. "Like a leaf in a storm."

You whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned back against the headboard, watching you with hooded eyes. His grip tightened when you tried to grind down again, holding you still. "Patience," he chided, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. "You're barely conscious."

"Stop—" you gasped between breaths, thighs trembling around his hips, "—teasing me."

Jimin exhaled sharply—half amusement, half exasperation—before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. The sudden movement sent your vision swimming, the fever making the ceiling tilt dangerously. Cool silk whispered against your skin as he stripped off his ruined shirt, the fabric landing somewhere in the dark with a soft rustle. Moonlight carved the planes of his chest in silver, catching on the old scars that marred his otherwise flawless skin.

His fingers worked at his belt with practiced ease, the clink of metal loud in the quiet room. Moonlight traced the sharp angle of his hips as he shoved his trousers down just enough—just enough for you to see the flushed length of him, already slick at the tip. You reached out instinctively, fingers trembling toward that heat, but Jimin caught your wrist and pinned it above your head with a low chuckle. "So eager," he murmured against your pulse point, his free hand skating down your ribs to press between your thighs again. "But you're barely awake." His fingers curled inside you—just enough to make your back arch—before withdrawing with a wet sound that sent heat crawling up your neck.

"Please," you gasped, hips lifting off the mattress, chasing the absent pressure.

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose—half amusement, half something darker—before shifting between your legs. The blunt head of him pressed against you, not entering, just teasing that slick heat with agonizing slowness. "Y/N," he murmured, lips brushing yours, "can I enter now?" The words were a whisper against your mouth, his breath cool where your skin burned.

Your fingers skimmed his hipbone, trailing lower—but the world tilted violently. The fever dragged you under before your fingertips could reach him, darkness swallowing Jimin's frustrated groan as your hand went slack against his thigh.

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose—half frustration, half reluctant amusement—as your limp hand slid from his thigh onto the rumpled sheets. "Looks like I teased you too much," he murmured to the empty air, fingers brushing a sweat-damp strand of hair from your forehead. His thumb traced the flutter of your eyelid before he pressed a lingering kiss to your feverish brow. "Sleep."

A/N: Thanks for reading! This chapter was a wild one with a lot of tension building up between the boys and Y/N.

​I'd love to know your thoughts: Which of the guys is your favorite to read about right now? Let me know in the comments—I love reading your feedback!

Taglist:

Chapter :13

A Few Hours Ago – Mia’s Apartment

Jimin stood by the window, the cold glass pressing against his forehead as he replayed the garden scene for the hundredth time—the way Y/N’s hands had trembled when she apologized, the raw devastation in her eyes when she realized his kindness had been a lie. His reflection stared back at him

Namjoon’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder, startling him. "You’ve been quiet for hours," he murmured, studying Jimin's reflection in the window. "Something’s wrong."

Jimin exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening around the half-empty whiskey glass. "Nothing, hyung. Just—thinking."

Namjoon's grip tightened, his reflection frowning in the glass beside Jimin's hollow-eyed stare. "Your face is saying very different things, Park." He plucked the glass from Jimin hand with deliberate slowness. "It's Y/N, isn't it?"

The sound of Hobi laughter cut through the room before Jimin could deny it. "Of course it is," Hobi sang, flopping onto the couch . "Why else would our little prince let Mia go shopping with Jungkook today?" He picked at the label of his beer bottle, smirking when Jimin's shoulders tensed. "Face it, Jimin-ah. You're avoiding Mia because you can't look her in the eye after—"

Jimin's fist slammed into the wall before he could stop himself, plaster dust raining onto his knuckles. "Stop it," he hissed. "I don't like that human girl."

"Funny," Hoseok murmured, examining his nails. "When did I say you liked her? I just said you're avoiding Mia." He smirked at Jimin's reflection in the window, watching the way his jaw tightened. "But since you brought it up—"

Jimin's glass shattered against the wall before he realized he'd thrown it. "Enough," he snarled, amber eyes flashing in the dim light.

Namjoon sighed, swirling his whiskey with deliberate slowness. "Well," he mused, eyes locked on the amber liquid like it held answers, "I read in a human book once that first love isn’t always our last love—just the one that teaches us what love is." The ice clinked softly as he tilted the glass toward Jimin. "Maybe that’s why it hurts so much when it’s—"

Jimin let out a harsh, jagged laugh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Hyung, you’re reading those human books too much. It’s rotting your brain."

Hoseok opened his mouth—likely to make it worse—when Jimin's phone vibrated violently across the coffee table. The screen lit up with Mia's caller ID. Jimin snatched it up, pressing it to his ear." Yes mia?"His face went from flushed with anger to a terrifying, deathly pale in a matter of seconds.

****

The screech of tires echoed through the underground parking garage as Jimin, Namjoon, and Hobi vaulted out of the car before it had even fully stopped.

They rounded the corner of the elevator lobby and froze.The polished tile floor was streaked with red, and several bodies—some twitching, some still—were scattered near the shattered remains of a luxury boutique's display window. Glass crunched underfoot as Jimin took a hesitant step forward. Near the escalator, slumped against the marble banister, Jungkook lay motionless, his face ghostly pale against the dark pool spreading beneath him. His jacket was torn, revealing deep claw marks across his chest—still sluggishly oozing blackened blood.

Mia was kneeling beside him, her hands pressed to his wounds. She didn't look up when their footsteps echoed—just kept whispering frantic pleas under her breath, her trembling fingers smearing Jungkook's blood across his chest in erratic patterns. Her white blouse was soaked crimson from the waist up, the fabric clinging to her skin like a second, macabre layer. The scent of iron hung thick in the air.

Hobi reached them first, his sneakers skidding on blood-slick marble. He dropped to his knees with a choked noise, fingers flying to Jungkook's pulse point. "He's breathing—barely." His gaze flicked to Mia's bloodstained hands, the way her fingers still trembled as they hovered over Jungkook's wounds. "What the hell happened here?"

Jimin stood over them, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the blood-stained floor.

"Who did this?" Jimin’s voice was a low, dangerous vibration. "Mia, look at me. Who did this to him?"

"Jimin," Mia gasped, her fingers trembling against Jungkook's torn shirt, the fabric sticky with half-dried blood. She looked up, tears streaking through the smudges of crimson on her cheeks. "They came—so many of them—please, you have to save him—" Her voice cracked as she pressed her forehead against Jungkook's shoulder, her small frame shaking with silent sobs.

Jimin's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white.He took a step forward, but Namjoon caught his wrist with surprising strength. ​"Jimin," Namjoon said, his voice a steady anchor. He was already on his knees, his hands moving with clinical precision as he checked the depth of the claw marks. "The rage has to wait. We need to treat Jungkook first. If that blackened blood reaches his heart, he’s gone. Hobi, get the car. Now."

Present time-----

The scent of crushed lavender and old parchment flooded your senses before you even opened your eyes. Blinking against the sudden brightness, you found yourself standing in a sun-drenched courtyard where climbing roses twisted around marble columns. The stones beneath your bare feet were warm, impossibly real—until you noticed the edges of your vision shimmered.

A child's laughter echoed . There, a girl no older than seven twirled in a butter-yellow dress, her dark curls bouncing with each spin. When she stopped, her eyes—your eyes—locked onto yours with eerie recognition.

"Princess Ava!" a maid called out, breathless as she hurried after the child. "Princess, please You need to study. The scholars are waiting, and the Queen will be furious if—"

The girl—Ava—spun on her heel, her yellow skirts flaring. "But the roses are blooming today," she protested, pointing to the crimson blossoms climbing the courtyard walls. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. "Can't I study tomorrow?"

The maid wrung her hands, glancing nervously toward the towering library doors. "Princess, you know what happened last time you skipped lessons. The Queen had that tutor's head displayed on the gates for three days."

Ava's small shoulders slumped. With one last longing look at the roses, she trudged toward the library, her bare feet scuffing against the sun-warmed marble. You follow without thinking—ghostly, unseen—as massive oak doors groan open to reveal towering shelves of ancient texts. Dust motes swirl in shafts of golden light where ava perches on a too-large chair, her tiny legs swinging as she struggles with a heavy tome.

"You're reading it wrong," a boy's voice cut through the quiet.

You turn toward the voice—and freeze.

There, leaning against a bookshelf with casual arrogance, stands a boy with tousled black hair and a smirk too sharp for his youthful face—His eyes are softer than you've ever seen them.*Jungkook.* But not the Jungkook you know. This one is younger, his fangs barely peeking over his bottom lip as he grins at Ava.

Jungkook pushes off the shelf and strides toward Ava, plucking the heavy book from her hands with effortless grace. "It's pronounced 'phylactery,' not 'phylac-tree,'" he corrects, his nose wrinkling in amusement. "Don't tell me the future Queen of this realm can't even read healing incantations correctly."

Ava's cheeks flush pink as she snatches the tome back, nearly toppling off her chair. "I can read!" she huffs, tiny fingers gripping the pages too tight. But when she stumbles over the next line—"Phy-lac-ter-ic bindings"—her voice cracks, and Jungkook's smirk widens.

"See?" He flicks her forehead, playful. "Even your tongue rebels against you."

Ava's lower lip trembles. For a breath, you think she'll cry—but then her small face hardens. "One day," she vows, slamming the book shut, "you'll beg for my help." She bolts past him.

Ava's small feet slapped against the marble floors as she fled, her yellow dress a blur of sunlight—but just before she vanished around the towering bookshelf, her head whipped back. Her eyes—locked onto yours, her lips parting in a silent plea: *Save him.*

You gasped awake, drenched in sweat, fingers clawing at silk sheets tangled around your legs.

"Wh-what was—" Your voice cracked as you sat up, pressing shaky hands to your temples. *Dream? Memories?* Ava’s plea echoed in your skull: *Save him.* The sheets stuck to your sweat-slicked skin, the phantom scent of lavender still clinging to your senses.

Taehyung’s fingers brushed your shoulder—cold, familiar—and you flinched hard enough to make the bedframe creak. His chuckle was low, rough with sleep. "Didn’t know you had sleep-talking habits." The mattress dipped as he shifted closer, his bare chest pressing against your back. "Something about roses… and begging?" His breath ghosted over your ear, lips curling against your pulse point. "Care to explain, little bride?"

Your fingers trembled against the silk sheets as fragments of the night before flashed behind your eyelids—Taehyung’s teeth scraping your collarbone, the way his hands had pinned your wrists while his hips drove into you with relentless precision. The memory of his growl—*Louder*—sent heat crawling up your throat. You couldn’t look at him. Not when the proof of what you’d done was written in the bruises on your thighs, the sting between your legs.

"Master Taehyung," you whispered, voice frayed at the edges, "please wear clothes."

The mattress shifted as he leaned closer, his breath skating over your bare shoulder. "Why?" His thumb traced the bite mark on your neck—the one still throbbing with phantom heat. "You didn't seem to mind last night when you were begging me to take them off."

​"That was different," you said, your voice trembling but firm. "I did it because it was the only way for both of us to survive. You were hurt, Taehyung. You couldn't use your power to protect us. So what happened last night... it was a necessity. It means nothing."

Taehyung's fingers paused mid-motion against your skin, his breath stilling for a fraction of a second before he exhaled sharply through his nose. "You get this idea—that becoming my bride will change your blood's scent—from where?" His tone was deceptively light, but you could feel the undercurrent of something darker beneath it.

You swallowed. "Hobi once told me."

A muscle in Taehyung's jaw twitched. "Stop spending time with Hobi hyung," he bit out, pushing himself off the bed with deliberate slowness. "He's a bad influence on you." He snatched his discarded shirt from the floor and shrugged it on with sharp, irritated movements. "And put this in your mind," he added, turning back to you with narrowed eyes, "if anyone asks you—Jimin, Namjoon, anyone—you reply only one thing: that I forced you last night. Understand?"

​"But—"

​"I don't like to repeat my words," he cut you off, his gaze pinning you to the mattress. He paused, his head tilting slightly as he studied the lingering terror in your expression. "And that dream... what were you watching that made you wake up screaming?"

Your fingers tightened in the sheets, still damp with sweat. "I don't know if it was a dream or... memories," you admitted slowly. " I saw a girl named Ava, I think—and she..." Your throat clicked as you swallowed. "She looked at me and whispered *save him.*"

Taehyung’s expression it went completely blank at Ava’s name—then twisted into something feral. A silk dress hit your face before you could react. "Hurry up," he growled, already turning away to snatch his jacket from the floor. "We need to leave. Now."

You barely had time to pull the dress over your head before Taehyung was dragging you toward the door, his grip bruising your wrist.

Taehyung pressed his palm against the doorframe, his fingers flexing as if gripping invisible threads. Blood welled at his lashline, dripping down his cheekbones in crimson trails as whispered words spilled from his lips. The air shimmered, then tore with a sound like ripping parchment.

"Master—!" You reached for him instinctively as he staggered, catching yourself on the dresser when his knees buckled. The blood from his eyes splattered onto your clasped hands.

"Hurry up." He wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing red across his sharp cheekbones.

Taehyung dragged you forward, his grip iron-tight around your wrist. You stumbled, bare feet skidding against the hotel carpet, still damp from last night's rain. "Master, wait—what was that?" you gasped, staring at the crimson streaks drying on his cheekbones.

Taehyung didn't slow. "A barrier spell," he muttered, shoving the door open with his shoulder. "Kept your scent contained while we—" His jaw clenched, cutting off the words as he dragged you into the hallway. His fingers left crimson smears on your wrist where his grip tightened.

You stumbled after him. "But if you could do that all along, why did we—" Your throat closed around the question, last night's memories flashing behind your eyelids—his teeth sinking into your neck, the way he'd pinned your wrists while his hips drove into you without mercy.

Taehyung's footsteps faltered for half a breath before he rounded on you, his eyes flashing crimson in the dim hotel lighting. "Because spells have limits," he hissed, crowding you against the wallpaper. His thumb brushed the fresh mating mark on your neck, making you flinch. "I'm not like Jimin or Jungkook—purebloods with endless reserves. Half my veins still pump human weakness." His lips twist bitterly. "That barrier spell drained me dry within hours. What we did—" His fingers dig into your hip where his sigil pulses beneath fabric, "—was the only way to stabilize my magic long enough to get us out alive."

You recoiled as crimson dripped from his lashline again, splattering between your feet."But you're bleeding—"

"A side effect," Taehyung muttered, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes. "Hybrid biology." He seized your wrist again, dragging you toward the emergency stairwell. "Now move—Jungkook must be in danger."

"Huh?" You stumbled as Taehyung hauled you toward the stairwell, your legs still trembling from the night's brutality. "But how can you be sure Jungkook's in danger?"

Taehyung didn’t slow, his grip tightening as he glanced back at you, eyes dark with urgency. "Ava appearing in your dreams isn’t some common hallucination," he bit out. "That’s a blood memory—her essence reaching out through you. And if she’s begging for help, it’s not for herself." His jaw flexed. "It’s for him."

You winced as a sharp twinge shot up your thighs with every step, the lingering ache between your legs making your knees buckle. Taehyung didn't hesitate—his arm hooked beneath your knees, lifting you against his chest with a grunt. "Hold tight," he ordered, barely giving you time to loop your arms around his neck before he kicked open the stairwell door. You buried your face against his collar, the world blurring into streaks of fluorescent light as he descended three flights at a vampiric pace.

****

The heavy oak doors of the mansion’s private medical wing shut out the morning light. Inside the room, the monitors beeped in a slow, agonizing rhythm.

​Jungkook lay unmoving on the bed, his chest heavily bandaged where blackened veins pulsed beneath the gauze. Jimin's fingers twitched toward him—then curled into fists at his sides as he turned to Mia with forced calm. "You should go home," he murmured, brushing her tangled hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheekbone, smearing a fleck of dried blood she'd missed. "You've been awake all night. Hobi and Namjoon hyung are here for Jungkook now."

Mia shook her head violently, her fingers digging into Jungkook's bedsheet. "I can't," she whispered, staring at Jungkook's still face—too pale, too quiet. "This happened because of me." Her voice cracked. "If I hadn't been so stubborn about going to that stupid mall—if I'd just listened when you said it wasn't safe—" A sob wrenched from her throat. "You shouldn't have sent Jungkook with me."

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening around hers. "Stop," he ordered, voice low. "This wasn't your fault. Whoever did this—" His gaze flicked to Jungkook's wounds, the unnatural blackness creeping toward his collarbone. "They were waiting for him. Not you." He squeezed her hand harder when she opened her mouth to argue. "Mia. Go home."

Hobi leaned against the IV pole, arms crossed. "Jimin right, Mia-yah," he said gently. "Go home. Sleep. Jungkookie tough—he'll wake up cursing us for fussing." His attempt at lightness faltered when Jungkook's monitor stuttered, the blackened veins pulsing visibly beneath the bandages.

The doors burst open before Mia could reply. Taehyung strode in, dragging you behind him—your bare feet skidding on polished marble. Three heads snapped toward you instantly, nostrils flaring at the changed scent clinging to your skin.

Jimin moved first. He crossed the room in two strides, fingers digging into your waist as he yanked you against his chest—his nostrils flaring wide as he inhaled the changed scent clinging to your skin. "What the hell is this?" he hissed,amber eyes burning with something dangerously close to betrayal as his grip tightened. "Your blood smells like—"

Taehyung shoved him back with a snarl. "Ask later." He jerked his chin toward Jungkook's prone form. "I was right. How did this happen?"

Jimin's grip loosened reluctantly, his gaze flickering between you and Taehyung's possessive stance—until the double doors slammed open with enough force to crack marble. The Second Queen strode in, her crimson gown swirling like against the sterile white tiles. She didn't spare a glance for the others; her obsidian eyes locked onto Jungkook's prone form the moment she crossed the threshold.

Namjoon's hand clamped onto Jimin's shoulder before he could react. "Calm down," he murmured, fingers digging in warning as the Second Queen reached Jungkook's bedside. Her gloved hand hovered over his bandaged chest, trembling—before curling into a claw. "Who did this to my son?" Her voice was silk-wrapped steel.

Hobi stepped forward, bowing deeply despite the tension coiling his frame. "Your Highness, we're still trying to find—"

The Queen’s gaze slowly drifted away from Jungkook before hobi could finish, her sharp, calculating eyes sweeping across the room until they locked onto you. You swallowed hard under the weight of her stare—her pupils dilated slightly, nostrils flaring as she caught the scent of Taehyung's claim still clinging to your skin.

"Where were you," she enunciated slowly, voice dripping with venom, "when my son was bleeding out?"

Your mouth opened—then closed. A dry click sounded in your throat. "I-I—"

"Disgusting," she hissed, cutting you off. Her gloved fingers twitched at her sides as if resisting the urge to strike. "Too busy spreading your legs for his brother while he suffered?" Her gown whispered against the marble as she stepped closer.

Taehyung moved before you could blink—his body slamming between you and the Queen with a feral snarl. "I forced her," he growled, his fingers flexing at his sides. "She had no choice."

The Second Queen's gaze flicked to Taehyung's bleeding eyes, then to Jimin—lingering. "I hope," she murmured, "you make the right decision, jimin."

Jimin's jaw flexed. A silent signal—and the royal guards materialized from the shadows, their armored hands clamping around Taehyung's arms. You lunged forward—"Wait, it's not Master Taehyung's—!"—but Namjoon's arm banded across your waist, hauling you back against his chest as Hobi blocked your path, shaking his head minutely.

The Second Queen watched, impassive, as the guards dragged Taehyung toward the doors. His boots scraped against marble. He didn't struggle—just locked his gaze onto yours, the unspoken warning in his stare .*Play along.*

The door slammed shut behind the guards. You stood frozen, your fingers twitching at your sides—still cold from where Taehyung’s grip had your wrist. The Queen’s gaze burned into your back, but it was Jimin’s silence that cut deepest. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. Just watched with amber eyes gone glacial.

Namjoon’s arm tightened around your waist, steering you backward before you could protest. "Not here," he murmured against your temple.Namjoon and Hobi didn't let you speak another word. They escorted you swiftly through the corridors.

---

The door clicked shut, locking you into the quiet isolation of your room. You slumped against the wood, fingers trembling as you pressed them to your temples. *Why would Master Taehyung take the blame?* The question gnawed at your ribs. He could've thrown you under the carriage—should've, given how often he'd called you a nuisance. Yet he'd snarled *I forced her* like it was carved into his bones. The memory of his bleeding eyes flashed behind your eyelids—hybrid weakness laid bare to protect you.

A sharp rap at the door startled you upright. Before you could answer, Mia shouldered her way in. She didn't speak—just crossed the room in three strides and slapped you hard enough to snap your head sideways.

