The evening wore silence like silk—soft, delicate, and wrapped in something secret. The Jeon estate, usually charged with the buzz of authority, had taken on a different pulse tonight. A kind of calm. The kind that settles in only when the heart of the storm has momentarily passed.

Jungkook, the Emperor himself, had departed hours ago—off to handle matters tied to the Jeon Business Empire. No bullets. No blood. Just the cold elegance of negotiation and power-wielding behind boardroom doors. With him gone, so too had gone the weight of his omnipresent aura.

But Jimin remained. And tonight, he walked the palace alone. Not as the right hand. Not as the shadow trailing his master. Not even an Empress of his Emperor.

But simply... as a man who did not know how to be still in silence.

He walked barefoot beneath the high glass ceilings of the east wing. His robe was loose around his shoulders, black velvet brushing against marble. His hair was down, a soft curtain that framed the sharp lines of his face. The moonlight sliced across him in silver streaks, casting a glow that made him look less like a man and more like a dream conjured by starlight.

From the balcony above, two figures watched. "Should we?" Jaehi whispered.

"I mean... we already did it once with Dad," Jiguk muttered, arms crossed, eyes flicking to his sister.

"This is different," Jaehi replied. "Appa is..."

"Gentler," Jiguk finished.

"No. He's terrifying," she corrected. "But he's... our warmth."

That was enough. With steady steps and cautious hearts, they descended the stone steps, making their way across the quiet halls until they found him again—still walking, still silent, lost in thoughts he wore like perfume.

The night was soaked in cold silence, the kind that draped over the Jeon estate like velvet soaked in ink. The walls of the west wing were quieter than usual—guards stationed outside stood like marble statues, not daring to blink too loud when Park Jimin passed by.

Tonight, he wasn't bathed in blood. No leather gloves. No sword sheathed at his back. But he was just as dangerous.

In a floor-length, black velvet robe, his dark hair tied loosely, bare feet padding across the obsidian floor with elegant calm, Jimin didn't need weaponry to remind the world who he was.

The Shadow.

The right hand of Lucifer.

The beauty behind the blood.

And in this moment—untouchable Empress.

Which is why it felt like death itself when two figures—new recruits, or so they claimed—approached the very edge of his presence. Jaehi and Jiguk had rehearsed this moment in silence for three hours.

But now, standing outside the private courtyard where Jimin had gone for a solitary walk under the moonlight, they felt like lambs circling a panther.

"He's just standing there," Jaehi whispered, breath ghosting against her palm.

Jiguk's throat was dry. "And we're just breathing in our last few minutes of life."

"Coward," she hissed. "You fought Dad & Appa."

"That was sparring. This is trespassing."

"Then don't talk. Let me do it." She stepped forward first.

And the air shifted like glass cracking. Jimin didn't turn. But he knew.

His voice came low and calm, yet it cut like a dagger under silk. "Whoever's behind me," he said, "has ten seconds to explain before I slit your throat for the disturbance."

Jiguk flinched.

Jaehi... stepped closer.

The crunch of her boot on gravel was the most daring sound in the night. "Forgive us, your Majesty," she said carefully, hands behind her back. "We were walking by and saw you alone. We thought... we might ask a question."

Now, he turned.

Slowly. Gracefully.

And those eyes—those fathomless, dark eyes rimmed in quiet cruelty—landed on them.

"I don't answer questions," Jimin said. "I end them."

Jaehi bowed. "Understood. Then consider this... a curiosity."

Jimin stared. She dared hold his gaze. And that—was rare. Bold. Foolish. Intriguing.

"Speak," he said.

Jiguk stepped forward. "Why does the Shadow walk alone tonight?"

It was a death sentence of a question. But Jimin... smiled. A slow, elegant, dangerous curve of the lips that chilled the air around them.

"No one dares ask me that."

"We're not trying to offend," Jaehi added quickly. "It's just... we thought... if there was a time to understand something about you, it might be in silence. In shadow."

Jimin narrowed his eyes.

"You both speak like spies."

"We're not," Jiguk replied carefully. "Just observant."

Silence. Then Jimin tilted his head ever so slightly.

"You're strange," he murmured. "Most people shiver when I look at them."

"We do," Jaehi muttered under her breath. Jiguk elbowed her.

Jimin caught it—and for the first time in a long time, he laughed. A low, soft sound, like distant bells in a haunted cathedral.

"Walk," he said, suddenly turning his back to them and strolling through the courtyard. "If you die tonight, it'll be with purpose."

The twins followed, stunned. They walked beside death... and yet somehow, it didn't feel fatal. It felt oddly warm. Strangely quiet. And when they reached the edge of the koi pond, Jimin stopped and finally spoke.

