Translation for Spanish words used in this chapter—

Espera/ espérate — wait/hold on
Ahí está — there he is
Manos arriba — hands up
Rata — rat

-

Jeon Jungkook felt the very world slip beneath his feet.

Your mother's been dead for twenty years.

He didn't know why it hit him so hard. Didn't know why it mattered.

"How...Why..." Jungkook hitched in his breath, clamping his lips before he could say another word.

Tía Maria, on seeing his reaction, grimaced. "You would have been a little boy when she passed away. Too young to even realise it."

Even with the noise around him, the sniffling, the murmuring, he felt so alone.

As if it was just him, and his mom, decaying six feet underneath his boots.

"How..." every word was an effort, a toiling experience. "How did...did you even know her?"

Dry dirt scraped against her wooden cane. "I first saw her about 25 years ago," she answered, eyes upon the little gravestone. "I came across her upon the streets of central Granada, shivering from the winter cold. I offered to bring her inside, but the look in her eyes, the absolute terror..."

"Terror of what?" Jungkook pressed. "What happened to her? Did something like—"

"¡Espera, hijo, espérate!" Tía Maria cut off. "I'm telling you, do not worry.

"Anyway," she continued, "I took her in, regardless of her resistance, because I knew if she didn't have even a slice of bread within the next hour she was going to die. Thankfully, she ate what I gave her, and more, so she realises I'm not a demon of her past that's come to collect her debts."

Helpless. His mother was helpless and he never even knew.

Did Papá know? Of her misfortunes?

"She was a cynical woman, your mother," Tía Maria admitted, eyes on the little grave. "The first thing she told me about herself was when she stayed in my house after a month straight, and only because she felt as if she owed me for the roof over her head.

"I asked her how she ended up in such a state, who was responsible..." the old crone then met Jungkook's stare. "What her real name was."

The tip of her pointing stick scraped against the head of the worn out stone, against the words engraved on the ancient rock.

Understanding, Jungkook lowered to a squat, careful of the dirt, and squinted his eyes to see the name etched onto the grave.

Saraia Jeon.
1824 — 1849
A beloved mother.

The boy nearly fell from his position.

"Saraia..."

A pretty name. Such a pretty name, only to have it written on ugly surfaces.

And that age—

"She was beautiful beyond imagination," Tía murmured. "You look quite a bit like her, hijo."

He didn't want to listen to that. What she looked liked, what she turned out to be, because he'd start imagining and things would escalate—

"How did..." he closed his eyes. "How did she die?"

So early? So fucking early?

It was then Tía Maria's face etched in an infinite variations of pain.

"I found out that she ran away from Seville. She didn't tell me why, but I never insisted, so I settled with bits and pieces. That's how I found out she was a flamenco dancer, when I caught her twirling on our rooftops. She confessed she stopped after her flee, but it was truly... marvellous."

The old woman's breathing laboured.

"About four years into her moving in, she comes back one day into the house, screaming. Screaming as if she'd seen some unimaginable horror, and it takes all of my strength to stop her from losing her voice.

"I asked her..." Tía Maria paused, breathing heavily. "I asked her of a reason behind her commotion, and she didn't say anything. Just kept screaming one name only."

The old woman looked at him then, those wondrous eyes baring slight tears.

"Jungkook, Jungkook, my little baby, Jungkook."

Oh, the boy wasn't sure he was breathing—

"I was confused, obviously, asking her who this 'Jungkook' was, but she didn't listen, just screamed until the words turned to tears."

Her ancient stare turned towards her own family, her descendants that grieved their own losses and accompanied others in their heartache.

"Hijo, your mother didn't stop crying that day, and I didn't know why. The next day, though, she told me. Admitted that she left behind a boy she'd birthed, reasons unknown still, and she saw him that day. In the market."

"M-Me?" He could barely get the fucking words out. "But I'd be four years old, how would I have come to another city like that—"

Wait—

Tía Maria gave a grim stare towards the grave. "I figured that whatever she ran away from, it came back along with you. Something so terrifying that she reacted like...that.

"Tell me, Jungkook-ah," she demanded, "What is your father like?"

His fingers curled into fists. "A cold businessman. A bastard, in my opinion."

"And did he have a burning hate for things that your mother might be associated with?"

"Burning hate...? I don't know—"

And that's when it clicked.

"Flamenco!"

Jungkook stares at the crone with wide eyes. "Papá has a hatred for flamenco dancers! Ah mierda, maybe that's why he never wanted me to run after one!"

"Because the one he chose turned out to detest his very existence," Tía Maria guttered. "Ay, Dios. I wish I'd figured it out earlier."

There was no point now. Searching for explanations when they will never reach the victim.

