Chapter Text
With a calm and controlled stride, he rises from his seat and makes his way toward Taehyung, unhurried, letting his body move with the grace of a predator who knows its prey is already within its grasp. Jimin doesn’t need to rush. His movement is slow, deliberate—every step part of a plan already laid out in his mind. It’s not just the treasure he sees in Taehyung; it’s also the anger burning inside him—the same anger he harbors toward every elite, toward those who have ruined his people, those who have allowed his life to fall apart.
Jimin’s rage is deeply rooted in his past, steeped in suffering and disillusionment. Raised in an environment where survival was the only law, he was forced to fight from a young age to carve out a place in a world that treated him as invisible. Born into a poor, exploited family, he watched his dreams shatter every time the system trampled over him. He never had the luxury of a carefree youth; he learned early that to thrive in this world, one had to be willing to do anything—even betray, steal, and manipulate.
His anger is a reaction against a system that not only marginalized him but also forced him to live in the shadows of others, to feel inferior. He learned not to trust anyone, to use his intelligence and charm to get what he wanted. But more than anything, his resentment is fueled by a deep-seated hatred for those who caused his suffering—the upper class, the privileged, families like Taehyung’s. Seeing a young noble, dressed in fine clothes and exuding elegance, stepping into a place like the tavern is a direct affront to Jimin’s frustration. It is as if Taehyung’s mere presence there, among people who had always been despised by his kind, was a reminder of the power of those who had everything, while Jimin and his people never had a chance to change their fate.
This anger is not just about social class. Jimin also harbors deep resentment over the fact that his pain and struggles have been ignored, never seen or understood by those who lived in luxury. Every fake smile thrown his way, every look of disdain he received from people like Taehyung, is a wound that has festered over time. Jimin has never had the chance to be more than a tool in the hands of others, and this realization has shaped him into the man he is today—calculating, manipulative, and painfully aware of how little his life is worth compared to that of the nobles.
Yet, at the heart of it, his rage is also a form of vengeance. It is his chance to prove that he endured, that he survived, and that now it is time for people like Taehyung to feel what he has suffered his entire life. His game with Taehyung is not just about power or money—it is a way to show that, despite everything, he is still standing, and that no one, not even someone as refined and elegant as Taehyung, can ignore the pain he carries within him.
When he reaches Taehyung’s table, Jimin pauses for a moment, assessing him with a gaze that leaves nothing to chance. Then, with a smile that appears friendly but conceals a hint of disdain, he begins the conversation.
"A young gentleman like you in a place like this?" he says, his voice low but laced with irony. "You must be here for something very interesting. Or perhaps you’re just curious to see how those who have never had gold at their fingertips live?"
Jimin's words are a judgment disguised as a casual question. Every phrase is an indirect attack on Taehyung’s privileged position. He knows those words will unsettle him, make him feel out of place. But Jimin is not just a thief; he is also a master in the art of manipulation. He knows it well: a few words are enough to lure someone into his web.
It’s not just money that Jimin wants, but the chance to inflict a small wound, to bring out the anger he feels toward people like Taehyung who have made his life so difficult. Every noble is, to him, a symbol of oppression, a target to strike, a wound that must be addressed. And Taehyung, with his elegance and noble demeanor, is the perfect prey.
At the table, Jungkook slowly sips his beer, his gaze fixed on the opaque surface of the mug, as if he were a distant observer in a scene that no longer concerns him. His body is relaxed, but his mind is elsewhere, in a place far from that tavern, far from Jimin’s company and everyone else’s. Life has taught him not to care about anything, let alone the power plays weaving around him. A former fighter, bought as a child and raised to entertain the nobles, he has never truly had a choice. To him, the world has become a stage where no one really has control.
And yet, despite his apparent apathy, Jungkook watches everything from the corner of his eye. It’s as if every movement, every word, is just an echo reverberating in his disillusioned heart. Jimin moves with his usual confidence, but there is a spark in him that makes him different. There is anger, a flame that cannot be extinguished. When Jimin approaches Taehyung, his steps are calm, measured, but his eyes do not lie. He has already decided: that stranger, that young noble who does not belong in this place, is his prey.