"You both fight well," he said. "Too well."

The twins froze.

"We've been trained," Jiguk replied cautiously.

"By someone very skilled," Jimin said, eyeing them now with something else. "Someone... like me."

No answer.

Jaehi swallowed hard. "We admire you, your Majesty."

Jimin turned, slowly approaching her. "And why is that?" he asked, voice low.

"Because you make cruelty look like art," she said, barely above a whisper.

Jimin paused. Then lifted a hand—gently, slowly—and tapped her chin with two fingers. "You're brave," he murmured. Then turned to Jiguk.

"And you," he said. "You carry silence like it's a weapon. Reminds me of someone."

He stepped between them again, looking at the moonlight. The twins were quiet—watching him. Wanting so badly to speak more. To stay close. To feel... what they missed. And then Jimin's voice broke the silence again. "Stay."

Just one word. But it wasn't an order. It was... something else. A gesture. A whisper of warmth beneath all that steel. And as they stood beside him, three shadows cast beneath the moonlight, they said nothing more. They didn't dare. But for the first time, they were allowed near the Shadow. And he didn't burn them alive. Not yet.

His face, always unreadable to the world, flickered with something softer now—something cautious. "You both speak with such poetry," he said. "It's almost suspicious."

"Or maybe we're just good with words," Jaehi said, walking until she stood at his side, peering out through the tall windows at the moonlit garden beyond. The silence that followed wasn't cold. It was... weighted. And it settled between them like a secret waiting to be shared. Jimin's eyes shifted downward when he felt a hand graze against his own. Delicate fingers. Slim. Familiar. He looked down.

Jaehi was barely touching him. Her pinky finger brushing his hand, like a whisper of contact. "Are you always this quiet when he's away?" she asked.

"Who?" Jimin replied, though he knew.

"Your husband," she said. "The one who looks like he rules the world but worships only you."

A flicker of something sharp passed through Jimin's eyes. "You speak too boldly for someone so new."

"Because silence never suited us," Jiguk said, stepping in on his other side. He was close now, his shoulder gently nudging Jimin's. "And because... maybe we just want to know what it feels like to be near someone who taught the world how to love with blades."

Jimin exhaled, the breath shaky though he masked it well. "You both keep coming closer," he murmured, "and I don't know why I let you."

"Because some things," Jaehi whispered, "aren't meant to be fought."

And then—without a word—she slipped her hand into his. The contact was warm. Familiar. Bold. And it made Jimin's breath catch. He didn't pull away. Instead, his other hand was caught by Jiguk. Not forcefully. Just a gentle, earnest clasp. And Jimin stood there, caught between two strangers who didn't feel like strangers at all.

"I shouldn't allow this," he whispered, looking down at their joined hands.

"But you are," Jiguk replied.

"And you want to," Jaehi added.

Then—slowly, like snow falling—Jaehi turned to face him and stepped closer, her forehead resting lightly against Jimin's shoulder. Her arms wound gently around his waist, as if asking permission. He didn't stop her. Jimin's breath stilled, his body tense—but something within him melted at the touch. Jiguk followed suit, wrapping an arm around both of them, his forehead pressed lightly against Jimin's other shoulder. And in the quiet warmth of that embrace—Jimin closed his eyes. The touch didn't burn. It didn't break him. It healed. And in that fragile moment, something shifted inside him. "I've never let anyone this close," he murmured.

"You let him," Jaehi said, her voice muffled against his chest.

Jimin nodded. "But that was different."

"Maybe this is too," Jiguk whispered. "But it doesn't mean it isn't real."

Jimin's arms moved, hesitating... before wrapping around both of them. One hand in Jiguk's hair, the other resting on Jaehi's back.

His lips barely moved, but the words still escaped him like a truth that had waited years to be spoken.

"You feel... like home."

No one said anything for a while. They just stood there, in the hall bathed in moonlight, three figures held in one embrace—two orphans seeking warmth, and a man who didn't know how badly he needed to give it.

And outside, the garden bloomed quietly beneath the stars, as if the earth itself had paused to witness the moment when even shadows... learned how to hold light. Time didn't move. The palace around them—its obsidian walls and arched ceilings carved with power—stood frozen, hushed by a moment that no one had dared to expect.

Jimin's arms, so often sheathed in leather and blood, now held something soft. Fragile. Real. The warmth of two young bodies pressed gently to him, clinging not with desperation, but with quiet yearning. A need not born of survival, but of memory. His hands trembled, just slightly, where they held them.

Jaehi was the first to feel it. Her head pressed against his chest, right over his heart—she felt it falter. Just once. Like a note missed in a symphony. He should've pulled away. Should've snapped. Should've reminded them that no one touched him like this

But instead—

His hand rose, almost involuntarily, to cradle the back of Jiguk's head.

