Fool's Gold || Part IV
Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.
Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader
Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au
Word Count: 12.5k
Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses
A/N: At last, part 4 has finally arrived! I'm so sorry it took so long, my last year of uni was a really stressful time and then after that I struggled a lot with motivation to do anything, much less write. Actually, I wanted this chapter to be much longer, with like 2-3 more scenes, but I just felt like I'd been stuck on this one chapter for so long without any progress that I decided to just post what I have written so far and hope that motivates me to write chapter 5 a lot more quickly. But anyways, enough about that lmao I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter regardless!!
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You’ve never been a stranger to fiery rivalries.
They surrounded you just as often as oxygen growing up, their flames constantly nipping at the borders of the Lee Territory, while your territory’s own flames roared back in fierce retaliation. Every leader in the South was an enemy to the Lees, none could be trusted; a mindset that had been drilled into your head by your father from the moment you were old enough to comprehend it.
Rivalries in the North, however, seemed to burn differently.
The South was filled with aggressively rowdy men, so naturally their animosity reflected that hostile nature. But men in the North were much more composed, more tactful in their words and actions—or at least, that’s what you’d gathered from Jungkook and Taehyung—and, thus, their anger was much more silent, much more tense.
The biggest example of this was your current situation. Had your father been in Jungkook’s place at the moment, he would already have stormed out of the car, a string of curses and threats dropping from his lips like a deranged man. And if Jimin had been from the South, he would have met your father head on with words just as aggressive. But, instead, Jungkook sat eerily still beside you in the backseat of his car, his finger resting lightly against his lip as he gazed out the window pensively.
The car was stalled just between the borders of the Jeon and Park Territories, in a small strip of land unofficially known as No Man’s Land. The area definitely looked the part, with no buildings or paved roads or anything that could indicate the presence of any kind of civilization. That is, aside from the fleet of Jungkook’s guards now flanking the vehicle, facing another row of guards who were no doubt protecting a similar car behind them.
Park Jimin’s car, to be more specific.
You felt Jungkook shift beside you suddenly with a quiet breath, the current silence making the practically miniscule action stand out, causing you to glance in his direction. Despite the tension radiating off of him, he looked nothing but put together. His familiar black suit was pressed and spotless while his equally black hair rested elegantly to reveal a sliver of his flawless forehead. There was nothing in his appearance that might have indicated that he didn’t sleep a wink last night.
You knew that wasn’t true, however. From the moment he slipped back into the car following his conversation on the phone with Jimin to the moment you both arrived back to his estate, he’d instantly began issuing commands to the maids and guards in preparation for the trip, mindlessly motioning for you to head back to the bedroom without him as an afterthought. Interestingly though, he hadn’t mentioned the trip to you at all during the drive back to his mansion. You knew, of course, the two of you would be visiting Park Territory since you’d overheard his conversation with Jimin in the forest, but since Jungkook didn’t know that, you’d had to pretend as though you had no clue what was happening.
That became especially annoying when Jungkook had walked into the bedroom at around 6 in the morning to usher you into the car, still withholding the reason for this sudden trip. A part of you wondered whether it was because he knew how vulnerable he would be in Park Territory, and he didn’t want to give you any extra time to come up with an intricate plan for his murder. You wouldn’t put it past him, Jungkook had proved time and time again that he was a smart man.
His efforts were fruitless though, proven by the gun currently holstered at your thigh. It was a constant reminder of your goal and how close you’d been to achieving it last night. That’s why you knew you couldn’t fail at making sure Jungkook didn’t make it out of Park Territory alive.
If only you could get into Park Territory first.
You turned to Jungkook, tired of how long the two of you had been sitting in the car. It was his move currently, but the man seemed stuck in his thoughts.
“Are we going to sit here forever or are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
His gaze finally strayed from the window before it landed on your waiting form, finger dropping onto his lap in the process. Aside from all the commands he’d thrown out to prepare for the trip, he’d been pretty quiet and pensive ever since the phone call from last night. Jungkook may not have been a man of many words in general, but even you could tell this kind of silence wasn’t the norm for him.
“We’ll be visiting Park Territory for the night,” he explained slowly, eyes drifting to the window behind you for a moment, “there has been some… tensions between the Parks and Jeons lately.”
“Tensions?” You repeated with a raised brow.
“It’s nothing you need to worry your ditzy little brain over.”
Jungkook was immediately met with a glare, although, it didn’t fly past you that he’d said the comment with a lot less amusement than he normally did when he was mocking you. It only solidified the notion that Jimin bothered him a lot more than he let on, and made you that much more curious of their history.
You shifted in your seat as an idea suddenly came to mind. Asking Jungkook about his history with Park Jimin was a lost cause, you knew that much. But maybe, just maybe, you could provoke him into revealing some information by accident.
“Right…” you drawled, words dripping in sarcasm, “because you don’t seem worried at all.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes as you settled more comfortably into the seat.
“I mean, if another mafia blew up my docks—twice if we include the West Docks accident—” he didn’t seem surprised that you knew about that, though at this point it was pretty obvious, “—then I’d be pretty scared of them too. The last attack took 20 of your men, who knows how many more could be taken if this meeting doesn’t go well?”
His voice was low when he spoke, a quiet warning, “you think I’m afraid of Park Jimin? Of a war?”
“You’d be stupid not to,” you shrugged, leaning a bit closer to hold his attention, “the Parks are powerful. Perhaps the most powerful mafia in the North. It would be difficult for the Jeons to go against them.”
A fire thrashed behind Jungkook’s eyes at the insinuation that the Jeons couldn’t compare to the Parks. You could sit here and list all of the differences between southern and northern men, but in the end all of them had an ego, one that was much too easy to play with—to exploit.
“Especially considering the upperhand Jimin holds.”
Jungkook’s head tilted, his sharp gaze narrowing in your direction. You didn’t realise how close you’d gotten to him, his face mere inches away from your own. It reminded you of yesterday, when you were trying to steal his gun, except this time his hand stayed faithfully on his lap.
“Upperhand?” He asked, an edge to his voice.
“Jimin clearly gets under your skin. Your history with him would put you at a disadvantage, would make you weak.”
You let that sink in before you add.
“I mean look at you.” You motioned towards him. “You’re sitting here in worry, like a man forced to the edge—like you already know you’ve lost.”
Jungkook’s intense gaze was so unwavering that, for a moment, you thought he might actually snap, spurred on by the anger that had clearly been building up in the past few moments. You hoped it was in the form of heated words, words that would accidentally reveal something: an event, a tiny detail, anything that would give you a better idea of Jimin and Jungkook’s history, anything you could exploit to bring the North down into shambles.
But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, you noticed the rage in his features vanish, suddenly replaced by a look of understanding, as though something had finally clicked.
Then he turned away from you and abruptly pushed the car door open.
With the guards flanking the vehicle you had to quickly pull yourself away from him, instantly schooling in your features so that there was nothing but the naive dip of your eyebrows and innocent turn of your lips. On the inside, however, you were fighting the biggest eye roll in existence.
You hated how freely Jungkook could throw a cruel smile in your direction, the message of his actions as clear as day.
Despite that, he leaned in, intent on emphasising his point.
“Don’t think I don’t know when you’re trying to manipulate me, princess. It didn’t work on our wedding night, and it isn’t working now,” he whispered. To the guards it must have looked like he was whispering something sweet in your ear, but only you knew the taunting behind his smile.