Jungkook says nothing. He does not stop Jimin, nor does he interfere. His indifference to the world moving around him is absolute. He knows Jimin sees the world differently than he does, but in the end, for both of them, survival is what matters most. The anger burning inside Jimin is tangible, almost palpable, and yet Jungkook cannot find within himself the will to intervene. It is no longer his job to stop anyone or play the role of a guardian. He simply observes, like a spectator who has already seen enough.
His gaze then shifts to Taehyung, whose presence seems out of place in that tavern. There is something about him that does not blend with the environment, with the rough faces and calloused hands surrounding him. Taehyung is distant, too distant. He never truly looks at anyone, as if he wants to stay out of the games being played, as if he is aware that his belonging to that world was never a real choice. Jungkook, despite his apathy, cannot help but notice how Taehyung intrigues him. He is not like other young nobles. There is a resistance in him, a desire to remain indifferent to everything, even when, perhaps, that is not truly possible. But Jungkook does not approach, does not offer words of comfort or advice. He does not care enough.
Meanwhile, Jimin continues to play his part. His voice is low, smooth, every word a carefully placed lure for Taehyung. His anger is a spark that fuels the fire of his manipulation. But while Jimin’s game unfolds with his usual mastery, Jungkook remains still, his gaze lost in the void. It is not that he does not see, but there is nothing compelling him to act. The world around him is like a carousel that never stops spinning, and he no longer has the desire to get on.
Taehyung, though accustomed to receiving looks of disdain from those who saw him only as a symbol of an oppressive system, had never faced a rage as palpable as Jimin’s. Every word Jimin spoke felt like a finely sharpened blade, but what disturbed Taehyung the most was the awareness that his behavior was not casual, that it was not mere contempt. It was something deeper, something personal."You know," Jimin continued in a low, almost whispered voice, "people like you never realize how little they truly matter at the end of the day. What could a man in a gold-embroidered shirt really do in a world that has forgotten those who built that wealth?"
Each word felt like poison seeping into Taehyung’s veins. A weight pressed against his chest, as if he were trapped between Jimin’s scorn and his own sense of helplessness—a feeling he had never experienced with such intensity before. In that moment, his life of privilege and protection seemed to slowly crumble, like a sandcastle caught in a storm.
Jimin wasn’t just trying to manipulate the situation; he was dismantling Taehyung’s world piece by piece, and he did it with a surgical precision that made him even more terrifying. Every word from Jimin felt like a challenge, a confirmation of everything Taehyung had always known but had never been forced to confront with such raw anger. His lack of response at that moment hurt him more than anything else.
As Taehyung struggled to grasp a sense of himself amidst the chaos, Jimin’s game continued. There was no escape—not even for him. The challenge wasn’t just directed at Taehyung but at everything he represented. The upper class, luxury, the system that had crushed lives like Jimin’s. Every gesture, every word, gave Jimin power. It was like a venom wrapping around him, forcing Taehyung to see his reality with sharper, but also more wounded, eyes.
Taehyung, with a smile tinged with subtle irony, responded to Jimin with a coldness that struck like a velvet glove hiding a fist of iron. "How pitiful," he said, his voice calm but laced with disdain. "A man who seems to have no other purpose in life but to judge those who have more than he does. You should know that your resentment will never take you anywhere. You might as well start reflecting on yourself instead of unloading your frustration onto others."
Taehyung’s words lingered in the air, sharp as a finely honed blade. He didn’t realize, however, that his judgment cut deeper than he had intended. Jimin stood frozen for a moment, his face morphing into a mask of suppressed rage. He hadn’t expected such a response, yet that venomous critique, spoken with such detachment, struck him like a lash. His eyes burned with a fury he couldn’t quite control.
Jungkook, seated on the other side of the table, immediately noticed Jimin’s reaction. His body tensed, muscles poised to react, as a palpable tension spread through the air. He didn’t need words to understand that the situation was veering into dangerous territory. Taehyung’s irony, coupled with his perceived superiority, had pushed Jimin to a breaking point—a point that could no longer be ignored. Jungkook knew that the spark of anger in Jimin could turn into something much darker. His experience told him that Jimin’s psychological games never came without consequences.