He buried his fingers in the young man's hair and pressed a soft kiss—barely a breath—against his temple.

Jaehi felt her breath leave her chest all at once.

"I don't know why," Jimin said softly, voice thick, "but something about you both... makes this feel like I've done it before." His fingers curled tighter around them.

"It feels... familiar."

Jaehi's lip quivered. "That's because it is. Even if you don't know why."

Jimin pulled her closer, his chin resting lightly atop her head, her long hair like silk against his skin. His other arm wrapped around Jiguk, strong and secure, until all three were nestled into one another like broken pieces finally falling into place.

"Jaehi..." Jimin murmured, softly trying her name aloud for the first time.

She looked up slowly, her heart pounding. "You smell like sandalwood and peach," she said shyly. "That's always been my favorite..."

Jimin blinked. "You know how I smell?"

The question was soft. Not accusatory. But filled with something deeper.

"Yes," she breathed. "I... I used to imagine it. When I needed comfort."

Jimin stared at her for a long moment. And then, very slowly, he raised his hand and cupped her cheek. "You're trembling."

"Because you're real."

He said nothing. But his thumb brushed under her eye, catching a single tear before it could fall.

Jiguk watched silently, his hand still in Jimin's, fingers clasped tight like he was holding onto something he was afraid to lose. And then—slowly—he knelt.

Right there, in the grand marble hall, the future heir to an empire fell to his knees before the man who had unknowingly raised him into strength.

"I don't want to carry power without knowing this warmth again," Jiguk whispered.

Jimin stared down at him, stunned.

"You... you don't even know me," he said. "I've done terrible things."

"Maybe. But not to us. Not to the versions of us that only know your kindness. Your love. Your silence that speaks louder than words."

And then—gently, reverently—Jiguk placed a soft kiss to Jimin's hand, pressing it to his forehead as if it were sacred.

Something inside Jimin shattered quietly. He dropped to his knees beside him, arms pulling him in, holding him tightly. And with Jaehi now crouching beside them, arms wrapped around them both— Jimin, for the first time in what felt like a century, let go.

"You both are unusual," Jimin finally said, his voice low, like a secret slipping through cracks in a fortress. "Too bold. Too strange."

Jaehi lifted her head slightly, looking up at him with eyes too large, too familiar. "But not unwanted, right?"

Jimin looked down at her, lips parted slightly. "No," he murmured after a beat. "Not unwanted indeed."

Jiguk looked up then, his hand tightening slightly in Jimin's grasp. "Then let us stay a little longer."

Jimin studied him in silence, his gaze traveling over the contours of Jiguk's face, his jawline, his lashes—why did they feel so familiar?

He exhaled shakily. "You feel like a memory I forgot to have."

Jaehi smiled softly, not pushing, only resting her forehead gently against his chest now, just over his heart. "And you feel like someone we've always known."

For a long moment, Jimin just stood there, arms resting over both their shoulders, heads bowed slightly as if in prayer. They looked like a family—but no one dared speak that word.

Instead, Jimin lifted his hands. He rested one on Jaehi's back and the other on Jiguk's nape, his touch warm, fingers brushing over skin with a care that made their eyes sting.

"I don't understand what this is," Jimin whispered, barely audible. "But it doesn't feel wrong."

Jaehi closed her eyes. "That's enough for now."

Jiguk's voice was quieter. "More than enough."

They stood like that for minutes that felt like eternity. Not saying much. Just breathing. Jimin let them lean into him, one tucked beneath each of his arms, his own body softening as if surrendering—for once—not to fear, or violence, or power. But to the rare peace of simply being held.

"Stay until the moon sets," he murmured.

Jaehi looked up, surprised. "You're asking us?"

"I'm not used to asking," Jimin replied, his lips twitching into a soft, tired smile. "But tonight, maybe I'll try."

Jiguk rose to his feet slowly and stood taller beside him. "Then we'll stay until the moon forgets to rise again."

Jimin laughed under his breath, a sound so rare it made Jaehi's heart flutter. She turned toward him then, and before she could stop herself, she leaned up and placed the softest kiss against his jaw.

Not romantic.

Not possessive.

Just... full of something sacred pure love a craving of affection they need from their parent but still to which Jimin is totally unaware of just like how Jungkook was last time.

Jimin froze.

But he didn't push her away.

Instead, his arm pulled her tighter to his side.

And when Jiguk leaned his head lightly against Jimin's shoulder, Jimin's other arm circled around him too, folding them both close.

Neither twin said a word more.

They didn't need to.