"You," she hissed, fingers digging into your shoulders, "if something happens to Jungkook, I swear—" Her voice broke. Her tears streaking through the blood on her cheeks. "I won't leave you or your brother alive."

You recoiled. *Brother?* The word hooked under your ribs. Before you could ask, the door burst open again—Namjoon catching Mia's raised wrist mid-swing. "Enough," he snapped, yanking her back. "Go sleep. You're not yourself."

The sting of Mia’s slap still burned your cheek long after the door slammed shut behind her. You pressed trembling fingers to the heat blooming across your skin, her words echoing in the hollow silence of your room. *Brother.*

Namjoon exhaled sharply, his fingers pressing against his temples as if warding off a headache. "Don't take Mia's words seriously," he murmured, though his eyes remained fixed on the door she'd just stormed through. "She’s... not herself right now. That girl cares for Jungkook more than she lets on." His voice softened, almost to himself. "Probably more than she should."

You swallowed,"How—how did that happen to Master Jungkook?" Your fingers twisted in the fabric of your dress. "And... is he—"

"We're trying our best to recover him," Namjoon interrupted gently, though his gaze remained distant, unfocused. "The wounds are... complicated. Not just physical. There's poison in his blood—ancient magic we haven't seen in centuries." His fingers flexed at his sides.

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them—half plea, half confession. "I saw Ava in my dream. She told me to save him." Your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

Namjoon’s fingers froze mid-air where they’d been adjusting his glasses. "What exactly did Ava show you?" His voice was too controlled, the way a river holds back a dam.

You pressed your palms to your temples, the dream’s edges already fraying. "She didn’t speak to me. It was like... watching her memories. A courtyard. Roses. Jungkook—but younger. He teased her about mispronouncing some ancient word." Your breath hitched. "Then she looked straight at me and mouthed *save him.*"

Namjoon’s glasses glinted as he tilted his head. "Ava showing you her past isn’t random," he murmured, more to himself than you.

"Where is Master Taehyung being held?" You clutched Namjoon's sleeve, the fabric crumpling in your desperate grip. "Can I see him?"

Namjoon's fingers hesitated mid-air where they'd been adjusting his glasses—a telltale pause. "The dungeons beneath the east wing," he admitted finally, though his gaze slid away from yours. "But you can't see him without Jimin's permission." His lips pressed into a thin line. "My advice? Don't push for it. Jimin will handle this."

The door clicked shut behind him before you could protest, leaving you alone with the weight of his warning.

You knocked on Jimin's door with trembling fingers—once, twice—your breath hitching when silence answered. The brass handle turned with a quiet click under your palm. "Master Jimin?" you whispered into the dimly lit chamber, stepping inside before realizing the ensuite bathroom door stood ajar, steam curling through the gap.

Just as you turned to leave, water droplets pattered against marble. Jimin emerged with a towel slung low on his hips, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. "Mia, you should—" His voice cut off abruptly when he saw you, amber eyes widening before darkening with something unreadable.

You spun around so fast your shoes squeaked against the hardwood. "I'm sorry—I'll come later—" The door slammed shut with a gust of wind before you could touch it, the lock clicking ominously.

Jimin's palm pressed against the wood beside your head before you could twist the handle, his damp forearm brushing your shoulder—close enough that water droplets slid from his skin onto your dress. "Look at me," he ordered, voice rough like gravel under silk.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into fists at your sides.When you didn’t turn, his fingers gripped your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

"What happened between you and Taehyung?" His thumb dragged over your lower lip, smearing the words before they could form. "And why did you let—"

You twisted away before he could finish. "Master Taehyung didn't force me," you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in their haste to escape. "I—I asked him to. Yesterday, when I was going to Halmoni house..." Your voice cracked as the memory surfaced—the little boy's tear-streaked face, his small fingers clutching yours in the subway station. "There was a child crying. I helped him find the metro entrance, but then—" Your breath hitched. "He vanished. Like smoke. And three vampires materialized from the shadows."

"But Master Taehyung saved me—he got injured protecting me!" Your voice cracked as you pressed your back harder against the door. "He couldn’t use his power anymore. We had no choice left for survival—please, Master Jimin, Taehyung never forced me. He didn’t do anything wrong."

Jimin’s fingers twitched where they hovered near your face. Slowly, deliberately, he traced the fading imprint of Mia’s slap across your cheekbone—his touch unexpectedly gentle despite the storm in his eyes. Then he stepped back, turning away to snatch his discarded shirt from the bedpost. "Which station?" The question was clipped, his shoulders rigid as he shrugged into the fabric.

"The one near Halmoni’s old house," you whispered, staring at the whorls of the wooden floorboards rather than the expanse of his bare torso as he dressed.

Jimin's fingers closed around your wrist, his grip unyielding as he towed you toward the door without a word. You dug your heels into the carpet, twisting your arm in a futile attempt to break free. "Master Jimin, wait—" The door slammed behind you both, cutting off your protest as he dragged you down the corridor with vampiric speed, your bare feet skidding against cold marble.

The metro station materialized around you in a blur of motion—one moment the palace halls, the next the stark white tiles of the underground platform. You staggered, disoriented, as Jimin released you abruptly. Your breath caught. The platform gleamed spotless under fluorescent lights, not a drop of blood or a single corpse in sight. "But... there were bodies," you whispered, turning in a slow circle. Your fingers brushed the pillar where Taehyung had pinned the last attacker—now pristine, the marble unmarred by claw marks or dark stains. "So many. Master Taehyung killed them all right here—how—?"

Jimin said, "Let's go," already turning toward the exit, but you grabbed his sleeve—the fabric. "Wait—Master Jimin, please believe me, there was—"

Jimin whirled, his fingers digging into your wrist hard enough to bruise. "Why did you go to your halmoni’s house without my permission?" His voice was low.

You swallowed. "I—"

Jimin didn’t let you finish. His grip tightened, yanking you closer until his breath fanned hot against your lips. "When I say it’s not safe to roam alone, why don’t you listen?" His voice cracked in the empty station. "Is my brother’s life a joke to you?"

You flinched. "I—I really didn’t know this would happen—"

"Stay away from Taehyung." He released you abruptly, turning toward the exit as if the conversation—your existence—was nothing more than an inconvenient detour.

The marble floor of your bedroom was cold beneath your bare feet when you materialized back in the mansion, Jimin's dismissal still ringing in your ears. You curled your fingers into the silk sheets of your bed, the fabric whispering against your skin as you replayed his words—*Stay away from Taehyung*—like a broken record. But why? Why did it matter to him so violently? The question gnawed at your ribs until the sharp rap of knuckles against wood startled you upright.

"Can I come in?" Hobi's voice was muffled through the heavy oak, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Namjoon told me what happened."

You barely managed a choked "Yes" before the door swung inward. Hobi leaned against the frame. His gaze flicked to your trembling fingers. "Hey," he murmured, stepping inside and nudging the door shut with his hip. "Don't look so stressed. It's going to be okay soon."

You wanted to laugh. The words tasted bitter on your tongue—hollow reassurance when Jungkook lay poisoned, Taehyung imprisoned, and Jimin's fury still burned fresh in your memory. "How?" The word cracked. "Master Jungkook is—"

"Alive." Hobi cut you off, firm. He sank onto the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Stubborn bastard won't die that easily." His attempt at lightness fell flat when your breath hitched. His fingers twitched toward yours before retreating. "Look... Jimin's acting weird because—" He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "Shit. I shouldn't be the one telling you this."

"Professor Hobi," you whispered, fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt, "if I had just gone to Mia’s house for dinner yesterday like she asked—maybe Master Taehyung wouldn’t be..." The words dissolved into the suffocating silence of your room.

Hobi exhaled through his nose, ruffling your hair with a rough, affectionate swipe of his palm. "Yah, Y/N-ah, you can't rewrite the past," he chided, though his voice lacked its usual teasing lilt. "Anyway—this isn’t your fault."

You ducked away from his touch. " Master Jimin told me to stay away from Master Taehyung." The command still burned like a brand behind your ribs.

Hobi rolled his eyes so dramatically. "Please," he muttered under his breath, "as if anyone with working eyes couldn’t see how jealous that man is." Before you could process the word *jealous* in relation to Jimin, Hobi leaned in with a conspiratorial grin that didn’t reach his tense shoulders. "Wanna see Taehyung?"

Your pulse stuttered. "But Master Jimin said—"

"Ah, screw permissions." Hobi flicked your forehead lightly. "Since when do we follow rules?" He stood abruptly, extending a hand. "Come on. Before the royal guards switch shifts."

The dungeon air clung thick with dampness and rust as Hobi ushered you through the winding corridors, his footsteps silent against the moss-slick stone. Torchlight flickered against iron-barred cells, casting jagged shadows that seemed to twitch with unseen movement. You nearly stumbled when Hobi halted abruptly, pressing a finger to his lips before nodding toward the final cell—its door reinforced with silver-lined bars.

Your breath caught. Taehyung hung suspended between two stone walls, his wrists bound by glowing chains that pulsed crimson with every ragged breath he took. His head jerked up at your gasp, eyes flashing gold in the torchlight before narrowing into slits. "Idiot girl," he rasped, voice scraped raw. "Who let you in here?" The chains clinked as he shifted—not in discomfort, but warning.

You surged forward before Hobi could stop you, fingers closing around the nearest chain. Agony seared up your arm—the metal branding your palm with a hiss of burning flesh. A scream tore from your lips as you stumbled back, cradling your smoking hand against your chest.

Taehyung snarled, the chains rattling violently as he lunged against them. "Foolish girl," he hissed, amber eyes blazing. "Those aren't ordinary restraints." His jaw flexed, fangs flashing in the torchlight. "They're spelled to burn anything that touches them—except me."

Hobi scoffed, flicking Taehyung's forehead through the bars. "Yah, brat," he chided, voice dripping with false exasperation. "Don't be rude to your bride—she was desperate to meet you." His fingers twitched toward your burned palm before withdrawing with a tight smile. "Nearly broke three security protocols sneaking down here."

Taehyung's chains rattled as he jerked against them, the glowing restraints searing deeper into his flesh. "Hyung," he gritted out, eyes flashing molten gold, "take her out of here. Now." His gaze flicked to your injured hand—just a fraction of a second—before hardening again. "And Jungkook? Any improvement?"

Hobi sighed, rubbing his temple. "Poison's working slower now, but—" His phone buzzed, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Ah, shit. Namjoon's calling." He shot you an apologetic glance before stepping away, murmuring into the device while Taehyung's chains clinked softly in the damp silence.

You pressed your burned palm against the cold dungeon wall. "Why did you take the blame?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "You never forced me. When You know making me your bride would land you here—so why didn't you just leave me yesterday?"

Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose, the glowing chains pulsing crimson as he shifted his weight. "Stop overthinking." His voice was rough with exhaustion. "Get out. I need sleep—thanks to you keeping me awake all night." His smirk grin flashed before he closed his eyes pointedly, head tipping back against the damp stone wall.

You gaped at him. "That's not—"

Hobi hooked an arm around your waist, dragging you backward with an exaggerated sigh. "Yah, this brat's fine here," he announced, ignoring Taehyung's chains rattling in protest. "Silver-lined bars, spelled shackles, royal guards every three meters—what more could a prisoner want?" He winked at Taehyung's growl before steering you down the corridor.

Hobi paused mid-step in the dimly lit hallway, his fingers tightening around your elbow as he turned you toward him. "Y/N," he murmured, voice low enough that the torches flickered in hesitation, "think carefully. That dream with Ava—was there anything else? Something strange you might've overlooked?

Your breath hitched as the memory crystallized—Ava's small fingers tracing gilded pages in the palace library, Jungkook's teasing voice correcting her pronunciation. "She was... learning something," you whispered, the words forming before conscious thought. "Healing. It must be—that's what can cure Master Jungkook!"

You whirled toward the library doors before Hobi could react, bare feet slapping against marble as torchlight streaked past in amber blurs. You crashed into the archives, fingers already skimming shelf after shelf. Leather bindings whispered under your frantic touch.

"Y/N?" Namjoon's shadow filled the doorway, his glasses glinting in the candlelight. "What are you—"

"Ava's book!" You yanked a volume on blood magic free so violently pages fluttered to the floor. "The one she was reading in my dream—it has to be here!" Your nails scraped against another spine as Hobi appeared beside Namjoon.

The book slipped from your fingers, its spine cracking against the marble floor with a sound. "Not here?" Your voice cracked, fingers twitching at your sides. The dream pulsed behind your eyelids—Ava's delicate fingers tracing gold-leafed pages, the way Jungkook had snatched it from her hands with that familiar smirk. "But—I saw it. Right here. She was reading it—"

Namjoon caught your wrist before you could grab another volume, his grip firm but not unkind. "That books belongs to the royal vault," he murmured. "Ava's personal collection was moved after... well." His glasses glinted as he exchanged a glance with Hobi. "You won't find it shelved publicly."

Hobi's fingers twitched toward his phone, hesitating. "Then it must be..." His voice trailed off as Namjoon shook his head sharply—a silent warning.

"Go rest," Namjoon urged, steering you toward the door with gentle pressure. "We'll handle the rest." His smile didn't reach his eyes.

You stumbled into the hallway, the library doors clicking shut behind you with finality. The corridor stretched endlessly before you. Hobi caught your wrist before you could turn the corner, his grip insistent. His eyes darted toward the shadows—checking for eavesdroppers—before he leaned in,"Y/N," he murmured, "if you really want to help Jungkook and Taehyung... I know another way." His fingers pressed something cold into your palm—a key,. "Midnight. The west tower. Don’t tell Namjoon."

You slipped it into your pocket, heart hammering. You nodded once. Hobi's lips twitched into something not quite a smile before he vanished down the adjacent hallway, footsteps echoing unnaturally loud in the silence.

Your bedroom door creaked when you pushed it openrevealing Jimin perched on the edge of your bed, one leg crossed over the other. Moonlight carved shadows across his clenched jaw. "Didn't I warn you," he said, voice dangerously soft, "to stay away from Taehyung?"

You froze mid-step,"I—"

The rest of the sentence dissolved into a gasp as your body lurched forward uncontrollably—not by your own volition, but as if an invisible cord had yanked you straight into Jimin's lap.

"Master Jimin, I—" You scrambled to push yourself up from his lap, but his arms locked around, pulling you flush against his chest.His grip trembled slightly where his fingers splayed across your back.

Moonlight caught the wet streak glistening down his cheek before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Just... a few minutes," Jimin whispered, his breath hitching against your collarbone.

You remembered his confession from weeks ago—*My brother's is my strength*—. Now Jungkook lay poisoned, Taehyung imprisoned, and Jimin's arms shook around you. "Are you feeling guilty?" you whispered. The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Because you feel like you failed to protect them?"

Jimin's grip tightened—not painful, but desperate. "Someone I believed in most," his voice fractured against your shoulder, "betrayed me." His breath hitched wetly against your skin.

You pushed back just enough to see his face—moonlight catching the tear tracks glistening down his cheeks. "Who?" Your fingers hovered near his jaw, unsure. "Master Jimin, who betrayed you?"

Jimin's fingers brushed the fresh mating mark Taehyung had left on your hip, visible through the thin fabric of your nightgown. His throat worked around unspoken words before he suddenly cupped your face, his thumbs sweeping your cheekbones. Then he kissed you—hard enough that your lips parted in shock, his fangs catching on your bottom lip before sealing over your mouth completely. The taste of salt and sorrow flooded your tongue as his tears mingled with the kiss.

You twisted away instinctively, pressing a hand against his chest, but Jimin followed relentlessly—his lips trailing down your jaw to where Taehyung’s fang marks still throbbed at your throat. "Master Jimin—" His name dissolved into a gasp as his fangs grazed the tender skin, his grip tightening when you tried to push him back. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to expose more of your neck as his breath hitched against your pulse.

Moonlight pooled across the rumpled sheets where Jimin eventually slumped against you, his lashes casting shadows over tear-streaked cheeks. His fingers still clutched your sleeve. You waited until his breathing evened out before carefully prying yourself free, your bare feet whispering against cold marble as you slipped into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind you with finality.

Headlights cut through the palace gates just as you reached the courtyard, illuminating Hobi impatient silhouette leaning against a sleek black car. "Get in," he muttered, yanking the door open before you could speak. The engine roared to life as you fumbled with the seatbelt, your fingers trembling against the buckle. Hobi knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he remarked, but his usual teasing lilt was absent.

You pressed your forehead against the cool window glass, watching the palace spires shrink in the distance. The memory of Jimin's lips burned against yours—the desperation in his grip when he'd pulled you closer. His whispered confession—*someone I believed in most betrayed me*—echoed louder than the engine's growl.

"Y/N." Hobi's fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his voice slicing through your thoughts. "Focus. We're almost there."

You blinked, realizing the car had already pulled onto a winding driveway lined with skeletal trees. "Where are we going?"

Hobi's fingers drummed against the steering wheel. "You could call it a family meeting," he said, eyes reflecting the mansion's gothic spires looming ahead. "But I can't guarantee you'll leave alive."

You stiffened. "*What?*"

The car screeched to a halt before the wrought-iron gates. Hobi shoved his door open without looking at you. "Let's go," he muttered, already striding toward the mansion's shadowed entrance.

You stumbled after him, your bare feet scraping against gravel. "Whose house is this? Who am I meeting?"

Hobi's shoulders tensed beneath his leather jacket. "Ava's brother," he muttered, pushing open the wrought-iron gates.

The mansion loomed ahead—all sharp angles and darkened windows, ivy strangling the stone facade. Your breath hitched when Hobi shoved you forward, his palm between your shoulder . "Wait—" you managed before stumbling onto the marble foyer, the door slamming shut behind you with finality.

Cold steel pressed against your jugular before your eyes could adjust to the gloom. A man materialized from the shadows, silver hair catching the dim light as his sword bit into your skin. "Nothing special," Yoongi murmured, tilting your chin up with the blade's edge. His eyes—the same obsidian as Ava's in your dreams—scanned your face. "How can trash like you handle her heart?"

Hobi stepped between you both, palms raised. "Hey, hey—we're here to talk." His usual playful lilt was gone, replaced by something harder. "Put the sword down, suga-hyung."

Yoongi's blade didn't waver. His dark eyes flickered over your face. "Nothing special," he murmured again, tilting your chin higher with the blade's edge. "How can garbage like you handle her heart?" The last word cracked like a gunshot.

Hobi exhaled sharply through his nose. "Let us talk—"

"That bastard still breathing?" Yoongi interrupted, his voice dangerously soft. His swordtip pressed just deep enough to draw a single bead of blood. You flinched as it trickled hot down your throat.

The blade pressed deeper into your throat as Yoongi's obsidian eyes burned with centuries of unspent fury. "Answer me," he whispered—a sound like rusted hinges swinging shut. "Is that royal bastard still breathing?"

Hobi exhaled sharply through his nose. "Jungkook's slowing dying," he admitted, watching Yoongi's sword hand twitch. "That book —it's the only thing that can counteract the poison you used." His lips twisted into something bitter. "Congrats suga. Your revenge is working beautifully."

"That attack on Master Jungkook—you did that?" Your voice cracked against the marble floors of Yoongi's mansion, the scent of old parchment and dried blood thick in the air. The sword at your throat trembled—or maybe that was your own pulse thrumming against its edge. "How could you? He was... your sister loved him—"

Yoongi's blade pressed deeper, drawing another scarlet ribbon down your neck. His lips peeled back from fangs glinting in the dim candlelight. "That bastard will be dead by morning," he hissed, breath hot against your cheek. "Hobi-ah, you should start preparing his funeral arrangements instead of wasting my time."

"Your sister—she appeared in my dream," you blurted, the sword's edge biting deeper as Yoongi's grip twitched. The memory of Ava's delicate fingers tracing the ancient grimoire flared behind your eyelids. "She begged me to save Master Jungkook. She showed me that book—the one with silver clasps—it can cure jungkook!"

Yoongi's blade clattered to the marble floor, the sound echoing through the vaulted. His fingers, suddenly trembling, seized your shoulders hard enough to bruise. "Liar," he snarled, but his voice cracked on the word. "Ava would never beg for that bastard's life. Not after what he did to her."

Hobi stepped forward, his usual playful demeanor stripped bare. "Hyung," he murmured, pressing a hand over Yoongi. "Think. Is death really the punishment Princess Ava would want for Jungkook?" His fingers tightened around Yoongi’s wrist, forcing his grip on you to loosen. "Wouldn’t watching him suffer—alive be worse?"