"Stop it," Jungkook murmured, his voice low but authoritative. His hand lifted slowly, pausing between Jimin and Taehyung. "This isn’t the time."
For a moment, Jimin stared at Jungkook in disbelief. He hadn’t expected anyone to intervene. His plan had been so perfect, his anger so justified. But something in Jungkook—an unspoken shadow that flickered through his gaze—made him pause. It made him hesitate, if only for a second. He couldn’t afford to lose control. His life had always been a series of battles, and a single wrong move could cost him everything. Jimin’s anger was a caged beast, but now the cage was stronger than he was willing to admit.Jimin clenched his teeth, irritation palpable, but then lowered his gaze and stepped back slightly—not before throwing one last, searing glare at Taehyung. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, but he knew now wasn’t the time to push further. A public fight would be too risky, yet the desire to hurt Taehyung lingered, fueled by the words he had just heard.
As the tension in the air began to wane, a small but crucial detail went unnoticed by most. Jimin, with quick and furtive movements, had taken advantage of the distraction to steal something from Taehyung. His hand had slipped into the prince’s pocket, extracting a carefully folded parchment without being detected. He knew it was something important, but there was no time to examine it now. The map he now held in his hands could be the key to something far greater than he had ever imagined.
As Jimin stepped out of the tavern, his eyes gleamed with hunger. It wasn’t just revenge that drove him—it was the opportunity he had just seized. The map in his hands was the first step toward a path that could change his life forever.
Jungkook, his brow furrowed and arms crossed over his chest, could no longer tolerate Jimin’s behavior. It wasn’t the first time they had clashed, but this time, the tension between them was suffocating. Jimin, with his defiant arrogance, had pushed Jungkook past the limits of his patience.
"You’re such an idiot," Jungkook snapped, his voice low but brimming with anger. "You can’t keep acting like this. Don’t you ever realize how much you’re ruining everything?"
"Who cares?" Jimin shot back instantly, his face twisted in frustration and resentment. "You don’t understand anything! You never understand anything! What do you expect me to do, huh? Sit around and wait to die like you—silent, always under someone else’s control?"
His tone was laced with sarcasm and venom, but Jungkook didn’t flinch. He met Jimin’s gaze, his own eyes burning with restrained fury—yet beneath it, there was an understanding Jimin refused to see.
"It’s not about waiting to die in silence, Jimin," he retorted sharply. "It’s about learning to think before you act. This isn’t a game. And it’s not a game for you, either. You should know by now that we can’t afford to make reckless mistakes like this."
Jimin let out a bitter laugh. "And what about you, Jungkook? Why don’t you tell me what to do instead of lecturing me? You’re just a blacksmith, not a free man. You have no idea what it means to be me!"
"You’re wrong," Jungkook replied, his voice dropping slightly as if he were struggling to contain his anger. "I’ve lived through hell you can’t even imagine. But at least I don’t give up."
"Ugh, enough!" Jimin scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re always the same—boring, full of your self-righteous morality. You don’t understand anything. I’m leaving before you start lecturing me again about how your life was so terrible and now you think you’re better than me just because you became a blacksmith. I won’t bow down to those who caused this pain in my life—you should be thanking me."
And with that, Jimin turned on his heel, disappearing into the midday sun, while Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh.“I should be thanking him for nothing. Every time, he almost gets us killed, and yet, like an idiot, I still save him despite his terrible attitude.”
But as their tempers remained ignited, Jimin paused for a moment, glancing down at the piece of parchment hidden in his hands. His fingers traced the delicate lines of the map. He didn’t truly recognize the place—The Sanctuary of Light. As far as he knew, it was just an old ruin, one of those places that had once been sacred but were now forgotten, worn down by time. And yet, something about the map made him think there was more to it.
“What could be so special about that sanctuary to attract the attention of a noble like him?”
He sighed, staring down the dark alley where he stood. As he thought, his heart began to beat faster. A growing curiosity stirred within him, an impulse he couldn’t ignore.
