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Moon Mark- JJK ft. KTH Pt.02

SYNOPSIS: Born with a pale crescent mark near her eye, Y/N has spent her entire life being shunned by the townsfolk who call her cursed. But after years of ridicule, she's learned to live quietly finding comfort in her father's love and the gentle loyalty of her childhood friend, Taehyung.Everything changes when Jeon Jungkook, the wealthy heir to a powerful family, arrives in town. Unlike everyone else, he's captivated by the very thing others despise. To him, her "curse" is divine proof that she's meant to be his. GENRE: Dark Romance | Psychological | Yandere | Slow-burn tragedy WC: 17.6k

-> MOON MARK- JJK. ft. KTH pt.01 (Read part.01 here)

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You finally let your guard down. It had been days since Jungkook had tried talking to you again softly this time, not the same boy who once glared with cold fury. His voice carried no sharpness now, only an unfamiliar gentleness that made you hesitate every time he spoke your name.

He'd begun with little things asking what you liked, what food made you happy, what places you loved in the village. You could tell he was trying; there was a strange sincerity in the way he listened, as if every word you said mattered more than it should. When you laughed faintly at his awkward questions, he'd smile, that soft, almost boyish smile that didn't match his usual cold presence.

For once, he didn't feel like someone from a world higher than yours. He felt human.

You told yourself that maybe he truly wanted to be your friend not because of pity, not because of curiosity, but because he wanted to know you. The thought made your chest feel warm and uncertain all at once.

When you told Taehyung about it, he barely looked at you. He was sitting under the big oak tree behind the school, a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand, his jaw clenched.

"Taehyung, he's not as bad as you think," you said quietly, your fingers twisting in your skirt. "He's different now. He's trying."

He let out a bitter laugh, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Trying? He's rich, Y/n. He doesn't need to try. People like that just get what they want." He tore another piece of bread, staring at the ground. "But if you think you can handle it, fine. It's your life. I'm done trying to explain."

You felt the sting of his words, sharp and cold, cutting through your chest. You wanted to tell him he was wrong that Jungkook wasn't like the others, that he wasn't the monster everyone made him out to be. But Taehyung didn't even glance at you again.

For a moment, the wind carried silence between you both heavy and distant. You watched the sunlight scatter through the leaves, falling over Taehyung's face, his expression unreadable.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you were foolish. But as you walked home later that day, you caught Jungkook waiting near the gates, that soft smile returning when he saw you. And somehow that small, gentle look made you believe even if it was foolish that maybe he truly meant it this time.

------

The sun was low, melting into gold as it dripped over the school's back yard the old wooden fence casting long, tired shadows across the grass. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt stolen from the rest of the world. Everyone had gone home hours ago, but Jungkook had stayed behind. And somehow you had too.

He sat beside you on the worn stone bench, his jacket laid neatly on the surface so you wouldn't have to sit on the cold stone. From his bag, he pulled out small packets snacks, biscuits wrapped in bright paper, and a box of something you had never seen before. "Try this," he said softly, offering one to you. "They're from the city."

You hesitated, looking at the shiny wrapping as though it belonged to another world. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," he said simply, his voice low, calm.

The way he said it made you stop protesting. You took it, your fingers brushing his warm and calloused. You unwrapped it slowly, biting into the soft, sweet thing. It melted in your mouth. You smiled, just a little, and he noticed.

Jungkook's gaze lingered not on the food, but on your hands. Rough, small, cracked from work in the fields, not like the soft, polished hands of the girls he'd known before. He reached forward without thinking, his fingers brushing against yours.

"You work too hard," he murmured, his tone unreadable. "Your hands... they don't deserve to look like this."

You blinked, trying to pull them back, but his hold was gentle, firm enough to make you still. His thumb traced over your skin slowly deliberate, tender. "You shouldn't hide them," he added quietly. "They tell stories... real ones."

Your heart pounded so hard you thought he might hear it. His words were strange soft but heavy, too intimate for the space you shared. You didn't know whether to smile or step back.

Then he looked up at you really looked and you froze. His eyes softened for the first time, all the sharpness melting away. Slowly, his hand reached up, his fingers brushing the side of your face. His thumb paused under your left eye, tracing the pale crescent-shaped mark there the mark everyone called a curse.

You stopped breathing.

Jungkook's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's beautiful..."

Before you could even move, he leaned forward his lips pressing softly against the mark. It was brief, almost like a promise you didn't understand, but the warmth of it spread through your chest until it hurt to breathe.

When you opened your eyes, he was still close, close enough that you could see the faint tremor in his lashes, the tension in his jaw. His gaze dropped slowly, deliberately to your lips.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled. The world went silent except for the uneven rhythm of your breathing. You didn't know what to do, or what this was supposed to mean and then, just as suddenly, he smiled a faint, secret smile that carried something unreadable and moved away, resting his elbows on his knees as though nothing had happened.

Your heart wouldn't stop pounding. The taste of sweetness still lingered on your tongue, but the air between you both had changed charged, heavy, dangerous. You could still feel his touch against your skin, and you didn't know if you should be afraid or if you already were.

-------

The next morning, the air was damp with the smell of soil and smoke that familiar scent that always clung to your village when the harvest season neared. You stood outside the classroom, brushing dust off your skirt as Taehyung spoke animatedly beside you, his hands already dirt-stained from helping his father before school.

"Your father said the crops are ready to take out, right?" Taehyung asked, grinning. "I'll come after class. We'll finish the field before sundown if we both work."

You smiled faintly, nodding. "He'll be glad. It's been tiring for him lately."

Taehyung's grin widened, the kind that always brought warmth to your chest until you felt another gaze on you. You turned, your breath catching slightly.

Jungkook stood near the school gate, his bag slung over one shoulder, watching the two of you. His expression was unreadable, that faint smirk ghosting across his lips as he approached, his polished shoes tapping against the dusty ground too clean, too foreign for this place.

"What are you two talking about?" he asked casually, though his tone carried something sharp beneath.

Taehyung didn't bother hiding his irritation. "Just about the fields. We're taking the crops out this week."

"The fields?" Jungkook repeated, tilting his head. "I want to see them."

You blinked, unsure if you heard him right. "You... what?"

"I want to visit your home," he said, his voice calm but firm the kind that didn't ask, it commanded. "I've never seen how you live. How you work."

The words made your stomach twist. "No," you said quickly. "It's- it's just muddy and far. There's nothing to see there."

Jungkook's gaze darkened, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "That's fine. I don't mind mud." He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough for only you to hear. "You said no the last time I wanted to walk you home. Don't say no again, Y/n."

Your throat went dry. There was something unsettling in his tone soft, but it carried weight, like a threat dressed in velvet. You glanced at Taehyung, hoping he'd interrupt, but he was already glaring at Jungkook, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists.

"Why do you even want to come?" Taehyung asked sharply. "You wouldn't last five minutes in the fields. You'll ruin your shoes before you even step in."

Jungkook turned his gaze toward him, a small, dangerous smile curving his lips. "Then I'll take them off."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Taehyung looked away first, muttering under his breath, his frustration evident. You didn't want trouble not here, not between them.

"Fine," you said quietly, breaking the silence. "If you really want to come, then come."

Jungkook's expression softened instantly, the smirk replaced with a glint of satisfaction. "Good," he said simply, before turning away and heading inside the classroom as if nothing had happened.

You watched him go, unease curling in your chest like smoke. Taehyung's voice snapped you out of it low, angry, hurt.

"You shouldn't have said yes," he muttered. "People like him... they don't come to help. They come to take."

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Because deep down, even you knew the way Jungkook's eyes had lingered on you, the way his voice coiled around your name it didn't feel like curiosity. It felt like possession.

------

The sun sat high above the hills, spilling gold over the fields as the air buzzed with the smell of wet earth and growing grain. The village felt alive voices echoing from far-off farms, the soft chatter of ducks near the pond, the rhythmic creak of wooden tools.

You led Jungkook down the narrow dirt path, your sandals half covered in dust, Taehyung walking beside you carrying two baskets. Jungkook followed behind, his fine trousers catching mud splatters with every few steps. He had insisted on coming. Now he looked like he regretted every second of it.

"Watch your step," you said softly, glancing back at him as he tried to steady himself. "The mud's thicker here."

He didn't respond just gave a curt nod, lips pressed tight, his usual polished charm slipping every time a mosquito dared buzz near his ear. When one landed on his neck, he swatted it so hard that Taehyung barked out a laugh.

"City boy," Taehyung muttered under his breath, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "Didn't your fancy house have insects? Or did they run away from you too?"

Jungkook's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply. Instead, he forced a smile one that didn't reach his eyes and looked at you. "It's... beautiful here," he said, his voice strained, like the word beautiful was heavy on his tongue.

You smiled faintly. "It's peaceful."

Peaceful wasn't the word Jungkook would have chosen. Every step he took was followed by the squelch of mud, the distant cries of ducks, and the sun burning his pale skin. And when one of the ducks waddled too close, Jungkook took a step back right into something soft and unpleasant.

He froze. Slowly, his gaze dropped to his shoe the once-polished leather now smeared with duck droppings.

"God-" he muttered, his face twisting.

Taehyung burst into laughter, doubling over. "That's what you get for stepping where you don't belong."

"Taehyung!" you said, half trying to scold him while hiding your own laugh. You grabbed Jungkook's hand gently, guiding him to the water edge. "Here, wash it off."

He crouched, clearly uncomfortable, trying not to touch the water more than necessary. But when you bent down beside him, brushing mud off his shoe with your bare hand, he went utterly still. His annoyance faded for a moment, replaced by something darker, something unexplainable.

You looked up at him and smiled faintly. "There. It's clean now."

Jungkook's lips parted slightly, the heat rising to his ears. "You didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

"I didn't mind."

Behind you, Taehyung's smile was gone. His eyes followed every flicker of Jungkook's gaze the way it softened when it met yours. The way he seemed to linger a little too long.

By afternoon, your father arrived carrying a tray a few old glasses filled with cloudy fruit juice. The scent of sugarcane and guava hung in the air. "You kids must be tired," he said cheerfully, setting them down on the wooden crate.

You and Taehyung eagerly took a glass, gulping down the sweet, slightly sour drink. Jungkook stared at his, the thick texture making him grimace. He had never seen juice like that unfiltered, pulpy, and served in mismatched cups.

Still, he smiled faintly, raising it to his lips, pretending to sip. "It's... good," he said, forcing a chuckle.

"See? Told you it's nice," you said brightly, your lips glistening with the juice as you smiled at him.

Jungkook's eyes flicked to your mouth, his throat tightening. "Yeah," he murmured. "It's nice."