Yoongi’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching against your shoulders before he shoved you back violently. A book materialized mid-air—its silver clasps glinting under the chandelier—before it slammed into your chest. You barely caught it, the weight unfamiliar yet achingly familiar—the same grimoire Ava had cradled in your dream. "I don’t know why she chose you," Yoongi spat, turning away as if the sight of you burned. "Maybe she wants her curse to continue. Now get the hell out of here."

"What curse?" The words tumbled from your lips as you clutched the grimoire to your chest. Yoongi's back was already turned, his silhouette framed against the stained-glass windows.

Hobi grabbed your elbow, dragging you toward the door. "Y/N, we don't have much time—morning's coming." His grip was uncharacteristically tight.

Yoongi's voice sliced through the darkness just as Hobi wrenched the door open. "Hey, human." He didn't turn around. Moonlight fractured across the wine glass in his hand. "In that mansion, use your head—not that pathetic heart of yours." The glass shattered against the wall as you flinched.

The car door slammed shut behind you before you could catch your breath. "Professor Hobi," you whispered, fingers digging into the grimoire's silver clasps, "if you knew Yoongi attacked Master Jungkook... why didn't you tell Master Jimin?" The leather seat creaked as you twisted toward him. "Who are you really? ".

Hobi’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly the leather groaned. He didn't look at you, his gaze fixed on the road, his jaw set in a line of iron. "I'm just a professor, Y/N," he said, his voice clipped and devoid of its usual warmth. "I see things, I hear things, and I try to keep this house from tearing itself apart. Now, stop asking questions and let’s hurry up. Jungkook doesn't have until sunrise."

The drive back was a blur of high speeds and heavy silence, the grimoire cold and heavy against your lap.

----

The air in the bedroom grew frigid, the silence shattered by the rapid, frantic beeping of the life-support monitors.

Namjoon stood near the doorway, his eyes burning with a cold, analytical fury as he glared at Hobi. "Hobi, how could you be so careless?" he hissed, fingers tightening around his phone until the screen cracked. "Taking her there—that was never the plan we decided on."

Hobi rolled his eyes, flicking a speck of dust off his jacket sleeve. "Plans change," he muttered, nodding toward Jungkook's still form on the bed. The monitors screamed in protest—each erratic beep a countdown. "Jungkook doesn't have much time left. None of us could've gotten that book except her."

Mia lunged forward, her fingers snatching at the grimoire in your arms. "How can you trust anything from the person who tried to kill him?"You twisted away, clutching the book tighter against your chest.

"We don't have time!" The words tore from your throat raw and uneven.

Namjoon stepped between you both, his glasses. "Mia," he said, quiet but unyielding, "we don't have a choice." His hand hovered over the grimoire's cover, hesitating. "That poison is eating him alive. This is the only counter-spell strong enough."

Jimin moved behind you, his breath cool against the shell of your ear as he murmured, "Are you sure you can handle this?" His fingers hovered over your shoulder. "This ritual... it isn't just words on a page." His voice dropped to a whisper only you could hear. "It will tear at your own spirit to draw the poison out. More painful than anything Taehyung or Jungkook ever did to you."

You swallowed hard ,fingers tightening around the book. "I can do it," you whispered, meeting Jimin's gaze in the mirror behind Jungkook's bed.

Jimin's lips brushed the shell of your ear as he began chanting. The grimoire's pages fluttered open without being touched, revealing lines of silver ink that pulsed like veins. You gasped when the first symbol lifted from the page, hovering in the air before plunging into Jungkook chest—right where the poison had blackened his skin.

Your vision whited out. Fire licked up your arms where invisible threads connected you to Jungkook. The grimoire’s pages glowed molten gold beneath your trembling fingers. Someone screamed. It might’ve been you.

Jimin’s chanting grew ragged behind you, his hands pressing down on your shoulders—not to steady you, but to keep you from crumpling as the ritual devoured your strength. Silver light erupted from Jungkook’s chest, the blackened veins receding like ink washed from parchment.

Then Jungkook gasped.

You didn’t feel the floor when you hit it. The last thing you remembered was molten fire climbing your veins, the grimoire’s silver script burning itself into your skin—then nothing.

Cool fingers brushed your forehead. "Easy." The voice was rough, familiar. You blinked up at Jungkook’s face hovering inches above yours, his normally sharp features softened by the dim light. His thumb swiped across your cheekbone—wiping away something wet. Had you been crying?

"Master Jungkook—" Your voice cracked as you lurched upright, fingers tangling in the sheets. The world tilted violently before settling into focus.A relieved laugh bubbled up your throat, unstoppable, and before you could think, you'd thrown your arms around his neck. "You're alive," you whispered into his collar, inhaling the sharp scent of antiseptic and fading cologne.

Jungkook went rigid beneath your embrace. You recoiled instantly, palms pressing flat against the mattress to put distance between you. "I'm sorry, Master—I didn't mean to—"

His fingers caught your wrist before you could retreat fully. "Why?" Jungkook's voice scraped raw, his gaze darting between your lips and throat as if searching for something lost. "Why save someone who's hurt you?"

The door creaked open before you could answer Jungkook's question. Hobi leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent. "Finally," he drawled, "little lamp wakes up. You slept a whole two days." His gaze flickered to Jungkook's grip on your wrist—lingering,before he pushed off the doorframe.

You scrambled upright, sheets pooling at your waist. "Where's Master Taehyung?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

Hobi's smirk faltered for half a second. "Council took him," he said, examining his nails like they were suddenly fascinating. "Decided his punishment for claiming his brother's fiancée. Trial starts at midnight." He glanced at Jungkook with something unreadable in his eyes. "They won't be merciful."

Your fingers dug into the sheets. "Master Taehyung never forced me," you blurted, voice cracking. "Please—we have to do something!"

Hobi exhaled through his nose, gaze flicking between you and Jungkook. "Hmm. One way." He tapped his chin. "But it'd require..." His smirk returned, sharp and humorless. "Make Taehyung your sworn protector. Officially. Binding."

Jungkook's grip on your wrist tightened. "Taehyung would never agree to—"

"Because it'd mean submitting to her," Hobi cut in, rolling his eyes. "But listen, genius—Taehyung's already bound to her through the mating bond. This just makes it official in the eyes of the Council." He snapped his fingers in front of Jungkook's dazed face. "Wake up. Prince Without your powers, you're useless as her protector. And who better than the brother who 'stole' her, huh?" His grin turned feral. "Poetic justice."

Jungkook's fist clenched in the sheets. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he met your desperate gaze. Then, abruptly, he shoved off the bed and grabbed his coat from the chair. "Let's go," he growled, already striding toward the door.

The Council chambers reeked of iron and old blood, the vaulted ceiling swallowing the echoes of murmured accusations. Taehyung knelt at the center, enchanted chains coiled around his wrist,their silver edges biting into his skin with every shallow breath. His head remained bowed.

Second Queen’s taloned fingers drummed against the obsidian throne. "Disgraceful," she hissed, her gaze slicing toward Jimin where he stood rigid by the windows. "My son nearly dies, and this traitor dares claim his betrothed?"

Jimin’s knuckles whitened around the curtain tassel he gripped. "Mother—"

The chamber doors open inward before Jimin could finish his sentence—the heavy oak cracking against marble as you stumbled in, Jungkook's grip on your elbow the only thing keeping you upright. Every council member turned in unison, their eyes flickering between your disheveled appearance and the Second Queen's rising fury.

Taehyung's head snapped up, chains clanking as his gaze locked onto you.The Second Queen rose from her throne, talons extended. "How dare you interrupt—"

​"Enough!" you shouted, your voice echoing against the vaulted ceiling, cutting through the Queen's fury.

​You walked toward the center of the room, ignoring the gasps of the council members. You didn't stop until you were standing directly in front of the kneeling, shackled figure of Taehyung. You dropped to your knees before him, disregarding the filth on the floor, and placed your hands firmly over his bound wrists.

​"I am the Princess of Ava," you declared, your voice ringing with an authority that silenced the chamber. "And by the ancient rights of my bloodline, I name this man, Kim Taehyung, my sworn protector. My life is bound to his.From this breath forward, his life is mine My defense is his duty. Any blade drawn against him is a declaration of war against Ava."

​A heavy, suffocating silence descended. The Second Queen’s face twisted into a mask of pure malice, her talons scraping against the stone armrest of her throne.

​"Absurd," she hissed, her voice trembling with restrained rage. "You have no standing here—"

​"Actually, she does."

Yoongi's voice cut through the silence. He emerged from the shadows of the council chamber, his silver hair catching the torchlight as he strode forward. The Second Queen recoiled imperceptibly.

Yoongi didn't look at her. Instead, he knelt beside Taehyung, his fingers brushing the cursed chains.

"The Council dares reject Princess Ava’s order?" Yoongi's lips curled into something too sharp to be called a smile. His obsidian eyes flicked to the Second Queen. "How amusing—when her bloodline still holds more power than this rotting assembly." His fingers twitched toward the chains binding Taehyung. "Or did you forget whose heart beats in that human’s chest?"

The Second Queen’s talons dug into her throne. "Her claim means nothing. Jungkook’s engagement—"

"Means less than nothing," Yoongi interrupted softly, rising to his full height. "Without his powers, what is he? A crippled prince clinging to a title that was never truly his." His gaze slid to Jungkook, standing frozen by the door. "Isn’t that right, Your Highness?"

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His fingers flexed at his sides—empty. Powerless.

Yoongi turned back to the Council, his voice slicing through the tension. "By ancient law, any royal bloodline may claim a protector. Ava’s blood runs through Y/N’s veins. Her word is law." He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Or does the Council wish to declare war on Ava’s legacy?"

The Council released Taehyung with a reluctant wave of hands, the enchanted chains dissolving into silver mist.

----

The mahogany desk groaned under Taehyung’s grip, his fingers denting the polished wood. Moonlight bled through the velvet drapes, slicing across Jungkook’s hollowed cheeks as he slumped in the leather armchair, staring at his palms like they belonged to a stranger. "You’re telling me," Taehyung hissed, "that Jungkook lost every drop of power in his veins, and we’re just sitting here?" His glare swung to Jimin. "It’s Yoongi. Why are we wasting time? Let’s gut that bastard and take it back."

Jimin’s fingers paused over the antique globe he’d been spinning absently. "I don’t think Suga stole it," he murmured, watching the continents blur under his touch. Jimin lifted his gaze to Jungkook’s hunched form. "Someone else is pulling strings." The globe stilled abruptly—Africa split under his palm.

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. "Professor Hobi," you whispered, fingers tracing the fresh scar along your collarbone where the grimoire’s magic had seared you. "He was the one who took me to Yoongi. And he suggested making Master Taehyung my sworn protector." The words tasted bitter on your tongue. "Could he—"

Jimin’s fist hit the mahogany desk with a crack that split the wood. "Someone from inside is betraying us." His voice dropped to a whisper colder than the marble floors beneath your feet. "Something bigger is coming." His gaze locked onto Jungkook’s hollowed reflection in the whiskey glass. "Do you really remember nothing from that mall? How you got injured—how your power?"

Jungkook’s fingers twitched around his empty glass. "Mia already told you the details, didn’t she?" His laugh was a jagged thing, scraping against the silence. "That bastard did this. And I will peel the skin from his bones."

You flinched at the sound. "But why would Yoongi help me in the Council?" The question hung heavy in the air. "He hates master Jungkook—he poisoned him. Why intervene for master Taehyung?"

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh, swirling the dregs of his whiskey before tossing it back in one sharp motion. "Sworn protector?" His lips twisted into something cruel as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "More like a glorified servant.That bastard Yoongi is going to have the time of his life watching the great Kim Taehyung crawl at your feet, serving his 'Princess Ava' until the day he dies."

​You felt a surge of indignation, your hands clenching at your sides. "But—"

​"Seriously?" Taehyung’s voice cut through the room, cool and mocking. He turned toward you, his eyes glinting with a dangerous, playful heat. He stepped into your personal space, his tall frame looming over you, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. "You’ve got no brain if you think that, little bride. I will never be your dog, and I will certainly never be a servant to anyone—least of all you." His smirk was sharp enough to draw blood.

Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples as if already exhausted by the argument. "Enough, Taehyung. She helped you—Have some respect for the fact that she stood against the entire Council to get those chains off you. "

Taehyung ignored him, his fingers brushing your jaw as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. His voice dropped to a whisper, rough and intimate. "But tell me, Master—why don’t I make you happy, I wouldn't mind serving you in my own way.? In bed, perhaps?" His lips hovered dangerously close to your skin, his fangs grazing just enough to tease. "Would that satisfy you?"

Your face burned, the heat rushing to your cheeks so fast you swore he could feel it. You barely managed to choke out a sound before Taehyung pulled away with a low chuckle, turning on his heel and striding toward the door. He didn’t look back as he tossed over his shoulder, "Think about it."

The mahogany door slammed behind Taehyung with a shudder that rattled the whiskey glasses on the sideboard. You stood frozen, fingertips brushing the spot where his lips had nearly grazed your skin.

The whiskey glass slipped from Jungkook's fingers, shattering against the marble floor. "I'm sleepy," he muttered, rubbing his temple with a grimace that wasn't entirely feigned. His fingers closed around your wrist with surprising gentleness, tugging you toward the door. "Let's discuss this later. Come on."

He started pulling you toward the door. You stumbled slightly, your feet dragging against the rug. "Where are we going?" you asked, fingers twitching in his grasp.

Jungkook glanced back with a lazy smirk. "Where?" His thumb stroked your pulse point—slow, deliberate. "To sleep. My bedroom or yours? Though frankly, mine's bigger." His grin widened when you stiffened.

"I prefer sleeping alone," you muttered, wrenching your wrist free. The phantom heat of Taehyung's near-kiss still burned your skin.

Jimin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jungkook, stop teasing her."

"I'm still recovering," Jungkook countered, stepping closer until his shadow swallowed yours. His breath ghosted over your lips. "Isn't it my fiancée's duty to nurse me back to health?" His fingers traced the mating mark. "Unless you're forgetting who owns you first."

Your pulse stuttered. "I'm Master Taehyung's bride now."

Jungkook’s expression darkened instantly, all signs of his exhaustion vanishing. He hauled you closer until you were pressed against his chest. "Oh, little mouse," he whispered, his thumb tracing the skin over your pulse point. "Your engagement to me cannot be broken so easily. That mating mark Taehyung gave you?"

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear.

​"Once I regain my power, I will tear that mark from your skin myself. Trust me, darling—it’s going to be very painful for you." He pulled back, his eyes flashing with a predatory gleam that felt cruelly familiar. "Now, be a good, obedient fiancée. Come to my room."

The door clicked shut behind Jungkook with unsettling finality, leaving you alone with Jimin and the weight of unsaid things hanging between you.

Jimin's fingers twitched at his sides before he exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping . "Little human," he murmured, "thank you. For what you did for my brother." His gaze flicked to the whiskey stains on the marble where Jungkook's glass had shattered. "I don't know how to repay this debt."

You looked up at him, "If you really want to repay me," you whispered, your voice catching, "can you find my mother? If she’s still alive… I have so many questions I need to ask her. About who I am, and about this heart beating inside me."

Jimin went very still. The silence stretched long enough that you began to regret asking—until his hand lifted, fingers brushing your cheek with startling gentleness. "Okay, little human," he said softly, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone before dropping away. Then his expression tightened. "About that kiss—"

"Mistakes happen," you interrupted, stepping back. Your fingers curled into your palms. ""It was a mistake," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the hammering of your heart. "The first time, I did it out of desperation, and the second time, you did it… it was nothing. It means absolutely nothing, and please—never do that again. I just hope you find my mother, sooner rather than later."

​You didn't wait for him to process your words. You turned your back on him and walked toward the door, your fingers brushing the handle—

The explosion of shattering glass made you flinch violently. You whirled around, pressing your hands over your ringing ears as every window in the study burst inward—crystal shards r. Jimin stood frozen at the epicenter, his chest heaving, fingers curled into claws at his sides. The chandelier above him swayed dangerously, its remaining crystals tinkling .

Your breath hitched. Had you...miscalculated? The thought slithered through your mind before you could stop it. You'd seen Jimin irritated before, annoyed, even coldly furious—but never like this.

Jimin's shoulders tensed when your gaze met his. For one heartbeat, two, neither of you moved. Then—slowly—he unclenched his fists, flexing his fingers as if coming back to himself. "I see," he murmured, so softly you almost didn't catch it. His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Absolutely nothing." He stepped forward, the crunch of broken glass under his boots impossibly loud in the ringing silence. You flinched when he reached out—but his fingers merely plucked a shard of crystal from your hair.

You scrambled backward, your heart hammering against your ribs . You couldn't meet his gaze again—that dark, volatile look in his eyes was too much, too unpredictable.

​"I—I should go," you stammered, your voice thin and brittle. "Master Jungkook is waiting for me. I can't keep him waiting."

​You didn't wait for his permission. You pivoted and bolted into the hallway, the echo of shattering glass still ringing in your ears. The corridor stretched endlessly. Your fingers trailed along the wall for balance as you ran. How could glass break like that? Not just break—explode inward with such precision, every shard avoiding Jimin’s body while the rest of the room was shredded. As if the windows themselves had recoiled from his fury.

A/N : I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Who do you think is actually pulling the strings. Please leave a comment and let me know your theories and See you in the next update.

Taglist:

Chapter:12

The wind howled past your ears as you tipped forward—eyes squeezed shut—waiting for the impact to shatter everything. But instead of falling, your wrist was jerked backward with such force. Your eyes flew open to see Taehyung gripping your arm, his knuckles white against the rooftop ledge. Moonlight glinted off the pendant dangling from his neck.Your pendant, the one you'd given him as children—glinted in the moonlight, swinging violently between you.

​"You can't die yet," Taehyung rasped, his voice raw as he held you dangling over the drop. "Not without fulfilling your promise."

The world tilted violently as Taehyung yanked you backward—your body crashing into his chest. His arms locked around you crushing you against him as he staggered back from the ledge.Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his jacket, the cold metal of his pendant pressing into your palm. "It... it was you," you choked out, shaking fingers tracing the worn silver. "You saved me that day in the river. But how did you know it was me now?"

Taehyung's grip tightened, his breath ragged against your temple. "You underestimate my power," he muttered, voice rough. His thumb brushed the pendant still clenched in your fist. "What a coincidence—the one I saved years ago is the same brat trying to jump off rooftops now."

"I... don’t know how I got here," you whispered, staring at your hands like they belonged to someone else. One moment, you'd been reaching for that gloved hand in the darkness—the next, you were dangling over the edge of the rooftop. Your pulse throbbed in your temples, the memory of the ballroom's whispers still echoing your skull.

Taehyung's grip on your shoulders tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he studied your face under the moonlight. "Your eyes are red," he observed coldly, tilting your chin up with one finger. "So you already know about Mia and Jimin."

You didn't answer, couldn't answer—the words were lodged in your throat like broken glass.

Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose, his breath frosting in the cold air. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Mia and Jimin were lovers long before you stumbled into this world. And that power coiled inside you—Ava's power—it recognizes her. If you don't control it..." His thumb brushed the hollow of your throat. "You could hurt Mia without meaning to."

You jerked back, the pendant slipping from your fingers to swing between you. "Why would I ever—"

"Because jealousy makes monsters of us all," Taehyung interrupted, his voice flat. "Especially when Ava's blood sings in your veins." He leaned closer, the moonlight carving shadows under his cheekbones. "If you lay a finger on Mia, Jimin won't hesitate to rip out your throat—regardless of whatever pathetic feelings you think exist between you."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, cold against your skin in the rooftop wind. "You're right," you whispered, fingers clutching the pendant still dangling between you. "There was never anything real between me and Jimin. Just—just my own stupid hope."

Taehyung's grip on your shoulders tightened. His eyes—dark as the drop behind you—flickered to your lips. Then, without warning, he crushed his mouth against yours.

You gasped against him, hands flying up to push at his chest. "Mmm—Taehyung—" His tongue slid past your lips, insistent, tasting the salt of your tears. One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as the other pressed against the small of your back, arching you flush against him.

"Kiss me back," he growled against your mouth, fingers tightening in your hair—and suddenly your body moved without permission, arms looping around his neck as if pulled by invisible strings.

The ballroom’s golden light spilled across the marble hallway as Mia emerged from the washroom, adjusting the pearl pins in her hair. The distant waltz muffled as the door swung shut behind her—only to reveal Jungkook leaning against the opposite wall.

"Jungkook," she murmured, her voice steady.