Then, as though he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Park Jimin is a traitorous coward. If anyone is afraid, it should be him.”
You froze as he finally turned away from you and stepped out of the car, entering into the stale and unwelcoming air of No Man’s Land. Despite the drab environment, his presence immediately commanded the attention of the guards, both his and Jimin’s, causing them to straighten in anticipation.
Perhaps they knew of the history between Jungkook and Jimin, which would explain the apprehension in each of their expressions. You may not have known as much as them, but there was one word that had slipped from Jungkook’s lips that had unintentionally given you new insight.
Traitorous.
Something Jimin did in the past had been deemed as betrayal and, considering Jungkook’s anger, that betrayal must have been directed towards him. You didn’t know what Jimin did or when he did it or why he did it, but you were still much closer to understanding their history than before.
The sound of your door opening pulled you from your thoughts, causing you to turn in its direction and be met with Jungkook’s outstretched hand. You would have scoffed, the theatrics of this sham marriage still feeling ridiculous to you, but you also had your own act to uphold, so you accepted his hand with a fake smile.
From your peripheral vision you noticed Jimin’s car door ease open as Jungkook helped you step out of your own vehicle. You were only able to catch a glimpse of polished dark brown shoes before Jungkook began leading you towards the centre of the clearing. The guards were eerily still as their gazes quietly followed the movements of you three.
You’ve never actually met Jimin before—the southern territories didn’t normally mingle with the northern territories and vice versa—only seen pictures of him from when you were researching the North. But as Jimin stepped from behind his car’s door and began walking towards the two of you, you realised that those pictures had been wildly outdated.
Unlike the dark brown hair you were used to seeing, Jimin’s undercut had now been dyed a rich silver, the colour standing out against his entirely black suit, while an expensive-looking brooch was pinned neatly to his lapel. You couldn’t help but notice that the design of the brooch, which consisted of gold metal molded into a coiled snake, was also etched into the small patch of skin behind his ear in black ink.
Alongside Jungkook, you watched as the two men finally met in the centre of the clearing. Even though you weren’t as invested in this meeting as everyone else seemed to be, you still couldn’t help it when you felt your breath stall in your chest. If you thought the tension was thick in the car, it was downright solid in this moment. Jungkook and Jimin took their time studying each other, the silence seeming to speak more than if either of them were to open their mouths.
You obviously couldn’t study Jimin as freely as Jungkook since you had a meek persona to uphold and that entailed keeping your gaze lowered and docile. Yet, despite this, one look at him was enough for you to gather just how dangerous the man standing before you seemed. The mirth in his dark brown eyes, the turn of his plump lips—even the softness of his cheeks—they all painted a perfect expression of amusement and poise. But your careful eye saw through the facade. You could tell that behind the mirage of amusement lurked something darker, more sharp, an obvious warning that only a fool would ignore.
After what felt like an eternity it was Jimin who broke the silence, his casual greeting accompanied by a simple nod.
“Jungkook.”
His voice was just as cool as his amused front, not a hint of distress or fear. But what surprised you was Jungkook when he replied with Jimin’s own name, particularly the equally calm and collected tone of his voice. It was as though the anger and tension he’d been feeling for the past couple days had vanished into thin air, replaced by an entirely composed being.
Funny how quickly one actor had become three.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Jimin asked. You watched as he motioned towards Jungkook’s car, causing a group of his guards to surge forward suddenly.
At first, they were met with resistance from Jungkook’s guards, but they receded the moment Jungkook raised his own hand, allowing Jimin’s guards to pass through their neat line and begin ruffling through the vehicle you had just stepped out of. Jimin smiled, the expression wicked, as though pleased by the small display of power.
The sound of their search continued in the background as Jimin’s amused gaze travelled to Jungkook once again, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it… Who knew a reunion was still in our cards?”
“That tends to happen when you launch an attack on my docks,” Jungkook replied with an unimpressed look, clearly not interested in mirroring Jimin’s fake amusement.
“You know how these types of things work.”
“Twenty of my men were killed.”
Jimin waved a hand around, as though swatting away a miniscule detail. But you couldn’t help but notice a momentary stiffness in his up-till-now smooth actions.
Jungkook’s grip on your arm tightened, Jimin’s nonchalance towards the deaths of his men clearly striking a nerve in him. You had to shift in your place to bring attention to the evident act of anger because a) if Jungkook blew up now, the two of you would never make it into Park Territory and b) Jungkook seemed to have forgotten the extent of his strength. The moment your arm pushed into his side slightly, you felt his grip instantly soften.
But your movement seemed to catch Jimin’s attention, as though he was only now noticing your presence. It wasn’t surprising when you watched his head tilt, the sight of you clearly catching him off guard. That tended to be the common reaction to your fluffy pastel dresses, doe eyes, and silk hair bows. You let him scan you from head to toe with a dumb smile, as though this entire situation wasn’t heavy with the threat of war. To ditzy Y/N, this truly was a spontaneous meeting between two acquaintances.
“Ah, I’d heard rumours here and there that you’d finally settled down,” Jimin said, his gaze studying you meticulously. He seemed fascinated by the sight before him, “I must say, I’d brushed most of them off as baseless gossip.”
You held your hand out towards him with a cheerful smile, “I’m Y/N.”
His brows jumped at the animated action, but they were just as quickly replaced by a delighted grin as his fingers captured your own. Instead of a shake, you watched as he brought your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your palm, “hello, Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, I’m Jimin.”
It was painfully obvious that he was only humouring you, whether it was for his own amusement or to piss off Jungkook you didn’t know. But one thing was for sure: he wasn’t taking you very seriously. While you didn’t really need him to see you as featherbrained and naive to get away with killing Jungkook here—no one would believe him even if he did suspect you of being Jungkook’s killer once the job was done—you could still use it to your advantage. Perhaps you could make it seem as though a rival gang had tried to frame Jimin by killing Jungkook on Park soil, effectively splitting his attention between fending off the vengeful Kims and Jeons and finding out who framed him. Oh things would get very messy then…
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Jimin’s guards falling back into place behind him, the search of Jungkook’s car evidently complete.
“Well?” Jungkook prodded, raising a brow in Jimin’s direction.
Jimin’s enigmatic gaze shifted from you back to Jungkook, the same easy smile on his lips. “You’re all clear. It was only a formality, Jungkook, I didn’t really think you’d be stupid enough to try anything.”
He then turned to face the Park Territory, steps light but firm as he began walking back to his car.
“Now that that’s out of the way, shall we?”
-
-
-
As Jungkook’s car rolled through the gates of Jimin’s estate, just behind Jimin’s car, you began to notice all the similarities it held with Jungkook’s estate. Jimin’s courtyard may have been a lot less green, largely due to the stone landscaping spread over most of the area, but it was also entirely devoid of gold and silver statues of himself and his family, unlike most mafia leaders you knew. Instead, stone beds encased gleaming white roses, while sections of the courtyard were separated by meticulously trimmed bushes.
As you stepped out of the car with Jungkook’s help, you watched the plants sway in the breeze that seemed to be coming from behind his mansion and, upon further inspection, you realised it was from the sea. Jimin’s home sat comfortably before a high cliff that seemed to drop off into the large ocean, explaining the fresh scent of salt whirling through the air and the distant sound of crashing waves.
