Chapter Text
Jungkook’s footsteps pound against the tiled floor as he races through the flood of bodies. The announcement calls. Two minutes remain until Jungkook misses his ride and his chance to interview with one of South Korea’s largest corporations.
The way Jungkook’s heart burns is insignificant to the thought of his future. No amount of huffs and puffs will deter him as he navigates through the morning crowd of workers and students. Jungkook’s own, inexpensive suit tugs in all the wrong places, his tie seeming to suffocate him more than it had when he fixed the knot several minutes prior.
One minute left.
Jungkook can hear and see the train pulling up to the platform when he reaches the top of the stairs. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take a step forward, doesn’t bother to check the descent. The ground disappears before him and Jungkook is dropping. Falling. Plummeting to his death. He can’t process the screams and horrified gasps that react to him. His body whirls and twirls like it’s in a dance as he rolls. His mind, oscillating between fog and fear, struggles to grasp onto reality.
After a long five seconds, all motion stops. It’s broken only by the beeping that signifies the closing of the doors. Jungkook has missed his train.
His head lolls to the side. Through blurry vision, Jungkook glances at the damp floor, stained red with his blood. His ragged breaths are barely audible over the chaos around him as emergency services are dialled, first responders shake him and bystanders whisper in shock. Amongst the expected noise, he hears the odd sound of hurried patters of footsteps racing away from him.
In that moment, clarity pervades his vision. Jungkook is losing more than just his future.
He takes one last breath before the world turns black.
ⴵ
It’s warm, like when the sunlight grazes his face in the summertime or when body warmer patches are stuck to him during the winter. A heavy weight lies over him and voices resound around him. They don’t sound worried but contemptuous and dismissive like Jungkook lying there, bedridden with aches over his body, is typical or even desired.
Jungkook wants to peel his eyelids open, wants to call out yet the pain paralysing his body forces it to refuse. Confused, exhausted, neglected, he lies helplessly. Warmth rolls down the side of his face, staining the pillowcase with his tears and still, no one comes to Jungkook’s aid.
The gravity of Jungkook’s situation dawns on him. He’s certain he has missed his interview, his last hope for a job after a gruelling three months of efforts to secure the opportunity. Jungkook wonders how he will face his parents. Jungkook wonders if they know of his condition. Jungkook wonders how much time has passed, a day, a week, a month. The frailty of his body only serves to further prove the lengthy time Jungkook must have lain motionless.
It takes monumental effort to move his fingers. A twitch. It takes a greater strength to compel his eyes to open. He’s met with white, unremarkable ceilings that give no indications as to where he is. A throb pounds at his temples, the aftermath after what was surely a concussion.
“Oh, Your Highness, you are awake.”
Your Highness? Were they speaking to him?
“Please call for the Imperial Physicians at once. His Highness has finally awoken.”
No, Jungkook must definitely still be asleep.
Jungkook closes his eyes as a frenzy occurs right beside his rigid bed. Jungkook hadn’t known hospital beds were this uncomfortable but now, it feels only a slight better than his apartment floor.
“Your Highness, p-please keep your eyes open and let the Imperial Physicians examine you.”
Jungkook flinches at the voice, recognition seeping in. Yugyeom, one of his roommates, hovers above him with his long hair fashioned into a bun. Jungkook must’ve been out for months for Yugyeom to grow his hair out to that length. It must all be a dream. His roommates must be playing a prank on him.
He chuckles, a raspy sound. The pain that ensues feels so realistic Jungkook doubts it for a second.
“Yugyeom-ah, quit joking and help me up.”
The man, Yugyeom, seems hesitant to meet Jungkook’s eyes as he’s helped into an upright position. Even though pain had flooded each movement, breathing feels slightly easier in this position.
Peering down, Jungkook notices the sheer white fabric that covers his torso. It crosses over his body, bound by thin ties at the waist. Incredulously, Jungkook takes in the rest of his surroundings. Wooden bedframes that are definitely not his nor a hospital’s hold the stiff mattress. The doors to the room are opened inward and Jungkook is offered a confusing view of a lowset vanity sitting below sheer window panels.
Several people kneel in neat rows outside the bedroom with their heads lowered. The men wear myrtle green hanbok tops paired with pants cut from the same cloth. The women are dressed in floor-length skirts in the exact shade of green and a blush pink top, designed with a contrasting green lapel and bow to unite the outfit.
