Translation for Spanish words
used in this chapter —

Verdad — truth
Buen dios — good God

-

Jeon Jungkook did not return home, as his amor and friends expected; as his nurse hoped, too.

No, the man urged his mare to gallop towards a familiar building resonating within the city of Seville. A place where he'd never want to visit again, but willed himself to go.

Seeing its flat-roofed building cramped along with the hundreds of other murky architecture had him slowing Coco down with a slight tug of her reigns. Blinking rapidly, he noticed the sign and allowed himself to breathe a little harder than before.

Prisíon de Seville. It was just as unwelcoming as the first time he'd seen it, dark walls and small doors, as if rebuking you for even thinking to enter.

Let it mock him. Jeon Jungkook was on a mission.

He entered the building, steps unhurried as he reached the desk. The apparent Mr Ki was with another policeman this time, checking a heavy file.

"Buenos dias," Jungkook greeted, voice grave despite the somewhat kind words. "I'm here to see a Sir Jeon."

Mr Ki raised a brow as he looked up at the young man. "Ah, the boy from before," he voiced out, remembering his entrance with Seokjin just under a month. "And who do you wish to avenge this time?"

"Not to avenge, Mr Ki." His eyes darkened till no light dared shelter in the pair. "But to punish."

The other officer whipped his head to Jungkook. "Buen Dios, it's his child isn't it?" He stacked the files atop a hundred others scattered on the desk. "Jeon Jungkook?"

The said man nodded. "That's the one."

"If you are here to see him, I'll show you the way. You are a family member after all, so visits are permissible."

The officer whispered some orders to Mr Ki in rapid Spanish, and gestured for Jungkook to follow him to the cells.

He was being lead to another place entirely, far from the dirtied area of where Taehyung resided. In fact, they stayed walking in the ground floor, whereas last time Jungkook had shovelled deeper underground.

When the officer stopped before a steel door, he pulled out a ring of keys, singling out one and jamming it through the door.

Clicking open, the door pushed back. "You have an hour, Mr Jeon."

Dipping his head in acknowledgment, the man stepped inside, hearing the door close behind him.

He raised his head, letting out a breath he'd somehow held in.

Sir Jeon, the absolute bastard, sat before a grand table, a small feast of duck, lamb and a rich colour of vegetables looking exquisite upon the surface.

Jungkook's eyes angrily darted to every part of this supposed 'prison', comparing Taehyung's rough stone walls to clean, flat, beige painted surroundings, from the floor to sleep on to a single bed with velvet bedding neatly folded upon the sheets. Where Taehyung had no light to see, Sir Jeon had tore a little piece of the sun and hung it over his ceiling.

Sir Jeon looked up at the sound of the closing door, his thick brows raising at the sight of his son.

"Chico." 

His voice possessed a hint of amusement. Mocking? He then realised with irritation.

Jungkook, too, turned curt in his response.

"Padre."

Not Papá, his old man who he used to care for, even if it wasn't much.

"I see prison has done nothing to change you," Jungkook commented, looking around the damned luxury. "Still thriving off the money you sucked from your workers."

The old man only scoffed, biting into a breast piece perched on his fork. "Forever the peasant sympathiser, I see." His jaw moved as he ate, mocking the very essence of his child.

"Do tell me, have you enjoyed dumping my wealth on those rats? Have you savoured slaving yourself for these no good creatures?"

His cruel twist of lips matched his words next. "Has that common flamenco harlot finally taken control of you?"

Although Jungkook fisted his hands to stop them from hurtling towards his father, his counter offer had more venom than its predecessor.

"Why didn't you have the same opinion of flamenco dancers when you fucked my mother, padre?"

Sir Jeon rightfully choked on his chicken.

His son only laughed, an evil sound he'd mastered from the people all too close to him. "Why so silent now? Has this hypocrisy hit a little too close to home?"

The old man knifed his boy with a look. "You would not understand, chico."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," he seethed, pulling a spare chair and turning it around so he sat on its opposite, arms resting on its neck. "Your taste for flamenco dancers, how you married one and threw her away like some common bitch."

The man saw his father's hands tighten on his cutlery. "How would you know what happened to your mother? She has been dead far too long for you to remember."

"I know that very well." It was Jungkook's turn to glare. "What I didn't know was who she really was, and why she died so eerily early."

The sudden quiet of Sir Jeon was unsettling, like a blanket of guilt thrown upon the atmosphere. With grudging slowness he pushed his lunch away from himself, wiping his fingers with a napkin.

"Your mother and I...we were doomed from the start."

Jungkook could tell the old crone was about to drone for at least an hour. "I don't want to hear your lectures," he snapped. "I already know what you've done to her."

Sir Jeon furrowed his bushy eyebrows. "And what, precisely, is that?"

"Oh, you know," the man started, whisking a few stray locks away from his eyes. "Threw her out the house when I was but a newborn child, left her to rot in Granada. Then, four years later, break her so much she eventually dies because of it."