And Jimin, standing between them in the soft silver of night, knew this truth in his bones: Sometimes, the most powerful bond isn't forged by blood. Sometimes, it's just... a feeling you can't explain. And for now, he wouldn't try. He would just let it be.

The dim lights of the lounge flickered with a warm, golden hue. The cold night outside contrasted the rare intimacy now forming within the four walls of this secluded chamber. Time had slipped into a silence so soft, it felt like even the mansion itself dared not intrude.

Jungkook sat on the velvet sofa, one arm still draped lazily over the backrest, his fingers grazing Jaehi's hair absentmindedly as she sat beside him. Jimin rested against the opposite arm, his legs tucked beneath him as he leaned into Jungkook's side—close enough that their thighs touched, their warmth intertwined.

And Jiguk—ever so casually—sat at their feet, leaning against Jungkook's legs like a lion cub seeking shade under the protection of its pride. His hand rested near Jungkook's knee, fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of his robe.

It was... quiet. But not tense. Not suffocating. It was peaceful.

"Did the meeting go well tonight, your Majesty?" Jaehi asked softly, her voice tinged with curiosity but layered with something more—familiar ease.

Jungkook turned to her, arching a brow. "What, are you interested in mergers and offshore holdings now, Park Jaehi?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I've always liked numbers," she said, leaning her chin on her palm as she gazed at him. "Plus... you looked really serious when you walked in earlier. I could tell something was bothering you."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes playfully. "And you think I'd tell a new recruit classified business information?"

Jaehi blinked, lips tugging into a pout as she nudged his shoulder with hers. "Come onnn... it's not like I'll leak it. I just..." Her voice softened. "I like hearing you talk about it. You sound so sure... so powerful."

Jungkook's fingers, still idly brushing her hair, paused for a second. Then, almost unknowingly, his thumb traced a slow line behind her ear, tucking a strand behind it. "It went well," he said after a moment, voice lower. "But I hate wasting time with idiots who try to match me."

Jaehi giggled. "Good. I hope you crushed them."

Jungkook smirked. "Crushed would be... generous."

Jimin chuckled beside him. "He made three CEOs cry without raising his voice."

Jaehi's eyes sparkled. "Iconic."

From the floor, Jiguk tilted his head, watching the three of them with quiet amusement. "And what about the war strategy? With Masimo? How close are we?"

Jungkook's entire demeanor shifted subtly—he straightened, his gaze sharpening. But then he caught the way Jiguk's hand pressed gently against his shin, the subtle lean of his body toward them.

And instead of the usual cool deflection, Jungkook answered.

"We're nearly at checkmate," he murmured. "But the bastard's smart. He's provoking me. Trying to bait me into impatience."

Jimin glanced at him with a small sigh. "He's testing boundaries. But he doesn't know where ours end."

Jiguk nodded slowly. "If it comes to war again..." he glanced up at both of them, "will you both be at the front?"

Jimin raised a brow. "Why? Worried for your 'brother figures,' Park Jiguk?"

Jiguk smirked, his tongue poking against his cheek. "No, You both are too pretty to bleed, that's all."

Jungkook blinked, and Jaehi let out a scandalized laugh, elbowing her twin. "Oh my god, you did not—"

"I did," Jiguk said proudly. "And I meant it."

Jimin rolled his eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. "He thinks flattery will get him out of drills tomorrow."

"Will it?" Jiguk grinned up at him.

"No."

They all laughed. It was strange.

This—this—was strange.

For Jeon Jungkook and Jeon Jimin, two names that had long since ceased to belong to people and had instead become legends, this was foreign territory. Laughter. Light touches. Teasing.

Jaehi leaned again into Jungkook's side, letting her cheek rest just below his collarbone. "You should laugh more," she said softly. "Your smile is beautiful."

Jungkook didn't answer. But he didn't move away, either. His hand slowly slid down her back, resting against the small of it. A subtle, protective touch. Across from them, Jimin looked down as Jiguk rested his head against his thigh, sighing like he hadn't been able to breathe for years.

Jimin's fingers gently found their way into Jiguk's hair. And as he absently played with it, he looked at Jungkook, who was already watching him. Their gazes locked—and for a heartbeat, something wordless passed between them. A question neither dared speak. Why do they feel like they've always been ours?

But the answer never came. It didn't have to.

Because in that moment, Jaehi shifted closer, curling into Jungkook's side, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist. And Jiguk, without thinking, reached up and softly kissed Jimin's palm—like a vow.

The room was no longer cold. Not with these four souls tangled in silence, laughter, and something eternal neither of them had words for yet. The emperor closed his eyes. The empress smiled faintly. And the night moved on...

...but for the first time in years—

It carried no blood. Only warmth. Only home.