The traditional wear leaves Jungkook in a stunned state. It’s like he’s fallen into the middle of a filming set of a historical Korean drama. Jungkook scans the rooms for cameras but finds none. He turns to the familiar face, hoping to find answers there except, after Yugyeom tucks Jungkook’s blanket snugly around him, he, too, falls to kneeling position on a raised platform beside the bed.
“Yugyeom-ah, where are we? Who are all those people? Why’re you kneeling?”
“Your Highness, th-this is your bed chamber. We are your servants,” Yugyeom responds, a crease forming between his brows. “We kneel b-because we seek your forgiveness. We failed to care for Your Highness a-and you were hurt due to our negligence.”
Hurt due to their negligence? Jungkook had fallen down the stairs at Seoul Central Station on his own accord. Panic begins to grip him, his heartbeat fluttering quickly in response.
“I- why- why’re you calling me ‘Your Highness’? Call me ‘Jungkook’. And please get up.”
“Oh my word, His Highness has most definitely suffered from an injury to the head. He appears to have lost his memory,” someone whispers from outside.
“All of you, please get up and stop calling me ‘Your Highness’. You’re scaring me.”
“Your Highness, i-it is only proper we address you as such. We have been reflecting upon our failure since your incident. It is understandable that you should p-punish us how you see fit.”
“I- I…,” Jungkook stutters himself. His fingers dig into the space between his eyes, calling upon reality. “I must still be asleep. This is just a dream.”
“Your Highness,” another voice calls from outside. It sounds like Mingyu, his other roommate. Maybe, Mingyu can finally make sense of this cruel prank they have all decided to play on an injured patient. Mingyu has always been easier to crack than Yugyeom. “The Imperial Physician has arrived, Your Highness.”
Mingyu sweeps into the room with an elderly man behind him. A grey beard decorates the physician’s face and a wooden box is held carefully at his side. When both men fall into swift bows beside Yugyeom, a mixture of dread and frustration sets in.
“Your Highness, thank the heavens you have woken up. My name is Im Kyungho. I am the Imperial Physician who has been tending to you since your injury. Please let me conduct an examination,” the man says.
“No, no, I’ve had enough of this. It’s not funny. I want to go home.”
“This is your home, Your Highness–”
“Stop calling me that! My name is Jungkook.” Everyone flinches, some bowing deeper, some leaning back like it’d minimise the volume of Jungkook’s voice. Jungkook pays no mind as he throws his legs over the side of bed, breaths faltering when agony shoots along his body.
“Y-Your Highness, you must not move before I have examined–”
“I’m going home. Get out of my way.”
Jungkook stumbles to his feet, shifting away from the hesitant hands that reach out to stabilise him. Navigating through the rooms past the servants poses as a challenge but Jungkook follows the trail of sunlight and swats away anyone that tries to deter him. Behind him, the servants mutter amongst themselves but it’s difficult to determine their words.
“Your Highness, please,” the physician murmurs. “You are in no condition to be on your feet. Please come back to bed. Your Highness–”
Jungkook pauses when he finally reaches the room that leads outside. The layout of the building is almost completely open with a dining table in view behind him, a study room filled with books to the right of that and a room for entertaining guests closest to the exit. Swivelling his head up, Jungkook takes in the red, green and yellow detailing, alike the vibrant ones that decorate the ceiling of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
Two men stand beside the open doors and hang their heads immediately upon noticing Jungkook. Navy hanboks, gats and spears give away their statuses as guards but neither appear as though they’d stop Jungkook.
Jungkook rests for a moment against one of the doors that is swung open to offer a view of a spacious, square courtyard, embellished with round pots and neatly trimmed hedges.
“Your Highness, you will fall and injure yourself again. I implore you to rest.”
Jungkook shrugs the physician’s hands away, intent on escaping this place. It’s only when Jungkook takes a step over the threshold that he notices the loose socks on his feet are not covered by shoes. It’s not the prospect of dirty soles that hinders Jungkook’s journey but rather the wave of dizziness that occupies his vision and makes him sway on the spot.
“Quickly! Help His Highness back into bed.”
“No. S-Stop–”
Mingyu and Yugyeom are beside him instantly, his arms slung over their shoulders as he’s dragged back into the bed chamber. Jungkook bites down the nausea that results from the rough handling. He’s lifted onto the bed, blankets brought over his legs and pillow raised to support his back.
“Your Highness, I apologise for insisting but–”
“Get out, all of you.”
“But I need to examine your injuries, Your Highness. You have been unrousable for almost a month.”