You also noticed Jimin’s preference for modern architecture seemed to extend into his mansion as well when Jimin led you both through the grand double doors. Immediately you were met with a double staircase that curved around a sleek black table holding a giant black vase filled with white roses. To your right, a small corridor led to a giant sitting room, and while there was also a corridor to your left, it was too long to make out where it led.
Out of curiosity, your gaze flitted to Jungkook to take in his expression. It was well-hidden behind a mask of indifference, but if you focused hard enough, you could almost make out a hint of nostalgia in his dark brown eyes as they traveled around the foyer.
Before you could think too deeply of this, however, the look dropped as soon as Jimin turned around to face you both. His eyes rested on Jungkook for a moment, as though he was also curious of his reaction, before he spoke, “welcome to Park Manor.”
“It’s beautiful,” you praised, pretending to scan the furniture in awe, as though it was the only thing on your mind, not the tense atmosphere suffocating the room.
Jimin sent you a delighted smile, clearly entertained by your naivety. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s so refreshing to have such pleasant company for a change.”
A muscle in Jungkook’s jaw ticked, but his composure remained steady. Jimin had always enjoyed playing around with people as though they were pieces on a chess board, Jungkook learned long ago that was just his nature. It was evident even at this moment, as he relished in playing with your ditzy persona and Jungkook’s patience. But Jungkook also had a nature, one that held disdain for wasting time.
“Are we ever going to get to discussing something useful? Or are you too busy playing with your guests, Jimin?” He commented, his tone polished just enough to pass as diplomatic.
Jimin tilted his head in mock confusion, as though he had no idea what Jungkook was talking about, but Jungkook easily caught the amused glint in his eyes. “Patience, Jungkook. I’ve had a room prepared for you both upstairs. Why don’t you get settled, and we’ll discuss the pesky details at dinner, hm?”
Inwardly Jungkook rolled his eyes, annoyed, but not surprised, that Jimin wished to drag this out. He hasn’t changed one bit these past few years.
Jimin moved aside and gestured towards the stairs before you both, motioning for you to get going. The two of you began towards the stairs, but at the last second, Jimin raised his hand so that it stopped Jungkook in his tracks. The action went unnoticed by you, causing you to take a step forward, only to be pulled back by Jungkook’s hand. You turned to the two men, your expression a perfect picture of naive confusion.
“Go on, sweetheart.” Jimin smiled. “Your husband will be with you in just a minute.”
You hesitated, wide innocent eyes travelling to Jungkook in question. A small breath left his lips, glad you were playing your part well, before he nodded, allowing you to detach from his arm and begin climbing up the white, marble stairs alone.
Once you’d made it to the top, you turned back to find the two men standing side by side, staring up at you. Jimin pointed to one of the rooms behind you, and in a matter of seconds, you’d disappeared behind the door.
There was a silence that followed your disappearance, the absence of your pastels seeming to darken the atmosphere as the two men continued to stand shoulder to shoulder, staring at the spot where you’d been standing a few seconds ago. Jungkook could see the amused smile still sitting on Jimin’s lips, but he could also see his eyes begin to darken slowly.
“Hmm, Y/N…” His voice was low while he slipped his hands into his pockets. “That wouldn’t happen to be Lee Y/N, would it?”
It was Jungkook’s turn to smile now as he mirrored Jimin’s movements. He knew that the fragments of information were starting to connect in Jimin’s mind, the significance of the new alliance between the Jeons and the Lees finally sinking in.
His voice was much lower than before when he spoke again. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Jungkook.”
“Am I?” He asked, turning to face his former friend. “Or am I simply winning in the game that you began?”
“You have no idea what game I’ve begun.”
A humourless breath escaped Jungkook’s lips. “Funny. I’ve heard that exact sentence once before—”
“Watch yourself, Jungkook,” Jimin spoke sharply, a dangerous undertone laced between his words. “I didn’t call you here to rehash old wounds. In fact, I’ve called you here to do the exact opposite.”
That had Jungkook tilting his head in question. “And how do you expect to achieve that?”
A composed smile returned to Jimin’s lips, evidently catching himself. Though, Jungkook wasn’t blind to the danger swimming behind the amused expression.
“We’ll save that conversation for dinner,” he said graciously, effectively deflecting the question with ease, “let’s not keep your wife waiting any longer. Something tells me she doesn’t take well to being by herself for too long.”
-
-
-
The room Jimin had prepared for the both of you was just as grand as Jungkook’s bedroom back at his estate, though the furniture went by themes of black, grey, and white rather than cream and fawn. There was a king-sized bed, tall dresser, and enormous closet—a pretty standard room. On one corner was what resembled a mini living room, with black leather sofas surrounding a white marble coffee table. Atop the coffee table was a heavy lunch, consisting of steaks, salads, and potatoes, all of which sat on luxurious ceramic dinnerware.
Jungkook took a while to join you in the bedroom, so much so that you were forced to roam aimlessly around the room in your impatience. You’d slipped off your heels, sighing at the feel of relief after hours on the road, and then walked into the bathroom to wash your makeup off. You had been able to get over the scratchy dresses and tight bows in your hair a few months into your act, but the makeup was still just as much a sensory nightmare as it was when you first painted it on all those years ago.
Once your face was clean, you drifted back to the bedroom to finally settle on the edge of the soft bed, arms steadying your weight from behind you as you leaned back. It was then when you noticed the doorknob twitch, catching your undivided attention, before the door swung open, revealing Jungkook’s tall form. His black suit and almost equally black hair still looked meticulous, but it was the look in his eyes that showed you the storm raging beneath.
“Well?”
You made sure to stay as still as possible on the mattress, nothing but your eyes tracking his steps as he travelled deeper into the bedroom mindlessly. His thoughts had clearly taken a stronger hold on his mind than usual, simultaneously pushing away any thoughts of you or what you could be thinking.
He did hear you, however, proven by the raised brow he threw your way.
“What?”
“What did Jimin say?” You reiterated, watching him turn away from you, gaze unfocused. The moment you were out of his line of sight, you slowly pushed yourself up from the mattress, making sure to slide off its soft duvet without a sound. You felt the pads of your socked feet silently make contact with the cold marble floor, raising goosebumps on your skin.
You were far from stupid. It was clear Jimin had sent you to the bedroom first so that he could speak a bit more freely to Jungkook, and whatever he had said was probably what was occupying Jungkook’s mind. It was evidently working in your favour, however, Jungkook much too preoccupied to notice your deliberate movements.
“I thought I already told you not to worry about it.”
Each step you took in his direction was slow and inconspicuous, the sound perfectly masked by the soft cloth of your white socks. Jungkook was completely oblivious to your advances, his back the only witness to your steps.
“A woman can’t be curious about her husband’s dealings?”
“Not your kind of woman, no.”
You paused when you reached the centre of the room, gaze still meticulously pinned on his back. “You just seem tense.”
He didn’t answer, still clearly in his head. His shoulders were relaxed, hands empty, gaze still pointed away from you as his mind no doubt pondered on whatever Jimin had said to him in your absence. He was exactly where you wanted him: distracted, helpless,—vulnerable.
Final assessment over, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling triumphantly.
“Allow me to relieve some of that tension.”
Jungkook’s brows furrowed, the comment odd enough to pull him from his thoughts. He turned to give you a questioning look, but the sight of you seemed to answer all his questions instantly.
Standing in the middle of the room, effectively blocking the bedroom door, was you, hand outstretched, arm steady, and gun pointed expertly in his direction, its barrel perfectly in line with his chest.