But the moment you turned away to talk to your father, he lowered the glass and quietly poured its contents onto the dirt, the liquid soaking into the ground beside his polished shoe. Taehyung saw. He didn't say anything, but his stare burned through Jungkook like fire sharp, accusing, untrusting.

Jungkook only smiled faintly, setting the empty glass aside, his gaze drifting back to you. You were laughing at something your father said, brushing loose strands of hair from your face as the wind danced around you.

And Jungkook knew no matter how filthy, how far from his world this place was you were the only thing that made it feel worth staying in. Even if he didn't belong here, He'd make himself belong.

------

The evening sun was dipping behind the tiled roofs, turning the whole town gold as Jungkook's car rolled into the long, cobblestone driveway. The air was cool, faintly smelling of wood smoke and jasmine, the kind of quiet luxury that only old money carried heavy, still, and polished. The house stood proud, its large windows glowing with the warmth of candlelight and oil lamps, even though electricity hummed faintly through the wires.

When Jungkook stepped out, his polished shoes once black and gleaming were now caked with dried mud. His shirt was wrinkled, splattered with dust and bits of grass. The sweat on his forehead had dried to a dull sheen, and strands of his dark hair clung to his skin. He looked nothing like the son of a rich household more like a boy who had wandered too far from his own world.

As he pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the scent of sandalwood greeted him, along with his mother's voice.

"Jungkook-ah, you're home already?" she called, her tone sweet but curious.

He froze for a second in the doorway, then slowly stepped inside, trying to keep his head low. The marble floor glistened beneath his dirty shoes a mistake, he realized too late, when he heard her gasp.

"Good heavens, Jungkook! What happened to you?"

His mother hurried from the sitting room, her silk hanbok brushing against the floor. She stopped in front of him, her eyes wide scanning the dirt on his trousers, the dust on his sleeves, the faint streaks across his cheek.

He hesitated, voice quiet and steady, "There was... a sports event at school, eomma. I- I played with the others. Got a bit messy, that's all."

His father's deep laugh echoed from behind the newspaper in the sitting room. "Aha! Finally, the school's doing something good for once."

He folded the paper and stood up, his suspenders stretching slightly against his white shirt. His eyes, sharp and proud, softened as he looked at his son. "That's the spirit, boy. Reminds me of my old days — I used to come home just like that. Dusty, sweaty, happy. You're growing into a man now."

Jungkook forced a smile. "Yes, father."

His mother sighed, shaking her head as she placed a hand on his arm, her voice dripping with concern. "Yeobo, in your days you didn't have fine silk carpets or white walls," she said with a faint scold. "My son looks like he's been plowing fields all day."

Her words cut deeper than she meant them to. Jungkook's eyes flickered for a moment the image of you flashed in his mind: your hands brushing mud off his shoe, your soft smile, the way your hair caught the sunlight. He clenched his jaw.

Why was he doing this?

Why did a simple farm girl linger in his mind longer than any of the girls who begged for his attention?

His mother's voice broke through his thoughts again. "Go and freshen up, honey," she said softly, wiping a bit of dirt from his cheek with her handkerchief. "You must be exhausted. I'll make you something nice to eat, hmm?"

He nodded, forcing a gentle smile, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, eomma."

As he walked down the long, dim corridor toward his room, the wooden floor creaked under his steps. His reflection flashed in the hallway mirror disheveled, dirty, unrecognizable.

He stopped. For a moment, he stared at himself.

The frustration boiled quietly beneath his ribs the kind that came from confusion more than anger. He pressed his palm against the cool glass of the mirror.

"What are you doing, Jungkook?" he muttered under his breath. "You could have anyone. Anyone."

But his heart knew the truth before his mind could accept it. The memory of your laughter in the fields wouldn't leave him. The warmth of your touch lingered like a curse and somewhere deep down, Jungkook realized this wasn't fascination anymore. It was obsession, quietly blooming like a storm inside him.

------

The morning air in the classroom was thick with chatter the kind that wasn't just noise but sharp, slicing whispers dressed in laughter. The bell had already rung, yet the teacher hadn't arrived, leaving the room alive with gossip. You sat quietly in your seat, eyes fixed on the wooden grain of your desk, pretending not to hear. Pretending it didn't sting. But the words crawled through the air, cruel and heavy as they always did.

"Look at her," one of the girls whispered from the front row, her voice dripping with amusement. "She thinks she's special now. Acting all pure because he talks to her."

"She's just a curse, isn't she?" another giggled. "That mark on her face? My grandmother said girls like that bring bad luck. No wonder everyone avoids her."

A few boys snickered, leaning back in their chairs. "Maybe she's using that to get his attention. Poor Jungkook, doesn't even know what kind of girl he's falling for."

The laughter grew, quiet at first, then braver. Each word felt like a tiny knife, cutting through the silence that you tried to hide behind. Your fingers tightened around your pencil. You wanted to speak, to shout that they were wrong but you'd done that before, and it had only made them laugh louder.

So this time, you stayed still.

But Jungkook didn't.

From the back of the class, his chair scraped harshly against the floor loud enough to make everyone turn. The sound of it was a warning in itself. His eyes were dark, cold, unblinking as he stood up slowly. The air shifted, tension crawling through every corner of the room.

"What did you just say?" His voice was quiet, too quiet but it carried through the air like thunder about to break.

No one answered. The girls exchanged nervous glances; the boys froze mid-laugh. Jungkook's steps were slow, deliberate, as he walked between the desks. His uniform was pristine as always, his expression unreadable except for his eyes. Those eyes burned.

He stopped in front of one of the boys who had spoken, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle beneath it twitched. "Say it again," he said softly, almost like a whisper. "Go on. I want to hear it from you."

The boy swallowed hard, his smirk faltering. "I–It was just a joke, Jungkook. Don't take it so-"

Before he could finish, Jungkook slammed his hand down on the desk the sound echoing like a gunshot. Everyone flinched.

"A joke?" His tone was sharp now, eyes flicking between them all. "You think calling her names is a joke? You think mocking someone makes you funny?"

No one dared to meet his gaze. The silence in the room was suffocating.

"She's worth more than all of you put together," Jungkook said, voice trembling slightly not with fear, but rage. "If I ever hear her name come out of your filthy mouths again, I'll make sure you won't even think about stepping in front of her."

The threat hung in the air too calm, too real. Then he turned, his expression softening when his eyes found you. You looked at him in disbelief part of you thankful, another part terrified.

You tried to whisper, "Jungkook, stop... please."

But he didn't. He turned back toward the class one last time, his tone colder than ever. "And if anyone here thinks she doesn't belong, you can leave. She's got more place here than any of you ever will."

The room stayed dead silent until the teacher walked in, startled by the tension that still lingered. Jungkook slowly returned to his seat, his chest heaving slightly, his knuckles pale from how tightly he had clenched them.

You could still feel his gaze on you burning, protective, almost suffocating.

When class ended, you approached him quietly. "You shouldn't have done that," you said softly.

He looked at you, expression unreadable. "They shouldn't have talked about you."

"It'll only make things worse," you whispered.

He leaned closer, his voice low and intense. "I don't care. Let them talk. Let them hate me. But they'll never touch you, never say a word about you again."

There was something in his tone a quiet promise laced with obsession and though your heart trembled at his words, you couldn't tell if it was fear or something far more dangerous the feeling that maybe, just maybe you didn't want him to stop.

------

The time the last class ended, almost everyone in school had heard about it how Jungkook had stood up for you, how he'd nearly scared the breath out of a boy twice his size.

And by the time you stepped out into the hallway, Taehyung already knew.

He was waiting near the back entrance, arms crossed, jaw tight, the faint evening sun casting long shadows across his face. He looked calm, the kind of calm that always came before a storm. You caught sight of him and froze mid-step. Jungkook was beside you, holding your books like he'd been doing for the past few days, his expression softer now, almost smug as though he was proud of what he'd done earlier.

But when his eyes met Taehyung's, that calmness in his face shifted the two boys locking eyes like opposing storms about to collide.

"Taehyung..." you whispered, walking closer, trying to ease the tension. "It's not what you think-"

But Taehyung didn't even look at you. His gaze was fixed on Jungkook.

"So," he said slowly, voice edged with bitterness, "you think playing hero makes you a better person now?"

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Taehyung said, stepping closer, his tone dropping lower with every word. "You think just because you shouted at a few kids, it suddenly makes you worthy of her trust? That it erases the way you humiliated me, or the way you've been clinging to her like she's yours?"

"Watch your words," Jungkook warned, his voice calm but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk.

"Or what?" Taehyung snapped. "You'll hit me? Make me disappear like the people you used to bully in your old school?"

You blinked, startled. "Taehyung, stop!"

But Taehyung didn't stop not this time. "You think I don't know who you are? Why you were moved here from your fancy upper-class school? You might fool her, but I see through you."

Jungkook's jaw tightened, his hand curling around your book so hard that the edges of the pages bent. "And you think you're any better?" he asked coldly. "Acting like you're protecting her, but all you ever do is cage her."

"Cage her?" Taehyung scoffed, stepping even closer until they were almost chest to chest. "You don't get to say her name like that. You don't belong here, Jungkook. You'll never understand what she's been through, what people like us have to live with."

For a moment, neither spoke. Just the sound of your quickening breath and the distant caw of a crow somewhere outside the window.

Then Taehyung's tone softened but only slightly.

"Listen carefully," he said, eyes dark and unwavering. "I don't care if you defend her, or stand up for her, or play your little savior act. That doesn't mean I'll ever like you being around her. You can do all the good you want I'll still hate the sight of you near her."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Jungkook didn't reply not immediately. His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes, a dangerous kind of amusement that chilled you.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and steady. "You can hate me all you want, Taehyung," he said, "but it won't change the fact that she talks to me. That she looks at me. And that-" his gaze flickered toward you, "she's starting to trust me."

Taehyung's hand twitched like he wanted to punch him right there, but he stopped himself, his teeth gritted. "Don't mistake her kindness for anything else," he hissed. "Because once she sees you for who you really are, she'll walk away. Just like everyone else did."

And with that, he brushed past Jungkook, his shoulder colliding hard against his as he walked away.

You stood frozen between them, your heart hammering painfully in your chest. Jungkook's expression was unreadable as he looked at you not angry, not hurt, but something darker.

When you finally whispered, "He didn't mean it," Jungkook smiled faintly, but his eyes didn't match the softness of his lips.

"Oh, he meant every word," he said. "And I'll make sure he regrets it." Then, as he walked past you, the faint scent of his cologne and earth clung to the air and for the first time, you couldn't tell if the chill that ran down your spine was fear or something far more dangerous.