​"Why did you do that to her, Mia?" Jungkook asked softly, arms crossed as he leaned against the gilded hallway mirror.

Mia tilted her head, a faint, smile playing on her lips. "What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why did you stop Jimin from telling her about your relationship?" His voice was low, "Why wait until tonight?"

Mia smoothed a wrinkle from her silk gown, her smile unwavering. "I knew about Y/N's feelings days ago," she admitted, glancing toward the ballroom doors where distant music still played. "Tonight was important—she needed to attend. If she knew beforehand, she might not have come." She tilted her head, studying Jungkook's clenched jaw. "Jimin already warned her not to love him. She chose this path." A soft laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me my brother-in-law is getting soft for a girl. That's rare."

Jungkook's laugh was sharp, humorless. "Maybe you don't know how much one-sided love hurts." His fingers twitched at his sides, as if resisting the urge to smash something.

Without waiting for her to respond, he turned on his heel and walked away into the golden light of the ballroom, leaving Mia alone in the hallway as the distant waltz played on.

The air in the ballroom had grown heavy, the waltz slowing into a tense, rhythmic thrum as the Second Queen took her seat at the head of the crescent-shaped council table. Beside her, the Council Head adjusted his spectacles, looking n toward the grand entrance.

​"We are ready to finalize the Accord," the Council Head announced, his voice echoing against the vaulted ceiling. "A treaty for peaceful coexistence between our kind and the humans. However..." He paused, glancing at the empty seats reserved for the delegates. "We must wait for the representatives of the Blood Hunting Society to arrive before the ink touches the parchment. Their signature is the only thing standing between us and total war."

The Second Queen leaned back, a bored, predatory smile playing on her lips. She swirled the crimson liquid in her glass, her eyes landing on Jimin, who stood stiffly beside Mia. "Before we sign anything," she mused, voice dripping with false sweetness, "I propose an amendment. A... trade."

The Council Head's quill hovered over

he parchment. "Your Highness?. "

The Second Queen’s polished nail tapped against her wineglass. "An amendment," she repeated, eyes glinting as they flicked from Jimin’s rigid posture to Mia’s clasped hands. "A simple trade—brides for peace. My son Jungkook takes Mia, and you, Jimin, keep the girl with Ava’s heart. A fair exchange, no?" Her smile widened as the council members stirred. "After all, Y/N’s power could fortify the First Bloodline for centuries. What can a human girl offer you but fleeting years?"

Jimin’s goblet shattered in his grip, blood and wine dripping onto the marble. "You overstep, Mother," he snarled, fangs glinting under the chandeliers. "Mia is mine—"

"Yours?" The Second Queen laughed.She leaned forward, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Your precious human already smells of Jungkook’s musk—haven’t you noticed?"

On the rooftop, the air was suddenly ripped apart by a muffled explosion from below

—windows shattering somewhere in the palace, glass raining onto the courtyard like jagged hail. Taehyung broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, his head snapping toward the sound. His thumb lingered on your swollen lips for a heartbeat before he growled, "Someone just provoked Jimin."

You stumbled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as the distant explosion rattled the rooftop tiles. "How can I—" The words died when you saw the flicker of gold through the broken skylight below, the ballroom's chandeliers swinging violently.

Taehyung's fingers dug into your wrist. "Move." He dragged you toward the rooftop access door.

Inside the ballroom, Jimin’s restraint snapped. He lunged toward the Second Queen, his hand clawed and eyes burning with murderous intent. Before he could strike, the Council Head stepped between them, pressing a firm palm against Jimin’s chest. "Control yourself!" he barked, his voice echoing through the sudden silence. "The Second Queen speaks truth—your future as a vampire sovereign depends on power, not fleeting human affection. Ava’s heart inside Y/N could fortify your lineage for centuries. Mia is temporary." His grip tightened, forcing Jimin back. "Think rationally."

Hobi and Namjoon flanked Jimin, their hands gripping his arms as he strained against them. "Jimin, don’t," Hobi murmured, though his own jaw clenched at the Second Queen’s smirk. "She’s baiting you."

The Council Head cleared his throat,as he turned to Mia. "Lady Mia," he said smoothly, "given the circumstances, your opinion holds weight. Do you consent to the proposed exchange?"

Mia's fingers tightened around her pearl bracelet. Before she could speak, the ballroom doors burst open.

"I refuse."

The doors groaned on their hinges as you stepped forward, your voice steady despite the trembling in your knees. "​"Mia and I are not things that can be swapped," you said, your eyes locking onto the Second Queen’s icy gaze. "Marriage is built on feelings—and feelings are the most important part of any union. How does your authority give you the right to tear loves apart? To treat our hearts like currency in a trade?"

A murmur rippled through the council members. Taehyung, leaning against the shattered skylight frame above, let out a low whistle. "Damn," he muttered, fingers pausing on the pendant swinging from his neck. "She’s really got claws."

The Second Queen’s heels clicked against marble as she approached you. "A matter of feelings?" She tilted her head, the chandelier casting jagged shadows across her smile. "Then, my dearest daughter-in-law"—her gloved fingers brushed your cheekbone—"can you look me in the eye and tell me that you don't have feelings for Jimin?"

​"I..." You took a shallow breath, clenching your hands into fists so she wouldn't see them shaking. "I don't love him."

The Second Queen's smile twisted into something jagged. "Oh? Then why—"

"Enough." Jungkook materialized between you with, his shoulder knocking his mother's hand away from your face. "No one takes what's mine." His fangs glinted under the chandelier light, his fingers curling around your wrist. "Especially not over some pathetic council debate."

The Council Head adjusted his spectacles, tapping his quill against the parchment. "Y/N raises a valid point," he conceded, voice smooth . "My authority doesn't extend to severing bonds of the heart. My opinion is irrelevant—what matters is their consent." He turned to Jimin, eyebrow arched. "Your Highness?"

Jimin's fingers curled tighter around Mia's wrist, his knuckles whitening. "No matter how many centuries I live," he said, voice low and dangerous, "I'll never take another bride. Only Mia." The words landed like a blade between your ribs, twisting deeper when he didn't even glance your way.

The Second Queen's laughter slithered through the ballroom. "How poetic," she mused, tapping a nail against her wineglass. "The First Prince chooses sentiment over strategy. How very—"

A new voice cut through the tension like shattered crystal. "Looks like I missed all the entertainment."

Every head turned toward the grand staircase where a man leaned casually against the banister, one ankle crossed over the other. His navy velvet jacket clung to broad shoulders.

"Ah, how rude of me," he murmured, descending the steps . "Jin. Head of the Blood Hunting Society." His smile sharpened as he paused before you, tilting his head. "And you must be the infamous little human with Ava’s heart."

The Second Queen’s wineglass clattered against the marble table. "Jin," she hissed, her polished nails curling into claws. "You dare interrupted my—"

"My apologies, Your Highness," Jin said, dipping into an exaggerated bow . "But while Y/N may carry Ava's heart, she remains human by law—and as representatives of the human faction, we categorically refuse this swap. We don't trade human lives to balance vampire politics." His smile didn't reach his eyes as he straightened.

The Second Queen’s eyes flashed, her gaze sweeping over Jin, the Council, and finally her two defiant sons.

​"Boring," she finally drawled, her voice dripping with a cold. She reached out and snatched the parchment from the table, her rings catching the light. "Well then, I can't sign this contract." The sound of tearing paper echoed through the ballroom as she ripped the document cleanly in half. The Council Head inhaled sharply, but the Second Queen didn't even glance his way. "Consider the Accord dead," she announced, letting the torn halves flutter to the marble floor. "From this moment on, the war has officially resumed."

The Second Queen’s heels clicked against the marble. She paused at the grand doorway. "Jungkook," she murmured, her voice honeyed poison. "My son—when you change your decision, my door is always open for you." Her gloved fingers curled around the golden handle, her gaze lingering on him—on you. Then she was gone, the heavy doors sealing shut behind her with a whisper of finality.

Later then night

The grand ballroom was now a ghost of itself. Most of the guests had fled, leaving only a few council members and the inner circle. Inside the private chambers nearby, you could hear the muffled, heated voices of Jimin, Jungkook, and Jin arguing with the Council Head.

​You sat on a velvet bench in the hallway, your mind a blurred reel of the night events—the Second Queen words, Jimin’s rejection, Taehyung’s kiss, the torn contract. The muffled shouts from the private chamber echoed against the marble walls.

​"Y/N, don't look so tense. You'll get wrinkles before your time." Hobi's fingers ruffled your hair like you were some anxious puppy as he leaned over the velvet bench.Before you could respond, Taehyung materialized behind him, grabbing Hobi's waist and yanking him backward."Stop pawing at her," Taehyung growled, his free hand smoothing down the strands Hobi had mussed—the gesture startlingly gentle for someone who'd nearly throttled you last week.

​"I don't understand," you whispered, looking up at them, then at Namjoon, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed."What was that contract?" you asked, fingers twisting of your ballgown. "The one she ripped apart?"

Namjoon adjusted his glasses with a sigh. "A peace treaty," he explained, his voice low and weary. "Signed centuries ago between the Park and Jeon bloodlines—and the human Blood Hunting Society to stop the massacres and keep the balance between our worlds. Tonight was its expiration date." He glanced toward the closed chamber doors where Jimin's muffled shouting could still be heard. "And now it's gone."

Your stomach plummeted. "So what happens now?"

Taehyung's fingers paused midair, inches from smoothing another stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze darkened as he withdrew his hand completely. "As of right now," he said, voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "there's no law stopping a vampire from draining a human dry in the streets.And there is no law stopping a hunter from putting a silver bolt through a vampire's heart."

Hobi leaned back against the wall. "I think the Second Queen never actually wanted to sign that contract," he muttered, crossing his arms. "She put that 'swap' condition on the table on purpose. She knew Jimin would never give up Mia. She set the stage for this rejection."

​"And now she has exactly what she wanted," Namjoon added, his jaw tight. "A reason to start a war without looking like the aggressor. She made us the ones who broke the peace."

​"But it’s wrong!" You stood up, your voice echoing down the empty hallway. "The humans did nothing—why should they suffer?" Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "This isn’t their war."

A shadow shifted near the arched doorway. Jin leaned against the frame, his navy jacket catching the dim torchlight. "You’re absolutely right, Y/N," he said, pushing off the wall with deliberate slowness. He walked straight toward you, ignoring the defensive glares from Taehyung and Hobi.

​"The Society exists to protect those who cannot protect themselves," Jin said, his eyes locking onto yours with a strange, intense gravity. "I would like you to come to our Headquarters—tonight, if possible." His fingers twitched toward your wrist, but Taehyung's growl stopped him mid-motion.

Before you could even process the offer,Jimin materialized between you, his sleeve brushing your shoulder as he stepped forward. "She can’t," he said flatly, his voice colder than you'd ever heard it. "She’s still Jungkook’s fiancée by royal decree."

Jin let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. He turned his head slightly to look at Jimin, then at Jungkook, who was standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression.

​"Well, Y/N, the offer stands. You can visit us anytime you feel the palace walls closing in," Jin said, his tone shifting to something more dangerous as he looked back at Jimin. "And Jimin? I’d suggest you control your brother and your people now. The contract is no longer here to protect them from us."

​With a final, sharp look at the group, Jin turned and began to walk down the long corridor. Leaving you standing in the middle of a brewing storm.

------

The silence of the mansion was suffocating, You stood by the window of your room, staring out at the darkened grounds, but all you could see was the replay of the gala in the glass.

​"I’ll never take another bride. Only Mia. "

Jimin’s words echoed in your mind, twisting deeper each time. Your fingers clenched around the sleeve of the dress he'd given you—soft silk now a mockery of every lie you'd swallowed.You tore them from their hangers, the fabric groaning under your grip. You shoved them into a heap on the floor.

You reached for the matches on the dresser. The first strike hissed, the flame trembling in your fingers as you held it over the pile. But then —Taehyung’s voice slithered through your memory: "Control Ava inside you before she controls you."The match burned down to your fingertips. You dropped it with a hiss, watching the singed thread of smoke curl upward.

"What am I doing?" you whispered to the empty room, fingers trembling around the half-lit match still clutched in your hand.

The leather-bound grimoire creaked open under your trembling fingers. You sank onto the floor, your fingers trembling as they gripped the edges of a heavy, leather-bound grimoire you’d pulled from the bottom shelf.

​"I can't keep this," you whispered to the shadows, your voice cracking.

You flipped through the yellowed, brittle pages, your eyes scanning frantically for anything related to memory seals or emotional severance. You didn't care about the cost or the warnings Taehyung had given you about Ava's power; you just wanted the hollow ache in your chest to stop. Your thumb brushed against a dark, ink-stained diagram of a heart entwined with thorns.

​"Well... that's unexpected."

The low, smooth vibration of the voice made you flinch, the book nearly slipping from your hands. You looked up to see Jungkook leaning against your bedroom doorframe, arms crossed. His gaze flicked from the scattered dresses on the floor.

​"I expected to find you crying into your pillow," he said, stepping inside and kicking the door shut with his heel. His polished boots crushed the discarded dresses underfoot without hesitation he circled you ."But instead, you're... what? Trying to magic away your feelings?" His chuckle was dark, humorless. "Pathetic."

"I'm not strong like you," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you watched him move.

​Jungkook stopped his pacing, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. "What do you mean by that?"

"You like Mia," you whispered, pressing your palms flat against the cold floor to keep them from shaking. "But you still hide it. You swallow it down every day. You stand there and watch it all happen without breaking. You’re really strong, Master Jungkook."

His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw tightening as if he wanted to argue, but instead, he snatched the grimoire from your hands in one sharp movement. "You can’t use Ava’s power like this," he muttered, flipping through the pages with a scowl before slamming it shut. "Your body isn’t ready to handle that kind of magic. If you’re desperate to forget him that badly—" His voice hitched, just barely. "I could do you the favor."

You stared at him, your throat dry. "How did you... get over it?"

The question seemed to startle him. For a moment, Jungkook just stood there, the book dangling from his fingers. Then, with a slow exhale, he sank onto the floor beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "Feelings aren’t for creatures like me," he said flatly, tossing the grimoire onto the bed. "They’re pathetic. A weakness." His fingers flexed, then stilled.

You looked down at your lap, a stray tear finally escaping and landing on the silk of a ruined dress. "You're right—feelings are pathetic," you whispered, fingers twisting in the fabric. "I'm sorry for not listening when you warned me not to feel anything for Jimin." The words tasted like ash, but they weren't entirely a lie. You were sorry—sorry for letting yourself hope, sorry for forgetting, even for a moment, that you were nothing more than a pawn in their world.

Jungkook's fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face toward the flickering candlelight. "Well," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the wet trail on your cheek with deliberate slowness. "A crying face really suits you. . It’s far more authentic than that fragile little smile you try to wear."

Jungkook's thumb lingered on your cheekbone, smearing the dampness like a painter savoring the brushstroke. "Well," he murmured, tilting your face toward the candlelight with deliberate cruelty, "a crying face really suits you." His lips twitched at the way your breath hitched—raw, unguarded.

With a snap of his fingers, a maid materialized in the doorway, head bowed. "Wine," he commanded, never breaking eye contact with you. The maid scurried away, returning moments later with a crystal decanter that caught the flickering light like liquid rubies.

"You entertained me quite well in the ballroom," Jungkook mused, pouring the wine with exaggerated precision. "Watching you realize you were nothing but a ghost to him... it was quite a show. You deserve a reward for the performance."The glass clinked as he pushed it toward you. "Drink this."

Your fingers twitched away. "I don't—"

"Ah," he interrupted, leaning forward until his breath ghosted across your lips. "Should I reward you another way?" His knee pressed between yours, forcing them apart as his free hand traced the delicate stem of the wineglass. "Perhaps I should fuck you against this bedframe until you forget every syllable of his name." His fangs glinted when you flinched. "Would that be a better prize,baby?"

You snatched the glass and drained it in one swallow, coughing as the liquid burned down your throat. "H-how tasteless," youstammered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the movement of your hand as you wiped the wine from your lips, a low, dry chuckle vibrating in his chest. "Careful," he warned, his voice smooth and dangerous. "That bottle is incredibly expensive."

You blinked, the haze of the alcohol already warming your cheeks. "How expensive?" you muttered, staring down at the empty glass.

Jungkook tilted his head, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of the decanter. "Hmm," he mused, feigning contemplation. "Let me think... roughly the price of your entire village."

Your fingers tightened around the glass. "What kind of idiot would spend that much on something like this?" you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Jungkook sank back onto the floor beside you, his presence heavy and suffocatingly close. He leaned back on his elbows, a dark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are you calling me an idiot,little mouse?"

Your heart skipped a beat, the alcohol making your head spin just enough to heighten your panic. "No, no, no, Master Jungkook!" you stammered, shaking your head frantically. "I didn't mean... I just..." You took a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of courage. "Can I ask you something?"

Jungkook's lips curled into a lazy, predatory smirk. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

​"Um... why did you hide the truth?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "About who saved me that day at the river... it was Master Taehyung, wasn't it? Not you."

Jungkook didn't even blink. He just watched you with bored indifference. "When did I ever say I saved you? I said I healed your eyes. That was the truth."

​"But you still kept it hidden," you argued, the wine giving you a sudden burst of courage. "You let me believe..."

​"Because you're stupid," he interrupted flatly. "You see what you want to see, Y/N. It’s not my job to correct your delusions."

​You looked away, staring at the heap of ruined dresses. The silence of the room felt heavy, and you tipped the glass back again, gulping down the remaining wine in a desperate attempt to drown the intensity of his gaze.

​"Hey," Jungkook’s fingers suddenly curled around your wrist, yanking the glass away."Slow down, idiot. You’ll choke."

The ceiling began to spin in slow, nauseating circles. Your fingers slipped against the cool fabric of the bedsheet as you tried to push yourself upright, only to collapse sideways against Jungkook’s thigh with a muffled groan.

​"Pathetic," Jungkook murmured, though he didn't move to push you away. "A few glasses and you can't even sit up straight."

​You blinked up at him, his face swimming in and out of focus—that sharp jawline and those dark, unreadable eyes. "M’not drunk," you slurred, swatting feebly at the hand he pressed against your forehead to keep you from sliding further. "Jus’... the room’s hot."

​Jungkook leaned down until his breath ghosted over your flushed cheek. "Hot," he repeated, dragging the word out. "Is that why you’re fumbling with my clothes? You're certainly bolder when you've had a drink, little mouse."

​"Too... many buttons," you muttered, your hands finally going limp as your strength gave out completely.

Jungkook let out a sharp, breath as your body went completely slack, falling directly into his lap. He caught you with a huff of annoyance, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from hitting the floor.

"Useless," he snapped, staring down at your sleeping face. The wineglass rolled from your limp fingers, clinking softly against the hardwood floor. Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose,reaching out to grab your upper arm to haul you upright. As he pulled you toward him . "You're lucky I don't dump you in the fountain."

Your head lolled against his shoulder, lips slightly parted. The candlelight caught on your eyelashes, the tear tracks still glistening on your cheeks. Jungkook's fingers twitched—then froze when your breath hitched in your sleep, a quiet whimper escaping you. "Jimin..." you mumbled, curling unconsciously toward his warmth.

His grip tightened instantly. "Disgusting," he hissed, shaking you roughly. "Even unconscious, you're—" He cut himself off when you didn't stir, your body boneless in his hold. For a long moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable. Then, with a muttered curse, he hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed.

The mattress dipped under Jungkook's knee as he deposited you onto the silk sheets, your limbs sprawling gracelessly. He exhaled through his nose, watching a strand of hair cling to your parted lips with each shallow breath. His fingers twitched—whether to brush it aside or wrap it around his knuckles, even he couldn't decide—before he straightened abruptly.

The grimoire still lay splayed open on the floor, its pages whispering as a draft flipped them. Jungkook crouched to retrieve it, his thumb lingering on the thorned-heart diagram you'd been studying. A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Fool," he muttered, slamming the book shut.

Jungkook stood by the bed for a heartbeat longer, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form before he turned on his heel. The heavy click of the door echoed through the silent room as he vanished into the corridor, his footsteps fading down the marble hall.

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit study room, Taehyung leaned against the mahogany desk, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the polished wood.

Taehyung stared at Jimin, who was flipping through a stack of charred documents with a furrowed brow.

"Did you get any information on who started the fire?" Taehyung asked, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence.