He froze.
The edges of your lips stretched into a satisfied grin as you watched him try to quickly mask his initial shock with a more guarded look. But you’d learned a thing or two about reading Jungkook in the days you’d spent with him, and behind that mask, you knew he hadn’t expected this—not now.
“In Park Territory?” He shook his head in disappointment. “That’s low, princess.”
His tone was more amused than urgent, but you noticed the way his gaze slowly jumped around the room, searching for a way to get himself out of his current predicament. You racked the slide of your gun, instantly earning his attention once again, as you aimed its barrel at his temple.
“I’d care more about the dying part of this situation if I were you.”
Jungkook grimaced, strong brows furrowing as though he wholeheartedly disagreed with that statement.
“Now… I suppose this is when I ask if you have any last words.”
Jungkook regarded you silently for a moment, the intensity of his gaze suddenly sharpening to something much more profound—more invasive, as though he was trying to see past the pastel dresses, the makeup, even the gun in your hand. The weight of it made you shift in your place, masking the sudden uneasiness that came with being read. You weren’t afraid of Jungkook, but not even you could deny the power in his every action, every word.
Finally, he spoke, “a last question, perhaps?”
You gestured with your gun to continue, curiosity getting the better of you.
“Why do you wish me dead so desperately?”
His question was met with silence, nothing but the lulling sound of the wall clock to your right filling the tense space. Funny, how the man before you practically had one foot in a grave, and yet you still couldn’t help but hesitate in answering that question. You’d been so secretive about it for so long, uttering it out loud felt like treason.
“It’s better this way,” you decided to answer ambiguously, “and besides, let’s not pretend like you’re some kind of saint, Jungkook. Deep down, you know you deserve this.”
“I must be less humble than I thought, because I don’t agree.”
“How surprising,” you scoffed sarcastically, not shocked by this revelation in the slightest. A mafia leader with humility? About as rare as a four leaf clover. Of course, he would never take responsibility for the lives that were lost over the years because of him, it was just in their nature.
“So let me get this straight,” Jungkook said, taking a slow step forward. Your finger immediately left the trigger guard to rest on the trigger, making him pause. “You wish to kill me because I deserve it?”
“Sure.”
“Because I’m a bad person?”
“Yes.”
“How heroic,” he remarked, “but if you truly believe that, then why are you stalling, princess?”
Your grip on the gun tightened.
“You’re reaching, Jungkook.”
“Am I?” He taunted, taking another slow step forward. “It doesn’t benefit you in the slightest to humour a supposedly dead man walking, and yet, while you could have finally been ridden of me, you’ve failed to pull the trigger.”
“You know what I think?” He continued, taking one last step towards you. The barrel of your gun now hovered over the black cloth covering his chest, only your arm’s length separating the both of you.
“I think you don’t have it in you to finish the job.”
Your jaw clenched, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Except you did.
Your hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. When you had a task to do, you preferred to get it done quick—no games, no delays, just a clean job from start to finish. But now, you noticed yourself stalling, preferring to hold off on pulling the trigger until the last possible moment. And you knew why. In fact, you knew the exact moment when the doubts started creeping in, deterring you from your goal.
When Jungkook took you to pay respects.
Truth be told, you may have had your issues, but you weren’t some psycho killer in a tutu who enjoyed taking lives. You just didn’t find it that difficult to pull the trigger on those who deserved it. And why should you? The world would be a better place without them. There was method to your madness; you only wanted to change the country for the better.
And if anyone deserved it, it was mafia leaders. You’ve been a witness to their cruelty time and time again growing up, their methods sometimes so twisted you’d find yourself huddled in a bathroom trying desperately to be rid of those memories. You doubted Jungkook was any different from the others—or at least you had, until he had taken you on that stupid trip and planted tiny seeds of doubt in your mind. It was infuriating.
Your finger strained against the gun’s trigger.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Jungkook, what I’ve already done.”
He chuckled, the sound low and condescending. “You got lucky with your first husband. But luck will get you nowhere now.”
“I don’t need luck to finish the job.”
“Is that so?”
You almost flinched when he suddenly grabbed the barrel of your gun and pulled, placing the cool metal directly over his heart. The action had also dragged you closer to him, granting you a magnified view of the dark strands of hair resting over his forehead, the strong dip of his nose and lips—and those eyes, dark and heavy as they forced your gaze to meet his, daring you to make the next move.
“Then prove it.”
For a second, all you could do was meet his gaze, trapped in those dark brown eyes that bored mercilessly into your own. For a moment, they reminded you of who he was, the mountain of experience he would’ve had in comparison to you despite only being three years older—how many people must have stood in your place, with the same goal as yourself, and failed because the man before you had managed to outsmart them. You refused to acknowledge how much that intimidated you, a part of you withering in the face of such intensity.
But then you pushed that thought aside. Regardless of who he was, of what he’s done, of everything that happened yesterday, you needed to get a grip. Jeon Jungkook, leader of the Jeons, was a bad person. He killed, he tortured, and he didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt. “Paying respects” was just his way of staying in power, you couldn’t let it get to your head. You couldn’t let him get in your head.
You took a steadying breath.
This was your chance to finally make a change, you could not blow it. Not after how much you’ve sacrificed to get here, how much effort you’ve had to put in.
You pressed the gun more harshly into his chest. It was time to get this over with, put an end to his long standing reign and begin a new era of justice, of peace.
So get it over with you did. You took a deep breath.
And, finally, you pulled the trigger.
You hated the way your eyes automatically shut, a part of you not wanting to see the aftermath of your actions. But to your surprise, a measly click sounded from the device between your fingers, the noise sounding nothing like the night you’d shot your first husband dead. You opened your eyes instantly, only to find Jungkook standing before you, lips pulled into a sly grin and eyes smug.
You pried the gun from his hand and released the magazine, a curse dropping from your lips when you noticed its emptiness. You have got to be kidding me…
This time you closed your eyes to take a shaky breath, jaw clenching as you tried to keep your frustration at bay.
“When?”
His grin only widened.
“In the car. I must admit, I found out about the gun completely by accident.”
You couldn’t pinpoint a moment when he could have emptied your magazine without your noticing, you were sure you’d guarded it well, but there was no use lamenting over the past. You had a job to do, and there had to be a way to salvage this attempt despite this initial setback.
Your gaze strayed to the coffee table on your left, taking in the detailed designs etched into the ceramic plates and glimmering silverware. In particular, the steak knife, sitting idly beside a seemingly perfectly cooked piece of steak, stood out to you, its sharp edge gleaming underneath the chandelier’s light.
God bless Park Jimin.
Before Jungkook could catch on, you abruptly threw the gun to your right—distantly noticing it slide under the bed—before grabbing the steak knife off the table and lunging towards him.
Despite the sudden nature of your movement Jungkook seemed to have anticipated it, his hands immediately shooting forward to grab your wrist, his easy strength more than enough to keep it in place. What he didn’t expect, however, was when your fingers loosened around the knife’s handle, letting it drop from your grasp without a fight. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed for a split second, the question clear in his gaze, but you ignored it, instead grabbing the knife mid-air with your free hand before shoving it towards his chest.
That attack did land, the knife’s edge slashing into a good size of his collarbone before he yanked the knife from your grip and tossed it to the other side of the room with a grunt. The cut wasn’t too deep, the blood that was drawn disappearing as it seeped into the black of his collared shirt, but it was enough to wipe that infuriatingly amused grin off his face.