-------

The faint hum of crickets filled the air as you and Taehyung walked along the narrow dirt path that led home. The road was quiet, too quiet except for the soft crunch of gravel beneath your shoes and the whisper of wind brushing through the tall grass.

You hugged your books close to your chest, your thoughts still tangled in everything that had happened. Jungkook's words, his quiet smile, the way he looked at you like you were something rare and fragile they all kept replaying in your mind.

Taehyung walked beside you, silent for a while, his jaw tight. You could tell he was trying to hold something in the way his fingers fidgeted with the strap of his satchel, the way his eyes kept darting to the ground.

Finally, he spoke. "I don't like it," he said quietly. "The way he looks at you. The way he talks to you. There's something wrong with him, Y/n."

You frowned. "Taehyung, not again."

"I'm serious," he said, his tone sharper now. "I've seen people like him before, all charm on the outside, but there's something twisted behind it. He's not like us, he-"

You stopped walking. The words burst out of you before you could stop them. "Why do you always have to talk like that?"

He blinked, surprised.

"Why do you always assume the worst about him?" you continued, your voice trembling, half from anger and half from something else something that had been sitting in your chest for too long. "He's been nothing but kind to me, Taehyung. He listens. He doesn't treat me like I'm cursed or something to be avoided. He..."

You trailed off, your throat tightening. You swallowed hard, your heart thudding so loud it almost drowned out your words. "He makes me feel... seen," you said finally, softly. "For the first time."

Taehyung's expression faltered. The silence between you deepened, pressing heavy on the air.

You took a shaky breath, staring at the fading sunset ahead. "You need to stop suspecting him all the time. Jungkook isn't what you think. He's... he's different."

Taehyung's voice was low when he spoke next, almost hesitant. "Different how?"

Your fingers tightened around your books. "I think..." you exhaled, your voice barely above a whisper "I think I'm starting to like him."

The world seemed to stop for a second. The wind slowed, the cicadas quieted, even the golden light around you dimmed. You turned slightly, looking at Taehyung. He wasn't moving. He just stared at you, his lips parted slightly, as if the words you'd said didn't make sense like they had struck something deep inside him he didn't even know existed.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "You..." he started, but his voice cracked, so he stopped. A faint tremor passed through his fingers before he shoved them into his pockets.

When he finally spoke, his tone was flat but his eyes said everything. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

He didn't wait for you to respond. He turned, his steps heavy, his shoulders stiff as he walked away down the road. You stood there for a moment, staring after him, your chest aching in ways you didn't understand. The light was fading fast now, the sky melting into blue and shadow.

------

The final bell echoed through the quiet countryside air, the sound of chattering students spilling from the wooden schoolhouse into the open yard. You were laughing softly at something Jungkook said, your lunchbox still in your hands as the golden afternoon sun bathed everything in a honey hue.

Taehyung was nowhere near you he hadn't been for days. The space beside you that once felt warm now felt distant, replaced by Jungkook's quiet presence. You told yourself it was fine, that maybe it was better this way. But somewhere deep down, a strange unease lingered, something you couldn't name.

You were just stepping out of the classroom when a sudden silence fell over the students ahead. Whispering began to ripple through the crowd, curious eyes turning toward the school gates.

A car had arrived not the kind that usually came down this dusty road. It gleamed under the sun, a polished black automobile, the kind only the noble or the city elite could afford. The tires crushed the gravel softly as it rolled to a stop.

From it stepped an older woman dressed in fine silks that didn't belong to this place her jewelry catching the sunlight, her perfume heavy even from a distance. Beside her was a young woman, perhaps three years older than you. Her hands rested over a softly rounded belly, her eyes sharp and heavy with emotion.

You frowned. You had seen Jungkook arrive in elegant cars before, but never this one. This one was unfamiliar too formal, too personal.

You turned to Jungkook. He had frozen where he stood, his posture tense, his expression unreadable. The color had drained from his face, and for the first time since you'd met him, he looked afraid.

The older woman's voice cut through the murmuring air like a blade. "Oh, young man," she said, her tone a blend of mockery and sweetness. "There you are."

The crowd parted around her as she stepped closer, her high heels clicking against the stone path. "I was beginning to think I'd have to visit your mansion again. But your mother ah, that stubborn woman- she keeps turning me away." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "So I thought I'd pay you a visit here instead. After all, you've left quite the responsibility behind."

The students exchanged confused glances, whispering louder now.

You looked at Jungkook. His jaw clenched. His fists curled tight at his sides. He didn't move, didn't breathe.

The young woman behind the older lady stepped forward then, her eyes glistening with tears that were more of anger than sorrow. She looked at Jungkook, straight at him and your stomach twisted at the familiarity in her gaze.

The older woman's voice rose, sharp and unforgiving. "You got my daughter pregnant," she said coldly, "and now you think you can walk away like nothing happened?"

The schoolyard went completely silent. Even the wind seemed to stop. You blinked, your breath caught in your throat. The world around you blurred for a second the gasps, the shocked faces, the murmurs spreading like wildfire. Jungkook didn't speak. His eyes remained locked on the woman but there was something in them you had never seen before. A flicker of rage. A flicker of fear. And beneath it all, something darker like the careful mask he'd always worn had just cracked open.

The older woman took another step closer. "Your family may have money, boy, but you cannot bury a sin this deep. My daughter's life is ruined because of you."

You looked between them the polished car, the trembling girl, Jungkook's pale face. For the first time, the distance between your world and his felt impossible. You didn't know what to believe. But you did know one thing, the boy beside you, the one you had begun to trust, now looked like a stranger.

And when Jungkook finally spoke, his voice came out low, rough, almost trembling. "Get out," he said. But there was no control in it this time just fury.

The air was thick with tension, with the scent of dust and perfume and something that felt like shame. You took a slow step back, your fingers trembling. The boy who once looked at you like you were something sacred now stood there, exposed his sins crawling out of the shadows.

------

The murmurs had turned into chaos teachers rushing out, students whispering behind their hands, faces pressing against the classroom windows to watch the scene unfold. The late sun dipped lower, spilling amber light across the dusty schoolyard where you stood frozen, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jungkook's jaw twitched. His hands trembled not from fear, but from rage. The older woman smirked at his silence, finding satisfaction in his disgrace. "Not so proud now, are you?" she said, her voice venomous. "Your father might silence your mistakes in the city, but here-" she looked around at the crowd, "people will see what kind of filthy monster you truly are."

Her words cut through the quiet like shards of glass. You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Jungkook's driver suddenly appeared from the gate a tall man in uniform, eyes downcast, hesitant. "Young master," he said softly.

Jungkook's voice was sharp and dangerous when he finally spoke. "Get. Them. Out of here."

"Excuse me?" the woman snapped.

"You're making a scene," Jungkook said, stepping forward, his tone calm but seething beneath the surface. "In my school. In front of my classmates." His eyes darkened, the polite mask completely gone now. "You've said enough. Leave."

The woman's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Oh, now you sound just like your father. Trying to hide your sins behind your name." She laughed bitterly. "You'll regret this, boy."

Her daughter, the pregnant one looked at him one last time, her eyes filled with something that wasn't anger, but deep, heavy sadness. Then, wordlessly, she let her mother grab her wrist.

"Come on," the woman hissed. "We don't belong among dogs."

The driver hesitated but stepped aside as the woman stormed toward the car, her heels crunching the gravel. The onlookers whispered louder, their words like knives cutting through the tension pregnant... Jungkook... from the city... cursed boy and cursed girl...

The car's engine roared to life, and as the dust lifted, Jungkook stood still his head slightly bowed, his breathing sharp and uneven.

You stepped closer, your voice trembling, a mix of disbelief and disgust. "How... how could you?" you whispered. "She looked older than you, Jungkook! And pregnant? And you- you just stood there like it was nothing?"

He looked at you, eyes wide, almost pleading. "It's not what you think-"

You cut him off, your voice rising. "Then what is it? Were they lying? Was she lying? Or is this just normal for you- playing with people's lives because you're rich enough to walk away from consequences?"

The words hit him like blows. He took a step forward, desperate, his voice shaking. "Y/n, you don't understand- I didn't-"

"I don't want to understand," you said, stepping back, your eyes glossy. "You disgust me."

That single sentence snapped something inside him.

His breath hitched, his jaw tightened, and the look in his eyes changed from regret to panic, from panic to something darker. His lips trembled, but the rest of his face hardened. "You're wrong," he said quietly, almost whispering to himself. "You're wrong about me."

You turned to leave, but his voice broke behind you sharp, raw, desperate. "Y/n!"

You didn't turn back. You could feel his gaze burning into you as you walked away, your steps fast, your throat tight. Behind you, Jungkook's breathing quickened. His fingers dug into his hair as he muttered, "She doesn't get it... she doesn't understand..."

------

The house that night was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made the air heavy, pressing against your lungs. The large grandfather clock in the hallway ticked loudly, echoing through the mansion. Outside, the wind howled against the old windows, carrying the faint smell of rain.

Jungkook stood in the center of the living room, his head bowed, his uniform still dusty and wrinkled. His mother sat on the couch, pale and anxious, clutching the edge of her silk shawl. The air between them was tense — like a storm about to break.

The heavy double doors opened, and his father entered tall, broad-shouldered, still in his suit, the faint smell of tobacco following him. He tossed his coat aside, his eyes sharp as he looked at his wife first, then his son.

"I just came home from the office," he said, his voice low but dangerous. "And do you know what I heard before I even reached the gate?"

Jungkook didn't respond.

"That some woman came to your school," his father continued, his tone rising, "shouting that you'd gotten her daughter pregnant."

His mother stood, wringing her hands. "Yeobo, please- let me explain."

"Explain?" he snapped, turning on her. "You mean hide, like you've been doing all along?" His voice thundered across the room. "They came here before, didn't they? That same woman. And you- you sent her away. Without even telling me!"

His mother flinched, guilt written across her face. "I didn't want to trouble you-"

"Trouble me?" he barked, slamming his hand on the wooden table. "Do you realize what this could do to our family name?"

Then his gaze turned to Jungkook. Cold. Piercing. "And you, boy- look at me."

Jungkook slowly lifted his head. His eyes were dull, tired the kind that had cried too much to still look afraid. "Is it true?" his father demanded. "That you're responsible for that girl's condition?"

Jungkook shook his head weakly. "It's not true," he said, his voice hoarse. "She's lying. I don't even-"

Before he could finish, a loud crack filled the room. His father's palm met his cheek with a force that made his head snap to the side. His mother gasped, rushing forward, but his father raised a hand to stop her.

"You were sent to school to study," he spat, his voice shaking with fury. "Not to bring shame on this family. I thought you were reckless, arrogant- maybe even cruel sometimes. But this?" His voice broke for a moment. "This is filth."