Still keeping the parchment hidden in his pocket, Jimin navigated through the dark alleys, moving through the shadows of streets he knew all too well. Despite the anger still simmering in his chest from his argument with Jungkook, he couldn't ignore the nagging urge to seek him out. At that moment, the only thought that consumed him was the map—and the curiosity of what could be so important in the Sanctuary of Light that even a noble like Taehyung would want to go there.
Jimin let a few hours pass before deciding to approach Jungkook again. He had calmed down and no longer felt the urge to leave him bleeding in an alley, so now seemed like the right time to talk about what he had stolen.
When he finally reached Jungkook’s small workshop, the rhythmic clanging of metal and hammer echoed endlessly. Jimin stopped at the entrance, watching the young man work. Sweat beaded on Jungkook’s forehead, his expression serious as always. But when he noticed Jimin’s presence, his demeanor remained unchanged.
“What do you want?” Jungkook growled, not pausing his work. “Wasn’t what I told you earlier enough?”
“I’m trying to understand,” Jimin began, stepping forward with quick but deliberate strides, “what could be so special about that place—the Sanctuary of Light. Why do you think a young noble would want to go there? What could convince someone like him to abandon his gilded life for a ruin? The old gods no longer dwell in those sanctuaries.”
Jungkook scoffed, finally lifting his gaze to Jimin, though he didn’t stop hammering the metal. “How should I know? I’m not a noble like him. But I can tell you one thing—the Sanctuary of Light is nothing but a pile of ruins. It was a temple once, if I remember correctly. But now? Just dust and stone. The real question is, why do you care?”
“Because it’s strange,” Jimin answered, as if it were obvious. “I stole this.” He pulled out the parchment, letting it flutter in front of Jungkook’s eyes. “And I don’t understand what could be so interesting about a place like that.”Jungkook stared at the map for a moment, his piercing eyes fixed on the parchment as if trying to decipher it. Then, with a slight shrug, he returned to his work, seemingly uninterested.
"I don't know, Jimin. It's not like I care much about what nobles do. I'm a blacksmith, and I already spend all day sweating just to earn my bread. I don't have time to guess other people's mysteries."
Jimin took a step forward, his expression exasperated. "Do you think this is just about curiosity? You're wrong, Jungkook. This could be an opportunity. The chance to gain something. Something we've never had."
Jungkook stopped hammering the metal and looked at him, his face betraying a mix of skepticism and concern. "Don't do it, Jimin. Just don't. Because in the end, this will only destroy you. I'm not convinced that shrine will give you anything worth the risk."
"But I want to know what's there!" Jimin snapped, his tone growing more insistent as he stepped even closer. "What are you so afraid of, huh? Do you really want to stay here all day hammering iron while the world changes around you?"
"It's not the world changing—it's you who's obsessed with this," Jungkook scoffed, growing tired of the conversation. "I told you, I don't have time for this. Not everything has to have some deep meaning. Some things just are, and that's it."
"I don’t believe that," Jimin countered, more determined than ever. "There has to be something more. Maybe that shrine isn't just ruins—maybe it's the key to something bigger. Something that could help us. What do you think?"
Jungkook hesitated, giving Jimin a strange look. "You're so damn stubborn. But do whatever you want. I’m not following you on some wild adventure that’ll probably lead to nothing."
But Jimin wasn’t discouraged. "Then I'll go alone. It doesn't matter if you don't understand." With a swift movement, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Jungkook staring after him, perplexed.
Meanwhile, as the two continued their tense exchange, Taehyung was already outside the tavern, ready to mount his horse and set off. But something stopped him. His hands instinctively patted his pockets, searching through his belongings, and a sudden wave of panic washed over him.
"Where the hell is it?" he muttered under his breath, his heartbeat accelerating. "The map! It can’t be gone!"
Frantically, Taehyung started searching, his fingers brushing over his saddle, rummaging through his bags. But the map—the crucial key to his mission—was nowhere to be found.
He had no idea how it had disappeared, but in that moment, he realized that his hope of reaching the Sanctuary of Light and uncovering the truth behind everything that was happening to him hinged entirely on that map.
And now, without it, he felt completely lost.