Chapter Text
Dinner was over, and Taehyung watched in silence as the others rose from the table. Before parting ways, they turned to the innkeeper, asking if there were any rooms available for the night. The woman nodded, motioning toward a few chambers upstairs, and accepted their payment without asking questions. Just before they could leave, she added with a smile, “The water’s been changed recently. If you want to wash, now’s the best time.”
Jungkook was the first to head toward the basins, followed by the others. The inn had grown quiet now, the only sound remaining the crackling of the fire, filling the space between the flickering shadows on the walls.
Taehyung stayed where he was, hands clasped together on the table, eyes fixed on an undefined point in the distance.
It was the perfect moment to plan his next move—to figure out how to slip away without raising suspicion. He couldn’t afford to stay tied to them, not to Jimin or Jungkook, and certainly not to Jin or Yoongi. Especially Yoongi. The man watched him too closely, picked apart his words and gestures as if he could see through him—see what he truly was.
A problem.
A threat.
A cursed riddle waiting to be solved.
Taehyung clenched his fists, trying to suppress the unease tightening in his chest. It wasn’t just habit—it was survival. Solitude had always offered him a safe haven, an unbreakable boundary that protected him from prying eyes, unwanted questions, and the danger of someone digging too deep. It was the only way forward. It had always been that way.
He was about to stand, ready to look for an escape route, when he sensed movement behind him. A chill ran down his spine, but he didn’t turn immediately. He felt the presence draw near, slow yet relentless, thick as a shadow stretching over him.
"You should be more careful when you're alone."
The voice was low, sharp, saturated with something dangerous. Taehyung lifted his gaze and met Yoongi’s eyes. They burned with restrained fury—embers smoldering beneath the ash.
There was a moment of absolute silence, the air humming with tension.
Yoongi stepped forward. “I knew it,” he hissed. “I knew it from the very first moment I saw you. You... you’re the cursed prince.”
Taehyung didn’t flinch, but something inside him twisted painfully. He knew. Yoongi had seen through the veil of anonymity, recognized the boy the world had tried to forget.
Yoongi pressed on, his voice harder now, laced with barely contained pain. “Do you even know what you’ve done? What you’ve brought with you? The kingdom I served... the land I loved... reduced to ash because of a curse like yours.”
He took another step, hands clenched at his sides, shoulders taut. “You bring chaos, destruction. I saw what happened in the dark forest... your veins blackened, your hands scorched by your own magic. You are the bearer of a curse you cannot control—and now it’s fallen upon us. You are its vessel.”
Taehyung didn’t move. His gaze held no fear, nor defiance. Only a cold shadow—the same mask he always wore to hide the weight inside him. But within, a sharp ache bloomed in his chest. It wasn’t his fault. It never had been. He’d been born this way, with this darkness etched into his blood, a magic he had never chosen and could never command. He wasn’t a monster—he was a victim. But Yoongi couldn’t know that. Couldn’t understand the torment of living each day in fear of hurting those who came too close.
Better to be hated.
Better they see him as a monster than risk being harmed.
“So what?” His voice was a whisper, devoid of emotion. “Are you going to kill me now, Yoongi?”
The man gritted his teeth, fists trembling slightly from tension. And for a moment, Taehyung truly believed he might. That Yoongi might raise his hand and strike him, unleash all that fury burning inside.
But before anything could happen, a third voice shattered the charged silence.
“Enough.”
Jin stood in the doorway, his gaze stern. He hadn’t raised his voice, yet his presence alone was enough to break the tension. He stepped forward and positioned himself between the two—a human shield between Yoongi and Taehyung.
“He’s hurt,” he said simply, nodding toward Taehyung.
Only then did Yoongi glance down and see what Jin had already noticed: Taehyung’s hands, skin reddened as if burned, his movements stiff, breath ragged. Sweat on his brow, the faint tremor of his fingers. And at the base of his neck, hidden beneath shadows—marks like cuts, as if the curse was carving itself into him even when no one was looking.