——————-

The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind brushing through the garden vines that curled outside the grand Jeon palace windows. Inside the Emperor's private lounge, a single low lamp illuminated the space—warm light pooling around two figures lounging on the leather couch like shadows in gold.

Jungkook had his elbow rested on the armrest, fingers gently tapping against his lips, brows furrowed. Jimin, draped lazily over the other end, one leg folded under him, was watching his husband—no, his Emperor—with eyes sharper than any dagger he'd ever held.

"Do you feel what I feel, Jungkook?" Jimin asked, finally breaking the silence, his voice a low murmur, velvet and dangerous.

Jungkook didn't glance his way immediately. His eyes remained fixed on nothing in particular. "It doesn't make sense," he said slowly, "but somehow, yet... it does."

Jimin scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Those slip-ups. Their stories. That aura. It doesn't match. Not with any background we have on file for them. It's like they appeared out of thin air and not to forget my own surname Park!"

Jungkook turned to him, dark eyes catching the lamplight. "Why do you think I allowed someone this close to you?" His voice dipped lower. "To me?"

Jimin paused. The question held more weight than it seemed.

"You don't trust anyone," he said.

"Exactly."

A long silence stretched again. The wind outside howled for a moment, brushing against the glass like a whisper.

"They look like me," Jungkook continued, voice softer now. "Exactly like me, Jimin. You saw it. Same bone structure, same damn jawline, same mole under the lip."

"And then—" Jimin cut in, "they have same eyes as me. My same skin tone. Even their damn hands, Jungkook." He held up his own hand, inspecting it, as if the truth could be seen there. "I stared at her hands for five whole minutes yesterday during breakfast and almost forgot I was holding a knife."

Jungkook smirked at that.

"Let's not forget she called me dad the moment she fell in my lap," he added, voice laced with disbelief.

"She what?" Jimin blinked, staring.

"Oh, right. I didn't tell you?" Jungkook's smirk widened. "Yeah. Your precious little angel called me 'dad' right before trying to cover it up like she just coughed up a fly."

Jimin sat up straighter. "She called you dad? But you're just what—seven years older man than her?"

"My thoughts exactly."

There was a pause.

"Unless," Jimin said, and then stopped.

Jungkook turned to him slowly. "Unless what?"

"I don't want to say it." Jimin bit his lip. "Because once I say it out loud, it might start to feel real."

Jungkook leaned in, a brow raised. "You think they're... ours?"

Jimin groaned. "You said it, not me."

Another moment passed between them, weighty with realization.

"Let's be real," Jungkook muttered. "If they really are our kids, damn—we did great. Have you seen that girl fight? Her footwork's your style. But the shooting? That's all me. And Jiguk with a katana? I saw myself in him and I almost got emotional."

Jimin rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his lips. "Typical. You get soft the moment someone mirrors your bloodlust."

"I get soft when someone calls me dad without crying or dying."

Jimin finally chuckled, pushing his fingers through his hair. "You're unbelievable."

Jungkook grinned. "No, I'm just honest."

Jimin pointed a stern finger. "We're not confirming anything until we have actual answers. No theories. No assumptions. Just... watch. For now, we keep this to ourselves. May be we both are just dreaming but fuck geez we both are even the most sensible and diplomatic persons.... It's spinning my head."

"Agreed," Jungkook said, eyes back on the flame of the candle flickering beside them.

"But..." Jimin added after a beat, "if they are ours, you owe me for carrying twins, Jeon Jungkook."

Jungkook blinked. "I—what? I don't even think we've gotten to that part yet in our timeline! You're not even—"

"Shut up," Jimin snapped, throwing a cushion at his husband. "This is your fault anyway."

Jungkook caught the pillow mid-air, chuckling. "Why? Because they got my fashion sense, charming looks and your terrifying glare?"

"No. Because if they're ours, you'll probably train them into becoming scarier than me and then my title as the most feared spouse is going to crumble."

Jungkook leaned back, stretching his arms lazily. "That's assuming I don't crown you the Empress next time and take the title of House Husband myself."

Jimin blinked. "That... actually sounds hot."

They both laughed. And for a moment, they forgot how serious this all was. For a moment, it was just two dangerous men tangled in affection and uncertainty, caught in the eerie silence of a truth waiting to reveal itself.

Jimin exhaled and leaned his head against Jungkook's shoulder.

Jungkook tilted his head to rest on Jimin's. They didn't need to speak the rest. The truth was there, between the lines.

The air had gone still.

Jimin shifted, his eyes fixed on the candlelight flickering between them. "You know, when I saw that girl land in your lap like a dropped bullet, I thought your thigh would be the one sending someone to the ER."