“I want to be alone. Please get out.”
The Imperial Physician stalls for a second before huffing and slamming his wooden box shut.
“Please notify me when His Highness comes to his senses,” the physician grumbles beneath his breath, loud enough for only the servants to hear, as he stalks out the chamber.
Jungkook waves his hand and the rest of the room flurries into action. Mingyu and Yugyeom bow deeply and dismiss themselves with the remainder of the servants. The doors to the bedroom are closed and Jungkook is left trembling in the empty space. He curls into a ball, tears flowing out his eyes on their own will and hands shaking as they wrap around himself.
Jungkook practices inhaling, holding, exhaling multiple times until the crippling anxiety is driven away. He needs a clear mind if he wants any chance at processing all that has happened and finding a solution.
He’s heard of this happening in dramas and books and others’ imaginations but the reality of time travelling is nothing like it’s described. It doesn’t feel novel or intriguing. There are the complex political and personal relationships that Jungkook worries he may have to learn to navigate, there’s the concern about what his family and friends are going to do after learning of his disappearance, there’s always the possibility of execution hanging over his head at a careless word or action in this world.
It’s overwhelming and suffocating.
Jungkook must leave. He must find a way back.
Forcing himself out of bed yet again, Jungkook drags his legs to the study room and extracts piles and piles of books from their shelves. His actions are careless as he flicks through the pages for any clues for his identity, the current time period, the emperor, how he can return, anything. Jungkook’s frustrations grow as he realises most of the books are filled with vulgar drawings of men in relationships. There are no concealed nooks and crannies in the bookshelves, hiding the previous owner’s secrets.
Time is an odd concept in this world with no clock or phone to indicate the moments that pass. Jungkook spends what feels like several hours scouring the room until a knock at the front interrupts him.
“Your Highness? M-May we come in to attend to you?” comes Mingyu’s timid voice.
“Don’t disturb me.”
“B-But it is time to dine. The Imperial Kitchen has prepared–”
“I said leave me alone,” Jungkook snaps.
Brief guilt makes Jungkook pause and stare at the two silhouettes hesitating at the door. The Mingyu and Yugyeom in this universe look so alike his friends but they surely don’t act or speak like them. They’re not the same people, Jungkook reminds himself, they’re here to do their jobs, not to care about him. They’re not his friends and he’s not theirs. It takes all his energy to turn his back on them.
After finishing with the books, Jungkook continues his search in the vanity room outside his bed chamber. Kneeling on the cushion before the mirror, he freezes. It’s fortunate the man staring back at him looks identical to the one in the present, down to each mole. His face appears to be the one variable that has not changed. The only difference that Jungkook should have discovered the moment he had awoken is the length of his own hair. It’s styled in a half up, half down, bare of accessories. Jungkook combs his fingers unsurely through the strands, checking if they’re really attached to his head.
It takes him several minutes of examining the one familiar thing in the room before he’s ready to move on. He’s unsuccessful once more in obtaining any answers when his ordeal of emptying the drawers of the dressing table produce only a variety of jewellery and powders, which now sit scattered around him.
The one conclusion Jungkook can come to with all these clues is the person whose body he has occupied must be vain and unsophisticated in literature. Reflecting on the previous interaction with his servants and the Imperial Physician, there is a probable chance Jungkook’s name has also been retained. No one had corrected him when he declared his name, after all. Aside from that, Jungkook really does not know much more.
Sighing with exhaustion and pain, Jungkook leans forward, his head resting on his bent elbows. He’s given one moment of reprieve before a ruckus outside sounds, much to the dismay of Jungkook’s sensitive ears.
Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s voices mix with several others as they near the entrance. Jungkook barely has time to look up before the doors are opening and several figures are stepping over the threshold. Jungkook counts six. When they turn to him, Jungkook can immediately confirm these men are not of low status by their clothing. Each of them is dressed in silks, their gowns embellished with intricately detailed embroidery. Gold headpieces atop their heads hold their hair together.
It’s evident these men must hold a similar rank to Jungkook if Mingyu and Yugyeom were unable to prevent their entrance. Or, it may simply be that Jungkook’s servants hold him in such low regards that they will allow anyone to bypass them and enter his residence without announcement.
When Jungkook’s scan reaches the men’s faces, he meets a variety of expressions from indifference to frustration to impatience to disdain. It’s been a while since Jungkook has met strangers who are willing to wear their feelings so clearly on their faces, although, he finds it a complete shame. The unpleasant expressions take away from the men’s beauty, all of whom Jungkook would have thought breathtakingly attractive if his world was returned to him.