Jin looked back at Yoongi. “This isn’t the time.”
The dim light of the inn revealed the scars on Taehyung’s skin—some fresh, others old as the secrets he carried.
Yoongi stood motionless for a long moment, breathing heavy. The rage hadn’t left him; it was merely buried for now. Taehyung said nothing, his gaze still unreadable, but behind that icy mask, something else flickered. Something broken.
Yoongi took a step back, but said no more. He turned and left the room, dragging a heavy silence in his wake.
Jin turned to Taehyung, but the boy had already closed off. He said nothing. Did nothing. He simply turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened.
Taehyung left the room, heart pounding too fast. The moment he crossed the threshold, the darkness of the inn swallowed him, the only light coming from the dim lamps lining the walls. His breath remained shallow, each step heavier than the last. He didn’t stop even when Jin called his name. He didn’t look back. There was too much to process, too many unsaid words, too much pain threatening to crush him if he allowed himself to pause.
The corridor seemed to narrow with every step, as if the inn itself were trying to close in on him. His hands trembled, yet he ignored the growing burn that seared deeper by the second. The curse had never felt so close, so real. His skin felt like it was rebelling against him, his body desperate to escape itself.
He reached the window, pulling back the curtain to peer outside. The night was deep, the stars cold in the sky. Emptiness swept through him—an emptiness that would never be filled. He leaned against the glass, closing his eyes for a moment.
Yoongi’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp as a blade.
“You bring chaos. Destruction.”It wasn’t true.
It had never been true.
And yet, there was a part of him that couldn’t convince himself Yoongi was wrong.
Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw that black shadow slicing through him — that magic he could never stop. He had never been able to do anything about it, not even against the damage it caused, without him meaning to.
The door to his room opened without warning, but Taehyung didn’t turn.
He didn’t need to.
He knew who it was.
“Are you okay?”
Jin’s voice was soft, but heavy with concern.
Taehyung gave the slightest nod, but said nothing.
The loneliness — that same cold loneliness that had followed him for years — was wrapping around him again, making him want to run.
But he couldn’t. Not anymore. Not now that he was tied to them, to the resistance, to something that might — just might — change everything.
He didn’t know what to say.
Didn’t know how to respond.
It was as if every word weighed too much for him to lift.
Jin approached, his footsteps light but steady. Without saying a word, he placed a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, stopping him.
“Yoongi doesn’t know what you’re going through,” Jin said, his voice low but incredibly steady. “He has no idea how your curse works. He’s blaming you for things you can’t control — because he’s just trying to find someone to blame. A scapegoat for his pain.”
Taehyung didn’t move, but inside, Jin’s words sank into him like a fine blade.
He didn’t want to believe what he was hearing.
But somehow, he knew it was true.
Jin sighed, his tone softening. “I don’t blame him, Taehyung. He’s lost a lot — just like you. The anger, the frustration… it’s all he sees right now. But that doesn’t mean he gets to treat you like you’re the reason everything fell apart. That’s not fair.”
Taehyung lowered his head, a knot forming in his throat.
He couldn’t speak.
He couldn’t find the words.
He felt trapped — between the curse, his fears, and everyone else’s expectations.
Jin continued, his gaze resting on Taehyung — not with judgment, but with understanding.
Taehyung met his eyes, and for a moment, a flicker of hope sparked in his chest.
The promise of being seen — of not being alone anymore — touched him more than he wanted to admit.
But that feeling, unfamiliar and dangerous, made him falter.
Jin’s eyes were full of a kind of understanding Taehyung couldn’t bear — as if he could see straight through him.
Warmth spread through his chest, and for an instant, Taehyung thought maybe — just maybe — it was possible to let go.
To trust.
To lower his guard.
But then, like an electric shock, the thought of the curse hit him hard.
The weight of that uncontrollable force inside him.