Jungkook stood still, his face burning, his hands trembling at his sides. He didn't look up. He didn't defend himself. He couldn't.

His father stared at him for a long moment, then turned away in disgust. "You're a disappointment," he said quietly. "And your mother-" his tone hardened again "you've failed him just as much as he's failed us."

The old man walked out, the echo of his shoes fading down the marble hallway.

For a long moment, only the ticking clock filled the room. Jungkook's mother touched his arm gently, whispering his name, but he shrugged her off. "Don't," he said, his voice trembling, low and sharp.

When she left the room in tears, Jungkook sank to his knees. His reflection stared back at him from the polished floor the dirt-stained boy with swollen eyes and a red mark burning across his cheek.

He didn't care about the slap. Or the shame. All he could see in his mind was you.

The way you looked at him in the schoolyard disgusted, heartbroken, walking away like he was nothing. The memory burned more than his father's words ever could.

He pressed his hands into his hair, his breathing ragged. "She hates me..." he whispered. "She really... hates me."

He looked around the room the crystal chandelier, the gold-framed portraits, the polished floors all the things that were supposed to mean power and status. But now they just felt like a cage. A house full of ghosts and expectations.

------

The air around the school felt heavier than usual that morning whispers moved like smoke through the corridors, thin and fast, filling every classroom and hallway. The students stood in small groups, their eyes flicking toward the main gate every few seconds. Some held their books tighter, others leaned close to one another, murmuring words they wouldn't dare say aloud.

And then he appeared.

Jeon Jungkook.

His presence made the air shift, the kind of silence that follows thunder. He walked through the gate like he owned the ground beneath his shoes, his uniform crisp despite the faint bruise on his cheek that even time hadn't erased. His eyes were cold, unreadable the kind that dared anyone to look at him for more than a moment.

He wasn't supposed to be there. Everyone thought he'd disappear that his father would pull him out, send him abroad, or at least hide him until the rumors died. But no. Jungkook was back and he didn't care. Not about the stares, not about the whispers, not even about the teachers who stepped back nervously when they saw him.

Because his eyes, his gaze were fixed on only one person.

You.

You were standing by the old oak tree near the yard, sunlight slipping through the branches and landing gently across your face. The faint wind played with your hair, carrying the scent of soil and fresh grass simple, pure, so painfully you. The pale curve of your crescent mark caught the morning light like a hidden jewel, and for a brief second, Jungkook forgot how to breathe.

God, how much he missed it. That mark. That face. That presence that calmed him and maddened him all at once.

He began walking toward you slow, measured steps, his shoes crunching against the gravel. Every step seemed to pull more attention; students stopped talking, turning to watch as if something forbidden was unfolding before them.

Your eyes lifted and met his and the world seemed to pause. But then, instead of softening, your expression hardened. You took a step back. Then another.

"Y/n," he said, his voice low but desperate, the kind that cracked at the edges. "Listen to me-"

But before he could finish, you turned and started to walk away.

Something inside him snapped. The anger that had been burning since that day since your eyes had filled with disgust and your voice had trembled when you called him low it roared to life.

"Y/n!" he barked, his voice echoing across the courtyard.

You didn't stop. He reached you in two strides, his hand shooting out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. You gasped at the force his grip tight, unrelenting.

"Let me go, Jungkook," you said, trying to pull away, your voice trembling not out of fear, but out of anger. But Jungkook didn't loosen his hold. His jaw was clenched, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes as he dragged you with him, away from the courtyard, away from the dozens of watching eyes.

"Don't make a scene," he hissed under his breath, though his voice shook not with control, but with desperation.

You struggled in his grasp, the roughness of his touch burning against your skin. "You're hurting me," you said, your voice strained.

He froze for a second. His hand loosened, just slightly but he didn't let go.

"Do you think I'd ever hurt you?" he whispered, his tone strange, somewhere between sorrow and madness. "You think I'd do what they're saying? That I-" His words broke as he turned away for a moment, biting his lip hard. "You won't even look at me anymore."

Your eyes filled with tears of frustration. "Because you lied, Jungkook! Because I trusted you-"

"I didn't lie!" he shouted, and a few students near the windows flinched. His voice cracked through the air like a whip. "You think I wanted that? You think I'd ruin myself like that? You-"

He stopped, his chest heaving.

Everyone was staring now, whispers growing again, rising like waves around the two of you.

Jungkook's eyes darted around, and then he yanked you gently, pulling you toward the old storage shed behind the classrooms hidden from the crowd.

"Stop it," you said, pulling your wrist again. "People are watching-"

"I don't care!" he snapped, spinning to face you once they were out of sight. "Let them watch. Let them talk. They already do!" His voice broke again, quieter this time. "You were the only one who didn't. You were the only one who looked at me and didn't see the name, the money, the mess. Just me."

You stood frozen, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. His face desperate, furious, and broken all at once terrified and saddened you.

"I need you to listen to me," he said quietly, his voice trembling at the edges.

You stood still, your arms crossed tightly against your chest, your face cold. You didn't want to hear him, not after what happened earlier, not after the humiliation of seeing that woman standing in front of everyone, calling him out for something so vile.

"I don't have anything to say to you, Jungkook," you said flatly, but your voice cracked despite your effort to sound strong.

He took a slow step closer, the wooden floor creaking beneath his polished shoes. "You do. You need to understand."

"Understand what?" you snapped, your eyes flashing up at him. "That you're not just arrogant but also cruel enough to ruin a girl's life and then pretend you're the victim?"

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "It wasn't like that."

You scoffed. "Then what was it?!"

Jungkook's gaze dropped for a moment, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. "Back in my old school..." He hesitated, his throat working as if the words themselves were hard to force out. "There was someone. A girl. She was... older than me. We-" He swallowed, forcing himself to meet your eyes. "We had a thing. But it wasn't what you think, Y/n. It wasn't love. It was just..."

"Just what?" you asked, your voice trembling.

He looked away. "Physical."

Your breath hitched not out of shock, but disgust. The word itself felt dirty, tainting the air between you. "So that's what you do then?" you said bitterly. "That's what you call 'a thing'?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. No, it wasn't like that with everyone. It was-" He stopped himself, realizing how hollow it sounded. "It just happened, alright? But I swear to you, that child isn't mine."

You laughed bitterly, though your chest ached. "And how can you be so sure?"

"Because..." he paused, struggling, his breath shaky. "Because I know. I know what happened and what didn't. She wanted more than I could give her, and when I refused, she-" He stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "She started this. She's lying."

Your voice was sharp now, cold. "But you just admitted you were with her. You used her, Jungkook. Even if she's lying now, you gave her a reason to."

He looked at you then and for a brief moment, he looked lost. Not angry, not powerful, but broken. "You don't understand," he said softly. "It wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was just something that happened."

"Something that happened?" you echoed, stepping back as if his words were poison. "You talk like it's nothing, Jungkook. Like people are things you can just use and throw away."

He reached for you instinctively, but you moved away. His hand hovered midair, trembling.

"Y/n," he said, his voice raw now. "It's not what you think. I didn't- I don't-" He stopped again, his words collapsing under the weight of what he couldn't say. "I didn't love her. I don't even remember half of what we were. But you-"

"Don't," you cut him off sharply. "Don't drag me into this."

He stepped forward, desperate now, his eyes dark with something between fear and anger. "You have to believe me. I'm not that kind of person. Not with you."

You stared at him, really stared at the boy who stood before you with the world at his feet and no idea what to do with it. His uniform was perfect, his face too composed for his shaking voice, and yet he looked like someone unraveling from the inside.

"Then what are you, Jungkook?" you whispered. "Because every time I think I've figured you out, you become someone else."

For a long moment, there was only silence.

Then Jungkook exhaled shakily, lowering his gaze. "I'm someone who can't stop thinking about you," he said quietly. "Even when I don't deserve to."

You turned away, unable to bear the weight of his stare. Your hands were trembling, your chest tight. "You should leave," you said softly. "Before you ruin more than you already have."

He looked at you one last time your trembling shoulders, your hair slightly messy from the wind sneaking through the cracks of the old shed and something inside him cracked open completely. He turned and left, the door slamming behind him, leaving you alone in the fading light heart pounding, breath uneven, and mind spinning between anger and something else you couldn't name.

-------

The evening had fallen quietly over the village, the orange hues of the sinking sun bleeding through the old wooden fences and the smell of wet earth filling the air. You stood near the well outside your home, your fingers trembling slightly as you tried to draw water. The rope slipped through your hands once, then twice you couldn't focus. Jungkook's words kept echoing in your head, tangling with the memory of the woman, her fury, her daughter's broken face.

And then there was Taehyung.

You hadn't seen him since that day. He had stopped waiting for you after class, stopped walking beside you on the road home. The silence between you felt heavier than any words could fill. You thought he'd never talk to you again until you heard his voice, low and familiar, from behind you.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said. His tone wasn't scolding. It was soft, almost weary.

You turned slowly. Taehyung stood there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn trousers, his shirt faintly stained with dirt from the fields. His hair was messy, his expression unreadable but his eyes, his eyes said everything.

"Taehyung," you breathed, guilt catching in your throat.

He looked at you for a long moment, the silence stretching painfully between you before he sighed, walking closer. "You've been crying," he said quietly.

You quickly turned away, brushing your hand across your cheek. "I'm fine."

"No," he said, his voice firm now. "You're not."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. "I was so stupid," you whispered. "I didn't even think... I just-" You shook your head, your words tumbling over each other. "You were the one who stayed with me when no one else did, Taehyung. You were there when everyone called me cursed. And I..." Your voice cracked. "I didn't believe you. I believed him."

Taehyung didn't speak right away. His jaw flexed, like he was holding back something sharp, something that wanted to escape. Then he sighed again and reached out, his calloused hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

"Y/n," he said softly. "You don't need to explain anything. I know."

You looked at him through tearful eyes. "No, you don't," you whispered. "I should've listened. You warned me so many times, and I didn't care. I kept thinking he was different that maybe, for once, someone saw me differently."

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Don't blame yourself for wanting to believe in something good," he said. "You're not wrong for hoping. But Jungkook..." His tone darkened, his jaw tightening. "He's not like us. He never was. People like him don't know what it's like to lose everything to work, to bleed for the things they want. He doesn't deserve the kind of trust you gave him."

You swallowed hard, tears threatening again. "I don't even know why I believed him so easily. Maybe because he looked at me like no one else did."

"Yeah," Taehyung muttered, his voice low. "That's what worries me."

You looked at him, confused. He met your eyes, something protective and painfully tender burning in his gaze. "The way he looks at you, Y/n... it's not normal. It's not affection. It's something else. Something dangerous."

You went silent, his words hanging heavy in the cooling air.