"That's why," Jungkook repeated in a low growl, fingers digging into his palms. "That's why Papá didn't like Aeri. Hated the idea of me going to flamenco shows."

His eyes dragged to that gravestone, too small, too muddied and dirtied and forgotten in this cemetery.

He didn't know why it hurt. Why a great burst of pain slashed within his chest, an aching which had his hand wondering to where his heart thundered unevenly beneath his fingers.

That woman wasn't there for him. Couldn't get to, rather, but still.

Why do you care so much now?

"She never recovered after that. Stayed in this cycle of terror, waking up screaming every night, a walking corpse among the others.

"And maybe it was seeing you, a little boy growing without her, which undid her. Seeing you disappear from her grasp that gave her the final push."

Tía Maria voice shook as she declared, "She was dead the next day. Her body pulled out from the nearby lakes, a hole through her head."

Jungkook's hand clamped over his mouth.

No.

"Granada was shaken, some from confusion and others in horror at the grotesque suicide." Her eyes now glittered, silver lining them. "And it was me who washed her dead body, dressed her in my best flamenco dresses and spread the last scraps of dirt over her casket.

"And I know she did not tell me much, but it was like I knew her all my life. Despite her being so much younger, I still felt like she'd been a friend I had been waiting for. Not even five years under and she slipped from my grasp."

Jungkook stood in shock, watching the old woman sag upon her walking stick. Saw that lining break into little tears which slid down her wrinkled face.

"I still miss her, hijo. I miss her so very much."

The boy did not hesitate to close the distance as he wrapped his arms around the petite soul.

He could bet that she'd probably cried after years, decades, but still contained herself to a quiet weeping.

A sigh escaped him, his frown cleaving his lips deeper.

I hate today. I fucking hate today.

"Worry not, Tía," he reassured her with his murmuring, "At least her misery had been put to an end. At least now she can finally be at peace."

Even if he was not.

No, Jeon Jungkook felt anything but.

All he wanted to do was get to the reason why all this happened in the first place.

And destroy it. Just like it had destroyed his mother.

When Tía Maria at last pulled away, her face hardened, tears still lingering. "If it is indeed who we think it is...if it really is your father...

"Then don't spare him. Or else I'll come to Seville and kill him myself."

Jungkook's hands lingered on Tía's shoulder. "You wouldn't have to," he only muttered.

I'll gladly do it myself.

And when he left her embrace, he found a marigold lying absently upon the short walls of the cemetery.

He took it, going down to settle the flower upon the grave. His mother's grave.

His eyes kernelled a strange emotion, one he'd never felt before.

But one thing he was certain.

Papá's not getting out of this.

-

Soon, when the civilians realised it was nearly dawn, they all slowly retreated back to their homes.

The Alvarez cousins now consoled each other arm in arm, Taehyung retreating back from the group to gaze at the stars.

Jungkook watched him, and another even further back, his handkerchief gripped tightly in her hands. He'd given it to Aeri shortly after leaving his mother's grave, and seen her tears appearing once more.

He fell into step beside her, hands in his pockets. "I'm returning to Seville tomorrow morning."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Morning is a few hours away. Why the rush?"

He couldn't say it to her. Not now. "Unfinished business that must be attended urgently."

Aeri noticed the slight rage that slipped from his words, but didn't confront it. "You should at least sleep, Jungkook," she said instead.

The boy looked at her then. "You should too."

"Then let's rest. I'll come with you then."

Nodding, he stayed beside the girl, her shoulder grazing against his arm every now and then. He found comfort in it, and maybe so did she, for she didn't avoid his figure.

When they returned home, everyone slept in an instant, Jungkook at Aeri's hideout, the latter following him to the make-shift beds. They both winked out within minutes, far apart despite their fingers barely touching.

And when they woke up, Aeri already gone downstairs, Jungkook sat up groggily and realised it was time to go home.

A part of him didn't want to go. The last week had been so fulfilling he wondered whether he'd been living in the wrong city for his whole life. Mingling with the wrong people.

He had business though. Very unfinished business.

So he got up, heaving himself out of bed, wearing a change of formal clothes within the bathrooms, and downed a glass of goat's milk before assembling to the parting group.

Every last Alvarez cousin had come to say goodbye. Jungkook said so to every one, Ciro near tears as he hugged the living life out of him.

So he hugged the raven-haired boy right back, and gave him a cheeky grin, whilst mocking a salute to Bruno.

He kissed Gabriella's hand, and Eloísa and Elodia's but with less enthusiasm.

The twins however made up for it more than enough as they squealed so hard the entirety of Granada heard their reactions.

Gabriella only grabbed each of the girls' braids and hauled them back inside after giving the boy an apologetic smile.

Laughing, he then at last looked to Tía Maria, standing as proud as ever with red robes and a fierce face.