Jimin didn’t look up, his fingers pausing over a singed corner of parchment. "No," he admitted, frustration tightening his voice. "I’m still looking." Then, his gaze flicked up, sharp and accusatory. "And why didn’t you inform me that you were awake? You came straight to the ballroom without even—"

Taehyung let out a dry, rattling laugh, his eyes flashing with a sudden,intensity. "First of all, I didn't 'come' there because I wanted a dance card filled with vapid nobles," he snapped, his fingers curling into fists against the desk. "My power dragged me there." His fingers flexed, the air shimmering briefly around them before the glow faded again."I was searching for something—and it pulled me straight to that ballroom."

Jimin exhaled sharply, flipping another page with deliberate slowness. "Taehyung," he murmured, tapping the documents.

Taehyung's fingers dug into the mahogany desk, the wood groaning under his grip. "Yeah, I remember," he said, voice dripping with bitter amusement. "Carefully. The rules—a hybrid like me can't attend royal things." His lips twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Unless I'm leashed and kneeling, of couse."

Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples."Some rules even I can't change," he murmured, lifting his head just enough for the candlelight to catch the tension along his jawline. His expression softened briefly—almost apologetic—before hardening again. "Especially for hybrids." The last word came out clipped, as if it physically pained him to say it.

Taehyung shoved himself away from the desk. "Whatever," he muttered, waving a hand as if to dismiss the weight of the laws that defined his existence. "The treaty's gone—what's your plan now, jimin?" His boots clicked against the marble floor, "We can’t exactly sit here and wait for the next fire."

​Jimin finally pushed the charred documents away, his shoulders slumped with a weight . "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "As for now, we have to keep our men on a short leash.everyone is on edge, and the Blood Hunters are looking for any opportunity to tear us apart."

He looked up, his gaze locking onto Taehyung’s with a desperate, sharp intensity. "So please... don’t do any stupidity.At least do that for me."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, a dry, mocking huff escaping his lips. "Don't worry," he countered, pushing off the desk with effortless grace. "I’m not a kid who needs protection, Jimin. I know exactly what’s at stake."

He paused at the door, the silver moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw. "You can relax. Jungkook and I will handle things. If any Hunter thinks they can find an opening here, they’ll learn very quickly how wrong they are."

The heavy mahogany door clicked shut as Taehyung vanished into the shadows of the hallway.

The morning sun bled through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long, dusty golden bars across the room. You stirred, your head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache—a stinging reminder of the wine from the night before.

You groaned, trying to bury your face in the pillow, but the mattress shifted beside you. You heard the distinct, rhythmic tap-tap-tap of fingers hitting a phone screen.

You forced your eyes open and nearly choked on your own breath.

Taehyung was sitting right there on the edge of your bed, leaning back against the pillows, his thumb lazily scrolling through his phone.

​"Mas—Master Taehyung?" you gasped, your voice a dry, panicked crack as you scrambled back against the headboard, dragging the sheets with you.

​He didn't even look up from the screen. "Why did you throw this shoe in the dustbin?" he asked, his voice low and dangerously smooth.

​"What?" you blinked, your brain struggling to function.

Taehyung finally set his phone down and reached over to the nightstand, picking up the shoe. "This shoe," he repeated, his fingers tightening around the leather. "I gave this to you. How dare you throw it in the dustbin?"

​Your heart plummeted into your stomach. "What? No... Master Jimin gave those to me," you stammered, shaking your head.

"Did he?" Taehyung whispered, his golden eyes finally lifting from the shoe to lock onto yours. "Did he actually tell you he was the one who gave them to you? Or did you just assume it yourself?".

You swallowed hard, your fingers twisting into the sheets as Taehyung’s accusation settled between your ribs. Of course he was right—Jimin had never actually said the shoes were from him. You’d just... assumed. Like you’d assumed so many things. Your throat tightened. "I’m sorry, Master Taehyung," you whispered, voice. "I didn’t mean to throw them away. I just—"

Taehyung’s expression shifted, his gaze intensifying as he crawled closer across the silk sheets. The mattress dipped under his weight until he was inches from your face, his shadow completely swallowing you.

Taehyung’s thumb stayed pressed against your lower lip, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying intensity.

"If you ever dare to throw my gift away again," Taehyung murmured, his breath hot against your trembling lips, "I won't think twice about throwing you* from the highest tower in this estate." His thumb pressed harder, forcing your mouth open slightly. "Do you understand, little mouse?"

You nodded frantically, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Y-yes, Master Taehyung," you whispered, your voice trembling as his thumb remained pressed against your lower lip. Then, swallowing hard, you dared to glance at the silver pendant glinting around his neck—the one you'd given him years ago. "Um... Master Taehyung," you ventured cautiously, "if you don’t need that pendant anymore... can I have it back?"

Taehyung’s fingers stilled. Slowly, his thumb dragged downward from your lips, tracing the curve of your chin, his golden eyes darkened. "This?" He tapped the pendant with one fingertip, the silver catching the morning light. "It’s mine." The words curled around his tongue like a satisfied purr. "Things given to me don’t get taken back, little mouse. Especially not by you."

You swallowed, your pulse fluttering where his knuckles brushed your throat. "But Master Taehyung—" Your voice cracked when his grip tightened imperceptibly. "Why did you save me that day?" The question spilled out before you could stop it. "You hate humans."

For a heartbeat, silence. Then Taehyung leaned in so close his lashes brushed your cheekbone. "I wanted to use you to measure the depth of the river," he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. The pendant swayed between you. "But unfortunately,"—his fingers slid up to tilt your face toward the window—"you were blind." His thumb pressed against your eyelid. "I couldn’t enjoy the experience of watching the light die in your eyes." His lips grazed your temple as he pulled away. "So there was no point in letting you drown. It would’ve been a waste of a perfectly good experiment."

​He let out a short, dry huff of laughter. "Don't mistake my curiosity for mercy, little mouse."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence after his cold explanation. Despite the cruelty in his voice, you looked at him with watery eyes, your heart aching with a confusing mix of gratitude and fear.

​"Thank you... for saving me that day," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

Taehyung’s smirk widened, his golden eyes flashing with a predatory, possessive light. "Well," he hummed, leaning down until his cool breath fanned against your ear. "I hope you fulfill your promise—marry me, take care of me." His lips curved against your skin as he whispered the next words like a vow. "Because I don’t leave anyone easily."

You flinched, pulse stuttering. "I—I was a child back then," you stammered, fingers twisting into the sheets. "That promise doesn’t—"

"Shhh." Taehyung pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. Then, before you could react, he murmured something under his breath—words that sounded like ancient syllables, sharp and guttural. Your breath hitched as a small, inky-black orb materialized in his palm, pulsing with an eerie glow.

You barely had time to recoil before Taehyung’s free hand clamped around your thigh, his fingers digging into soft flesh. The black orb shot forward like a living thing, searing into your skin with a hiss. A scream tore from your throat—the pain like molten metal poured directly into your veins.

Taehyung didn’t flinch. Instead, he crushed his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries as the pain radiated up your leg. When he finally broke the kiss, his lips were smeared with your tears. "That thing," he murmured, thumb tracing the scorched mark on your thigh, "will stop you from trying to kill yourself again." His golden eyes flashed. "If you attempt it, the orb will detonate inside you—ending you in a way far more painful than any death you could imagine." He leaned in, licking the blood from your trembling skin with deliberate slowness. "So don’t try. Your life is mine now."

Taehyung slowly pulled back, his eyes dark with a satisfaction that curled your stomach into knots. Just as his fingers traced the fresh mark on your thigh—still pulsing with phantom heat—his phone buzzed violently against the nightstand.

Taehyung didn't move at first, his gaze still fixed on the fresh mark on your thigh. Then, with a sigh of irritation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped the screen, his expression shifting from predatory to cold and professional in a heartbeat.

​"What is it?" he snapped into the receiver, his voice flat. He listened for a moment, his jaw tightening. "Fine. I'll handle it."

He ended the call and stood up from the bed with effortless grace, smoothing out his dark clothes as if he hadn't just branded you like a piece of property. You stayed huddled against the headboard, your leg still throbbing from the dark magic he’d forced into your body.

​"I have business to handle," Taehyung said, looking down at you from his height. "I won't be coming to college for a few days."

​A tiny spark of relief flickered in your chest at the thought of him being gone, but he crushed it before you could even take a breath.

​"Don't look so relieved," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Jungkook will be there. He will be watching you in my place."

​He walked toward the door but paused with his hand on the frame, turning back to give you one last warning. The mockery was gone, replaced by a chilling seriousness that made your heart hammer.

​"Y/N listen to me carefully," he said, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "Do not go anywhere alone. It isn’t safe for you right now."

With a final, sharp look, he turned and vanished into the hallway, leaving you alone in the vast, silent room with the stinging mark on your skin and the terrifying weight of his command.

----

The cafeteria was a blur of noise and clattering trays, but for you, the world was muffled. You sat at a long table, your fork mindlessly pushing a piece of salad around. Your mind was miles away, replaying the sensation of that dark orb searing into your thigh—Taehyung’s words still echoing in your skull.

*Your life is mine now.*

You were so deeply buried in your own thoughts that you didn't notice the shadows creeping toward your table.

​The same girl who had locked you in the dark storeroom was standing just a few feet away, her face contorted with a mixture of jealousy and spite. She held a tray loaded with messy, sauce-covered noodles and a large cup of sticky soda. She signaled to her friends, a cruel smirk playing on her lips, as she raised the tray, aiming it directly at your back.

She tilted the tray, the food sliding precariously toward the edge, ready to ruin your clothes. But before the noodles could spill, a pale hand shot out and gripped her wrist like a vice. The girl yelped as the tray wobbled violently, sauce dripping onto the floor instead.

Mia stood between you and that girls, her grip unyielding. "Try it," she murmured, her voice deceptively soft, "and I'll make sure you're the one transferred out by sundown." The girl's face drained of color.

The group of girls scrambled away, the leader clutching her bruised wrist and glancing back in terror. As they retreated into the crowd, a wave of hushed whispers rippled through the surrounding tables.

​"Is that Mia? The senior?" one student hissed to another, leaning in close.

​"Yeah," the other whispered back, eyes wide. "Be careful. I heard her boyfriend is someone really powerful... like, 'one-phone-call-and-your-life-is-over' powerful."

Mia didn't even acknowledge the gossip. She turned a cold, sharp gaze toward the remaining onlookers who were still staring.

​"Let's get one thing straight," Mia announced, her voice carrying across the hall with an authority that silenced the room. "Y/N is my friend—and I hope you girls take care of her well." Her fingers tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm against the cafeteria table.The surrounding students froze mid-bite, their whispers dissolving into terrified silence.

Mia’s expression softened the moment she looked down at you.She reached out and firmly took your hand, her grip surprisingly strong.

The quiet of the corridor felt heavy as Mia led you away from the noise of the cafeteria. She finally stopped near a row of tall lockers, her expression tight with a mixture of anger and frustration.

​"So," she began, crossing her arms over her chest."So why the hell are those girls targeting you?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers tapping impatiently against her elbow.

You hesitated, pressing your back against the cool metal lockers. "Nothing much," you muttered, staring at the scuffed floor tiles. "They just... think Master Taehyung and I are dating."

Mia’s jaw practically dropped. "What?!" she hissed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "They really are looking for trouble, aren't they? And where is Jungkook? He was supposed to be watching over you today."

You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding her sharp gaze. "Um... maybe in the library? Or the lab?" you mumbled. "I saw him earlier with... some girls."

Mia sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the lockers. "Womanizer," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head at Jungkook’s predictable behavior.

The lockers felt cold against your back as you looked at Mia, the whispers of the cafeteria still echoing in your ears. "So, Mia... you also studied here? The students keep calling you 'senior,'" you murmured, your fingers tracing the grooves of the locker behind you.

Mia exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes with a familiar exasperation. "Well, yeah," she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Jimin thought other universities weren't safe for me, so he pulled some strings to enroll me here. Always had Namjoon and Hobi tailing me between classes like bodyguards." She wrinkled her nose at the memory. "Drove me insane. But don't worry about those girls—I’ll talk to Jimin and make sure he handles it."

You stiffened, shaking your head against the locker’s cool metal. "I don’t need Mia," you whispered, fingers curling into your sleeves. "I can handle my own problems."

Mia’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, her usual confidence wavered, a flicker of raw guilt crossing her features before she smoothed it away. "Y/N," she murmured, reaching for your wrist—then stopping herself mid-air. "I’m really sorry."

You blinked. "Why are you saying sorry?"

The words tumbled out of her in a rush. "Because of me, Jimin hide our relationship from you," she admitted, teeth worrying her lower lip. "I should’ve told you myself the moment I realized you—" She cut herself off sharply, swallowing the rest.

You felt a dull ache in your chest, but you forced a small, sad smile. "It’s okay. No need to be sorry. Eventually, it’s my fault... for thinking his kindness meant something else. I just saw it in the wrong way."

​Mia’s eyes welled up with tears. "I just wish I hadn't forced him to be kind to you. If I hadn't pushed him, you wouldn't have to feel this way right now."

You froze, your heart stuttering. "What... what do you mean, you forced him?"

Mia looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. "The Jimin you see now—kind, sweet, gentle?" She let out a humorless laugh. "He wasn’t always like that." Her voice dropped to a whisper,"Before me, he was worse than Taehyung oppa ever was. He couldn’t stand humans touching him. If one so much as brushed his sleeve, he’d have their fingers broken before they could blink." She swallowed hard, her gaze distant."He collected humans—not to feed, just to watch them beg. To hear them scream."

You felt the blood drain from your face, the locker’s cold metal pressing harder into your back. *That* was the same Jimin who had held your hand while stitching your wounds? The one who had whispered apologies into your hair?

She looked up at you, a pained sort of pride in her gaze. "The Jimin you know is a version he created for me. I’m not proud of who he was, but my love changed him.he acts this way because he knows it’s the only way I’ll stay."

The revelation felt like a physical blow. The only warmth you had found in this cold, terrifying world was nothing more than a performance—a favor done for another woman. Every smile Jimin had given you wasn't out of care for you, but out of devotion to her.

"I hope you can forgive Jimin," Mia pleaded, her voice trembling with a desperate kind of sincerity. "He really isn’t a bad person . I’m sorry, Y/N."

The weight of the humiliation was too much to bear. You looked at her, your chest heaving as the "kindness" you had clung to was stripped away and revealed to be a scripted performance. "I kissed him," you blurted out,before you can stop yourself. "I kissed your boyfriend."

You expected her to scream, to slap you, or to break down. Instead, Mia just looked at you with a profound, soul-crushing pity—the kind that made your skin prickle with humiliation.

"Trust is the most important thing in a relationship," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "So when you kissed him... let me guess. He stepped back, didn't he?" Her lips twitched, not with anger, but something worse—certainty. "My Jimin loves me so much. To him, other girls are like... creatures. Objects to be managed.." She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear—gentle, almost maternal. "I hope you get over him because you're only hurting yourself by chasing a ghost."

​You opened your mouth to speak—but a bright, familiar voice interrupted the tension.

​"Mia! What a surprise! What are you doing here?" Hobi rounded the corner, his usual bright grin faltering slightly as he took in the tension in the air.He beamed at Mia before glancing curiously at your pale face.

​"Well,"Mia said, her face instantly shifting into a warm smile. "I came to invite you guys for dinner tonight. After the chaos of the ball yesterday, we didn't really get any quality family time."

"I'm late for class," you choked out, your voice barely a whisper.

​You didn't wait for a reply. You turned on your heel and bolted down the hallway, the sound of your own frantic heartbeat drowning out their voices.

The library’s towering shelves swallowed you whole as you stumbled between them, pressing your palms against your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over. You barely registered the titles as you blindly grabbed a book—anything to distract yourself—and sank onto the floor between two stacks, spine pressed against the cold wood. The book trembled in your hands, pages blurring.

"Don’t you have anything better to do besides crying?" The voice, rough with sleep, cut through the suffocating silence of the library. You startled, nearly dropping the book in your lap as you turned toward the sound. Jungkook lay sprawled across the floor between the shelves, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting on his bare stomach. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the sharp lines of his torso, his hair mussed in a way that suggested he hadn’t just been sleeping—the faintest trace of smudged lipstick at the corner of his mouth. He looked like he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed.

Your fingers tightened around the book’s spine. "I’m not crying," you muttered, swiping hastily at your cheeks. "I was here to read."

Jungkook let out a slow, mocking exhale, peeling his arm away from his eyes to squint at you with lazy amusement. His lips curled into a smirk as he gestured vaguely toward the book you were clutching . "Really?" he drawled, his voice thick with sleep and something darker. "So which book is worth ruining my nap for?"

Your fingers twitched around the spine before you shoved it toward him blindly—any proof to shut him up. The moment his gaze flicked down to the cover, his smirk deepened into something predatory. "Not a bad choice," he mused, dragging a fingertip along the embossed title with deliberate slowness. "Can you read it for me?"

You swallowed hard, flipping the book open to a random page just to escape his scrutiny. The first sentence you landed on made your throat go dry. *"Her breath hitched as his fingers traced the lace edging of her—"* Your voice faltered, cheeks burning as you realized exactly what kind of book you’d grabbed in your panic.

Jungkook's head slumped against your shoulder with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, his breath cold against your neck. "Didn't know little mouse liked this type of book," he murmured, voice thick with mocking amusement. His fingers curled around the edge of the page you'd been reading, deliberately brushing your knuckles. "Is this what you do when you think no one is watching?"

You flinched, slamming the book shut. "It's—it's not—"

"Liar," he breathed, lips grazing your ear as you scrambled to stand. But before you could bolt, his arm hooked around your waist, yanking you backward into his lap.Your spine pressed flush against his chest. "You disturbed my sleep," he said, fingers splaying possessively across your stomach. "Shouldn't you be responsible for that?"

"I—I don't mean it," you stammered, twisting in Jungkook's lap as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, the cold press of them making your pulse skitter. His grip tightened when you tried to pull away, fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt. "Master Jungkook, we're in the library—"

"Then how," he murmured against your cheekbone, breath ghosting over your skin as he tilted your chin up with one finger, "are you going to take responsibility?" His lips brushed the corner of your mouth.

​"I... I can read a story for you," you offered desperately, grabbing at the first idea that might keep his hands—and his mouth—away from you. "A real story. Not... not that one."

​Jungkook let out a soft, dark laugh that sent a fresh shiver down your spine. He shifted, settling you more firmly against him as he rested his chin back on your shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and mocking.

​"A story?" he mused, his fingers tracing lazy, distracting circles over the fabric of your shirt. "Go ahead, little mouse. But I'm warning you—if I don't fall back asleep by the end of it, I’ll find a much more interesting way for you to spend your time."

You reached out and grabbed a different book from the shelf—an old collection of folk tales—and started reading in a shaky voice, keeping it barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn't move. He kept his chin rested heavily on your shoulder, his dark hair tickling your skin. At first, you could feel his eyes tracking your lips, but slowly, his breathing deepened—his grip loosening just enough for you to notice. You continued reading softly, fingers trembling against the pages as sunlight drifted across the library floor. Eventually, the weight of him pressed more fully against your back, his arm slackening around your waist.

Somehow, against all logic, Jungkook had fallen asleep.

Time seemed to stretch in the golden silence of the library. You didn't move, afraid to wake him and return to the chaos of the day. The cold of Jungkook's breath ghosted against your neck where his face remained buried against your shoulder, his arms slack around your waist. Slowly, as the sun shifted through the high windows, its beams crept closer, threatening to spill across his closed eyelids. Without thinking, you lifted your free hand, shielding his face from the light.

You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was the quiet, the way he looked almost peaceful in sleep—no sneering, no cruel remarks—just Jungkook, with his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks and his lips slightly parted. Your fingers trembled as you kept your hand raised, blocking the intrusive sunlight from disturbing him. The book lay forgotten in your lap, its pages fluttering slightly from your uneven breaths.

Then his fingers twitched against your waist.

"You're stupid," came his voice, rough with sleep but no less sharp. Your heart lurched as you turned your head slightly, meeting his dark eyes staring up at you—too close. His lips curled into that familiar mocking smirk, but there was something else flickering beneath it, something you couldn't name. "Giving kindness to a monster," he murmured, tilting his head slightly against your palm. "What do you think you'll get in return?"

Your fingers twitched, but you didn't pull away. "I wasn't—" you started, then stopped. What could you say? That you hadn't meant to? That it was just reflex? The truth was, you didn't know why you'd done it either.

Jungkook's fingers tightened briefly against your waist before he shifted, his body uncoiling from around you with deliberate slowness. He stood, leaving you oddly cold where his chest had pressed against your back moments earlier. He stretched his arms overhead, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his abdomen before he let out a yawn that was more theatrical than tired.