Yes, you did take that as a small victory.
You shifted to grab another knife from the table, but just as you turned, Jungkook lunged forward, wrapping an arm around you to pull you away from the other utensils. Your back crashed into his chest, the momentum causing his own back to be pushed into the wall behind him. Despite this, his hold on you was steady, even as you struggled against him.
“From poisons and guns to physical fights,” Jungkook laughed through heavy breaths, and you tensed as you felt the warmth of his breath skitter across the expanse of your bare neck, “and here I thought our relationship would never grow.”
You continued to thrash in his arms, your own breaths heavy as you eyed the bed to your left.
“Are you ready to talk this out like an adult now, princess?”
You scoffed, bringing your leg up to plant your foot on the bedframe and push backwards. You made sure to use the momentum to help you jab your elbow into Jungkook’s diaphragm, the action instantly drawing the air from his lungs. He grunted, losing his hold on you just enough to allow you to pry yourself from his grip. The moment you were free you ran towards the steak knife lying on the floor, grabbing it and turning back to him.
He looked like a mess—dark hair scattered haphazardly across his forehead, chest rising and falling with every breath, bloody collarbone hidden underneath his black suit coat. You probably looked no better, with the ribbon in your hair barely hanging on by a thread, your chest rising and falling just as rapidly as Jungkook’s, and the skirt of your dress slightly torn at its edge.
What a couple you made.
Knife still in hand, you slowly began to pace before him, if only to give yourself a moment to catch your breath.
“Tired, princess?” Jungkook grinned, taking in your messy form. You could feel the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, ready for more action. But you forced yourself to relax, bide your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. Despite being unarmed, Jungkook was still much stronger and more experienced, you couldn’t be hasty if you wanted to follow this through.
“I should be asking you that.” You raised a brow, absentmindedly twisting the knife in your hand. “You’re the one bleeding all over your shirt, not me.”
“This?” He asked, hooking a finger around the edge of his collar and pulling it down slightly, revealing the marred piece of skin across his collarbone, “it’s just a scratch—a gift, from my lovely wife.”
You gave him a sickly sweet smile. “Well, there’s a lot more where that came from, my lovely husband.”
Your body moved before you could even process it.
At first, you’d aimed to lunge at him once again, this time targeting the large expanse of this clothed chest with your already bloodied steak knife. But the moment a click sounded from behind you, it was as though a switch had been flipped, your body’s natural reflexes taking hold of your limbs to adjust your direction. As a result, you found yourself in the area behind Jungkook instead, knife pressing against his back as your focus shifted to the room’s door, particularly the doorknob which had just finished twisting.
From behind the wooden structure emerged Jimin, in all his silver-haired and sharp-eyed glory. Said eyes were quick to scan the entirety of the room, rapidly taking in the slightly tilted bed and disheveled coffee table, before they finally settled on you and Jungkook. You caught the way his gaze narrowed slightly, no doubt noticing Jungkook’s messy and your well-hidden states, but the expression vanished from his face just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once again with a deceptively charming smile.
“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to meet your eyes. That only caused you to shy further into Jungkook, as though you were too timid to face him. But really you were just using Jungkook to hide your bare-faced scowl and the knife you currently had pressed to his back.
What is he doing here? You thought, shock and irritation getting the better of you.
Jungkook, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.
“Excuse her,” he explained in mock sympathy, “she gets a bit shy when she isn’t wearing her makeup.”
You pressed the knife deeper into his back for no reason other than pure annoyance, its edge slicing through the expensive layers of his suit before pricking his skin. But Jungkook continued to stand upright, giving no indication of the pain you were inflicting.
“I see…” Jimin murmured absentmindedly, his gaze momentarily stalling on the small, visible end of the cut on Jungkook’s collarbone before it continued towards your hidden form, “there’s no need for that, Y/N. I’m sure you look lovely without your makeup.”
You gave him a shy nod, even though the entirety of your face was still hidden by Jungkook’s back. Despite this, the action seemed to satisfy him enough that his attention shifted back to Jungkook.
“Well then… you texted?” He prompted, his voice characteristically smooth. Your brows furrowed, not understanding the comment until your curious gaze noticed the cell phone hanging from Jungkook’s hand, its screen still lit to display the messages app. He must have texted Jimin with his free hand when he’d restrained you earlier.
Jungkook paused, evidently searching for a valid reason to justify the text. It didn’t take him long to find one.
“Y/N was starting to feel a bit restless,” he said, earning an eye roll from you, “she’s not used to being cooped up in a room for long.”
“Is that so?” Jimin’s brows raised, feigning concern as his gaze shifted back to your hidden form. He even brought an apologetic hand to his chest as he spoke, “I wholeheartedly apologise, Y/N.”
“Why don’t we head down to the garden for some tea? I think we could all use the fresh air,” he grinned, playing the gracious host ostentatiously well.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Jungkook answered, and you just knew he was fighting that signature sly grin, pleased with the outcome of his quick thinking. You had to repress another roll of your eyes. He could keep delaying the inevitable all he wanted, but you had an entire night to finish what you started.
“Go on then, sweetheart,” Jimin prodded, eyeing your shy form, “Jungkook and I will wait right here for you while you apply your makeup.”
You uttered a soft thank you, inconspicuously slipping the steak knife into the holster at your thigh, before covering your face with your hair. Just as you were about to make your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t help but brush against Jungkook’s side, leaning closer so that your lips neared his ear. Your voice was soft, low enough that only he could hear, when you spoke.
“Coward.”
Just to let him know, that this was far from over.
-
-
-
You hadn’t thought much of it at first, but as more parts of Jimin’s house were exposed to you, the more you realised just how empty it truly was. There weren’t any family members or friends wandering around—which you supposed wasn’t too odd since it was possible they didn’t frequent this place often—but you didn’t notice anyone else either. No maids, no guards, no one, which did strike you as abnormal.
That, however, changed the moment Jimin led you and Jungkook through a side door that opened into an enormous garden. Here, there were guards strategically flanked everywhere: before every entrance into the mansion, on the roofs of every building within sight—you could even make out a sniper hidden here and there atop the tall trees scattered throughout the area. There were maids too, bustling animatedly in a building separated from the main house as they dropped spices into heated pots and pans and hung clothes on clothing lines.
But none of which you’d observed in Jimin’s mansion. Distantly, you wondered why that was.
The thought stuck with you as Jimin continued to guide you and Jungkook along a stone pathway, the stark black of the stones contrasting with the lush green grass surrounding them. Lining the pathway were pairs of neatly trimmed bushes, adorned with almost paper-white roses—you were beginning to notice them being a recurrent theme here—that were being tended to by professional-looking gardeners. Their skilled hands also extended to tend to the tall elm trees, the leaves of which swayed almost mechanically in the salty breeze, a reminder of the waves crashing below the nearby cliff.
Finally, Jimin led you both into a clearing within the garden, the ground entirely coated in smooth black stone while atop it sat various pieces of white, modern-style patio furniture. On the far side of the clearing sat a long countertop which broke midway to make space for a large grill, likely for outdoor events you guessed.
Jimin gestured for the both of you to sit on one of the vacant couches, only easing into his own single-seater once the two of you had settled next to each other. Jungkook’s thigh pressed into the holster underneath your dress, the one now carrying not only your gun—you’d snagged it secretly before leaving the bedroom—but also the steak knife for good measure.