"It was an honour, Tía," he started, taking the woman's hand, "Meeting you."

But the old crone only brought the boy down so she could press her lips to his brow. "Come back soon, hijo," she requested. "And don't forget."

He knew what she meant. "Never." He smiled, stepping beside Taehyung who'd said all his goodbyes, both waiting for Aeri to say hers, Jihoo in her arms.

Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, his face a mask of calm. "Feeling better?"

The fiery boy offered him a slight smile. "Could be. But In a day I'll be back to being an annoying asshole, so maybe this is better."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but being a prick suits you, so stay like that."

A chuckle escaped out of the rebel worker. "Yes, boss."

"No," Jungkook said. "Amigo. Not a boss, but a friend."

He could have sworn Taehyung's eyes widened.

But he couldn't react further as Aeri walked towards them. "Right," she declared, voice wavering. "Let's go before I start crying."

"Agreed," Jungkook murmured, and opened the doors to the carriage that awaited for the four of them.

As they climbed in, slamming it shut, Taehyung ordered the driver to head for Seville.

And as the carriage started to move, the trio slipped their arms out of the window slit and waved goodbye to the Alvarez house until the estate, so warm and welcoming, disappeared from sight.

-

Hours of travelling later, the carriage stopped before the estate.

Jungkook, awake, saw the two sleeping, heads leaned against each other as they dozed softly, the two year old just fluttering open his eyes.

Everything in him wanted to let them rest. But they had arrived home.

Home. Jungkook looked out the window to his own estate, red and white walls looking so much colder than they had once been.

It doesn't look like a home. Not anymore.

Jihoo let out a soft gurgle, and as if on motherly instinct, Aeri jolted awake, the impact affecting Taehyung as he too ripped open his eyes.

"Wha..." the brown haired boy rubbed at his eyes, smiling at Jihoo before turning to Jungkook. "Where are we?"

"Seville," was his answer. "We've arrived."

Aeri, whilst swaying her child in her arms, little legs kicking away to be out of the carriage, asked, "Why do you look...angry?"

Jungkook blinked.

Oh.

His mind had strayed back to his father once more. And the questioning that is about to be put upon him. And more.

"The unfinished business I mentioned," he started, hands on the door knob. "It's about Papá."

Aeri and Taehyung stared at him.

"Shit," the latter breathed out.

"Don't worry," Jungkook only said, getting out the carriage. "I know what I'm doing."

The others got out too, giving the driver the fare as they assembled before the black gates.

Such dark, dark welcome.

"Right," the boy uttered.

And opened the gates, the four entering in unison.

"Ahí está!"

Jeon Jungkook didn't even take in a breath before a dozen rifles targeted towards him.

No, not towards him—

A hard-faced man, all clad in military uniform of blue and red, a ridiculous black top hat strapped under his chin strode right where Taehyung stood, lips teasing in a snarl.

"Manos arriba!" He ordered as he pointed his gun on the rebel's chest. "Manos arriba, rata!"

Confusion lingering his face, the boy raised his hands. In seconds the other soldiers swarmed him, shoving Jungkook and Aeri out the way.

With such force Jihoo burst into tears, and the flamenco dancer brought her baby to her chest, trying to stop his weeping as she looked to her right in horror.

It was then Jungkook looked up.

At the two people who caused this.

Sir Jeon stood, straight as a rod as he inspected the commotion. No emotion grazed his face.

But beside him, with a devilish grin on his once-pure face, was none other than Park Jimin, smirking at the soldiers tying up Taehyung.

Jungkook had a half a mind to claw that smirk right of his face, but instead turned to his dad, frantic in rage and confusion and utter desperation.

"What is going on?!" He demanded, hand thrown towards the mass of guards.

Nothing. Nothing but that cold calculation.

The boy screamed it then.

"What is going on?!!"

"Papá," Jimin's answering purr sounded, "Had found his chequebook papers decreasing, his money coffers in decline, and knew there was a thief in his house." He merely looked at his nails. "I saw who it was that stole the cheques, and told him immediately."

Jimin. Jimin told him.

And the bastard had not snitched Jungkook out. But Taehyung.

A kernel of rage barrelled through the boy.

And as the soldiers dragged a fighting Taehyung out the estate, Jihoo crying in Aeri's shaking arms, Jungkook took one look at his once best friend and knew he had more than one person to kill.

-

Hey guys!

Might as well be my funeral cause I've been dead for so long :') pls forgive me, I know I promised y'all chapters but GCSEs have really hit me hard :/

Don't worry though guys, because I've already finished my plan for Casanova, so I know exactly what's going to happen. So stay tuned there's more to come ;)

Anyway, please do vote on this chapter and share your thoughts. And to those who came back even after months to read this, I love you 🖤