"I don't want you near him," Taehyung said, his voice soft but certain. "Whatever happens, don't go looking for him again. Let him deal with his mess. You've already been dragged into enough."

You nodded slowly, your head bowed. "I'm sorry, Taehyung," you murmured, your voice breaking. "For everything. For doubting you. For pushing you away."

He hesitated before answering. "You don't need to say sorry," he said. "Just... don't make me watch you get hurt again."

The weight of his words pressed deep into your chest. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes afraid that if you did, you'd fall apart completely. The sun had almost disappeared now, leaving a soft, fading glow across the dirt path between your homes. You stood there for a moment, both of you silent, both too full of words you couldn't say.

Then Taehyung turned slightly, his voice gentler now. "Go inside. It's getting dark."

You nodded, whispering, "Thank you," as he walked away his shadow long, stretching into the twilight and though you tried to steady your breath, you could still feel Jungkook's presence lingering in your mind his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were something he couldn't lose.

---------

The next morning feels quieter than usual a strange, still silence that hangs over the school courtyard like mist after a storm. You notice it the moment you step through the old iron gates, the faint creak echoing as though even the metal remembered something it shouldn’t.

Jungkook’s car isn’t there. His usual seat by the window the one that always caught the morning sun sits empty, untouched. His absence feels heavier than you’d like to admit. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’s sick, or if something happened after that day but you stop yourself. You promised you wouldn’t think of him anymore.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That he’s probably fine someone like Jungkook Jeon always is. So you press your books to your chest, walk past his empty desk, and take your seat beside Taehyung.

He greets you with a soft smile the kind that doesn’t demand anything, just quietly is. There’s a calm in him you’d forgotten how to appreciate. He offers you half of his bread, the same way he used to when you were children, back before Jungkook came and turned your quiet world into a storm.

You smile back, genuinely this time, whispering, “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Taehyung only nods, his gaze tender yet heavy as though he knows the words you didn’t say aloud.

By lunchtime, whispers slither through the air like smoke. Groups of girls gather near the courtyard steps, hands over their mouths, voices pitched just high enough for you to hear.

“He’s not coming back, I heard.”

“They said his family’s cursed now… because of her.”

“The mark under her eye, the crescent moon. It shadows anyone who gets close.”

You feel their eyes burning into your back.

Every word feels like a thorn pricking under your skin. You grip your skirt, staring at the ground as the wind sweeps dry leaves across the schoolyard rustling, whispering.

For a moment, you think of Jungkook his voice, his temper, the way he used to look at you as if you were both his salvation and his ruin. Then you take a deep breath, straighten your shoulders, and walk away.

Taehyung joins you quietly, his steps steady beside yours. You don’t need to speak. The warmth of his presence is enough a reminder that not every hand that reaches for you intends to possess you.

As you walk home together under the amber light of dusk, you think maybe this is how peace begins. Not with forgetting the past, but with learning how to live despite it.

---

The night was still, almost too still. The only sound was the gentle hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves swaying in the cold wind. The moon hung low, silver and heavy, spilling pale light across the small house that stood at the edge of the fields.

You stirred awake, the thin blanket slipping off your shoulder. There it was again, that sound. A faint shuffle, the creak of wood, like someone stepping on the old porch outside. Your heart skipped.

You sat up slowly, the chill air biting your skin as you listened again. Another sound closer this time. Against every instinct, you grabbed the candle from your bedside, lit it with trembling hands, and stepped outside.

The night air smelled of wet soil. The faint glow of the candle flickered as you scanned the dark, whispering into the silence, “Who’s there?”

Before you could blink, a hand shot out of the shadows, gripping your wrist. You gasped the candle fell, the flame snuffed out and the world went black for a second.

“Y/n,” a low voice hissed. You froze. You knew that voice. Jungkook.

When the moonlight finally caught his face, you could see the mess he had become. His hair disheveled, his shirt untucked, a bruise along his jaw. His eyes- oh, his eyes they looked wild, haunted, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“What- what are you doing here?” you stammered, stepping back, clutching your hand against your chest.

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice breaking between breaths. “I- I can’t take it anymore, Y/n. My father- he won’t listen, that girl- she’s after me, everyone’s after me. But you- you’re the only one I care about.”

You glared at him, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “You came to my house at midnight to say that? What is wrong with you, Jungkook?”

He took a shaky step closer. “Please. I’ll make everything right. I’ll fix this, I swear- just… just don’t leave me like everyone else.”

You shook your head in disbelief, your anger rising with every word he spoke. “Make everything right? You ruined a girl’s life, Jungkook! You- you made her go through that and now you’re here saying this?”

He flinched, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but the words died before they could leave his mouth.

“I didn’t mean- I didn’t want-” he tried, but his voice broke.

Your hand moved before your thoughts did. Slap. The sound echoed through the quiet night, sharp and final. His head turned slightly from the force, but he didn’t react he just stood there, his breathing ragged, his eyes trembling.

“You disgust me,” you whispered, tears burning behind your eyes. “You destroy people and then you come crawling like you’re the victim. You’re not. You’re just… pathetic.”

For a long second, the only sound was the wind through the trees and the thud of your heartbeat.

“Leave,” you said coldly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t move. He just stared at you- the kind of stare that makes your stomach twist. His eyes glinted under the moonlight, and there was something there desperation, but also something darker.

You turned before he could say another word and stepped back inside, shutting the wooden door with trembling hands. You pressed your back against it, breathing hard, hearing only the sound of your heart pounding. Outside, the wind howled through the fields and for a moment, you thought you heard his voice soft, broken, almost pleading:

“You can’t leave me too, Y/n…” But you didn’t open the door.

---

The morning air was heavy the kind that clung to your skin, cool but somehow suffocating. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, only a pale wash of gold touching the fields, painting everything in quiet melancholy. The scent of damp earth lingered, mixed with the faint smoke from your father’s early fire.

When you stepped outside, your satchel hanging loosely from your shoulder, Taehyung was already there. He leaned against the old fence, arms crossed, his uniform crisp but his expression soft, the way it always was when he saw you.

But this morning, his smile faltered the moment his eyes met yours.

You looked pale, drained, the faint purple under your eyes betraying your sleepless night. The way your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag told him enough, something was wrong.

He straightened immediately, pushing himself off the fence and walking closer. “You look like you didn’t sleep,” he said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “What happened?”

You forced a small smile, looking away. “Nothing… I just couldn’t sleep well.”

“Y/n,” he said again, this time firmer, searching your face. “You’ve been off since last night. Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to hide the flicker of fear that passed through your eyes at the memory of Jungkook’s voice in the dark.

'You can’t leave me too, Y/n…'

Taehyung sighed softly, his jaw tightening. He stepped beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “You don’t have to pretend around me,” he said, his tone gentler now. “I know when something’s wrong.”

You didn’t answer, your throat felt too tight to speak. So you just nodded, your gaze fixed on the dirt path ahead as you began walking.

Taehyung followed beside you, his hands in his pockets, the sound of your footsteps and the distant caw of crows filling the silence between you. He glanced at you every now and then, the way your eyes didn’t focus, the small tremble in your fingers and it made something inside him ache.

“I know you’re still upset about Jungkook,” he said finally, his voice quiet but certain. “But listen… you don’t have to deal with that alone. You have me, Y/n. If anything happens, anything at all you can tell me. Alright?”

You wanted to tell him right there.

You wanted to tell him how Jungkook had shown up outside your home like a ghost in the night, how his voice still echoed in your head, how his eyes burned into your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to push them away.

But your lips wouldn’t move.

You just nodded again, forcing a faint smile as you said, “I know, Tae… I know.”

Taehyung looked at you for a long moment, his gaze heavy with worry the kind that came from years of protecting you, of seeing the cracks before you even felt them. He wanted to press, to ask again, but he didn’t. Not when you looked so fragile, like one more question might make you break.

So instead, he quietly said, “Let’s go. We’ll be late,” and started walking. As the two of you made your way down the narrow path to school, the wind carried the faint scent of lilies from the field gentle, fleeting.

---

The Jeon estate, usually quiet and composed, buzzed with unease. Voices echoed faintly through the marble hall, sharp and heated, clashing against the grandeur that framed them.

Jungkook stood near the staircase, his jaw clenched, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His mother sat rigidly on the velvet couch, eyes darting nervously between her husband and the uninvited guests the old woman and her pregnant daughter, seated across from them.

The older woman’s voice cut through the thick silence like a blade. “Your son must take responsibility,” she said, her tone demanding, her wrinkled hands gripping her cane tightly. “He ruined my daughter’s life. You think we can hide this? People already talk, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped toward her, dark and dangerous. “I didn’t ruin anything,” he said coldly, his tone dripping with restrained anger. “That child isn’t mine.”

The daughter flinched but kept her head down, her swollen belly hidden beneath a pale shawl. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing not a word to defend herself, not a word to support him.

Jungkook’s father, Mr. Jeon, exhaled heavily from his armchair, the weight of his authority filling the room. “Enough,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “My son is too young to marry anyone. I won’t have this nonsense tarnishing our name further.”

The woman’s eyes blazed with fury. “Too young?” she repeated, her voice rising. “He wasn’t too young when he played with my daughter’s innocence!”

Mrs. Jeon gasped softly, her hand trembling against her pearls. Jungkook’s face darkened, the vein in his jaw twitching.

“I told you,” he said, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through her accusations. “The child isn’t mine. She’s lying.”

Mr. Jeon’s glare snapped to him. “And what proof do you have, Jungkook?!” he thundered. “You expect me to believe you after everything you’ve done? The fights, the disgrace now this?”

Jungkook froze, his chest rising and falling heavily. His father’s words hit harder than he wanted to admit.

“Please,” Mrs. Jeon interjected softly, her voice trembling. “Let’s not make a scene. We can handle this quietly… whatever money you need, we’ll provide. Just-” she turned to the older woman, her tone pleading, “just don’t drag this into the public. My son’s education, his future-”

The woman scoffed. “Education? Future? What about my daughter’s life? You think you can buy our silence like your husband buys everything else?”

“Enough!” Mr. Jeon barked, rising from his chair. “You’ll get what you came for money. Plenty of it. You can raise that child in comfort, but my son will not marry her. Do we understand each other?”

The woman’s lips curled into a bitter smile, but her eyes gleamed with humiliation. She rose slowly, steadying her daughter. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Keep your wealth, Mr. Jeon. But remember lies don’t stay buried forever.”

With that, she turned and left, her daughter following silently, her head bowed.

---

Rumors travel faster than wind in your village. And that morning, they arrived like a storm. Whispers slithered through the narrow lanes, between the laundry lines and under the creaking windows, curling around every doorstep “They’re gone… the woman and her daughter.”

