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Us against the world? or us against each other.....
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Moon's Point of View:
I stood silently by the couch, my head bowed, trying to make sense of everything. My father's words stung, but I couldn't bring myself to look up. The weight of fear and betrayal pressed down on me like a commentator.
"We want peace with you, Hyun," my father said, his gaze lingering on me briefly before he continued. "We seek peace with Busan and Seoul. If you need guards, landmines, or control over seaports, I am ready to negotiate. But please, I can't—" He paused, struggling to find the right words, his voice thick with desperation.
Jungkook's father cut in, his voice brimming with pride and determination. "My son will marry your daughter and impregnate her before those Chinese rats can get her." His words were like a slap to my face, cold and devoid of any consideration for my feelings.
I dared to glance at Jungkook, hoping to see some sign of disagreement, some glimmer of humanity. But his eyes betrayed me, reflecting a cold acceptance of his father's plan. He seemed to agree, his silence a cruel confirmation of my worst fears.
A profound sadness washed over me, mingling with the despair already tightening around my heart. This was my fate, sealed by men who saw me not as a person, but as a pawn in their game of power and control. My hopes, my dreams, my very existence—reduced to a bargaining chip in a ruthless negotiation.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. How could he expect me to accept this? To sacrifice my life, my dreams, for a peace that seemed so distant, so uncertain?
Jungkook finally spoke, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. "I will do my duty, Father. For our family, for our people." He glanced at me briefly, but there was no warmth, no comfort in his gaze.
The words felt like a final blow, sealing my fate. I wanted to scream, to run, to escape this nightmare. But I was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear and the weight of their expectations.
"I understand," I whispered, my voice barely audible. It was a lie, but what choice did I have? My life was no longer my own; it was a tool in their hands, a sacrifice for their ambitions.
"Good," Jungkook's father said, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "Then it's settled. The wedding will take place in an instant. It's dangerous out there."
"Tomorrow will be fine. Her brothers will be here by then," a lady beside Jungkook's father spoke. She must be his mother.
A wave of dread washed over me. I had mere hours to reconcile myself to this prison, to the loss of my freedom. I nodded numbly, feeling as though a part of me had died in that moment.
"The maids will show you your rooms," Jungkook's father stated, turning towards Jungkook. "Son, after the wedding takes place, your name will be placed over the mafia king of Seoul. As king of Seoul and a princess of Busan—wahh!" He chuckled, rubbing his hand on Jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook remained emotionless, his face a mask of indifference.
I followed the maids through the dimly lit halls, my steps heavy with the weight of impending doom. They led me to a lavish room, its opulence starkly differing from the emptiness I felt inside. The door closed behind me, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Did they even ask for my feelings? Did they ever give me a family's love?
I was hiding my life...
To save myself, I have to marry someone who was nothing but a facade, all for his crown... his name...The crown was his true love, his only concern. And I? I was just a character in his story, easily written out.
My thoughts spiraled into a dark abyss as I sat on the edge of the grand bed, the silk sheets cold against my skin. The grandeur of the room, with its ornate furnishings and glittering chandeliers, felt like a cruel mockery of my situation. This was supposed to be a palace, a place of safety and comfort, yet it was nothing more than a gilded cage.
I thought back to my childhood. I had been the orphan kid, always on the outside looking in. I saw many people getting their hearts broken. I used to laugh at them for going insane over it, but now I was tasting it for myself. I wondered, can't my brothers protect me? I felt so empty now, so empty I had no words to say... nothing.
I had to marry someone who was nothing but a facade, a tool for his crown and his name. His eyes, usually devoid of any warmth, had once sparked with something akin to affection when he looked at me. But now, I saw the truth. His love was as genuine as the gold painted on the furniture. It was all for the crown. The crown that meant more to him than any feeling, any bond. He was a puppet, just like me, but a puppet who had accepted his strings.
As I lay down, staring up at the intricately painted ceiling, I wondered: what happened to us? How did we end up here, trapped in these roles.
"His crown means everything to him," I whispered to myself, chuckling bitterly. The sound of my laughter echoed in the grand, empty room, a hollow reminder of my solitude.
Jungkook's crown, his title, his power—these were the things he cherished. They defined him, dictated his every move, his every thought. And here I was, just another piece in his elaborate chess game, another step toward his ultimate goal.
The irony was not lost on me. My life, my freedom, traded away for a throne. A position of power that meant nothing to me but everything to him. I laughed again, the sound sharper, more desperate.
As I stared up at the intricately painted ceiling, the laughter died away, replaced by a cold, steely resolve.
"I loved him... a real love. And is this what I get in return?"
Every word he spoke, every feeling he showed, seemed hollow and empty for that crown. Everything was about that crown.
That night when he found me injured, I believed it was over. I thought I could never run away from him because he was the one who loved me to the end. I believed in his affection and comfort, especially when he tended to my injuries and stayed by my side during my nightmares. I had been a fool to believe in his love, to think that he cared for me beyond what I could offer him. His comforts, his promises, his very presence by my side during my darkest moments—all of it was a farce. A mask he wore to manipulate me, to keep me by his side, to secure his power.
But now, looking back, it all felt like a lie. His comforts, his promises, his gestures—they were all fake.
I had confessed my deepest fears and feelings to him, thinking he understood me, that he cared for me. But now, it was clear that everything was just a means to an end, a way to secure his power and his crown. The love I thought we shared was nothing but a mirage, a trick of the light. He had played me like a fiddle, and I had danced to his tune, blissfully unaware of the strings attached. The man I had confided in, the man I had given my heart to, saw me only as a tool, a stepping stone to his ultimate goal.
I felt like a trophy, a prize Jungkook had won this time. Everything I thought was real—his love, his comfort, his promises—now seemed like mere adornments to showcase his victory. I was no longer a person he cared for deeply; I was just a symbol of his power, a trophy to add to his collection.
The realization was crushing. All the moments I cherished, the times I felt safe and loved, were just part of his strategy. He never truly saw me as a partner or an equal.
He said he was protecting me, and in a way, he did. But the protection he offered wasn't what I truly needed. His manipulative words and charming demeanor had worked on me, making me fall for him. It was an attraction, a spell he cast to draw me in.
"Let's see how you will cope up with me"
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