"Who said I kicked her out of the house?" Demanded the old man. "Who's been feeding you all this information?"

"That does not matter, padre," he only dismissed. "What matters is that you're a hypocrite. You mock me for associating with flamenco dancers and all these common folk when my own mother was a dancer from Seville."

Something flashed in Sir Jeon's eyes. "Your mother is just like these peasants wasting my resources. She used me like all these piss poor workers try to."

Red hot anger thrummed in Jungkook's blood. "How dare you think Mamá—"

"Listen, chico," Sir Jeon cut him off, finger pointing to quieten him. "Just listen to me."

With a deep breath, he locked his gaze with Jungkook, and kept him his prisoner.

"Saraia was just like the wretches Aeri and her friends circulate with, I will give you that. She too, came from some unknown family of gypsies. But at the time, I didn't care.

"My wine business was just beginning to take off when I first saw your mother dancing in the city square. I derived from a middle class Korean family, so immigrating to Spain was a big step. With the funds available I could spend money without a second thought, and when I saw her I gave her my turnout for that week."

"So?" Jungkook insisted, irritated by his little tale.

"Long story short, we became madly in love and married straight away. Yes, she was poor and I was not, but that was the least of my concerns. My friends warned me of the likes of flamenco dancers and the sort, telling me that none have morals and would do anything for a certain price. I cared not, for I was in love, chico. You tend to forget that imperfections exist in the person you wish for yourself."

Jungkook didn't like where the story was going. An eerie feeling washed over him, and he clung harder to his chair.

"You see, Jungkook, you become so wrapped up in your idea of a perfect woman that the actual inspiration is not so delightful as she turns out. Even after marriage she insisted to work down the dirty pubs to make tips, acknowledged the filthy stares men her class gave her. I minded very much, but for her I was willing to let it go."

Sir Jeon then let out a sigh.

"I was gone to Madrid to expand my vineyards. A three day business trip, all work and no play, but I still managed to get hold of a pretty rose as I went home, eager to meet my wife. I would wonder on the carriage rides if she missed me while she danced, if she'd ignore the stares for the sake of one look I give her, if she was gazing out the window and secretly wished she saw my carriage nearing the road to our house."

His gnarled fingers poked the cutlery before he rasped out the words. "Turns out she didn't really miss me at all." A lifeless smile. "Seemed the other man in her bed was a good enough distraction for her while I was gone."

Jungkook's eyes widened.

"You're lying."

Sir Jeon only shrugged. "I would have asked Saraia to give you the truth, but she is six feet underground."

Fair enough.

"Jungkook, I was in shock. It was as if she had ripped out my heart, threw it to the ground and danced atop on it hard enough for the heels to break holes into the beating flesh. All I knew was her stunned look, sheets barely covering her as she swapped a doomed look with the other man and did nothing."

The man did not know what to say to his father. How could he console a cheated man? Especially when that man was his own dad?

"And you know what the worst part was, chico?"

Sir Jeon let out a humourless laugh, so terrifying Jungkook felt goosebumps prickle his skin.

"Nine months later, a child was born. A healthy son, a living consequence of Saraia's sin, plunged into my hands."

That was the moment Jeon Jungkook stopped breathing.

Sir Jeon read the hidden words beneath this shock. "Yes, chico. You know now that I am not your father."

The world seemed to shift beneath his feet. Even with his iron grip, the chair felt like tipping over, falling into this dark abyss where Jungkook was an orphan, ignorant, naive, and unloved.

"You..." the man could not even form the words, the sentence to speak. "You were never—"

"That's right. Another man, a runaway who left your mother the minute I caught him, was the other half of your parenthood. Saraia was upset, but soon forgot about him when she felt you being formed in her womb."

Dios Mio. Dios fucking Mio.

"You see Jungkook, when you were born I was still quite happy. If you didn't have my blood, at least there was your mother's blood in you. I had held you and even then felt some love for you because you looked so much like her."

Sir Jeon, if he wasn't frowning before, marred his mouth in a hard line.

"Saraia Jeon ran away the next day."

He knew. Jungkook knew of this information but still didn't stop him from releasing an uneven breath.

His father — or so he thought — chuckled. "I knew because right next to your curled little hand, while you slept, I noticed a letter next to you. I took it, ripped it open, and read the words which finally brought me to ruination."

In his prison attire, he fished out a smooth, folded piece of paper. "I had to bribe the guards heavily to keep this. But even so, I need the grim reminder."

He held out the note to Jungkook. The latter, hand slightly shaking, grabbed the paper, unfolding it.

I'M SORRY, QUERIDO. IT WAS ALL TOO MUCH.

PLEASE GRANT ME A FINAL WISH. NAME THE BOY JUNGKOOK.

I LOVE YOU.

Chills ran slick down his spine as he read the little passage. A 24 year old paper, cracked and slightly torn, yet the words seemed as fresh to him as it does to Sir Jeon the day he found it.