The three of you sat in silence for a moment, allowing the sound of rolling waves and active maids to dominate the atmosphere. The seats were positioned in a way that they overlooked the drop of the far cliff, and you couldn’t decide if that was meant to be calming or a threat in disguise. Either way, the dizzying sight had you quickly averting your gaze.
“I hope this is much more to your liking, Y/N,” Jimin finally spoke, his sharp eyes studying you with passing interest. You nodded in response, smile light and innocent, giving him no reason to doubt your feather-brained facade.
“You know…” Jimin continued, leaning back in his seat as he crossed an ankle over his knee. Although his focus was still on you, you got the feeling that his next words were more directed at Jungkook, “Jungkook used to spend a great deal of time here years ago, back when we attended the same university.”
The new information didn’t surprise you, in fact, it started to explain why Jungkook already seemed so familiar with the place. Even when Jimin was guiding you here earlier, it was evident that Jungkook could have gotten here all on his own.
You noticed Jungkook watching Jimin closely, clearly interested in where Jimin was taking this conversation.
“Him and I were good friends back then—did he tell you?”
You shook your head, feigning an oblivious expression in the face of this new information. It wasn’t difficult, what with your own natural curiosity growing.
“A shame,” he shook his head, the movement as polished as his voice, “growing up we knew of each other, of course. Our parents were diplomatic enough that we saw each other once in a while, but it wasn’t until Jungkook first joined university that our friendship truly flourished.”
An amused breath escaped Jungkook’s lips, but it was laced with a restrained hostility, “the real shame is the betrayal that tore it apart.”
“Betrayal is such a subjective term,” Jimin waved him off, “in my opinion, I had ambitions, and I simply used every opportunity I was given to achieve them.”
“You and I don’t see achieving your ambitions in the same way.”
“Oh Jungkook, it’s always so black and white with you,” he tutted, and something—something wicked—flashed through his eyes before he spoke the next words, “you and your father had that in common.”
Jungkook’s gaze was piercing as it met Jimin’s head-on, a muscle in his jaw ticking in restrained anger. You suddenly got the feeling that Jimin's comment held a much heavier sentiment than what it seemed.
A haughty grin spread across Jimin’s lips, evidently pleased by his reaction. But Jungkook’s gaze was dark as he leaned forward, his mouth set into an unamused line.
“I wouldn’t be so careless with my words if I were you, Jimin,” he spoke dangerously low, tone void of the amusement gracing Jimin’s voice, “you attacked my territory, and don’t think for a second our past would ever stop me from calling for war right here and now because of it.”
Something danced behind Jimin’s amused expression, “I’m sure Yoongi would be ecstatic to hear that—”
“Yoongi is a bloodlusting idiot. If you truly believe I’m afraid of him, you’re wildly mistaken.”
Jimin rolled his eyes before they landed back on you, suddenly feigning an apologetic smile.
“Ah, but how can we be speaking about such dreary topics in the presence of such lovely company?” He shook his head in disappointment before giving you a patronising grin, “tell me, Y/N, how has the North been treating you?”
“It’s been great so far,” you replied, giving him a dumb smile. Your gaze hovered for a moment, traveling around the open space, until it settled on the bushes surrounding the clearing, “I love the white roses, they’re really pretty.”
“I do as well,” he nodded, his gaze following yours, “they can be such a hassle to clean, though, especially when they’re dirty with blood.”
Well… that took a turn.
You decided to let your eyes widen, your expression morphing from dumb naivety to pure fear at the thought of bloodied roses and what they entailed. The reaction seemed to amuse Jimin, “but there’s no need to worry about that, sweetheart—as long as Jungkook behaves, of course.”
“Don't threaten my wife, Jimin. It’s beneath you,” Jungkook tutted, his voice meaning to be casual. But you couldn’t help but notice a slight edge in his tone, laced intricately between his nonchalant words.
“I’m only teasing, you know you’re both safe here. The North isn’t so barbaric.”
Safe. An interesting word to use when you were currently surrounded by snipers and floral metaphors, but that seemed to be Jimin’s style: calm words intertwined with precarious undertones, a dangerous duality if one wasn’t careful.
The tense moment shattered at the sight of a maid, her black dress and white apron flowing in the breeze as she pushed a fancy-looking cart towards you and Jungkook, an assortment of fluffy pastries and sweet desserts perched on fancy ceramic plates and bowls. She began placing white teacups before you both before pouring you each a steaming cup of what smelled like chamomile tea.
But your gaze was quick to latch onto the guard behind her, who had walked past you and Jungkook to make his way to Jimin’s seated form. He stood stiffly for a moment, waiting until Jimin motioned for him to speak. Instead, he brought out an average-sized envelope and presented it to Jimin with a bow, the back of which held an array of black cursive you couldn’t read at your distance. Jimin opened it with ease, taking his time to scan the document it had produced.
You studied the guard closely, though it didn’t take a detective to notice the urgency in his expression, especially considering how poorly masked it was behind his attempt at a neutral look. Jimin’s expression was much more controlled when he lowered the paper, his eyes artfully neutral as he thought something over for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. He handed the envelope back to the guard with a nod, who scurried away quickly, before facing you both.
“It seems we’ll have to continue this lovely conversation at dinner, there’s a matter that requires my attention,” he explained, giving away nothing that could indicate the nature of the matter, “please, feel free to enjoy the flowers for as long as you wish.”
He didn’t wait for a reply from either of you, instead making his exit the moment the last word left his lips, disappearing along the very pathway that had led you all into the clearing.
The maid disappeared only a couple minutes after him, once she’d offered you and Jungkook some pastries and more tea, both of which you declined. That left the two of you sitting alone in the clearing, nothing but the salty breeze whistling as it whirled through tight spaces. The waves below seemed to thrash more ruthlessly in Jimin’s absence, thundering against the ragged side of the tall cliff.
Neither of you spoke a word, Jungkook too busy quietly simmering over Jimin’s cryptic jabs and you much too impatient to get back to your room and finish what you started. You let out an impatient breath, eyes half-heartedly journeying from one thing to another as you participated in a bored assessment of the space.
Sharp streaks of orange and pink painted the sky as the sun began its descent, a sight that would have been beautiful if not for how the colours seemed to bathe the white roses in shades of orange and yellow, lighting their petals on fire throughout the clearing. The violent image instantly brought you back to Jimin’s words, introducing new images of scarlet-splattered roses—of the blood no doubt left to fester at their roots.
Your nose scrunched in a grimace as you pushed the thoughts from your mind, opting instead to observe the man sitting next to you, taking in his set jaw and furrowed brows. Unlike the rose petals, Jungkook’s honey skin glowed underneath the warm sunlight, making him seem a lot more soft in this moment. His mind was anything but that, however. You could tell from the way his eyes held a distant look as they focused on the white roses before him, as though he was reminiscing over a heavy memory.
“So, the leaders of the Jeons and the Parks used to be besties,” you recounted, getting bored of the silence. You watched the gardeners begin placing their equipment in giant bags, the bushes and trees trimmed to an almost mechanical perfection.
Jungkook didn’t respond—a smart choice, considering that even one misplaced word could now give away so much. Instead, his gaze continued to stay locked on that patch of rose bushes before him.
“I wonder what Jimin did that was so bad it broke apart a friendship like that…” you pondered out loud, leaning back into the cushion as you tilted your head in thought, “did he make you take the fall for something? Worked with someone behind your back? Or—oh, perhaps a girlfriend was involved.”
