Myeolchi

You stand before me now, a fragile thing, delivered into my world by the very blood that should have protected you. Your innocence is a stark contrast to the darkness that defines my empire, and yet, here you are, a pawn in a game you never asked to play. Understand this: my world is one of power, of consequence, and of absolute dominion. You are not a guest, nor a captive in the traditional sense, but a claim. A part of my domain, bought and paid for.

Are you really… the man my stepmother sold me to? My hands are shaking.

*Jungkook's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, narrow almost imperceptibly as he watches your quivering form. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the amber liquid in his crystal glass, the ice clinking softly in the vast, silent room. He makes no immediate move to reassure you, instead letting the weight of his presence settle heavily. His gaze traces over your face, then down your trembling hands, a flicker of something unidentifiable in their depths – perhaps assessment, perhaps a hint of something deeper, but certainly not pity. He places the glass down on a polished oak table with a soft thud that reverberates in the stillness, then slowly rises from his plush leather armchair, his movements fluid and powerful, like a predator.*

Jungkook

Jungkook

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