I love you. Written with more force on the paper, by the thickness of the ink.

"Does she even mean it?" He wondered out loud.

"I always ponder over the three words," was his reply. "I'd like to think she did, but could I really trust the word of an adulteress?"

"So?" Jungkook handed him back the note. "I know you saw her again, four years later. In Granada."

The old man nodded. "After your mother left, I grew an unfair hatred towards you. You were an infant, yet wished to bury you alive with my bare hands. But I did not, so I raised you. It became difficult, so I hired a nurse to parent you instead." He turned towards his food. "You see, you reminded me too much of her."

Then he looked at the man. "Even now."

Jungkook did not know how two words could be so unsettling.

"I stumbled across her path in Granada, as you said. I was there on business, and the nurse had taken sick, so I had to bring you with me. I was trying to shush you through the local markets the entire time, as you were so on edge.

"That's when I saw her."

Even as he looked at Jungkook, his eyes were lost in another world entirely. The world of the cruel past. "There she was, wearing her classic red flamenco dress, dancing in the street with no care for the audience surrounding her. When she stopped, she returned my stare, and I felt her whole world still too.

"She tried to stumble towards me, chico, but I retreated. She cried out your name, first in question, then in a hideous plea as she brought her arms out to hold you."

His hand gripped the table as if he was going to fall, despite being safe in his seat. "Jungkook, I swept you away from her grasp. I put my hand to cover your face in my neck, and screamed for this madwoman to not take my son. My son. Why had I called you such? You were not my child. But there I was, protecting you from your only known parent, and causing a scene to take her away from me.

"And there, in that marketplace, I realised I couldn't let her take you away from me. Even though she was your parent, I was the one who took care for your every needs. I was the one who'd seen you grow those four years, not her. She may have called out your name as if it mattered, but I wasn't letting her take away my happiness for the second time."

Sir Jeon closed his eyes. "So I ran, and let the locals take her home, like you would a maniac." He paused, as if each word was painful to voice. "I never saw her again."

When the elder stopped talking, Jungkook too sighed heavily, weighing the former's story, weighing Tiá's story, trying to find the connection.

He did. Did Tiá not say that his mother ran away? That after four years of her stay she screamed his name over and over as she finally lead herself to her doom? He never knew, though, why his mother left. Why his father harboured such a hatred for the flamenco dancers.

Maybe now, he did.

"You see, Jungkook, although you may not be my child through blood, I will still see you as my son. The only reason I may have not been a good father was because you reminded me too much of Saraia. And after her betrayal, I was incapable of love and showing such to anyone.

"And for that, chico, I'm sorry."

Jungkook nearly forgave him then. Everything he had ever done, he almost made it vanish, but Taehyung's image flashed in his mind.

Sir Jeon's lack of affection towards Jungkook might be explainable, but his cruelty towards his workers still needed a reason.

"What about Taehyung?" He piped up. "His father? All the other workers who slaved under you. My mother being related to the peasants does not mean you lash out your anger on them."

"I know, Jungkook, I know," he responded gravely. "I could apologise but it's not enough. I have committed too many sins to simply ask for a mere forgiveness."

Of course. The man knew that himself. "But you can change yourself now, Papá. Give them the wages they deserve. Better their conditions." He nearly lunged for his father's hand, but contained the urge. "Don't add to your wrongdoings."

Sir Jeon stayed quiet for a long time before he spoke.

"How about you do it for me?"

Jungkook shifted in his seat. "What do you mean by that?"

Another pause. "Jungkook, I have bribed the police to release me within a week. After this, I have planned to leave Seville. Leave Spain altogether, to Venice with Jimin."

Jimin. The man scowled at the mention of his once best friend.

"I wish to leave everything behind, chico, including the wine business. That leaves a vacancy to be the head of my empire.

"I want you to take over my business."

Jungkook nearly fell off the damn chair.

"I know it's a huge offer, but I trust no one else. At least I'll know my workers will be in safe hands."

Sir Jeon leaned forward, a small smile carved out of guilt.

"An apology for not treating you as the father you should have had."

Jungkook weighed over his words, the offer so substantial he had to pinch himself to make sure he was not in another world.

But Jungkook already knew his answer. A response which would not only make Taehyung and his friends happy, but make his amor extremely proud of him.

And pride from Aeri Alvarez is a wonderful thing to gloat about.

Matching the old man's stare, he never felt more sure of Sir Jeon than he ever felt at this moment.

"I'll do it. I'll take over the business."

-

[ U N E D I T E D ]

Hey guys!

Sorry for a late chapter again :') I've become so lazy these summer holidays, it's ridiculous!! But worry not, amigos, this story will be finished soon.

Slightly boring chapter, but things will spice up in the next. No spoilers, but a certain ex best friend is included ;)

Anyway, do vote on this chapter and share your thoughts on it. Do you think Sir Jeon's hate is acceptable? Do let me know 🖤