Behind them, dusk has fallen, promising darkness and solitude. Jungkook is envious of the way the moon and stars cower behind thick layers of clouds. A warm yellow light shines into the room from the servants’ lanterns. It casts shadows about the men’s faces, shrouding them in an air of mystery.
Jungkook sets the look on his face to caution and slight confusion but it must not come across as such as the men’s frowns deepen in response.
“What is the meaning of this? We were informed of your refusal for treatment from an Imperial Physician and your uncooperative manner towards your servants. You have only just woken up and your first actions are to speak cruelly to those who have cared for you for several weeks,” one of the men berates. Jungkook is given a clear view of his angled eyebrows when the man inspects the room with scrutiny. His nose is upturned in displeasure when he turns back. “It seems you have also chosen to destroy your residence and create more work for your servants.”
“Who are you?”
“You do not recognise us?”
“He must have injured his head in the accident. It is where most of the blood was discovered after all,” another man says, not addressing Jungkook.
“Knowing him, it may also be a ruse for our sympathy. Do not lower your guard.”
“The Imperial Physicians will be able to determine the true from the false. Yugyeom-ssi, send the Imperial Physician in. Mingyu-ssi, please light the candles in the rooms.”
The men speak one after another, completely ignoring him. Jungkook observes both of his friends, scurrying to obey the man. At the very least, Jungkook has confirmed his friends’ names but the attitude the unknown men are regarding him with sets his heart on fire.
From behind Yugyeom, a familiar elderly man returns and bows deeply to the six men before turning his attention to Jungkook. He remembers the name of the physician, Im Kyungho.
“Your Highness, you appear to have composed yourself since my previous visit. May I now examine your injuries?”
Jungkook wonders if he still has the choice to refuse subjecting himself to outdated medical procedures when the six men are glaring at him like he’s smeared jam across their bedsheets or set loose a hundred baby spiders in their bed chambers. So, with decorum appropriate for his title, Jungkook straightens his posture and slides his hands back into his lap.
“You may,” he responds tightly.
“It is preferable for Your Highness to return to your bed for the examination. Your servants will help support you back to your bed chamber.”
“No need. I can walk.”
Jungkook twists and pushes himself off the ground with noticeable difficulty yet he refuses to concede when he has already lost control of one aspect. Despite the energy he directs into moving his body, Jungkook doesn’t overlook the way one of the men sighs and tongues the inside of cheek in a perfect image of annoyance. Two men choose to entirely ignore him and engage in a staring competition with the courtyard. Jungkook is almost certain they’re not friends which make it all the more odd that they’ve chosen to visit.
Finding a comfortable position on the bed proves to be the toughest feat as the mattress has not softened since the last time Jungkook sat upon it. When he finally settles, the physician shuffles forward, kneeling on the raised platform and extracting different tools from his box. Uncertain, Jungkook sits quietly and awaits further instructions.
Silence swallows the room and leaves Jungkook in more confusion as no words are exchanged between the six men that will suggest not only their relationship with Jungkook but to each other as well. Although, it may not matter if Jungkook returns to his own world after a simple sleep.
“Please allow me to read your pulse, Your Highness.”
Jungkook extends the arm closest to the man, his right one, and observes the three fingers placed on his wrist. A minute later, Kyungho requests for Jungkook’s other arm and conducts the same examination. He feels almost defiant when the physician commences a physical examination on the back of his head. Jungkook winces when sudden pressure aggravates his soreness, invoking images of swirling pools of blood.
The physician continues to his body, exposing his arms and legs to show Jungkook the healing bruises and cuts. It must have been quite a nasty fall for the bruises to still be present after so long in a coma.
“It is lucky that Your Highness’ wounds are superficial and will not scar your precious body. Do you remember how you obtained these injuries, Your Highness?”
“I fell down the stairs.”
“That is correct. Your servants found you at the bottom of the stairs near Gyeonghoeru Pavilion. Does Your Highness recall why you returned there after the banquet concluded?”
Jungkook shakes his head, unsure how else to answer.
“Does Your Highness recognise anyone else here?”
Jungkook glances around, eyes falling to his two kneeling friends by the door before darting to the six men who had followed him into his supposed bed chamber. Several of them fill the distance with cold, analysing stares, as if daring Jungkook to say their names. It summons the stifling feelings he had managed to quash to the back of his throat and combines it with a new sense of dread to create…
Fear.