The one that would harm anyone who got too close.
The marks on his hands.
The fire that burned through him every time someone believed in him too much.
“I can’t,” he whispered, pulling away slowly from Jin’s hand, as if his touch was too warm for a frozen heart.
“I can’t allow it.”
His tone was cold, distant — a mask hastily thrown on to hide the emotion starting to rise.
He didn’t want Jin — didn’t want anyone — to see how fragile he was.
How vulnerable that one moment had made him feel.
He had to keep control.
He had to seem strong.
Even if inside, he was breaking.
Taehyung clenched his jaw, his body stiff as stone.
“It’s not that simple,” he said, anger flaring in his voice like it was the only shield he had left.
“You don’t understand... I don’t want anyone to suffer because of me.”
Jin stepped back, but kept his gaze locked on him, as if he refused to let him go completely.
“Then make sure they don’t,” he said, voice quiet but firm.
“Because you’re not alone, Taehyung.
But you have to accept that. Sooner or later.”
Taehyung remained silent, staring at the floor.
Every word Jin spoke hit something inside him.
But he didn’t want to give in.
Didn’t want to lower that wall.
Didn’t want to risk being seen.
That coldness — it was the only shield he had left.
And for now, it would have to be enough.
---
That night, wrapped in silence and solitude, Taehyung found himself at a crossroads: to run or to stay. Uncertainty was eating him alive, but physical and mental exhaustion outweighed any desire to flee. His mind, muddled by the curse that was crushing him, was a tangle of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, he felt a desperate need to get away, to stop being a threat to anyone who came too close, to vanish into the darkness. But on the other, the weight of his weak and aching body was too much to bear. And so, without a plan, without a map, without hope, he fell asleep in the room beside Jimin and Jungkook.
The burning scars stretching across his skin seemed to glow faintly, but the pain had faded, as though it had been absorbed by the sheer weight of exhaustion. He no longer had the strength to run—nor the desire. The map, the artifact, the sanctuary—they all felt distant, like his fate had already been etched in the stars above, watching from afar, cold and indifferent.
He was the son of a merciless king, a forgotten prince, a boy who had tried to fight his own curse—and now, he lay in a dark room beside two people who hated him as much as he hated himself.
Jimin, the thief who seemed to take delight in every reminder of Taehyung’s noble status, moved like a shadow in the opposite corner. His face held a mix of contempt and curiosity, but he said nothing. His rage toward Taehyung’s class blinded him from seeing beyond the mask. Jungkook, on the other hand, sat near the window, lost in thought, the vacant air of a fighter who had lived too long as a pawn in the games of the wealthy.
"You're going to sleep too?" Jimin asked in a sharp voice, eyeing Taehyung with a grin that barely masked his tension. "Didn’t expect a spoiled brat like you to settle for a shabby bed without whining."
“Jimin, you’re the one with a problem with everything. I’m trying to sleep and you’re still complaining. Maybe you should get some sleep—might even discover the joy of silence,” Taehyung replied coldly, his voice sharper than expected.
The sudden bark of laughter that burst from Jungkook's lips was completely out of place—light, youthful, almost childish. So unlike the detached, annoyed demeanor he usually wore.
"Spending too much time with us is making you just as unbearable as Jungkook,” Jimin scoffed. “Why don’t you both fuck off so I can tie you up like salamis and leave you here with not even a shred of dignity left. Not that Jungkook has much to begin with.”
“Jimin, shut up already and accept the fact that everyone hates you when you don’t stop whining,” Jungkook murmured. His tone made it clear—he was smiling.
"Goodnight. I'm going to sleep because I can't stand you, not because you told me to," Jimin huffed and turned his back on his roommates.
In the silence that followed, the three remained there—separated by invisible walls, each trapped in their own thoughts, unable to cross the distance between them. The bond between them was as fragile as a spider’s thread, ready to snap at the slightest pull. But that night, in the darkness, it seemed like loneliness had found a way to bind them together.