“Shouldn’t you limit your focus to exploring better ways to kill me?” He asked, voice deep but distant, gaze still glued to the roses, “your last attempt was far from successful.”
Your eyes narrowed, “you were lucky.”
“I think intelligent is the more accurate word.”
It was a smart move to text Jimin while he had you restrained, though you’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting that out loud. Instead, you rolled your eyes, giving off the impression that it was only a measly setback.
“What’s going on with you anyway?” You decided to ask, and you hated that you noticed the edge of Jungkook’s lips twitch, as though he knew you were changing the topic on purpose, “you look like you’re seeing ghosts.”
A silence ensued, one that seemed much heavier than whenever Jungkook simply didn’t feel like replying to your comments. It didn’t help that splotches of navy blue were beginning to adorn the sky, encouraging the waves below to become even more restless in their thrashes. A particularly rough breeze drove through the clearing in response, pushing the rose bushes harshly to one side before vanishing into the still air.
“Perhaps I am,” he finally answered cryptically.
You turned to study him curiously, not understanding the odd comment. Thankfully, he explained before you could ask.
“You know he buried someone there?” He asked, nodding towards the bed of white roses he’d had his eye on for a while now, “tortured the guy till he could barely stand upright and then buried him alive.”
You took a moment to digest the disturbing information, it’s spontaneity catching you off guard. But, for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. From the moment you stepped into Park Estate, you knew, at least subconsciously, that the roses held a heavier symbol than met the eye—that their presence went beyond simple decoration pieces.
What did interest you, however, was the way Jungkook had delivered the news. His voice was void of any sympathy or guilt—no bitterness or anger, just a cold clinical fact. You wondered if this detachment was his way of coping with memories akin to nightmares, or the man currently buried underneath the ghostly roses wasn’t important enough to earn his guilt.
Either way, you refused to be shaken.
“Who?”
Jungkook still didn’t meet your eyes when he answered, a shadow flitting over his face as the sun continued its escape.
“Someone who crossed a line.”
You allowed your gaze to follow his, imagining the screams of a broken man being buried alive, Jimin towering over him with nothing but a shovel and rage. And then the quiet that would’ve followed, nothing but the whistling of salty air and midnight shadows as the gardeners’ gloved hands laid white roses into the soil above, as though they were a soft tombstone.
“Maybe I’ll ask Jimin for some tips,” you said, “I have a hindrance of my own I might need to bury.”
“Oh?” The edge of Jungkook’s lips twitched, a sign of his returning amusement, as he finally turned towards you, “and how do you expect to kill this hindrance? You’re not planning on burying him alive are you?”
“I’ll leave that to your imagination. The mystery is half the fun, no?”
He leaned back into the cushion without breaking eye contact, ankle folding over his knee while his arm stretched over the couch’s back, “I’d be disappointed if you come at me with that knife again.”
“But then again… poisons, guns, knives… what could possibly be left?” He pondered out loud, gaze wandering for a moment. Then, as though a thought suddenly came to him, he grinned, “perhaps you could ask me nicely to drop dead.”
You raised a brow, “that would work?”
“You could try. Might amuse me.”
You rolled your eyes, unable to stop yourself from shoving his shoulder. He only laughed, the sound low, and patronising, as it resounded throughout the empty space. By now, the gardeners had fully cleared from the area, leaving behind no one aside from the two of you and some guards stationed a large distance away. With the sun now entirely gone, the atmosphere was now bathed in darkness, the moonlight, and some lamps scattered here and there, the only sources of light in the garden, casting an eerie glow throughout.
It had your gaze automatically drifting towards the roses once again, the almost pale moonlight now painting their petals in shades of ghostly greys and whites, a testament to what resided underneath their roots.
You didn’t think Jungkook would answer, barely understood why you were even bothering to ask in the first place, but before you could stop yourself, you felt your lips forming the question that had been plaguing your mind.
“Is that why you stopped coming here?”
His gaze didn’t waver from yours, chocolate eyes dark underneath the shadows of the night. The proximity granted you a better view of the jagged cut gracing his collarbone, the wound now scabbed over with specks of dried, dark red blood. It stood in contrast to his pearly neck, a product of the pale moonlight now bathing his once honey skin.
“Yes,” he answered quietly, causing your gaze to snap back to meet his, “in part, at least.”
You tilted your head, surprised that he’d answered—granted shortly—but it was still unexpected. You didn’t know what to make of this sudden openness, or the fact that Jimin torturing and burying a man was partly the reason for their fall-out. And perhaps it was because you had gotten somewhere with the first question, that you decided to drop another.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let the sounds of the waves below fill the space, their crashes now ruthless underneath the moon’s presence, as though hungry. Goosebumps arose over your bare shoulders as the air became chilly, the cold swiping at your skin, and you wondered distantly if it was just because of the estate’s proximity to the ocean or because it might start raining later on in the night.
“I figured you’d be more interested in staying quiet,” you commented after a beat, resting a cheek against your hand, “given that I tried to gut you like a fish not too long ago.”
He huffed a laugh, barely audible, but you raised a brow. His gaze was sharp as it locked with yours, searching—always searching, but you could never figure out what for.
“It interests me, seeing what people do with certain information.”
You tilted your head. “So this is some sort of test?”
“No,” he denied, and this time there was something oddly gentle about the way he spoke, “it’s a warning.”
You blinked.
“A warning?”
You studied his unwavering expression, trying to pry the deeper meaning of his words from the turn of his lips or the furrow of his brows. But you emerged empty-handed, forced to guess your way through this.
“You think I work for Jimin?”
Jungkook’s lips spread into an amused grin, the action nudging a couple strands of black hair onto his forehead haphazardly, before he spoke.
“No, I’m well aware of who pulls your strings.”
You stilled, the words instantly sharpening the intensity of your gaze while pulling the edges of your lips into a straight line. You could feel the tulle of your dress scrunch up between your fingers, a telltale sign of the fist they were slowing folding themselves into.
That hit a nerve, an ancient nerve you thought you’d buried years ago, right beside the personality you’d replaced when you started your ditzy act. Pulling your strings. As though you were a puppet, limited to the will of the master who controlled you. You were no one’s puppet, not your father’s, not H’s, not Jungkook’s.
Jungkook must have noticed the way a nerve in your jaw ticked at his words, the way your shoulders tensed, because his gaze shifted—flickered, as though he had realised he’d glimpsed something beyond the act, beyond the killing, beyond even the women underneath the fancy dresses and glimmering makeup. This was something personal, an insecurity born from a childhood that had beaten you down into nothing before you’d fought to build yourself back up.
You pushed yourself from the couch, using it as an excuse to turn away from him before he could dig any deeper than he’d already gotten.
“I’m not a puppet,” you said, forcing your voice to be low and calm, though there was a tiny bite to it that you couldn't control—one he didn’t miss.
You expected him to throw out another smug comment, or continue to needle that exposed nerve; it was an opening, one that could get him the information that he was so curious about if he pried hard enough. But, instead, the silence stretched between you like a taut thread, vibrating with tension neither of you acknowledged.
Then finally, he spoke.
“I didn’t say you were.”
You glanced at him over your shoulder, surprised by the quiet weight in his voice, completely void of any taunts or provocative comments. Your eyes locked, and some kind of odd understanding seemed to pass between you as you stood, breeze swaying your hair to one side, and Jungkook sat, ankle still draped over his knee.