"Just for you," he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at you, "I don't get sleep."He tapped two fingers against your forehead, the gesture almost playful. "Next time, don't cry where I nap."

Then he turned on his heel and walked away, the library's carpet muffling his footsteps. You watched him go, his silhouette cutting through the shafts of sunlight until he rounded a bookshelf and vanished.

----

The mansion garden was too quiet.You sat on the edge of the fountain, the sound of trickling water usually peaceful, but tonight it felt like it was mocking the silence of your own life.

​You looked up at the vast, dark sky, searching for some kind of answer among the stars—anything to explain why every time you reached for warmth, your hands came back empty. "Do I really not deserve it?" you whispered to nothing, to everything, fingers curling into the cold stone beneath you. "Even just once?".

A single tear escaped, tracing a hot path down your cold cheek. Hollow realization of what you were in this house. You had reached out for Jimin's hand like a drowning person, truly believing that his smiles and his gentle touch were a sign that someone—anyone—cared.

​"The one person I thought cared for me... "you choked out, your fingers gripping the stone edge of the fountain until "It was only a performance. A chore."

​The image of Mia’s pitying face flashed in your mind. She hadn't even been angry that you kissed him; she had just been sorry for you. Because she knew the truth. Jimin wasn't being kind to you because he liked you; he was being kind because she told him to. Every "sweet" moment was just a gift he was giving to her, and you were just the object he used to wrap it in.

You looked at the moon, so bright and beautiful, yet completely unreachable—just like the man who had been pretending to care for you.

​"It’s not safe to roam around at night."Jimin’s voice came from the shadows, calm and melodic, the very sound that used to make you feel like you had a home in this nightmare.

You turned sharply, finding him standing a few paces away. His expression was unreadable—no trace of the gentle smile you'd once clung to.

You closed your eyes, feeling the cold night air touched your tear-stained cheeks. You took a deep, jagged breath, bracing yourself to kill the last bit of hope you had left.

"I’m sorry," you began, the words catching in your throat. "For every mistake I’ve made since I got here. I’m sorry for not listening to your warnings. Thank you for tolerating my stupidity for so long."

You turned to look at him. "I forgot my place," you said, your voice cracking. "I actually let myself believe that I deserved a star... that someone like you could actually see someone like me. But I should have known better. My first crush was right when he rejected a poor girl like me. People like me... we should know our limits."

Jimin took a step toward you—but before he could speak.You slid off the fountain’s edge, your knees hitting the cold, damp grass with a thud. You bowed your head until your forehead nearly touched the ground, fingers digging into the earth. "I'm sorry for kissing you," you choked out. "I'm ready for any punishment, Master Jimin."

The silence stretched, broken only by the fountain’s trickling water and the distant rustle of leaves. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your neck, but you didn’t dare look up. Your pulse hammered so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was unnervingly soft. "Stand up."

You shook your head, pressing your forehead harder against the grass.

Jimin’s fingers curled around your forearm with surprising gentleness, pulling you upright before you could resist. "Did I ask you to get on your knees?" His voice was low. When you kept your gaze locked on the grass, he tipped your chin up with two fingers. "Y/N. Look at me."

You flinched at the touch of Jimin’s fingers beneath your chin, but when you finally met his eyes, what you saw there wasn’t anger—just an unsettling quiet. "​I never asked you to apologize to me,?" he repeated, softer this time, his thumb brushing the tear track on your cheek before he seemed to catch himself and withdrew. "About that kiss— I".

​"It meant nothing to you," you whispered, stepping back from Jimin's touch. His hand hovered midair where your face had been. "Master Jimin," you continued, voice cracking like thin ice, "I'm only a blood servant here. So treat me like one." You bowed stiffly before turning on your heel, the damp grass muffling your footsteps as you walked away—each step feeling like you were leaving pieces of yourself behind in the dark. The dream was over.

----

The sterile white walls of the university clinic blurred as you blinked against the fluorescent lights overhead, your arm still tingling where Hobi had just withdrawn the needle. He twirled the vial of your blood between his fingers like it was a rare vintage wine, his grin widening when it caught the light.

"All done!" Hobi announced cheerfully, patting your head with his free hand like you were a particularly well-behaved puppy. "You didn’t even flinch this time! Progress!"

You rubbed your sore inner elbow, watching the crimson swirl inside the glass. "What exactly are you going to do with my blood this time?"

"Oh you know," Hobi waved the vial airily, "the usual—sprinkle it on toast, add it to my coffee—" He broke into giggles at your horrified expression before ruffling your hair again. "Kidding! It’s for research, dummy. Your blood is special, remember? Like, ‘cursed-grimoire-ancient-vampire-queen-reincarnated’ special."

You swatted his hand away. "Research," you repeated flatly, watching as he danced backward to avoid your half-hearted glare.

Hobi grinned, ruffling your hair with exaggerated enthusiasm until strands of it stuck up in wild directions. "I wish I could just pull out all your blood for research," he sighed wistfully, tapping the vial against his chin. "Imagine the breakthroughs! The Nobel Prize acceptance speech—'First, I'd like to thank my favorite little blood bag—'"

A sharp *crack* cut him off as Taehyung’s fist suddenly slammed into the clinic wall beside Hobi’s head, plaster dust raining down onto his shoulder. Hobi didn’t even flinch, just blinked owlishly at the new hole in the drywall before turning to Taehyung with an exaggerated pout. "Yah, Taehyung-ah, this is university property. Do you know how much it costs to fix that?"

Taehyung didn’t answer, just he flexed his fingers, knuckles already healing from the impact. His gaze, however, remained locked on Hobi’s hand still tangled in your hair. "Hyung," he said, voice deceptively light, "if you want to keep those fingers for your 'research,' I suggest you move them. Now."

Hobi quickly withdrew his hand, holding it up in a mock gesture of surrender. "See?" he said, throwing a playful wink in your direction. "This is exactly why I can't pull out all your blood. I'd have to deal with a very grumpy, very destructive Taehyung."

​Taehyung rolled his eyes, the movement slow and deliberate like he was calculating how much patience he had left. "Hyung," he drawled, fingers twitching near his temple, "aren't you supposed to be at Mia's house for dinner?"

Hobi gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Of course I'm going! Do you think I'd miss Mia's famous kimchi jjigae?" He leaned in conspiratorially toward you, stage-whispering, "She burns it every time, but we all pretend it's edible."

Before you could react, Taehyung's cold fingers closed around your wrist, tugging you forward. "Let's go," he said, already steering you toward the door. You dug your heels into the linoleum floor . "Master Taehyung, I—" The words tumbled out before you could stop them. "Can I go to my halmoni house instead? Just for tonight. I want to see her." The thought of sitting at a table with Mia’s pity and Jimin’s "performance" felt like a slow suffocation you weren't ready for.

Taehyung's grip loosened fractionally. For a heartbeat, you thought he'd refuse—then he shrugged, the motion almost careless. "Fine." He released you to snap his fingers at two shadows near the clinic door. Instantly, two uniformed guards straightened. "You'll follow her. Not too close." His gaze flicked back to you, lingering on the fading needle mark. "Be back by midnight."

You barely had time to nod before he turned on his heel, coat flaring as he disappeared down the hallway.

Hobi whistled low. "Wow. That's...new." He leaned against the examination table, studying you with open curiosity. "Could it be," he mused, twirling the blood vial between his fingers, "that our little Y/N can't bear to watch Mia and Jimin together tonight? Is that why you're running to grandma's house?"

​You didn't say anything, focusing intensely on the tiny bandage on your arm.

​"Well," Hobi continued, his voice losing its playful edge for something more observant, "I don't know what is actually between you and Jimin."

​"Nothing is between us," you snapped, finally looking up. Your eyes felt hot. "I’m just a blood servant. That’s all."

​Hobi let out a short, dry laugh. "Humans are really easy to fool. You might believe that, but I can say it's the first time I'm seeing Jimin care for anyone besides Mia."

​Your fingers curled into fists against your thighs. "So someone can be happy," you muttered under your breath, turning sharply toward the clinic doors before Hobi could .

The humid air of the evening pressed against you as you stood at the bus stop, but the sound that broke through the traffic was unmistakable—a sharp, hiccuping sob.

​Tucked behind a pillar near the entrance to the metro line sat a small boy. You hurried over, kneeling to his level. "Hey, why are you crying? Where are your parents?"

The boy looked up, eyes red and swollen. He pointed a shaky finger toward the stairs leading down into the metro line. "Mommy... she’s down there. She didn't come back."

"Don't worry, let's take you to your mom," you said, standing up and reaching for his hand.

​"Ma'am, we can't," your bodyguard’s voice cut in, sharp and professional. He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "We have orders to keep you on the move. This isn't on the route."

​"Please," you pleaded, looking back at the crying child. "He’s just a kid, and he's lost in the metro. It'll only take a minute."

Reluctantly, the bodyguard gestured for you to proceed. You followed the boy as he led you down the stairs. Strangely, the station was eerily quiet. For peak hours, there were barely any passengers, just a few shadows flickering at the edge of the platform. The boy pointed toward the tunnel entrance where the train would emerge—except no train was coming. The tracks stretched empty into darkness. "She's down there," he whispered.

Cold dread slithered down your spine, but before you could react, the boy’s fingers slipped from your grasp like mist. You spun—just in time to see your bodyguard slump against the tiled wall, his throat a gaping crimson seam. His eyes met yours, wide with silent warning before he crumpled.

A hand yanked you backward by your hair, slamming you onto the tracks. Pain exploded through your skull as rough laughter echoed above you."​"Pretty thing," a voice rasped from the shadows of the tunnel. Three figures emerged, their eyes glowing like embers in the dark.

​"A bit too pretty to just kill, isn't she?" another sneered, jumping down onto the tracks with a heavy thud. He caught your wrist before you could crawl away, his grip like a vise. "But the Boss was very specific. He wants the heart. The blood is just a bonus."

​"Get off me!" you screamed, swinging your free hand. Your knuckles connected with his jaw, but it felt like hitting a brick wall.

He threw you against the tunnel wall so hard your vision whited out for a second. The scent of iron filled your mouth—blood, yours, dripping from your split lip onto the tracks. The three vampires circled, their elongated shadows stretching grotesquely across the concrete. "Hold her still," the leader snarled, pulling a curved dagger from his coat. "The boss wants it beating when we deliver it."

Your fingers flew to your throat, clawing at the delicate chain there— necklace, the one Taehyung had warned you never to remove.With a desperate, guttural cry, you reached up and grabbed the silver chain.You yanked with every ounce of strength left in your body.

The silver chain snapped in your fist just as the vampire lunged—and then the world exploded in screams.

Not yours. Theirs.

A blur of black leather and fury tore through the tunnel like a storm made flesh. The vampire holding you down had half a second to turn his head before Taehyung’s boot crushed his windpipe against the tracks with a wet crack. The other two lunged—stupidly, desperately—just as Taehyung’s hand shot out, seizing the nearest by the skull and slamming him face-first into the steel rail so hard the bone splintered audibly.

"Who," Taehyung murmured, voice velvet with lethal calm as he stepped over the twitching body, "touched her?"The last vampire scrambled backward, eyes darting to the dagger glinting on the tracks—but Taehyung's foot crushed his wrist before he could reach it. The scream that tore from the vampire's throat was cut short as Taehyung wrenched his head sideways with a sickening crunch, fingers buried deep in his hair. "Wrong answer," Taehyung sighed, letting the corpse slump to the ground.

Suddenly, the shadows at the edge of the tunnel shifted. More of them emerged—five, maybe six, their fangs glinting under the flickering station lights.Taehyung didn't flinch, just rolled his shoulders in a slow, deliberate stretch. "Funny," he mused, voice dripping with lethal amusement. "You brought friends to die too."

One lunged first, a curved blade flashing—Taehyung sidestepped, but not fast enough. The weapon grazed his side, slicing through leather and skin. Crimson bloomed across his shirt, stark against the black. You gasped, but Taehyung barely reacted, just flicked his gaze down to the wound like it was a minor inconvenience. The vampire smirked, lifting the bloodied blade—until Taehyung’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist and twisting until bone snapped. The scream that followed was cut short as Taehyung drove his other hand through the vampire’s chest.

"Cover your ears," Taehyung ordered without looking at you. You barely had time to press your palms to your ears before he unleashed a sound that wasn’t human—a scream that warped the air itself, vibrating through the concrete beneath you. The remaining vampires staggered, clutching their heads as blood trickled from their ears. One collapsed, convulsing. Another clawed at his own face, eyes rupturing under the force of Taehyung’s voice.

Then, as abruptly as it started, the scream stopped. Taehyung’s hand closed around your wrist, yanking you upright. "Run," he snarled, half-dragging you down the tunnel. You stumbled after him, your shoes slipping on blood-slick tracks. Behind you, the surviving vampires staggered to their feet—slow, disoriented, but still moving. Taehyung didn’t look back. He hauled you up onto the platform, shoving you toward the exit stairs with bruising force. "Don’t stop," he ordered, voice rough.

Outside,Taehyung pulled you into the shadows between buildings, his grip unrelenting. "Master Taehyung,"You pressed a trembling hand to his side where blood seeped through his torn shirt. "You're bleeding," you whispered. "Why aren't you healing?"

Taehyung slapped your probing fingers away with a snarl. "Not full vampire," he muttered through clenched teeth, pressing his own palm harder against the wound as if he could force the bleeding to stop through sheer will. His usually pale skin had taken on a sickly grey undertone, the glow of the colony's neon signs casting jagged shadows across the sharp lines of his jaw. "Those blades—enchored steel. Meant for creatures like me."

You blinked, staring at the dark stain spreading beneath his fingers. "Creatures like—" The words caught in your throat as understanding dawned. Hybrid. Not fully vampire. Taehyung’s lips curled into a sneer at your silence, as if he could hear the unspoken realization clattering through your skull.

"It's strange," Taehyung muttered, his voice cracking as he leaned heavily against the damp brick wall. He looked down the dark alley, his eyes scanning the shadows with a mix of confusion and mounting dread. "Jimin... Jungkook... they should have arrived by now. The moment that necklace broke, they should have felt it. It’s like they're being blocked."

​He winced, his hand trembling as he pressed it harder against the jagged wound in his side. "We need to move. The university is near here—there are safe rooms, but we have to get there now. Every vampire within five miles can smell your blood."

​"No," you said, reaching out to steady him, your own hands shaking. "You're bleeding too much, Taehyung. Look at you—you can’t even stand straight, let alone run. They’re coming for me. You should go. Save yourself."

Taehyung’s head snapped up, his golden eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp anger. "Stop wasting time!" he snarled, though the effort caused a fresh spurt of blood to soak through his fingers. "I am not leaving you. Move!"

​He tried to push himself off the wall, but his knees buckled, and he slid back down with a pained groan. The sound of distant, inhuman snarling echoed from the mouth of the alley. They were getting closer.

You knelt in front of him, your heart hammering against your ribs.You knew if you didn't change the scent of your blood now, you both were dead.

​"Master Taehyung," you whispered, grabbing his jacket to pull him toward you. "Make me your bride."

Taehyung’s mouth pulled into a thin, pained line, his eyes searching yours with a look that was half-shattered and half-starving. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you once more how dark his world was, but the sound of claws scrabbling against the brick at the mouth of the alley cut him off.

​"Please," you whispered, leaning into his space, the scent of your blood a heavy invitation between you. "It’s the only way. Make me your bride."

​Taehyung’s hand flew to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair with a desperate, bruising grip. "Don't regret this decision, Y/N," he rasped against your lips. "Because once I start, I will never let you go."

​The heavy mahogany door of the hotel suite slammed shut, the lock clicking into place with ominous finality. Taehyung didn't even pause—his mouth still fused to yours in a bruising kiss as he walked you backward, your legs hitting the edge of the bed. His fingers tangled in your hair.

"You're shaking," he murmured against your lips, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled back just enough to watch your eyelashes flutter. His breath was cold against your damp skin, carrying the metallic tang of his own blood from the wound still seeping through his shirt. "Scared?"

You nodded—small, quick—your fingers digging into his shoulders as he crowded you backward onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you, the silk sheets cool against your overheated skin. Taehyung loomed over you, his lips brushing your throat in a mockery of tenderness before his fangs scraped the delicate skin there. "Scared is good," he murmured, voice rough as gravel. "You should be. Because I won't be gentle." His tongue laved the spot where your pulse fluttered wildly, then bit down.

Pain flared—followed by a dizzying rush of pleasure as his venom hit your bloodstream. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp, fingers scrambling at his shirt. Taehyung growled against your throat, the vibration sending tremors down your spine as he sucked harder, pulling your essence into him with desperate, starving pulls. The wound in his side knit itself closed beneath your grasping hands, the warmth of your blood healing him even as he took it.

"You taste like sin," he snarled, tearing his mouth away just long enough to rip his shirt off before crashing back into you. His knee shoved your legs apart with rough efficiency, fingers already working the button of your jeans. The fabric tore under his impatience—metal hitting the floor with a sharp clink—before his palm slid up your bare thigh. You gasped when his fingers found you already slick, his groan vibrating against your throat. "Fuck, you're dripping for me already?"

His fangs grazed your earlobe as his free hand pinned both your wrists above your head. The bedframe shuddered when he thrust into you without warning—no preparation, no gentleness—just a single brutal stroke that tore a ragged scream from your lungs. Taehyung froze,"Hurts?" he gritted out, though he didn't pull back—just ground deeper, letting you feel every inch stretching you impossibly wide. Tears streaked your cheeks when you nodded frantically, but his grip only tightened on your thigh, pushing it higher against his hip. "Good," he growled—then moved.

The pace was punishing from the first snap of his hips, each thrust punching breathless whimpers from your throat. You scrabbled at the sheets, nails catching on silk as he angled you impossibly deeper, the headboard slamming against the wall with every brutal push.

Taehyung caught your wrists mid-stroke, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other hooked under your knee—forcing your leg up against his shoulder as he leaned down, fangs scraping your collarbone. "Look at me," he growled, and when your lashes fluttered open, his expression wasn’t the cold fury you expected—just raw, starving intensity. His thrusts never slowed, each one punching a broken "ah—!" from your lips as the headboard cracked against the wall in time with your ragged gasps.

Blood welled where his fangs pricked your throat—his tongue lapped at it once, twice—before he sank deep with a groan that vibrated through your ribs. The dual sensation of him stretching you impossibly full while his venom flooded your veins blurred the line between pain and pleasure until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. "Ah—hah—!" Your cry hitched when he rolled his hips just so, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. Taehyung snarled at the sound, his grip on your thigh tightening as he hauled you impossibly closer, your back arching off the mattress.

"Louder," he demanded against your mouth, his free hand tearing yours from the bedsheets to interlock your fingers against the pillow—a mockery of tenderness as his hips snapped forward with bruising force. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed off the walls, punctuated by your choked gasps every time he hilted deep. Taehyung's breath hitched when your walls suddenly clenched around him, his fingers tightening painfully around yours as he snarled, "You close?"

You could only nod frantically, your thighs trembling where they bracketed his hips. Taehyung released your hands abruptly—only to haul you upright against him in one fluid motion, he pinned you to the wall without breaking rhythm. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but his mouth swallowed your gasp, his tongue tangling with yours as he pistoned into you at a brutal, unrelenting pace.

Your nails scored down his back, as your climax tore through you without warning—a silent scream against his lips as your body clenched around him. Taehyung groaned low in his throat, his fingers tightening possessively against your spine. "That's it," he murmured against your damp temple, the words rough with satisfaction. "Take it all."

His free hand slid between your sweat-slicked bodies, fingers tracing a path down your trembling abdomen before stopping just above your hipbone—where a faint, swirling mark pulsed beneath your skin. "This," Taehyung murmured against your throat, his thumb pressing into the newly formed sigil until you whimpered, "is mine."

You slumped against him, your breath coming in shallow hitches, thinking the ordeal was finally over. Your muscles felt like lead, and your mind was drifting toward the sweet relief of sleep. But as you tried to untangle your legs, Taehyung’s grip didn't loosen. Instead, he adjusted you, his hardness still pressing against you, unyielding.

His fingers traced the mark on your hipbone—the raised, swirling sigil that pulsed faintly under his touch. "Did you think we were done?" Taehyung's voice was rough velvet, his breath cool against your overheated skin as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. His grip tightened, fingers splaying possessively across the mark. "Don't I warned you, didn't I? Once I start, I don't stop."