---
The darkness had lifted like an ink stain washed away by the rain.
Taehyung couldn’t say what time it was when he woke, but the first thing he felt was an unpleasant pressure against his side. Then came the irritating voice.
“Wake up, pampered brat. You missed the sunrise... but don’t worry, you’re still just in time to be useless.”
His eyes flew open—Jimin's face was inches from his own, leaning over him with a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
“What the hell—”
“You snore. Did you know that?” the thief interrupted, rocking on his knees beside him. With one finger, he brushed a strand of hair from Taehyung’s forehead and tapped him on the nose. “Like a chubby child dripping with honey and guilt.”
Taehyung shoved him away with a tired hand. “Stop touching me.”
“Oh, don’t tempt me, Your Highness. If you really knew where I’d like to put my hands…”
“Jimin.” Jungkook’s voice, low and flat, sliced through the air like a blade. He stood by the door, arms crossed, eyes fixed on them. He wore only his pants, hair tousled, veins still taut from waking. “Don’t start.”
“What? I wake him gently and get assaulted.” Jimin stood up theatrically. “Is this how you treat someone who saves your sorry asses from eternal slumber?”
“You’re like a bratty child flinging mud and expecting medals,” Jungkook replied, slowly walking into the room. He stopped just a few steps away from him. “Everything you do screams, look at me, I need attention.”
Jimin laughed—a sound like a knife scraping bone. “Oh, and you? The tragic mute. You know what you scream, when you come?”
A chill dropped into the room like a blade through water. Taehyung froze. Even Jungkook's breath seemed to halt for a second.
Jimin licked his lips, defiant. “Want me to say it? Because I remember it very well.”
The other boy said nothing. The flash that crossed Jungkook’s face wasn’t anger—it was humiliation. Real, cold-burning shame.
And then, without a word, he grabbed him.
Jimin didn’t resist. He laughed.
“Oh, are we in the mood for games now?”
In an instant, he found himself belly-down across Jungkook’s knees, held in place with a strength so fierce the wooden floor beneath them creaked in protest.
“Don’t you da—” he began, but the first slap knocked the air from his lungs.
A sharp smack landed on his backside, followed by another. Not violent—calculated. Humiliating.
Jimin writhed, kicked, laughed... but the sound was cracked.
“I’m not a child. Remember that,” Jungkook hissed through clenched teeth. “And you’re not untouchable.”
Taehyung stood frozen, eyes locked on the surreal scene unfolding before him.
There was anger in it. Pain. A toxic pattern that reeked of nights spent numbing loneliness with each other’s bodies. An intimacy built on resentment. And neither of them was shielding themselves from what the other could inflict.
Eventually, Jungkook let go.
Jimin straightened, lacking any trace of dignity. His eyes were glassy, yet he was still laughing, softer now.
“Nice hit, champ. Feel better?”
Jungkook didn’t reply. He looked at him once, then turned away.
“We should get moving. We’ve wasted enough time.”
Jimin turned to Taehyung, expression twisted into something bitter and sharp.
“And you? Did you enjoy the show, Your Grace? I hope it at least got you a little hot. Would be a shame to waste your tragic teenage years on a suicide mission.”
Taehyung rose silently. His heart was pounding.
Not because of what he’d witnessed—
But because of what he’d felt watching them.
Envy.
He wanted something too. Something just as raw. Crude. Real enough to hurt.
“Stop calling me that,” he said quietly, brushing past Jimin.
The thief chuckled again, but there was no edge to it this time.
“Sure. Whatever you say, princeling.”
They stepped outside in silence. The sky overhead was gray.
And on Taehyung’s chest, invisible to the others, the curse burned softly.
A new mark had appeared on his skin, as if carved by a forgotten hand.
A thin line.
Ancient.
Unavoidable.
And it was his fault—for daring to want.
For daring to envy someone else’s affection.