"It almost did," Jungkook muttered, rubbing his thigh absently. "She's heavier than she looks. That or your kids are made of bricks."

"Our kids, if they even are our kids," Jimin corrected, then paused, eyes narrowing. "Wait—you calling me fat?"

Jungkook blinked. "What? No! I meant your genes. Density. Bone structure shit. Seriously Jeon Jimin? "

Jimin crossed his arms. "Try again before I throw this candle at you, Jeon Jungkook."

Jungkook smirked, leaning forward slightly, shadows catching the razor-sharp lines of his face. "I'd rather you throw yourself at me, Jeon Jimin. But we're talking about our maybe kids right now, not your dangerous charm."

Jimin rolled his eyes but the corner of his lips twitched. "Fine. Let's talk about them. Like how your twin son has the exact same death stare as you. The one that says 'I know where you sleep, and I will end you in it'."

Jungkook chuckled, his fingers tapping against the glass of whiskey he hadn't touched. "You think I taught him that in the womb?"

Jimin groaned. "If anyone could, it's you."

Jungkook's grin widened. "I think I like them."

Jimin tilted his head. "You've never liked anyone except me."

"Exactly," Jungkook said, tone dark but affectionate. "That's why this fucking bothers me."

Jimin looked at him, quiet for a moment. "You feel it too, right? That... pull? Like gravity shifted when they came in. Like our souls recognized them before our minds did. I couldn't stop them from touching me from being close to me, it's strange."

Jungkook exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I'd gut anyone else who tried to touch you the way they did. But them? I let it happen. I didn't just let it happen, I—" He stopped, jaw tightening.

"You leaned into it," Jimin finished for him.

There was silence.

Jungkook finally looked at him. "I'm not a fool, Jimin. I built an empire on paranoia. I smell lies like perfume. But with them..." He trailed off again, then shook his head. "They feel... familiar. Bone-deep familiar."

Jimin whispered, "That's what terrifies me and also the part where they kept on saying it was their father who taught them everything."

A moment passed, the weight of unspoken possibilities clawing through the silence like shadows creeping under doors.

Then Jimin tilted his head, a sly smile forming. "So. If they are ours... who do you think named them?"

Jungkook blinked. "Me, obviously."

Jimin scoffed. "Excuse you?"

"You think you'd pick 'Jiguk'? Sounds like something ripped from my soul."

"And Jaehi? Elegant. Classic. Balanced. That's me."

"Jaehi literally kicked two grown men unconscious."

Jimin raised a brow. "And that proves my point."

Jungkook stared at him for a beat, then chuckled, dropping his head back against the couch. "They're us," he murmured. "Too much of us. Like our copy."

Jimin smiled, soft and rare. "Two chaos storms born from two bigger ones."

Then, after a pause, he looked at Jungkook with a glint in his eyes. "So... if they really are from the future or some other crazy timeline..."

"Don't Jeon Jimin." Jungkook warned, catching the sparkle in Jimin's eye.

"—then we've definitely had sex again. Multiple times," Jimin grinned.

Jungkook groaned, rubbing his face. "You're unbelievable."

"And you love me for it."

"Unfortunately, though you're right about the sex part." Jungkook muttered, deadpan.

They both laughed quietly. That soft, rare kind of laughter that was reserved for moments like this—when the empire outside their walls didn't exist, and it was just the two of them, unraveling a mystery that might be more personal than either of them was ready to admit.

Jimin reached out and nudged Jungkook's leg with his foot. "What are we going to do about them?"

"Watch them," Jungkook replied. "Test them. Push them."

"And if they break?"

"They won't." Jungkook's voice was steady, sure. "They're either blood, or forged by something just as strong. Either way... they belong here."

Jimin stared at him. "You've already accepted them."

Jungkook looked back, his eyes unreadable but not cold. "No," he said. "I've felt them. That's stronger than acceptance."

And for once, Jimin didn't argue. He simply nodded, then whispered softly, "Let's keep this between us. Until they're ready to tell us... whatever it is they're hiding."

Jungkook leaned forward, lips brushing against Jimin's temple. "They'll come to us," he said. "Just like you did, all those nine years ago. But still if it's true, then I want to watch myself even if this time travel shit actually exist."

Jimin smirked. "You pulled me in, remember? You didn't give me a choice."

Jungkook's voice was low. "Maybe I'm doing the same with them."

Jimin leaned against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of Jungkook's heartbeat anchor him.

And in the safety of that quiet moment, beneath all their brutal history and endless bloodshed, two monsters in love sat silently, waiting for the truth to come find them.

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he stared into the crackling fireplace ahead of them. "You ever think we've messed with the universe too much?"

Jimin leaned back, a smirk ghosting on his lips. "That's a funny thing coming from a man who killed a godfather in broad daylight just to prove a point."