You barely had time to process the warning before his hands were on you again—flipping you onto your stomach with terrifying ease. The sheets were cool against your flushed skin, but Taehyung's body was colder as he draped himself over your back, his hardness pressing insistently between your thighs. "You offered yourself to me," he murmured, lips skimming the knobs of your spine. "No take-backs."

A gasp tore from your throat as he entered you again. Taehyung groaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into your hips as he bottomed out. "Fuck," he hissed, his voice ragged with something that sounded almost like reverence. "You were made for me."

​He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, stifling your protest before it could leave your lips.

Some hour's later

The hotel room was deathly quiet, the only sound the low hum of the air conditioner and the heavy, rhythmic pull of Taehyung’s breathing behind you. You were sprawled face-down, your body feeling like it had been dismantled and put back together again

Taehyung was draped over your back, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress as his lips trailing slow, lingering kisses along the nape of your neck . The sheets were tangled around your legs, damp with sweat. You groaned weakly, pressing your face into the pillow. "I—I can't anymore," you mumbled, your voice hoarse from overuse. Every muscle in your body ached, your skin oversensitive where his fingers ghosted over your ribs.

"You don't have to," Taehyung murmured, his breath chilling the sweat at your temple. His lip grazed the shell of your ear. "Sleep."

You didn't need to be told twice. Your eyelids fluttered shut, exhaustion dragging you under before you could even process the way his hand slid possessively over the mark on your hip—the one that pulsed faintly under his touch, branding you as his in ways deeper than blood.

Somewhere between unconsciousness and waking, you felt him shift—his weight lifting slightly, the bed dipping as he rolled onto his side. But he didn’t leave. His arm curled around your waist instead, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips brushed the crown of your head in a gesture so soft it made your chest ache. "I will always protect you," he whispered into the dark, the words so quiet you might have imagined them.

A/N: Drop a comment and let me know your thoughts—your feedback keeps me going.

Taglist :

Chapter: 11

You stiffened in his arms, the silence between you heavy and strange. Finally, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your voice a trembling whisper.

"Master Taehyung?" Your voice cracked as his weight slumped forward without warning, his forehead thudding against your shoulder.His breathing shallow but rapid against your neck. "Hey—hey, can you hear me?" You grasped his shoulders, but his knees buckled, nearly dragging you both down. His skin was feverish beneath your fingers, his body trembling in uneven spasms.

-----

The silence in the office was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Hoseok’s fingers pressed against Taehyung’s wrist, his brow furrowed as he muttered something low under his breath—words you couldn’t catch.

"He’s okay," Hoseok announced, stepping back with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—half-relieved, half-wary. "Just needs rest."

You hovered near the edge of the desk, your fingers twisting together. "Are you sure?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your gaze darting between Hoseok and Taehyung’s unnaturally still form.

Namjoon glanced up from the papers he’d been shuffling, his dark eyes softening as they met yours. "Don’t worry, Y/N," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It’s just a little fever."

Hoseok’s fingers twitched against the edge of his notebook, his gaze darting between Taehyung’s unconscious form and your soot-streaked face. "But Y/N," he pressed, voice tight with something you couldn’t name, "how did you two get out from there?"

​"Master Taehyung... he helped me," you whispered, your voice shaking.

Namjoon’s hand paused over his desk, his expression shifting into one of pure disbelief. "That's strange," he murmured, looking at Taehyung’s pale face. "Taehyung has a severe trauma from fire. He usually freezes completely—yet he somehow managed to teleport you both out?" His dark eyes flicked to yours, searching for answers you didn’t have.

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around your torn sleeve. "He—"

The door slammed open before you could finish. Jimin stood in the doorway, his usually composed face twisted in urgency. "Where’s Taehyung?" His voice was sharp, his gaze darting around the room before landing on Taehyung’s motionless form on the couch. His jaw tightened.

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temple. "He’s trapped in his memories again."

Jimin strode forward, his fingers hovering over Taehyung’s pulse point before he exhaled sharply. "When will he wake up?". Hoseok’s hand landed on Jimin’s shoulder with deliberate weight. "Jimin, come with me first," he murmured, eyes darting meaningfully toward the door. "There’s something you need to see."

Jimin hesitated, then nodded stiffly before turning—his gaze catching yours mid-step. "Y/N," he said, voice lowering as he scanned your bloody palms, "you need bandages." His fingers twitched toward yours but stopped short.

You curled your fingers instinctively, hiding the worst of the cuts. "I'm okay," you murmured, forcing a smile."It's just a small injury."

Namjoon cleared his throat, rolling up his sleeves as he stepped between you. "Jimin, you go. I'll handle the bandages." His tone left no room for argument, though his eyes softened when Jimin's jaw tightened. "Hoseok's waiting."

Jimin lingered—just a breath too long—before nodding sharply and striding out. The door clicked shut behind him with finality, leaving you alone with Namjoon quiet scrutiny. He motioned for you to sit on the couch beside Taehyung unconscious form, his hands deft as he retrieved the first aid kit.

Meanwhile, The heavy oak doors of the medical archives groaned as Hobi pushed them open, leading Jimin into a room filled with thousands of glowing glass vials.This was the vault where they are stored the memories they had stripped from humans over centuries.

Jimin stopped in the center of the room, his eyes dark with confusion. "Hyung, why did you bring me here? Taehyung is unconscious, and you’re worried about the archives?"

​Hoseok didn’t answer immediately. He walked toward a specific shelf at the back of the room—the one labeled with the royal crest. He pointed to a shattered mess of crystal and shimmering, silver mist that was leaking onto the floor .

​"Look at this," Hobi whispered, his voice tight. "One of Taehyung’s memory bottles is broken. And it wasn't an accident, Jimin. Look at the glass—it was crushed from the outside. Someone started that fire specifically while Taehyung and Y/N were locked in that storage room."

Jimin’s fingers hovered over the jagged edges of the shattered vial, the silver mist still leaking from it like liquid smoke. His jaw tightened. "That’s impossible," he murmured. "No one can enter these archives without my permission."

Namjoon appeared in the doorway, his expression grimmer than you had ever seen it. "Beside us and Jungkook, no one has the clearance to be here, Jimin."

Jimin pulled his hand away from the shattered glass, his eyes flashing with a cold, protective fire. "Hyung, Jungkook is my brother," he snapped, his voice echoing sharply against the thousands of memory vials lining the shelves. "You know that."

Namjoon stepped further into the room, his shadow stretching long across the floor. "He is the Second Queen’s son too, Jimin. Think for a moment—who stands to gain the most if Taehyung regains his full memories?" His voice was quiet, but each word carried the weight of centuries. "Jungkook may be your brother, but blood ties run deeper than loyalty in this court."

Hoseok exhaled sharply, gripping Jimin’s shoulder with a warning pressure. "Jimin, don’t let your emotions blind you. That’s exactly what the Second Queen wants—you divided, distracted." His fingers tightened. "She’s been waiting centuries for you to slip."

Namjoon stepped closer, his voice low and deliberate. "How much longer will you deny it? Jungkook shares her blood. Start an investigation—"

Jimin’s fist slammed against the archive shelf, sending a ripple through the glowing vials. "Are you suggesting I investigate my own brother?" His laugh was brittle, edged with something dangerous. "That will never happen."

Namjoon didn’t flinch. "Jimin—"

"Hyung." Jimin’s voice dropped to a whisper, raw and unguarded. "Jungkook is my brother. Remember that before you point fingers." The words hung between them.

---

Back in the office, the grandfather clock’s ticking grew louder in the suffocating silence. You knelt beside Taehyung’s unconscious form on the couch. Suddenly, his fingers twitched—a violent spasm—before his entire body jerked sideways, nearly tumbling to the floor. You caught his shoulder just in time, fingers digging into damp fabric. "Master Taehyung—"

His eyelashes fluttered, damp with unshed tears. "Mom..." The word slipped out raw and fractured, his voice younger than you’d ever heard it. His breathing hitched, uneven. A single tear traced down his temple, vanishing into his hairline. You hesitated—then curled your fingers around his trembling hand.

"Master Taehyung," you whispered, squeezing gently. His fingers twitched in response, but his eyes remained shut, his brow furrowed in distress. Another tear escaped. You brushed it away without thinking, your thumb grazing the sharp angle of his cheekbone. "I'm here. It’s okay." The words felt inadequate, but you said them anyway, softer now. "You’re safe."

His breath shuddered. His fingers tightened around yours suddenly—too tight, his nails biting into your skin. But you didn’t pull away. His lips parted again, but no sound came out this time. Just silent, ragged breaths.

You reached out with your free hand, gently stroking Taehyung’s hair as his breathing slowly steadied. The strands were damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead like a child’s after a nightmare. Fire—why fire? His trauma ran deeper than you’d imagined, deeper than the cruel classroom taunts or the cold detachment he wore like armor. Your thumb brushed his temple again, wondering what kind of childhood could make a vampire flinch at flames.

The door creaked open behind you. Jimin stood frozen in the threshold, his gaze darting between your hand in Taehyung’s hair and the tear tracks glistening on Taehyung’s face. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes before he schooled his expression into neutrality.

---

The studio lights dimmed as Jungkook wiped fake blood from his jaw, the director’s praise ringing hollow in his ears. He shoved the dressing room door open—then froze. Slow, mocking applause echoed from the shadows. "Bravo," came the Second Queen’s voice, razor-edged. "Such convincing agony." Her gloved hands clapped once more before settling in her lap.

Jungkook didn’t turn around. "How many times," he said through clenched teeth, "have I told you not to show your face here, Mother?"

The Second Queen tutted, adjusting the obsidian pins in her hair. "Must you be so cruel to the woman who gave you life, my son? Such a great actor—yet so terrible at playing the devoted son." Her smile curved as she gestured toward the chair beside her. "Sit. We have matters to discuss."

Jungkook didn’t move. "What do you want?" he bit out, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

The Second Queen sighed, as if indulging a petulant child. She reached into the folds of her gown and withdrew a velvet box, its surface gleaming under the dressing room lights. "Since you and my future daughter-in-law will be attending the ball after all," she purred, extending it toward him, "give this to her. Tell her to wear it."

Jungkook snatched the box mid-air and hurled it against the wall. The Second Queen didn’t flinch—just tilted her head, watching the gems skitter toward her heels. "Could it be," she mused, tapping one with the toe of her shoe, "that little human wouldn’t accept a gift from you? Perhaps I should give this to Jimin instead."

Jungkook’s fist collided with the vanity mirror. Glass rained into the sink as he bared his fangs. "Done. Now get out."

The Second Queen sighed, her lips curling into a mocking smile as she rose from her chair with deliberate grace. "Oh, Jungkook," she murmured, stepping over the scattered gems with a practiced ease. "Stop pretending you don’t want what’s yours." Her gloved fingers traced the edge of his shattered vanity. "Mia was always meant to be your blood bride—but Jimin took that from you first." Her voice dropped to a whisper, venomous and sweet. "At the ball, the contract will be signed. But I’ll ensure a condition is added—an exchange of brides between the Park and Jeon families."

Jungkook's reflection in the shattered mirror trembled as his fist clenched tighter, fresh blood dripping between his fingers. "Oh, mother," he hissed, the words laced with centuries of bitterness. "Stop pretending you care for me. You just want to use me—another pawn to grab the king's position." Glass crunched under his boots as he turned to face her fully, his eyes burning crimson. "I'm not your toy anymore. Get. Out."

The Second Queen's laughter slithered through the room. "Jungkook-ah," she chided, tilting her head with mock sympathy. "Don't forget what you are." Her gloved hand lifted, and suddenly the air thickened—Jungkook's knees buckled as an invisible weight crushed his shoulders. "This power?" She flexed her fingers, watching him struggle against her magic with detached amusement. "I gave it to you. Without me, you'd still be that sniveling child hiding under bedsheets from thunder."

A growl tore from Jungkook's throat as he forced himself upright, veins bulging along his neck. "Yeah," he spat, swiping blood from his lip. "I'll never forget how you stole my childhood to fuel your ambitions. Every nightmare, every 'lesson'—" His voice cracked as the scent of burning flesh suddenly filled the room—the phantom memory of her 'training sessions'.

The Second Queen's smile didn't waver. She stepped closer, her shadow swallowing the light between them. "Think about my proposal," she whispered, her breath cold against Jungkook's ear. "Under my conditions, Mia will be yours —unless you prefer playing the loyal brother while Jimin takes everything." Her gloved fingers brushed his bleeding knuckles. "Including that human girl." With a final mocking pat to his cheek, she dissolved into shadows.

------

The heavy silence of the mansion was broken only by the rhythmic clinking of ice against crystal. Jimin sat slumped in his study, the amber liquid in his glass catching the dim firelight as he tapped Mia’s contact again—her smiling photo flashing on the screen before the call dropped into voicemail for the fifth time. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his thumb hovering over the redial button.

"Hey, it’s Mia! Leave a—"

Jimin ended the call with a violent stab of his thumb, the phone skidding across the marble counter. "Damn it," he hissed, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. The empty mansion echoed his frustration back at him. "When I need you," he whispered to the hollow air, "why can’t you ever stay?"

You pressed your hand firmly over Jimin’s, your touch warm and grounding against his cold skin. "Jimin," you said softly, your voice cutting through his Spiraling thoughts. He blinked down at you.

"Little human," he murmured, his thumb brushing absently over your knuckles, "you should be resting." His gaze flicked to the bandages Namjoon had wrapped around your palms—before returning to your face.

​"I can't sleep," you admitted, your gaze falling to the half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand.

Jimin followed your gaze and lifted the glass slightly with a hollow, bitter smile. "Wanna drink?"

​You shook your head quickly, a wave of guilt washing over you. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "Because of me, Master Taehyung—"

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening around his glass before deliberately loosening them. He turned his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes softening imperceptibly. "Little human," he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges, "it's not your fault. Taehyung has survived worse than this." The ice clinked as he swirled the liquor absently. "He is stronger than he looks. He will wake up soon."

You looked at your feet, the image of Taehyung trembling and calling for his mother still fresh in your mind. You bit your lip before looking back up at him, your voice barely a whisper.

​"Um... Jimin? Why? Why is Master Taehyung so scared of fire?"

Jimin's glass clinked against the marble countertop as he set it down with deliberate slowness. "Little human," he said quietly, tracing the rim with one fingertip, "everyone has a past that no one wants to remember. Some memories are so dark they should never be dragged into the light again. When Taehyung was just a child, the villagers decided they couldn't let him live. They trapped him inside his home and set it ablaze." He paused, his grip tightening on the glass. "Taehyung’s mother... she didn't try to save him.she left him there. She watched the villagers burn him alive."

You recoiled slightly, fingers tightening around the edge of your sleeve. "But why?" you whispered, your voice cracking. "Why would a mother do that? He was only a kid."

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes darkening as they met yours."Because Taehyung was born as a monster, not as a human. "

Your breath caught in your throat. "What?"

Jimin's fingers curled tighter around his glass. "Taehyung is half-human, half-vampire," he said, each word deliberate. "When Taehyung mother fell in love with my father, she didn't know she was loving a vampire. By the time she realized the truth, she fled back to that village to hide."

jimin finally looked at you,his eyes dark and heavy. "Taehyung was born there, but his mother couldn't accept the truth of what he was. As his nature began to show, she saw a demon instead of a son. To her, his blood was a curse. So when the villagers came with their torches, she didn't fight for him.She couldn't accept a 'monster' as her own blood."

Your chest tightened painfully at the image—a small Taehyung screaming for a mother who refused to turn back,this was why he saw humans as nothing more than livestock. "So that's why..." Your voice trailed off, fingers twisting in your lap. "That's why Master Taehyung hates humans."

Jimin nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the dark window where the moon hung cold and distant.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, the weight of the tragedy pressing down on you.

Jimin turned back, his lips quirking into a sad half-smile. "Little human," he murmured, fingers tracing the rim of his empty glass, "it's not your fault. Someone started that fire on purpose."

Your fingers curled tighter around the edge of your sleeve. "Someone... wants to hurt Master Taehyung?"

Jimin's expression darkened. "More like they want Taehyung to turn against me."

"Why?"

Jimin set his glass down, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his crown seemed to physically press him into the chair. "Maybe I look very powerful to the outside world, Y/N. Maybe they see a King who can't be touched. But the truth is... without my brothers, without Taehyung and Jungkook, I’m nothing. Being King is a curse for me because it's slowly taking everyone away. It forces me to choose between my throne and my family."

​He looked at his hands, his expression one of deep, quiet agony. "The higher I climb, the more alone I become."

The words spilled out before you could think better of them, your knees pressing into the cold marble as you reached for Jimin's hand. "I promise, I always will stay with you." Your fingers trembled where they brushed his, but you didn't pull away. "No matter what happens, no matter who tries to pull this family apart..." You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his widening eyes. "I won't leave your side."

Jimin’s fingers curled around your wrist—gentle but unyielding—before he pulled you into the space between his knees, your knees still pressed into the cold marble. His arms encircled you, his face burying into the crook of your neck with a shuddering inhale. You stiffened for only a heartbeat before relaxing, your hands lifting hesitantly to stroke his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. His muscles tensed under your touch, his breath cold against your skin.

"You smell like—" His voice fractured, lips brushing the pulse point beneath your ear. "—sunlight on the first day of spring." His fingers tightened imperceptibly on your waist.

Your breath hitched. "Jimin," you whispered, fingers pausing mid-stroke. "You can... drink my blood. If you need to." The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

Jimin stilled. Then a low, breathless laugh ghosted against your throat—warmth prickling where his lips nearly brushed skin. "So desperate for my bite," he murmured, the words curling into your ear . "What a pervert."

You jerked back so fast your knees slipped on marble—only for Jimin's hands to snap up and catch your elbows, holding you inches from his face."Careful," he murmured, breath ghosting over your lips.His silver eyes darkened, dropping to your lips, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. You felt him lean in and you found yourself closing your eyes, your heart racing so hard it felt like it might burst.

Suddenly, a sharp, loud CRASH echoed from the hallway—the sound of something heavy and glass-like shattering against the floor.

​Jimin stiffened, the spell breaking instantly. He closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh, his grip on your arms loosening as he pulled back to find his composure. "Must be Jungkook," he muttered, his voice sounding strained and frustrated. "He can never just walk through a room without destroying something."

You scrambled to your feet, your knees still shaking slightly as you stepped away from him. Something caught your eye—the faint glow of Jimin’s phone screen where it had skidded across the marble counter earlier. You picked it up, your breath hitching as you saw Mia’s name flashing across the screen. Why was she calling him so late? Before you could think better of it, your thumb swiped to answer—but Jimin’s fingers curled around yours, plucking the phone from your grasp with a quiet sigh.

"Thanks, little human," he murmured, his thumb brushing yours briefly as he took it back. His lips twitched into something too tired to be a smile. "Go to sleep. You have college in the morning, right? You shouldn't be late."

You nodded, turning toward the door—then froze. Something reckless and tender unfurled in your chest, pushing you back toward him before your mind could catch up. Your arms wrapped around Jimin's waist from behind, pressing your cheek against the stiff fabric of his shirt. His entire body went rigid beneath your touch.

"I love you," you whispered into the tense silence, fingers clutching at his sides. "I don’t care if you're a monster. I don’t care if you don't have a heart like mine." Your voice cracked, but you pushed on. "I just—I can’t stop my heart from wanting you."

Jimin turned abruptly. His lips parted—probably to say something painfully logical, something designed to push you away—but you pressed your fingers against his mouth before the words could form.

"I know," you murmured, staring up at him through the dim light. "I know you’ve already rejected me. But someday, you’re going to love someone completely." Your thumb brushed the corner of his lips, tracing the cold curve. "So why not let it be me?" You swallowed hard, ignoring the way your pulse thundered in your throat. "I don’t know how to make you feel for me yet. But I won’t give up. So please—" Your voice dropped to a whisper. "Wait for me."

Jimin’s eyes widened, a flicker of something—surprise, or perhaps a hidden ache—passing through them. Before the silence could become too heavy, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

​Without waiting for him to find his voice, you turned and hurried out of the study, your heart racing with a mix of terror and hope.

Outside the study, the hallway was swallowed by shadows. Jungkook stood pressed against the cold stone wall, his chest heaving in the silence. His right hand was a mess of crimson, blood dripping steadily from his bruised knuckles onto the polished floor. He remained motionless as you ran past, his dark eyes tracking your movement with a dangerous, unspoken ache.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind you, leaving Jimin standing in the center of the dim study.His fingers slowly drifting up to touch his cheek where the warmth of your kiss still lingered.

"Damn it," he hissed, his voice a low, jagged rasp. He gripped the edge of the marble counter so hard the stone groaned under his strength. "What the hell am I doing?"