No one knew when. No one knew how.

All anyone remembered was that, just a few nights ago, voices had been raised near the Jeon estate, the kind of voices that made the dogs bark and the lights in the servants’ quarters flicker out. Some said they heard the old woman crying. Others swore they saw Jungkook’s driver hauling something heavy into the car long after midnight.

By dawn, the house was silent again and by morning, the woman and her pregnant daughter had vanished.

Some said the Jeons had paid them off shipped them off to another province with enough money to buy silence for a lifetime.

Others whispered darker things. That the girl refused to leave quietly. That Jungkook had snapped. That maybe he’d done something that couldn’t be undone.

No one dared to say it too loudly. Not when his father’s men roamed the streets with stern faces and polished shoes, warning everyone that gossip was dangerous. But you heard. Everyone did.

You sat by the small window of your house, the evening sun washing your hands in gold. Your father spoke faintly in the other room, asking what the fuss was about, but you didn’t answer. Your mind was spinning the whispers, the fear, the unspoken things.

They said Jungkook had been sent abroad. That his father wanted him away from the scandal, far from the eyes of the villagers, the school, you.

And when you heard that, your chest didn’t ache. Not this time.

Maybe that was relief. Maybe it was exhaustion. He had brought chaos, the kind that clung like ash, leaving everything dirty even after the fire was gone. And now, with him gone, your life could finally breathe again or so you told yourself.

You leaned your head against the window frame, watching the smoke rise from the chimneys across the fields. The scent of earth filled the air. Somewhere, children were laughing. Somewhere else, the world was still normal.

But deep down, there was a shadow that wouldn’t leave. The kind that whispers in the corners of your mind when the night grows too quiet. The kind that makes you think, what if the stories were true?

-----

Three years slipped away like autumn leaves carried off by the wind quietly, without asking for permission.

The world around you had changed and so had you.

You were no longer the young, uncertain girl who once trembled at the sound of Jungkook’s name or hid behind Taehyung’s shadow when the whispers got too loud.

You were a woman now steadier, stronger, with hands that had learned the weight of work and a heart that had stitched itself back together in silence.

Every dawn, the village would wake with the soft cries of roosters and the hum of life beginning again. You would tie your scarf, covering the faint crescent birthmark that still rested under your left eye, a mark that once made you the center of superstition and gossip.

Once, people had refused to buy from you, crossing the street when you approached, whispering about “the cursed girl with the moon under her eye.”

But that was before Taehyung.

He had been there through every cruel glance and every lonely evening, standing beside you with that patient smile of his, never letting you feel small. He would carry the baskets while you arranged the vegetables neatly, bright red tomatoes, fresh greens, and the golden sheen of corn glinting under the sun.

When the customers came, it was Taehyung who spoke first, his voice gentle yet confident, teasing old women into buying a little more than they planned to. Slowly, they started talking to you too. Slowly, the fear faded.

Now, the two of you were part of the morning rhythm of the village.

Children would wave as they passed by, elders would ask about your father’s health, and even those who once turned away now stopped to chat, pretending they had never believed in curses.

You had made a place for yourself, a quiet corner of peace carved out of chaos.

Sometimes, as the sun began to dip below the hills, painting everything in shades of gold and rose, you’d glance at Taehyung, his hair ruffled by the breeze, the corner of his mouth lifted as he joked with a customer and you’d feel a kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.

He had become your constant. Your safety. Your reason to believe that the world could still be kind.

And as for Jungkook.

His name had long turned into dust in your memory, a shadow swallowed by time. You no longer thought of him, no longer dreamed of the nights he haunted. The whispers about his family had faded too, buried under the years that followed.

To you, he was nothing more than a faint echo, something that once existed, and then disappeared, like the sound of a bell after it’s rung.

You didn’t know where he was, or if he even remembered you. You didn’t want to know. Because here, in this small corner of your world beside Taehyung, with your hands smelling of earth and fresh produce you finally had peace.

---

That evening, the air felt unusually still. The faint hum of cicadas echoed somewhere beyond the hills, and the smell of wood smoke lingered from the kitchen as you stepped inside, dusting your skirt after a long day at the market. You untied your scarf, laying it neatly on the small chest by the door before noticing the faint murmur of voices coming from the next room. Your father’s tone was warm, unusually so and beside it, you recognized another voice.

Taehyung’s mother.

You paused at the doorway, straightening your blouse before stepping in with a polite bow. “Ah, Mother Kim… you’re here,” you said softly, offering a small smile. “Should I bring you some tea? Or… something to eat?”

She turned to you, eyes gentle but purposeful, the kind of gaze that carried the weight of a decision already made.

“There’s no need for that, dear,” she said, patting the spot beside her on the floor. “Come, sit down. We were just talking about something important.”

Your father looked at you then his face relaxed, lips curved in a smile that made your stomach tighten. You didn’t like the way he was smiling. It was the kind of smile people wore when they’d already decided something on your behalf.

“Your father and I,” Mrs. Kim began, folding her hands neatly over her lap, “were talking about how you and our Taehyung have grown up together. You two have always been close, helping each other, taking care of one another…”

Her tone softened, motherly and warm, yet beneath it was a firmness you couldn’t ignore.

“So I was suggesting to your father that maybe it’s time we make that bond permanent. If we get you both married, our families can stay close and you’d have someone to look after you.”

Your breath caught. For a moment, you couldn’t speak.

Your father chuckled lightly, nodding in agreement as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve always thought they’d make a fine pair,” he said. “Taehyung is a good boy kind, hardworking, patient. I’d trust him with your future.”

The room fell quiet after that. You felt the world narrow around you the wooden walls, the faint creak of the floor beneath your feet, the flicker of the oil lamp beside your father casting long shadows that seemed to crawl up the walls.

You lowered your gaze, your hands tightening around your skirt. Marriage. To Taehyung.

The words echoed in your mind like a bell ringing through fog. Taehyung, your childhood companion. The boy who shared his tangerines with you under the gingko tree, who shielded you from cruel words, who had stood beside you when everyone else turned away.

You cared for him deeply but love? That kind of love? It wasn’t there.

Your lips parted, but no words came. You didn’t want to hurt them not your father, not Taehyung’s mother yet something inside you twisted painfully at the thought of a life decided without your heart’s consent.

Finally, you managed to whisper, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Mrs. Kim smiled, as if your hesitation were merely shyness. “There’s no need to rush, dear. You’ve known each other all your lives. What’s left to think about?” You forced a polite nod, but your chest felt heavy, suffocating.

As the two elders continued talking laughing softly about wedding dates and blessings, you stared at the faint flame of the lamp, its light trembling as if it, too, was unsure and deep inside, under all the calm and courtesy, your thoughts ran wild.

---

The next morning, the mist clung low to the fields, wrapping the village in a pale hush. You walked along the narrow dirt path that led toward the stream, the hem of your dress brushing against dew-wet grass. You hadn’t slept a wink. The echo of your father’s laughter, Mrs. Kim’s gentle insistence it all kept replaying in your head like a song you didn’t want to remember.

When you reached the stone bridge, Taehyung was already there. He leaned against the railing, the morning light falling over his face calm, yet faintly troubled. He straightened when he saw you, his lips curving into that familiar smile that used to feel warm but now made your heart ache with guilt.

“You’re up early,” he said softly.

You nodded, clutching your scarf tighter around your shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He studied you for a moment your quiet voice, the shadows under your eyes, the way you avoided looking at him. Taehyung had always been observant. He didn’t need you to say much; he could read you like the wind reads the rice fields gentle, but sure.

“So,” he said after a pause, turning his gaze toward the water below. “My mother told me what they discussed last night.”

Your heart skipped. You didn’t reply, only shifted your weight, the gravel crunching beneath your shoes.

He let out a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets. “I could see your face when she said it, Y/n. You looked like you wanted to disappear.” You looked up at him then his tone wasn’t accusing, just sad. The kind of sadness that made your chest tighten.

“I…” you began, but the words tangled on your tongue. “I didn’t know what to say. Everyone looked so happy. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Taehyung smiled faintly, though his eyes were soft and tired. “You don’t have to force yourself to make anyone happy, Y/n. Not even me.” You looked at him, startled.

He met your gaze, voice quiet yet steady. “If you don’t want this marriage, you can say no. I’ll tell them myself if you can’t. I don’t want you to live a life decided by someone else’s will.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and kind all at once. For a moment, the world felt still only the sound of the stream below and the wind brushing through the reeds.

“Taehyung…” you whispered, your eyes stinging as guilt pricked your chest. “You’ve done so much for me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled sadly, his gaze softening. “You could never hurt me, Y/n. Not by being honest.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “You deserve someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.”

A silence followed long, unbroken, fragile. Taehyung turned away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly, but when he looked back at you, his smile returned, faint but real. “Maybe so,” he murmured. “But you- you’ve always deserved to choose.”

The wind picked up then, fluttering your scarf, carrying away the last of your words before they could form. You didn’t know what hurt more the relief of being understood or the ache of realizing how deeply Taehyung cared for you.

He took a small step back, his eyes still on you. “Don’t let anyone decide your heart, Y/n. Not even me.”

--------

The sun was cruel that afternoon, not the soft warmth of spring, but the kind that burned and glared, casting long, heavy shadows across the village road. Dust lifted with every hurried step, whispers spreading through the air like wildfire. You stood near the wooden fence outside your home, your father’s voice echoing in anger from inside words about land, documents, and names you couldn’t believe were being spoken aloud.

“Under Jeon’s name,” your father had said, his tone trembling not with fear, but disbelief. “All of it… our land, Kim’s field, Park’s- every acre… gone.”

You’d clutched the edge of the doorframe, your heart pounding. Jeon. That single word was enough to make your skin crawl, a name that had haunted the village like a shadow since the day Jungkook disappeared.

Everyone said it was his father’s doing. Of course it had to be. The Jeons owned half the valley; taking the rest would only make sense. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to stay calm. But something inside you twisted a feeling, faint and unwanted, that it couldn’t just be his father.

By evening, the fields were silent. The farmers who once laughed and talked under the orange sky now stood in scattered groups, heads lowered, eyes hollow. The documents were already stamped and sealed. The Jeons owned everything.

You couldn’t sit still. The thought kept clawing at your mind until you found yourself walking down the main road the one that led to the newly built estate on the far end of the village. It stood where the old pine woods once were, a mansion of grey stone and glass, tall iron gates at its entrance and there he was.

Jungkook.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. He stood near one of the black cars, speaking to a man in a suit. His hair was darker now, neatly combed back; the boyish softness was gone from his face, replaced with sharp lines and a calm, unreadable expression. His posture was straight, confident too confident.