These men are undoubtedly not present with well intentions for the previous owner of Jungkook’s body. If Jungkook does not return to his body by morn, these men will be the ones he must avoid.
Turning his attention down, Jungkook clenches his clammy hands in his lap.
“Mingyu and Yugyeom,” he murmurs. Jungkook doesn’t see the surprise in his servants’ faces as they snap their heads up to Jungkook and then each other.
“That is correct,” Kyungho responds. “Mingyu and Yugyeom are the personal servants who have attended to you since your early years, even before your arrival here. Do you recall how long has passed since you arrived at the palace?”
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.
“And your memories about your family? What can you remember about them?”
Jungkook pauses, taking a stab in the dark in hopes they will provide him some information that’ll help him return to the right time period or explain how he’d ended up here.
“I have an older brother, Jeon Junghyun.”
“That is correct. Is there anything else you remember about your family? Their role in this empire, perhaps?”
Jungkook can only shake his head again. When Kyungho does not answer his own questions, Jungkook sighs in disappointment.
“It is a little unusual that the only things you have retained are some names and the exact events of your traumatic experience.”
“Is that not typical of memory loss caused by head injuries?” one of the strangers asks astutely.
“No, I must say this is the first time I have witnessed such in my time as a physician. The memory loss caused by head injuries typically either affects one’s ability to remember things moving forward or causes a loss of memory from the moment one had sustained their injury up to several months prior to the event. Furthermore, it is even less likely for memory loss to occur in patients who injure the back of their heads. Typically, memory loss is associated with damage to the front or sides of the brain. I have never seen nor heard such presenting symptoms.”
“What symptoms should I be concerned about then?” Jungkook asks in annoyance. The physician had implied to the men that Jungkook’s symptoms are hardly believable, just like they had suspected.
“Changes to your vision, Your Highness. It could be anything such as having difficulties viewing colour, visual distortion, inability to locate or recognise objects and inability to recognise words. However, from my examination, it can be determined that you do not exhibit any of these symptoms at the present time. Is that correct, Your Highness?”
“I suppose.”
“Very well. The bruises and cuts you sustained after falling appear to be healing well but please be mindful to not aggravate them. As Your Highness has also been lying in bed for a prolonged period, it will also take time for your body to feel stronger. Your headache and nausea will also persist for a while so Your Highness should opt for lighter meals. For now, I will prescribe you some herbal remedies to help your recovery and confer with the other physicians regarding your memory loss.”
“What if my memory doesn’t return?” Jungkook asks. Will they let him leave the palace to recuperate?
“Please do you worry, Your Highness. The Imperial Physicians will provide you the best care. Hopefully, your memory will return to you in no time and you can resume your usual duties. Do you have any additional questions for me in the meantime?”
Jungkook shakes his head, curbing the dizziness that follows.
“Then I will take my leave. Please notify me if you experience any unusual symptoms, Your Highness. Mingyu and Yugyeom, please follow me so that I can provide you instructions for His Highness’ medicinal preparation and intake,” he arranges before turning the bow deeply at the unknown men.
“Thank you for your services, Physician Kyungho-nim. You are dismissed.”
“Wait,” Jungkook calls urgently. “Mingyu and Yugyeom can stay.”
“For what reason?” one man asks gruffly. His voice is cold, his stare even more so. The man has donned a hanbok as dark as his hair, standing furthest from Jungkook, in the shadows. He’s not particularly tall and if he had not spoken, Jungkook might have completely failed to notice him. Now, his three words command the entire room into silence, waiting cruelly for an answer that he must know Jungkook doesn’t have.
Futilely, he scrambles to find an excuse to keep his servants in the room, anything to not leave him alone with these six contemptuous men. His mouth opens but one glare from the man successfully clamps it shut.
“Mingyu-ssi, Yugyeom-ssi, you are both dismissed too.”
The room clears out in less than ten seconds. Jungkook keeps his gaze glued to his fingers but when he raises a thumb to pick at his nails, he realises his entire hand trembles. Quickly, Jungkook switch courses to entwine his hands together and digs his fingers into his skin instead.
Two squeaks signal the outer doors’ closure and the physician and his servants’ departure from the building, officially leaving Jungkook to the mercy of six hostile strangers.
One man wanders forward carefully as though he’s counting the steps to Jungkook’s bed. From the corner of his eye, Jungkook watches the man’s red gown stop just shy of the raised platform. It’s instinct, the way Jungkook’s body leans away, not that the man is invading his personal space just yet.