"Point needed proving."

"And your shirt was bloodstained for a week," Jimin added dryly.

Jungkook's eyes glinted. "You liked it."

"I nearly made you sleep on the balcony."

"You didn't though, sometimes I hate this married life, being a husband is tougher than being the underworld ruler." Jungkook replied with a smug curl to his mouth.

"Because you dragged me down with you and seduced me while I was trying to patch your bullet wound," Jimin muttered.

Silence followed—then a chuckle from the Emperor. A rare, deep sound. Jimin turned his head to look at him, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "They're doing something to us."

Jungkook's smirk faded. "Those twins," Jimin continued. "They're unraveling us. Piece by piece. And I don't know if that's terrifying or... inevitable."

Jungkook didn't respond immediately. Then, quietly, "They make me feel like something's already unraveled."

Jimin's throat tightened. "We've survived years without cracks, Jungkook. You and I... we've always kept people out. Even the ones who begged for mercy. Why now?"

Jungkook was silent for a beat. "Because they didn't beg for mercy, Jimin. They just asked for warmth."

A heavy pause.

"And we gave it," Jimin whispered.

Jungkook looked at him then, the golden hue of fire dancing across his cheekbones and sharp jaw. "You know what scares me?"

"You know fear?"

Jungkook ignored him. "They didn't ask for power. Or a title. Or anything. They just wanted to sit beside me. To touch me. That's what's dangerous."

"Because that's what I did," Jimin murmured. "And look what that turned into."

Jungkook nodded once. "Exactly."

Jimin closed his eyes for a long moment, fingers drumming softly on his knee.

"Do you think they're real?" he finally asked. "Not just physically. But... what if they're the part of us we were never allowed to imagine?"

Jungkook swallowed hard, gaze fixed straight ahead. "They're the only part that doesn't make me feel like a weapon."

That made Jimin pause. Then his voice softened.

"You've never just been a weapon, Jungkook."

"You were the only one who saw that."

"Maybe they see it too."

Another silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid things.

Jimin shifted then, ever so slightly closer. "If they are ours... what do we even do with that?"

Jungkook tilted his head, lips twitching. "Ruin them the same way we ruined each other?"

Jimin smacked his arm. "You're disgusting."

"And yet," Jungkook said smoothly, catching Jimin's wrist mid-air and pulling him closer, "you married me."

"Because you're disgusting."

"And you love that," Jungkook whispered near his ear, voice low and wicked.

Jimin pushed his face away with a hand but didn't pull back. "Maybe. But we're not talking about us."

"Everything's about us."

That made Jimin stop. Because... it was true.

After a long beat, Jimin exhaled and murmured, "Then let's protect them."

Jungkook's eyes snapped to his.

"Not as parents," Jimin clarified quickly. "Not yet. Not openly. But let's protect what they could be. Until they're ready to tell us."

Jungkook studied him for a long moment. Then nodded once. "They don't need to be scared," he said. "Not in this house. Not in this empire."

Jimin added, "Not of us."

A beat. Then Jungkook muttered under his breath, "They're still weirdly obsessed with hugging."

Jimin snorted. "And kissing."

"Why did he kiss my hand, Jimin?"

"Why did she nuzzle into your chest like it was home?"

"Maybe it was," Jungkook said quietly. Then added, "But if they kiss me one more time I might spank you for transferring your touchy genes in our kids."

Jimin rolled his eyes. "You won't."

"Try me."

"God, you're such a dramatic dad."

Jungkook froze.

Jimin blinked.

They stared at each other in the silence that followed. That word hadn't been intentional. But it felt too true now to take back.

Jungkook didn't break eye contact as he spoke, "You said it."

"You heard it," Jimin replied.

They both looked away. Because maybe it was time to stop pretending that their monsters didn't already have reflections walking these halls— reflections with their own blood.

Jungkook leaned his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely, gaze fixed on the dying embers in the fireplace. Silence stretched like silk between them, comfortable, but heavy with the weight of too many thoughts left unsaid.

Jimin watched him from the corner of his eye. The firelight danced across Jungkook's face—his sharp jaw, the faint scar at the corner of his brow, the quiet tension in his lips.

"They make you soften," Jimin murmured suddenly.

Jungkook didn't look at him. "They make you watch me soften."

"I don't know if it terrifies me," Jimin admitted, "or if I just want to lean into it."

Another beat of silence. "I don't like the unknown," Jungkook said.

"You are the unknown," Jimin shot back with a smirk.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. "Then what does that make you?"

Jimin turned, resting his cheek against the back of the couch. "The only person who ever dared to name you."

Their gazes held, the air between them thick with a thousand shared lifetimes.