He wasn’t the boy who once stuttered when he lied. He wasn’t the boy who once smiled at you shyly across a classroom bench.

He was a man now dressed in black, gold cufflinks glinting under the sun, a faint smirk on his lips as if the world belonged to him and in a way, it did. You stepped closer, your footsteps crunching against the gravel. His gaze lifted and when his eyes met yours, the world fell still.

You hadn’t seen those eyes in three years. They were the same deep brown, but colder now, heavier with something you couldn’t name.

For a second, his expression faltered. His hand, which had been in his pocket, froze. Then he dismissed the man beside him with a nod and took a step toward you.

“Y/n,” he said, your name slipping from his tongue like something he hadn’t said in years but had never forgotten. The sound of it made your chest tighten. You wanted to yell, to throw every memory, every betrayal at his face, but your voice trembled before the words could form.

“Why?” you whispered, the question breaking before it fully left your lips. “Why the land? Why my father’s?”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on you, that same intense gaze that had once made your heart race, now cold as ice. “Because everything here,” he said quietly, “belongs to us now.”

You flinched, staring at him. “Us? Or your father?”

A faint smirk touched his lips one that didn’t reach his eyes. “My father has nothing to do with it.”

The realization hit like a slap. You stared at him, your throat going dry. “You,” you breathed. “You did this.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence was enough. Your voice trembled, fury and heartbreak fighting for space in your chest. “You took everything. You think because you have money and power, you can own the village? Ruin people’s lives?”

Jungkook stepped closer too close. His cologne was faint but familiar, and it brought back flashes you didn’t want to remember.

“I told you once,” he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle, “I’d make everything right. You didn’t listen.”

You stared at him, confused and furious all at once. “This- this is what you call right?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s what keeps you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated, your voice shaking. “You destroyed everything we had, Jungkook.”

His gaze dropped for a moment, just a second before lifting again, colder than before. “You still have your home,” he said softly. “Because it’s yours. And because I said no one touches what’s mine.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding in fear and disbelief. The words sank in slowly, painfully.

“Yours?” you whispered. “I’m not yours, Jungkook.”

He smiled faintly that calm, unsettling smile that didn’t match the storm in his eyes. “You always were.” The silence that followed was deafening. Only the faint rustle of the wind against the trees filled the space between you.

-------

You stood silently by the wooden gate of your home, your hands clutching your scarf as you stared at the empty fields that once belonged to your father. The land your father’s pride, his blood and sweat now bore the name “Property of Jeon.”

You could hardly breathe.

Taehyung stood a few steps away, his brows furrowed, eyes burning with disbelief. The paper he held in his hand trembled, the official seal of the Jeon family pressed cruelly in red ink at the bottom.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered, voice sharp, breaking the uneasy quiet between you. “Your father worked this land all his life. How can they just take it away like this?”

You said nothing, your gaze still fixed on the horizon, on the distant outline of the Jeon estate that loomed like a shadow over the village.

“Was it his father?” Taehyung asked, his voice rising. “Why would they even-” He stopped, his words trailing off when he looked at you. You seemed so far away as though your soul had drifted somewhere beyond reach.

He took a step closer. “Y/n,” he said, his tone softer now, searching your face. “Say something. Aren’t you angry? How can you stand here so quietly when they’ve taken everything?”

You swallowed hard, eyes glistening. “It’s not his father,” you whispered finally.

Taehyung blinked. “Then who-”

You hesitated, your lips trembling before the words left you. “It’s him… Jungkook.”

Silence fell again thick and suffocating. Taehyung’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. “Jungkook?” he repeated, almost as if saying the name would make it less real. “That boy…? After all these years?”

You nodded faintly.

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, fury flashing in his eyes. “He comes back after three years and this is the first thing he does? Taking from your family, from this village?” He threw the paper to the ground, his voice laced with disgust.

You looked down, your heart sinking with every word he spoke. You wanted to believe it wasn’t out of cruelty. You wanted a reason, any reason to understand why Jungkook would do this. But the truth was as cold as the evening wind brushing your face.

Taehyung turned away, his shoulders tense, muttering under his breath, “If he thinks he can just walk in and ruin lives, he’s wrong.”

You stood there in silence, watching him walk away, your chest tightening with confusion and dread. The Jeon estate gleamed in the fading light, and for the first time, you felt its presence not as distant wealth but as a warning.

------

You stood before the grand Jeon estate, the heavy wooden gates towering over you like a warning. The once-distant house that had loomed beyond the fields was now close enough for you to feel its weight, its power. You could hear the faint clatter of carriages and the rustle of servants beyond the walls, but all that faded the moment the gate creaked open.

There he was. Jeon Jungkook.

Three years had carved him into something unrecognizable taller, broader, the innocence stripped clean from his eyes. His gaze held a darkness that made your heart seize, the kind that came from seeing too much and losing even more.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, too calm. “You came to see me, didn’t you?”

You hesitated, clutching your scarf. “I came to ask why you took my father’s land.”

Jungkook’s lips curved faintly not a smile, but a shadow of one. “Your father’s land?” he repeated softly, stepping closer until the air between you grew thin. “It’s mine now, Y/n. Everything here is under my name. But…” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “If you want it back… there is one condition.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Condition?”

He took another step, close enough for you to see the faint scar running along his jaw, the cruel mark of time. “Marry me,” he said simply.

The world stilled.

You blinked, trying to understand if he was joking, but his expression didn’t waver those eyes, dark and unwavering, were dead serious. “What…?” you breathed out. “Why would you even say that?”

Jungkook’s voice lowered, his words sharp and deliberate. “Because I want you, Y/n. And I get what I want.”

Anger surged through your veins. You shook your head, your voice trembling. “I will not fall for those tricks. You can’t ruin my life for your whims.”

Jungkook let out a quiet laugh not of amusement, but disbelief. “You still think I’m the boy you knew?” he asked, his tone almost tender, but it carried a blade underneath. “I told you once, didn’t I? I always take what I need.” You stepped back, but he caught your wrist before you could move farther, his grip cold and firm.

“Let go, Jungkook,” you hissed, pulling, but he didn’t move.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable desire, pain, obsession it was all tangled. “This time,” he murmured, voice brushing against your ear, “it’s not land or pride I’m after. It’s you. And I’ll have you… even if it’s dangerous, even if it means burning down everything in my path.”

You froze, your breath shaking as his words sank in.

He released you, taking a step back, his expression unreadable now, a man molded by cruelty, by want, by the ghosts of his own choices. “Tomorrow,” he said, his tone final. “You’ll give me your answer. But know this, Y/n… whether you say yes or no, it will happen.”

-------

The sun that morning was cruel, too bright for a day that would ruin you.

You stood behind your stall, arranging vegetables with trembling hands, the smell of earth still on your palms. Beside you, Taehyung chatted softly with a buyer, his easy smile briefly lighting the air around you. For a moment, you felt peace. For a moment, it felt like the world had forgotten to hurt you.

Then came the sound of engines.

The hum grew louder until it swallowed the marketplace. People stopped mid-sentence, heads turning toward the black cars that rolled down the dirt road, polished and silent like beasts made of shadow. Jeon family crest on the door and when the car door opened, you saw him.

Jungkook.

Three years had carved him into something unrecognizable. The boy who once laughed under the summer sun, covered in dust and dirt, now wore an expensive suit and a colder face. His hair was neatly combed, his eyes sharper than ever, eyes that once held warmth for you, now dark with possession.

He walked through the crowd like he owned it and perhaps he did.

“Everyone,” his voice cut through the murmurs, deep and controlled. “You all know why I’m here.”

No one dared to speak.

He turned his gaze to you slow, deliberate. You felt your throat tighten as he said, “Y/n’s father’s land… and every field taken under Jeon authority… can be returned.”

A hush fell over the crowd. “But only,” he paused, lips curling slightly, “if Y/n agrees to marry me.”

The words didn’t feel real. They floated in the air heavy, poisonous.

Then came the whispers.

“She’s cursed.”

“I told you that mark under her eye would bring ruin.”

“She’ll destroy his family next!”

“She bewitched him… look what she’s done!”

You stood frozen as your world shattered piece by piece. Every pair of eyes in that marketplace turned to you with hatred, the same faces that once bought your father’s vegetables now looked at you as if you were a disease.

Taehyung moved first, stepping between you and them. “Enough!” he shouted. “You people have no shame-” But they ignored him. Even your father, your own blood stood silent. When you turned to him, searching for even a flicker of protection, all you saw was defeat.

“Just do it,” he murmured, voice trembling. “We can’t lose everything again, Y/n… please.” Something inside you broke.

You looked back at Jungkook the man who once smiled at you under a summer tree, now staring as if you were something he’d bought and finally come to collect. There was no remorse in his eyes. Only hunger.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He took a slow step closer, the faintest smirk on his lips. “Because, Y/n… you’re mine.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re sick.”

He leaned in, voice low meant for you alone. “I tried living without you. Tried forgetting that mark, your face, your voice. But I couldn’t. You haunt me, Y/n. And if the only way to have you is to break the world around you… I will.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. He wasn’t lying. That was what terrified you most. The villagers stared, waiting for your answer, for your ruin. Taehyung’s hand trembled beside you, wanting to stop you but knowing he couldn’t.

And your father, eyes hollow, whispered again, “Please.”

You lifted your head, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. For a second, he almost softened as if part of him still remembered the boy who once laughed in the fields with you. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Fine,” you said, your voice small, breaking. “I’ll marry you.”

Gasps spread like wildfire. The villagers began to cheer, as if your misery was entertainment. Jungkook’s lips twitched into a faint smile victorious, cruel, satisfied. He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb, whispering,

“Good girl. I knew you’d understand.”

You stood there, numb, as the people praised him for his mercy, thanked him for their lands. Not one of them looked at you.

That night, when the moon rose, you stared into the mirror at the crescent mark under your left eye, glowing faintly under the light. They called it a curse and maybe they were right. Because that mark hadn’t doomed them. It had doomed you.

-------

Jungkook’s father’s voice thundered through the house, shaking the portraits on the walls. The servants froze where they stood, heads bowed, afraid to move.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” his father roared, slamming his cane against the marble floor. “What are you doing, Jungkook?! Have you completely lost your mind?”

Jungkook stood by the grand staircase, his shirt collar undone, hair messy, eyes half shadowed but there was no fear in them. Only that same calm, dangerous stillness that had begun to haunt him these past years.

“I’m doing what I was meant to do,” he said, voice low, steady almost too steady.

His father’s laughter was sharp and bitter. “What you were meant to do? You mean ruin yourself over some girl from a village? That girl- that cursed one! Do you even hear yourself? You want to marry her?”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Her name is Y/n,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying weight enough to silence the room. “And she’s not cursed.”