“How awfully convenient it is of you to injure yourself at a time like this, Jungkook-ssi,” the man says. “And what convenient symptoms you present with.”
It seems the ways of this world are not yet embedded within Jungkook because he’s immediately snapping an indignant frown to the man. Even if they had been enemies previously, how dare the man speak to an injured person with such scepticism and derision.
The deep drawl had come from the same man who had reprimanded him upon their arrival. Jungkook now faces the man’s sharp eyes, resemblant of a dragon’s. They’re narrowed on Jungkook without a hint of solace or kindness. Following the nose bridge down, Jungkook finds the man’s lips itching to curl into a snarl. They say you can determine one’s personality through their face and Jungkook is sure this man has been born with a face of dominance.
Even with such intimation, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from showcasing his feelings.
“I didn’t choose to fall down the stairs. What reason could I have to purposefully incapacitate myself for a month? Do you really think anyone in the right mind would risk almost falling to their death just to avoid something?”
The man’s eye twitches and Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s because he’s rarely challenged or if the previous Jungkook had regularly done so. Either way, the man’s breathing deepens and Jungkook only knows this because he bends down, crowding into Jungkook’s space. The man rests one hand on the wooden board Jungkook’s back rests against. Unnerved, Jungkook’s fingernails dig harder into back of his hands, seeking an escape.
“You best hope your accident and injury are real. If we discover any proof of your deceit, you will be named and treated as a criminal.”
“Those really are just the most comforting words a patient needs to hear during recovery.”
“There we go,” the man murmurs. His lips finally turn up and it momentarily surprises Jungkook to see the beginnings of a dimple. A man with such a despicable personality definitely does not deserve to have them. “Your disgraceful and disrespectful temperament will never change regardless of how many times you injure your brain.”
“Wishing that upon me now, are you?”
“You are not worth any space in my mind.”
“And yet I occupy a great lot of it. That’s what annoys you, isn’t it?”
Jungkook doesn’t know where he’s managed to summon the sudden bravado but it’s too late for him to back down now. He must show the man he isn’t to be belittled.
His success is somewhat heard when the wooden frame behind him creaks. Glancing back from the corner of his eye, Jungkook notices the white-knuckled grip the man now has.
“Your shamelessness knows no bounds.”
“I could say the same about your stubborn insistence that I had intentionally injured myself,” Jungkook says.
With how much the man has closed the gap between them throughout their conversation, Jungkook struggles to keep his focus on one area, his gaze oscillating quickly from the man’s left and right eyes. His words cause the man’s brows to furrow deeply but not in vexation. No. Jungkook is given a brief respite from the animosity when hesitance invades the man’s glare.
Jungkook doesn’t lower his eyes, doesn’t back down from the fight. Carefully, the man’s eyes travel from Jungkook’s eyes down to his nose then his lips, taking in every beauty mark and every imperfection. Jungkook doesn’t move. He’s a prey, waiting for the predator to make his move so he can react.
Movement from behind them breaks the man out of his trance. Wariness and disdain snaps back into their rightful places and the man loses all semblance of handsomeness once again. Angered by the spell Jungkook ensnared him with, the man pushes forward and positions his mouth beside Jungkook’s ear.
He’s too close, too close, yet Jungkook has nowhere to run.
“Those lips of yours have caused enough discord. I suggest you keep them shut,” the man whispers. The deep voice combined with the growl-like threat sends shivers running down Jungkook’s spine. His hands, which are still direly holding onto each other are ice cold with nerves.
When the man backs away, leaving an appropriate distance between them, Jungkook releases his exhale shakily.
“We will see how long you can keep your act up, Jungkook-ssi. Time has a wonderful way of saying nothing but exposing everything.”
Turning around, the man doesn’t deign to give Jungkook one last look before sweeping out of the room. The others linger for a moment before exiting with a parting gift of glowers and scowls.
Jungkook hadn’t realised how their presence had stolen the air from him until he’s able to breathe again. He lets his fingers tremble freely on the bedsheets and wonders what the physician might say about his rapid heartbeat. The stress and incertitude of the day have exerted Jungkook to the core, triggering a wave of fatigue.
He should have stood up for himself, should have flung a pillow at the man but it would do him no good to further agitate anyone in this world if he truly wanted to search for a return.
Tonight, Jungkook knows one thing for certain.
He must escape.
ⴵ