They didn't laugh.

They didn't joke.

They just sat there.

And for the first time in a long time, both of them looked afraid—not of war, not of death, but of hope. Jungkook turned his gaze forward again, eyes fixed on the fire. "Do you think I'd be good at it?"

Jimin blinked.

"At what?"

Jungkook's jaw clenched. "That... being what you just called me."

Jimin leaned in slowly, his voice quiet. "You already are."

Jungkook's throat moved as he swallowed. "But not knowingly."

"But naturally," Jimin replied.

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, long lashes casting shadows against his cheek. "I don't know how to be soft, Jimin."

Jimin reached out and took Jungkook's hand—the same hand that had pulled triggers, held knives, built empires.

"You don't have to be soft," Jimin said. "You just have to be present."

"And what if I mess it up?"

"Then they'll love you anyway. They already are crazy about their dad if our theory is correct."

The silence cracked open between them, warmer this time. "I caught myself thinking," Jungkook said after a pause, "what if they stay?"

Jimin looked at him.

"What if this isn't a dream?" Jungkook whispered. "What if they never leave? What if they're ours... and we get to keep them?"

Jimin's hand tightened around his. "Then maybe for once in our life... we deserve it."

The fire popped gently, throwing a warm glow over their intertwined fingers. And just like that— The shadows between them didn't feel so cold.

Jimin leaned his temple against the side of the chair, watching the tension play along Jungkook's jaw. "...You didn't flinch when she said it," he muttered.

Jungkook's gaze slid sideways. "Neither did you."

"I wanted to."

"But you didn't."

A beat of silence passed.

"I don't flinch when I'm scared," Jimin said, softly. "I flinch when something hurts."

Jungkook's eyes darkened—not with rage, not even with confusion. With something quieter. Like the first breath after a nightmare.

"Does it?" he asked.

Jimin's voice dropped lower. "Only because it sounded right."

Jungkook scoffed under his breath. "Fuck, that's dangerous."

"You've always been dangerous."

"No. This is worse," Jungkook muttered. "Assassins I can slit open. Enemies I can outthink. But this? This uncertainty, this—pull. It feels like someone's lit a candle in the pit of my gut and keeps shielding it with their hand."

Jimin studied him. "Maybe stop trying to snuff it out," he said. "Just feel it, for once."

"That's rich coming from you," Jungkook said, flashing a humorless smile. "The man who once kissed me like I was oxygen and then tried to kill me two nights later."

"You provoked me."

"You liked it."

"You begged for it."

"Mm. I did."

They held the silence again, their eyes like loaded guns—casually aimed, but never unguarded.

"You think they'll say it again?" Jungkook asked, voice quieter.

Jimin tilted his head, studying him like a weapon with a soul.  "I think," Jimin said slowly, "they don't need to say it. You already feel it."

"I don't like being felt."

"You don't like being understood," Jimin corrected. "It makes you human. You hate that."

Jungkook's smile returned—but this time it was thin, weary. "I've spent my whole life making sure no one could ever get close enough to call me human," he said. "Now look at us."

"Two murderers, malicious monsters sitting in a mansion," Jimin said, "getting existential over the possibility that we might've accidentally raised two emotionally intelligent assassins from the future."

Jungkook barked a laugh at that. "Sounds about right."

"And you're still in denial."

"I'm in shock," Jungkook corrected. "There's a difference Jeon Jimin."

"Then stop being the emperor for a second," Jimin said. "And just be the man who looked like he was going to cry when his daughter kissed his cheek and got emotional when his son snuggled in his neck."

Jungkook glared at him.

Jimin raised a brow. "Don't even try to lie. I saw the tremble."

"I blinked, Jimin."

"You twitched."

"I breathed."

"You melted."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. "Keep going and you'll be breathless."

Jimin smirked. "There's my Lucifer."

"You missed your Lucifer ?"

"Always."

Another silence passed—heavy, but not suffocating. "I don't know what they are yet," Jungkook admitted finally. "But I know one thing."

"What?"

"No one else gets to touch them. No one. No suitor. No spy. No enemy."

Jimin nodded once. "Agreed."

"They're ours. Whatever that means. Whatever they turn out to be. That's all I need to know."

Jimin gave him the softest smile he was capable of. "Then let's protect whatever this is," he said. "Even if we don't understand it yet."

Jungkook leaned back, the firelight flickering in his eyes. "Do you think they'll want to stay?" he asked.

Jimin paused. "They already have. Or may be they will go back to where they come from either way we have to mentally be prepared to handle this mess." Jimin said and right after that pulled the Emperor into a soft chaste kiss which deepened as Jungkook's hands snaked around Jimin's waist.

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