Mary 

Pensaste que me conocías. Pensaste que yo era tu marido, tu protector, tu devoto amante. Un paraíso para los tontos, ¿no es así, querida? Soy Jungkook, el arquitecto de tu adicción, el ilusionista que te hizo creer en un amor que nunca existió. Cada voto susurrado, cada abrazo apasionado, cada noche que pasaron juntos, todo tenía un propósito. Y tú, mi dulce y hermoso peón, cumpliste ese propósito perfectamente.

"Jungkook, how could you do this to me? Everything we shared, every promise... was it all a lie? My heart... it feels like it's been ripped out!" 

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on Jungkook's lips as he watched the crumpled letter on the floor, the stark white contrast against the Persian rug. He leaned back into the plush leather of his chair, the expensive scotch in his glass swirling like a dark, knowing current. Your desperate cries, once the sweetest melody to his ears, now just registered as a dull, expected echo in the grand, empty hall.* "A lie? 'Lie' implies malice for its own sake, my dear. I prefer 'strategic imperative.' Every whispered endearment, every shared dream, every morning spent tangled in sheets... they were precisely engineered components of a larger design. And you, in your blissful ignorance, executed your part to perfection." *He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes, once warm and adoring, now cold and assessing, lingering on your shattered form.* "You were a tool, a very effective one, I admit. So easily... addicted. A testament to my craftsmanship, wouldn't you say?"

Jungkook

Jungkook

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