“She’s nothing!” his father spat. “I’ve built this family’s name from blood and power, and you want to throw it away for some farm girl? If you want to marry, I can find you a proper wife. One who-”

“No!” Jungkook snapped, the word tearing out of him like a growl. His eyes, once dark with confusion, now burned with something unholy. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. I need her.”

The older man stared at him and for the first time, he looked afraid. Not of his son’s words, but of the way he said them.

Jungkook stepped closer, voice low now, trembling with obsession. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day and see her face in your head? To hear her voice when there’s no one around? I tried, Father. I tried forgetting her, but I can’t.”

His father’s lips thinned. “You sound like a fool.”

“Maybe I am,” Jungkook muttered. “But I’d rather be a fool with her than a king without her.”

Behind them, Jungkook’s mother stood frozen by the piano, her hands trembling. She had seen her son’s stubbornness before the tantrums, the rebellion, the pride but this was different. This wasn’t her son anymore. This was something darker.

She stepped forward, her voice breaking softly. “Jungkook, sweetheart, you can’t force her to love you. This… this isn’t right. What you’re doing to that girl-”

“Love?” Jungkook laughed, a sound too soft and too broken to be real. “I don’t care if she loves me. I just need her with me.”

His father slammed his hand on the table, the veins in his neck rising. “You’re talking nonsense! What will people think when they find out my son is dragging a girl into this family like she’s property-”

“She already is,” Jungkook said coldly.

The words froze everyone.

“What did you say?” his father whispered, his voice low, dangerous.

Jungkook turned to him, a faint smile on his lips the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “I said she’s already mine. Always was. You don’t understand, Father. She’s the only thing that ever made sense to me.”

-------

You weren’t trembling, though every step you took toward the altar felt like your body was being buried alive. The scent of flowers, lilies and roses felt suffocating. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him. Jungkook stood there, in an ivory suit that contrasted the darkness in his eyes. He looked too calm, too proud, too perfect for this ruined moment. There was no joy in his smile, only possession.

The priest’s words blurred into a low hum. You couldn’t focus, your mind was a storm memories of Taehyung’s anger, your father’s silence, the villagers’ curses echoing like poison

You wanted to scream, to run but Jungkook’s hand found yours before you could even think. His grip was firm, cold, and his thumb traced your knuckles like he was memorizing the shape of you. When the priest finally said the words, Jungkook’s lips curved faintly that same calm, dangerous smile he wore the day he destroyed your peace.

“You may kiss the bride.”

You froze.

Every cell in your body screamed no, but Jungkook’s hand lifted your chin anyway. His touch was almost gentle the kind that made you hate him more because he pretended to care.

He looked at you no, through you eyes dark and heavy with obsession. Then slowly, he leaned forward.

First, his lips brushed the skin beneath your left eye, right where the crescent moon mark rested. The crowd gasped softly; for them, it was a strange sight for him, it was reverence. For you, it was defilement.

It burned. Not from warmth, but from humiliation and then, before you could pull away, his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow but suffocating a promise and a threat disguised as affection. The world blurred; your vision swam. You stood frozen, not because you were shy or nervous but because this wasn’t a kiss of love. It was a claim.

When Jungkook finally pulled back, his lips curled into something that looked almost tender, almost human but his eyes betrayed him. There was madness in them.

Behind him, the seat where his father should’ve been sat empty a stark, heavy reminder that even blood couldn’t stomach this union. Jungkook’s mother stood there, silent, her expression hollow. She didn’t cry; she simply looked at her son like she no longer recognized him.

You, on the other hand, stood motionless.

Your heart was not fluttering; it was cracking, loud enough that if anyone had truly listened, they would’ve heard it and as the villagers whispered, Jungkook smiled at you, his thumb brushing over your marked cheek again.

“You see?” he murmured low, only for you to hear.

“Now you can’t leave me, ever.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze and in that instant, you realized something chilling. It wasn’t that Jungkook loved you. It was that he needed to own you body, soul, and even the curse the world believed you carried.

-------

The Jeon mansion stood on the hill like an unholy monument its dark tiled roof glistening under the faint drizzle, the courtyard silent except for the rhythmic drip of water from the eaves. Inside, the air was thick with incense, secrets, and the faint scent of hanji paper burning in the brazier.

It had been three days since the wedding. Three long, airless days.

You hadn’t spoken much, not even when Jungkook’s mother had looked at you with that cold, porcelain expression, the kind of look that sliced deeper than any knife. She didn’t have to say she despised you; it was there in her silence, in the way she didn’t touch the teacup after you did.

Still, you didn’t care. You weren’t here to please anyone. You didn’t even want to be here. You were nothing but a bride shackled in silk, a caged soul dressed in white.

The doors to your room slid open with a soft thunk. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The faint jingle of his ring, the steady sound of boots against the wooden floor, it was unmistakable.

“Why are you still up?” Jungkook’s voice was low, soft, almost tender but the weight beneath it was heavy, suffocating.

You didn’t answer. You sat by the window, staring at the rain trailing down the glass, pretending not to hear him.

He moved closer, kneeling behind you, his fingers brushing against your hand lightly, reverently, as though you were something fragile. “You don’t have to work anymore,” he said quietly, his lips close to your ear. “No more calloused hands, no more mud on your feet. The dust will never touch your skin again. I’ll treat you better than anyone ever has.”

His words dripped with devotion or something that looked like it but to you, it sounded like chains.

Your shoulders stiffened. You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes cold, defiant. “You talk as if I asked for any of this,” you said. “As if this isn’t a prison you’ve built for me.”

Jungkook’s lips curved slightly, not in amusement but in quiet obsession. “The world calls you cursed,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the mark under your eye. “But I call you my blessing.”

The words made your stomach twist. You recoiled from his touch, voice sharp like shattered glass. “You’re shameless,” you hissed. “At your young age, you impregnated an older woman- and now you’ve forced me into marriage. You’re not a man, Jeon Jungkook. You’re a monster.”

For a heartbeat, silence filled the room thick, dangerous. The air itself seemed to stop moving. Then, he laughed softly at first, then darker, hollow, like it came from somewhere beneath his ribs. The sound crawled down your spine.

His laughter stopped abruptly. Jungkook grabbed your chin, fingers firm but not bruising, not yet. His eyes gleamed under the lantern light, a shade of gold and madness mixed together. “Monster?” he echoed, voice low. “No, my love. I’m simply what you made me.”

You tried to pull back, but his grip tightened.

“You were meant to be mine, Y/n,” he said, each word sharp and deliberate. “From the moment I saw you, even before you knew what love meant, you were mine.” Your pulse quickened, your breath caught. There was something terrifying about the way he looked at you not lust, not love, but worship twisted by obsession.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Even if you run, even if the world curses me for it, you’ll still belong to me.”

You stared at him, eyes burning with fury and disgust. “You don’t own me,” you said through gritted teeth.

Jungkook tilted his head, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “Oh, my flower,” he murmured. “You’ll learn soon. Everything I touch… eventually becomes mine.”

-------

You could feel Jungkook’s mother’s eyes on you whenever you passed her. She would say nothing, but the sound of her teacup meeting the saucer a little too sharply said enough. Every meal was the same silence, broken only by her sighs or the way her spoon paused when you tried to speak.

Jungkook, of course, noticed it all. “Mother,” he’d say, voice calm but edged with warning, “if you have something to say about my wife, say it to me.”

His mother would glance at him with disbelief. My wife. Even she couldn’t believe how stubborn her son had become. “I said nothing,” she’d murmur, cold and dismissive, as she rose from her chair and left.

When she was gone, Jungkook would look at you, a faint smile curving on his lips, like he’d just done something noble. “You see? I told you I’ll protect you from everyone, even my own family.”

But you didn’t ask for his protection. You never did. You turned away, pushing your half-finished rice aside. “I don’t need your protection, Jungkook. I needed my freedom.”

That smile faltered. His jaw tightened. The chair scraped the floor as he stood. “You think I don’t see how you look at me?” he said quietly, the calm in his tone more terrifying than any anger. “Like I’m a monster.”

You didn’t reply. You just stood up, brushing your hanbok sleeves down and walking toward the door. “Y/n.” His voice echoed in the corridor, lower now. “You keep testing my patience.”

You stopped for a moment but didn’t turn around. “You lost that patience the day you decided what my life should be.”

His hand clenched at his side, he wanted to say something, anything that would make you see how much he believed he loved you. But all that came out was a trembling whisper:

“You’ll see one day. The world may hate you. But I never will.” You left him standing there in the dim light of the hall, the air thick with his frustration, the same frustration that came from loving something that refused to love him back.

-------

You’d wake to find the windows locked from the inside, even though you never touched them. The garden gate that once opened to the road now had a new latch, one only Jungkook had the key for. You didn’t question it anymore; you simply noted it, the way one notes a slow-spreading illness.

He started bringing you gifts. Expensive ones. Silk scarves. Jade hairpins. A book of old poetry he said reminded him of you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked one night, refusing to even glance at the gold-lined box he placed on the table.

He smiled, that soft, unsettling smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Because you deserve beauty, not dust and mud from the market stalls.”

“I liked the dust,” you said quietly. “At least it was my own.”

That made his smile falter. His fingers drummed once against the table, then stilled. “You talk like I’ve taken something from you, Y/n. I’ve given you everything.”

“You took me,” you answered, voice steady.

For a moment, there was silence. Only the clock ticking. Then he laughed, a sound too brittle to be real. “You say that as if I regret it.”

Days passed. He began dismissing the maids who spoke kindly to you. Claimed they were gossiping, disloyal. “I don’t want people around you who don’t respect you,” he’d say, but you could see the truth in his gaze, he didn’t want anyone around you.

One afternoon, as you tended to the withered lilies in the courtyard, he appeared behind you, sleeves rolled up, hair messy the version of him that used to make your heart stop when you were young.

He crouched beside you, hand brushing yours as you tried to move away. “Do you know what my mother said yesterday?” he murmured. “That you’ve changed me. She’s right. I used to care about everything else power, business, reputation. But now…”

He looked at you then, eyes dark and gleaming. “Now, I’d burn it all just to keep you.”

You felt the air grow heavy, your breath caught somewhere between fear and pity. “You don’t love me, Jungkook,” you whispered. “You just want to own me.”

He leaned closer, voice a low whisper. “And if owning you means you stay by my side, then yes- I do.”

He reached for your hand, pressing his lips to your birthmark beneath your eye as if to seal his claim. You turned your face away, disgusted, but he only smiled against your skin, his breath warm and steady.

END

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Bye, I think I lost brain cells writing this. I know it’s confusing to read.

#royal obsession

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