This time when you broke away from him it was to slice whatever had seized that odd moment, laced with a feeling you couldn’t quite shake, heavy with a tension you couldn’t quite explain.
“I’m going to go freshen up in our room before dinner,” you announced, voice still bordering on sharp as you began making your way towards the pathway.
“Don’t bother following unless you want a knife in your eye.”
An amused huff sounded from behind you, one you completely ignored as you navigated around the other couches and coffee table set neatly throughout the clearing. Around you the quiet atmosphere was loud with the sounds of restless waves and chilly winds—even a rustle within the trees sounded once in a while to remind you of the snipers hidden between their perfect leaves. In contrast, your steps were silent despite the contact between your heels and the smooth black stone underneath, a skill you’d picked up in your childhood.
Before you could make your escape, however, your steps faltered when you neared the patch of rose bushes that Jungkook had identified, the ones acting as a theatrical tombstone for a man who had crossed a line years ago. They would have been beautiful if not for the story that laid underneath their roots, the white of their petals glowing ghastly in the moon’s presence.
Entranced, you took a step closer, observing the way they swayed in the salty breeze, desperate to escape the tragedy that they laid upon. But, as you leaned closer, your eyes narrowed as you began to notice small splotches of pink coating their petals, the colour fading into the whites of the roses almost entirely. It made the images of blood-soaked flowers that much more vivid, and perhaps that was their goal in the first place. If there was one thing you’d realised about Park Jimin it was that he was meticulous, with his perfectly trimmed garden, spotless mansion, and flawless suits; if the blood couldn’t be stripped from the stained petals, you had no problem imagining him commanding their replacement instantly. But leaving the stained roses be? That was a message. A reminder to all, of the man buried below.
You turned towards Jungkook, not surprised to find him watching you closely, still leaning back into the couch with an unreadable expression.
“Did he at least deserve it?”
He tilted his head, “depends.”
You watched as his gaze traveled around the garden, landing on the rose bushes standing next to the one at your side, then the ones lining the bases of multiple trees, and then at the ones sprouting near the cliff’s edge. For some reason, the more his gaze wandered, the more you could feel your stomach drop, and it was his next words that validated that feeling.
“Which one are you asking about?”
-
-
-
Jeon Jungkook was having an atrocious time in Park Territory.
Every meticulously arranged room and pristine hallway seemed only to remind him of his past—not the chaotic, bloodstained days of his rise through the Jeons, but the quieter moments, filled with drunken laughs and loud complaints over assignments and delicious foods stolen from the kitchen. Because that’s what Park Estate used to be for him: a refuge from his own violent life. But now? Walking through its hallways felt like visiting a ghost town, once bustling with life, now haunted in distant memories.
The lack of maids and guards didn’t exactly help fend off that thought, although it wasn’t a mystery to him as to why Jimin chose not to let anyone into his house without his strict supervision. Jungkook was well aware of the secret Jimin had stashed away upstairs, what he was protecting so desperately. Another memory that haunted him worse than any ghost could.
Funny enough, the only thing that seemed to keep Jungkook grounded within these memory-filled hallways was, surprisingly, you. Your presence seemed to clamp down on his mind, ensuring it’s only focus was on surviving rather than reminiscing over old betrayals. Anytime he felt that almost ancient anger begin to climb up his throat you were there, eyes ablaze and knife in hand, pulling his attention back towards your fatal attempts.
And as deranged as it sounded, he was enjoying the challenge, especially since you were a lot more capable than he had initially thought. You’d gotten dangerously close to slicing his neck earlier in the bedroom, closer than he’d ever imagined you could. The thought had the edges of his lips twitching in amusement.
“Sir?”
A voice called from the cell phone resting in his palm, the sound close to making him flinch. He’d almost forgotten about the man on the other line, whose call he’d picked up right after excusing himself from the dinner table earlier. It had been a relief to finally get away from Jimin’s fake charm as he graciously offered you more pastrami or cracked sultry jokes—ones you of course had to laugh at because of your act. Jungkook knew Jimin did it on purpose, he loved playing around with people, getting under their skin in ways that went beyond guns and curses. It had been a useful tool back when they were on the same team.
Now, though, it was just annoying.
“Go on,” Jungkook muttered.
The man on the other line cleared his throat, clearly put off by the unusual silence, before he spoke, “we’ve completed our raid on the locations we suspected H may be hiding in.”
H.
Another one of many thorns in his side currently, only this one was shrouded in a lot more mystery than Jungkook would’ve preferred. Aside from the fact that you worked for him, and that he was probably the reason you wanted Jungkook dead, he didn’t know much about the man. In this line of work, that was never a good sign, especially if he was an emerging threat.
Jungkook paused, his mind reeling back in afterthought. Right… you worked with H, not for him—a distinction that had been made abundantly clear earlier in the garden. His thoughts drifted back to the image of your distant expression, the one that had emerged immediately after he’d insinuated otherwise. It was probably the most vulnerable he had ever seen you, and perhaps if you were anyone else he would’ve exploited that moment for his own benefit—pushed you to the edge until you were spilling secrets. He could’ve already known who H was by now, or why you were so keen on following through with your mission. And yet, for some reason… he’d pulled back. Even now he couldn’t understand why he’d let such a good opportunity go to waste.
“Most of the locations were warehouses for storage, all of which we searched from top to bottom. We… weren’t able to find H, his associates, or any evidence related to him—in fact, they were all empty…”
“But,” he added quickly, “we just received another signal near the West about half an hour ago. Tech is saying it looks promising. Should we check it out?”
Jungkook had to stifle an irritated sigh before he answered.
“No.”
“Sir?”
The surprise in his voice was evident, but it didn’t phase Jungkook. He knew a wild goose chase when he saw one, and H seemed much too eager to play goose for his liking. It was clear now that if Jungkook wanted to find H, he was going to have to do it himself.
“Don’t bother,” Jungkook continued, “return to Jeon Territory and have the men start fortifying the borders.”
“Right away, sir.”
A click sounded as the call ended.
A drop of water splashed against the tip of his nose, raising Jungkook’s gaze to the sky above. It was now darkened by the shadows of the night, grey clouds huddling together as they stood before the stars and thundered alongside the distant sounds of crashing waves. The wind was beginning to pick up, pushing harshly against the looming trees.
Unaffected, his gaze then travelled to the windows of the building behind him. One of the few changes that had arisen since he was last there was the dining room, which now inhabited a building separated from Jimin’s main house—no doubt to ensure the maids could enter and leave freely without the need to enter the mansion. Another way to keep everyone out and Jimin’s secret hidden.
Unlike before, he noticed that there was no sight of you or Jimin at the dining table—only maids bustling around the structure as they gathered the used plates and utensils swiftly. Jimin had clearly moved the two of you to the living room. On one hand, that meant he was enjoying your ditzy facade way more than he should be, but on the other hand, that meant they could finally get into why he’d invited Jungkook in the first place.
His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he began making his way to the living room, allowing himself to ponder over Jimin’s intentions for what seemed like the hundredth time today. He had already alluded to wanting to mend old wounds, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever came out of his old friend’s mouth. Jungkook would just have to navigate his words to piece together his real plan, and what it was that he truly wanted from Jungkook.
Jimin was a cunning man, and Jungkook refused to allow himself to be stabbed in the back once again.
A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!