​The thought of Mia flashed through his mind like a strike of lightning. Mia was his world—the woman he loved and intended to marry. He had spent so long being devoted to her, yet just now, he had almost betrayed that love for a girl who was supposed to be nothing more than a "little human" in his care.

---

The quiet hum of your bedroom lamp flickered against the open pages of your textbook.The textbook blurred before you, the ink smearing into meaningless shapes as your fingers tightened around the pen. The words refused to make sense—not when your pulse still thrummed with the memory of Jimin’s arms around you, the ghost of his breath against your ear.

You groaned, dropping your head onto your desk with a dull thud. Your bandaged hands clutched at your hair as you replayed your own bold words over and over. You had basically told the King of Vampires to wait for you. You had told him you would make him yours.

"Argh! Why can't I just control myself?" you hissed to the empty room, your voice thick with frustration. "Why did I have to say all that?" Your fingers tangled in your hair as you paced the length of your bedroom, the plush carpet muffling your restless footsteps. The question burned in your mind—why was Mia calling him so late? Friends didn't call each other at this hour, did they? Unless—unless they weren't just friends.​

A sharp, rhythmic knock on your bedroom door snapped you out of your spiral.

You jumped slightly, smoothing your hair before crossing the room to pull the door open. One of the house maids stood there, looking slightly flustered, her hands tucked neatly in front of her apron.

​"Miss," she said, dipping her head respectfully. "Forgive the late hour, but Master Jungkook is asking for you." Her fingers twisted in her apron. "He's—well, he's in the bath and requires assistance. Immediately." Before you could react—before your brain could even process the absurdity of the request—she turned on her heel and scurried down the hall.

****

The knock on Jungkook's bathroom door sounded too loud in the silent hallway—your knuckles hesitated against the polished wood. "M-Master Jungkook?" you called, voice barely above a murmur.

No one answered your knock. The door creaked open under your hesitant push—steam billowed out in thick, perfumed waves, curling around your ankles. You blinked against the haze, your pulse stuttering at the sight before you.

Jungkook lounged in a sunken marble bath, arms draped lazily over the edges, his bare shoulders glistening under the golden lantern light. Three maids knelt around him—one pouring scented oils into the water, another kneading his shoulders, the third holding a tray of crystal goblets filled with what looked disturbingly like wine. Your stomach twisted.

"You came," Jungkook drawled, not bothering to open his eyes. His lips curled into something too sharp to be a smile. "Good. Everyone else—out."

The maids froze mid-motion. The one massaging his shoulders a girl with silver-blonde hair—shot you a glare so venomous you actually took a step back. The others exchanged glances before bowing stiffly and filing past you.

The door clicked shut behind the last maid with an ominous finality, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Water dripped from the edges of the marble bath, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. Jungkook still hadn’t opened his eyes—just tilted his head back further against the rim, exposing the taut line of his throat. "Well?" he murmured, voice rough like gravel. "Are you going to stand there gawking, or are you going to wash me?"

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your skirt. Of all the maids—of all the people in this damned mansion—why call you? Jungkook could snap his fingers and have a dozen servants tripping over themselves to scrub his backback. Can he not even wash himself? Such a pampered womanizer.

"Hurry up," Jungkook sighed, cracking one eye open to glare at you. The lantern light caught the crimson flicker beneath his lashes. "Or do I need to drag you over here?"

Grinding your teeth, you snatched a sponge from the tray beside the bath, squeezing it so hard water trickled between your fingers. You kept your eyes firmly shut as you reached blindly toward him—only for your fingers to collide with something decidedly not his hair.

​"That's not my hair, by the way," Jungkook’s voice dropped an octave, sounding dangerously amused and far too close.

​Your eyes snapped open in a panic. You looked down to see that you weren't touching his head at all; your hand was resting firmly against his bare, muscular chest instead, the sponge dripping soapy water down his torso. Jungkook's smirk deepened as he watched realization dawn on your face—his lips curling into something predatory as your fingers twitched against his skin.

"I-I'm sorry!" you gasped, snatching your hand back so violently you nearly dropped the sponge. "I didn't mean—"

"If you're that eager to touch me," Jungkook drawled, the water rippling as he shifted, "you could have just asked. No need for the 'blind' act."

​"I’m not!" you snapped, your voice jumping an octave as you scrambled to find your footing on the wet floor. Your face was now a shade of red . You pointed a trembling finger at him, though you tried to keep your gaze fixed strictly on the wall behind him. "W-Why... why are you not wearing clothes?"

Jungkook arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by your flustered outburst. "Who wears clothes in the shower,little mouse?" he drawled, shifting slightly in the bath so the water rippled around him. "Or do humans have some bizarre bathing rituals I’m unaware of?"

​"Hurry up," Jungkook warned, his voice losing its playful edge and turning into something more demanding. "Or I'll just have to get out and finish this myself."

​Before you could process the threat, the water began to churn. Jungkook placed his hands on the marble edges of the tub, his muscles tensing as he started to lift himself up.

​"No! Wait!" you gasped, your eyes flying wide. Panic overrode your shyness as you lunged forward, placing your hands firmly on his wet shoulders to shove him back down. The last thing you needed was for him to actually stand up. "Stay! Just... sit back down!"

He let you push him, a low, guttural chuckle vibrating under your palms as he settled back into the water. He looked up at you through his damp lashes, clearly enjoying the way you were trembling.

You swallowed hard and dipped the sponge into the water with more force than necessary, lathering it with soap until it foamed violently between your fingers. Jungkook watched you through half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth curling as you hesitated.

"Scared?" he taunted, shifting just enough to make the water slosh against the marble. "Or do you need me to hold your hand?"

"I'm doing it!" you hissed, squeezing the sponge so hard soap suds dripped down your wrist. You reached out—deliberately avoiding his gaze—and dragged the sponge over his shoulder in rough, jagged strokes.

A few minutes later, the last droplets of water trailed down Jungkook's shoulders as you wrung out the sponge with unnecessary force. The silence between you stretched uncomfortably—only broken by the occasional slosh of bathwater as he shifted.keeping your eyes strictly on his shoulders or the back of his neck, scrubing until your own arms ached.

​"Done," you breathed, stepping back and wiping your soapy hands on your apron. You turned your back immediately, facing the far wall and staring at a gold-framed mirror as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. You heard the splash of water as he finally climbed out of the tub.

​"Little mouse," Jungkook's voice dripped with amusement behind you. "My bathrobe."

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. Without turning, you reached blindly toward the hook where you'd seen the maids hang his robe earlier—your fingers brushing against silk.

You thrust it backward, arm stiff. "Here."

cold fingers closed around yours instead of the robe—Jungkook's grip deliberate as he tugged your wrist just enough to make you stumble back half a step. Your pulse jumped as you caught a glimpse of him over your shoulder—just a flash of bare, damp skin before you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Look at me," Jungkook murmured, his breath chilling the shell of your ear as he pressed the robe into your hands. "Unless you're planning to dress me with your eyes closed."

You inhaled sharply through your nose before forcing your eyes open—and immediately regretted it. Water still glistened along the sharp lines of his collarbones, his damp hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. The white towel hung dangerously low on his hips.

Focus. Focus on the robe.

You shook it out with more force than necessary, avoiding his gaze as you stepped closer—only for your fingers to freeze mid-air. A tattoo coiled around his left ribcage—an intricate design of thorns and crescent moons, the ink so dark it seemed to pulse against his pale skin.

​"Is this..." you started, your voice trailing off in curiosity.

Jungkook glanced down, his smirk fading slightly. "The royal crest," he said flatly. "Our family's mark." His fingers twitched toward the tattoo before curling into a fist. "Every vampire born to the royal line has one."

"Jimin has this too?", you murmured without thinking, fingers hovering just above the thorned crest.

Jungkook’s expression shifted instantly—his lips curling into something dark and amused as he caught the way your fingers lingered near the tattoo. "Oh?" His voice dropped, low and velvety. "So the little mouse prefers seeing Jimin without clothes, is that it?"

Your hand jerked back as if burned. "I—what? No! That’s not—" The words tangled in your throat, your face flushing violently as you stumbled back a step. "I was just curious. I’m leaving."

You turned sharply, but Jungkook moved faster—his hand snapping out to grip the back of your neck in one fluid motion. His fingers were cold and unyielding. Before you could even draw a breath to protest, he moved forward, his momentum forcing you toward the large, fogged-up glass wall of the shower.

Your palms slammed against the glass, the cold surface biting into your skin as Jungkook pressed his body against your back.

Jungkook's tongue traced the curve of your neck in a slow, deliberate stroke—cold and wet against your feverish skin. You gasped, fingers scrambling against the slick shower glass as his other hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The contrast of his damp chest against your back sent a violent shiver down your spine. "M-Master Jungkook—" you choked out, twisting in his grasp.

Jungkook’s teeth scraped the tender skin of your throat. You braced for the sharp sting of fangs, the pull of blood leaving your veins. Instead, his lips sealed over the spot, sucking harshly until your knees wobbled. When he pulled back, the mark throbbed—a dark, possessive bruise blooming beneath your skin.

"Do you love Jimin?" His voice was a low rasp against your ear, fingers tightening around your waist.

Your breath hitched. "I—"

"Answer the question." His free hand slid up to grip your jaw, forcing your head back against his shoulder. The glass fogged under your frantic breaths.

"I do," you whispered.

The confession had barely left your lips when Jungkook’s grip tightened—his fingers digging into your jaw as he wrenched your face toward his. You gasped, but the sound was swallowed by the brutal press of his mouth against yours.

Jungkook teeth scraping your lower lip, his tongue forcing its way past your resistance. You twisted, hands braced against the shower glass, but he only crowded closer—his body a wall of damp heat pinning you in place. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging sharply until your gasp gave him deeper access. When you turned your face away, his free hand slid down your side, fingers hooking under the hem of your top with deliberate intent.

The fabric tore with a sharp sound, cool air hitting your exposed stomach before his palm followed—rough and possessive along your ribs. "J-Jungkook—" you choked out, but his mouth found your shoulder, biting down hard enough to make your knees buckle. He caught your weight effortlessly, spinning you around to face him as his other hand worked at your bra clasp. The snap of elastic breaking echoed in the steamy room.

"No!" You shoved at his chest, but he caught your wrists in one hand, pressing them back against the fogged glass. His breath was ragged against your ear as his free hand traced your spine—slow, mocking. "Stop," you whispered, voice cracking. His lips trailed lower, teeth scraping the sensitive skin between your shoulder as his grip tightened on your hips.

You gasped when he lifted you effortlessly, your back arching as he set you on the edge of the sink. His hands slid under your thighs, spreading your legs wider to step between them. "P-Please stop," you begged, fingers clutching at his forearms.

Jungkook's grip on your hips tightened as he lifted you higher onto the marble counter, His lips brushed the shell of your ear, breath chilling where it touched your damp skin. "Do you really," he murmured, voice dripping with venomous amusement, "think a lowly human like you could have Jimin?" His teeth grazed your earlobe. "Have you forgotten your place? What you are?" The words slithered into your ear. "When we're done with you—when he's bored—we'll throw you away like the broken toy you are." His fingers dug into your thighs. "Jimin's a monster. Just. Like. Me."

You jerked back, your palms smacking against the mirror as you met his darkened gaze. "No," you breathed, voice raw with defiance. Your fingers curled against the glass. "Jimin's nothing like you."

Jungkook's fist slammed into the mirror beside your head—glass shattered in a crystalline burst, jagged shards raining onto the marble sink beneath you. A single shard grazed your cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood that he caught with his thumb, pressing the droplet to his tongue with a dark hum. "What's so special about him?" he growled, eyes burning crimson as he crowded closer, his hips pinning yours to the counter's edge. "Tell me."

You shoved against his chest, your palms slipping on his damp skin. "Get off—" The protest died in your throat as his mouth crashed into yours again, his fangs nipping your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. The coppery tang flooded your senses as he licked into your mouth, swallowing your whimper with a satisfied groan. Your fingers twisted in his wet hair, tugging sharply—but he only deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike your skirt higher.

Your palm cracked across Jungkook's cheek with enough force to snap his head sideways. The sound echoed sharply in the steamy bathroom, leaving behind a stunned silence—but only for a heartbeat. Jungkook's tongue darted out to lick the blood welling from his split lip, his pupils dilating as he pinned you with a look that made your stomach drop. "Interesting," he murmured, voice thick with something darker than anger. His fingers tightened around your wrists. "Very interesting."

Before you could jerk away, his mouth was on your throat—not the teasing nip from earlier, brutal bite. You cried out as his fangs sank deep, the pain blurring instantly into a dizzying rush of heat. Your struggles weakened as he drank, his grip shifting to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your neck at a sharper angle. A whimper escaped you when his free hand slid up your ribcage, palm rough against your bare skin as he shoved your torn shirt higher.

"Stop—" you gasped, but the word dissolved into a moan when his thumb brushed your nipple. Jungkook growled against your throat, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. He tore his mouth away from your bleeding neck just long enough to smirk at your dazed expression before descending on your chest. His tongue lapped at the blood smeared across your collarbone before closing his lips over one pebbled peak, sucking hard enough to make your back arch.

You clawed at his shoulders, nails leaving red streaks down his damp skin. "J-Jungkook—" His name came out ragged, half-protest, half-plea. He ignored both, switching to your other breast with a cruel nip of teeth that had you gasping. His hand slid between your thighs, pressing insistently against the damp fabric of your panties. You clenched your legs together instinctively, but he just chuckled, the sound dark and satisfied as he hooked a finger into the waistband.

"Still fighting?" he murmured against your sternum, tongue swiping up a stray trickle of blood. His fingers flexed, the thin material of your underwear straining under his grip. "Your body's begging me to ruin you." To prove his point, he dragged his fangs lightly over your nipple, watching your face twist with conflicted pleasure. "Look at you—shaking like a virgin on her wedding night."

Your voice was a broken whisper, a desperate sound lost in the humid air of the room. "Sto—stop, please," you whimpered, your head lolling back against the cool surface behind you. Your strength was fading, drained away by the rhythmic pull of his fangs and the overwhelming sensations he was forcing upon your body.

​"Don't worry, darling," Jungkook murmured, his voice a low, dark vibration against your skin. "I'll be gentle with you... at first." His fingers traced the waistband of your panties with deliberate slowness, savoring the way your breath hitched. "Unless you'd prefer it rough? I've heard humans like that—playing helpless while secretly craving it." His lips curled into a cruel smirk as he hooked his fingers into the fabric and tore it away with a single sharp tug.

You gasped, legs instinctively clamping shut, but Jungkook wedged his knee between your thighs effortlessly. "Shh," he cooed, nipping at your jawline as his fingers trailed lower, teasing the slick heat between your legs. "Look how wet you are for me already." His fingertip circled your entrance mockingly slow, dragging through your folds before pressing in—just the tip—and withdrawing. "Mm. Tight. Virgin?" He chuckled when you flinched, pressing another shallow inch inside. "Doesn't matter. I'll ruin you either way."

You twisted, nails digging into his shoulders, but Jungkook only deepened the kiss—his teeth scraping your lower lip as his fingers thrust deeper, curling in a way that made your thighs tremble. The wet sound of his hand moving between your legs was obscenely loud in the steamy bathroom. "Fuck," he growled against your mouth, "you're clenching around me like you want more." His thumb swirled over your clit, rough and relentless, while his other hand fisted in your hair to keep you from turning away.

A sob caught in your throat as pleasure coiled dangerously low, your body betraying you with every shuddering gasp. Jungkook's smirk widened when your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing his touch. "Pathetic," he murmured, biting your earlobe. "You hate me, but your cunt's dripping." His fingers withdrew abruptly, leaving you achingly empty before he pressed them back in with a punishing thrust. "How many times do you think I can make you come before you pass out?"

Your vision blurred as he twisted his wrist, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with each movement. Heat pooled violently low—your muscles locking as pleasure crested without warning. Before you could recover, his mouth crashed back onto yours, swallowing your whimpers as his fingers continued working you through the aftershocks.

"Again," he demanded, biting your collarbone. His free hand groped your breast roughly, thumb flicking your nipple until it ached. "I want to hear you scream." You arched off the counter, legs clamping around his wrist—but his fingers only drove deeper, curling in that cruel, perfect way that shattered your resistance.

Jungkook’s breath hitched when your walls fluttered around him. "Fuck," he snarled against your throat, fangs scraping skin. "You're clenching like you want me to fuck you properly." His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your toes curl. "Should I?" The question ghosted over your parted lips. "Should I bend you over this counter and take what you keep offering Jimin?"

The marble counter chilled your bare thighs as Jungkook crowded closer, his erection pressing insistently against your core through the thin fabric of his towel. Your head lolled back against the shattered mirror, vision swimming from blood loss and the relentless assault of his fingers. "Ngh—stop—" you slurred, but your protest dissolved into a moan when he crooked his fingers just right, sending sparks shooting up your spine.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, lips trailing down your sternum. "Your body begs differently," he murmured against your damp skin before sealing his mouth over your nipple again, sucking hard enough to make you writhe. His free hand slid under your hips, lifting you higher onto the counter until the towel between you slipped away. You gasped at the feel of his bare length grinding against your slick heat, the friction maddening even as you weakly pushed at his shoulders.

"Please," you whimpered—whether for mercy or more, you couldn’t tell. Your thoughts blurred at the edges, limbs growing heavy as the last of your strength bled out with every pull of his fangs. Jungkook groaned against your throat, hips stuttering forward in a shallow thrust that had you seeing stars. "Fuck, you feel—"

Then it happened.

Heat exploded from your chest—a shockwave of crimson energy throwing Jungkook backward with enough force to crack the marble tiles. Your vision swam as the room tilted violently, the last thing you registered before darkness swallowed you.

*****

You woke with a gasp—body jerking upright only to collapse back against silk sheets instantly, muscles screaming in protest. The room spun violently, your vision swimming with black spots as you clutched the sheets beneath you.

"Slow down," Jungkook's voice cut through the haze. His hand pressed against your shoulder, forcing you back against the pillows. "You'll pass out again if you—"

"Don't touch me!" You slapped his hand away, fingers trembling. Your throat burned where his fangs had torn into flesh, every swallow sending sharp jolts of pain radiating through your skull. The last thing you remembered—the surge of crimson energy, Jungkook flying backward—now pulsed behind your eyelids like a fading nightmare.

Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers twitching at his sides before he forcibly relaxed them. "Idiot," he muttered, pressing a chilled glass of water into your hands. "Every time you tap into Ava's power, it drains you. And yet you keep—"

You shoved the glass aside, water sloshing onto the silk sheets as you tried to swing your legs over the bed's edge. Your knees buckled instantly. Jungkook caught you before your face could meet the floor, his grip bruising as he hauled you back against the headboard. "Are you actively trying to piss me off?" His voice was dangerously low, fingers digging into your shoulders. "I told you not to move. My mood's already at rock bottom—don't make it worse."

His thumb brushed the fresh bite mark on your neck, making you flinch. "Do you really hate my touch this much?" He leaned in, close enough for his cold breath to ghost over your lips. "From the human world to ours, millions of girls would kill to spend a single night with me. Yet you're acting like I'm poisoning you."

You shoved against Jungkook's chest with what little strength remained, your voice cracking. "I never asked you to spend the night with me," you spat, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. "I want to be with someone I love—not some spoiled prince who thinks the world owes him everything!"

Jungkook's mouth opened—something raw flickering behind his dark eyes—when three sharp knocks shattered the tension. The door creaked open before either of you could react, revealing a trembling maid balancing a tray of steaming soup. Her gaze darted between your tear-streaked face and Jungkook before she practically threw the tray onto the bedside table and fled.

"Eat this," Jungkook ordered, shoving the tray of soup closer. His jaw tightened as you turned your face away, fingers curling into fists against the silk sheets. "Don't be stubborn. You need strength after that little stunt." When you still refused to look at him, he exhaled sharply through his nose and stood, the bed dipping as his weight lifted.

At the doorway, he paused without turning. "Stop loving Jimin," he said, voice low and edged with something you couldn’t name. "You'll regret that decision." The door clicked shut behind him with finality, leaving you alone.

Jungkook pressed his forehead against the closed door. The hallway was silent except for his own ragged breaths echoing off the marble floors.

Jungkook's fingers curled into fists against the doorframe.The same thought circled his skull —Ava, then you. Both so willing to throw yourselves at men who'll destroy you. how she had bartered her soul for a love that ended in ash and blood. Now, here you were, walking the same jagged path.

****