Taezum stood by the large windows of his study, overlooking the sprawling gardens of the Gu estate. The rejection and humiliation he had faced months ago from Taehyung still burned fresh in his mind.

But now, things were different. The months had been kind to him—or rather, relentless surgeons and countless procedures had been. The face he now wore was the face he believed could win Taehyung’s affection.

Only one obstacle stood in his way: Jungkook.

Mr. Lee entered the room, bowing low. “It’s done, sir. The groundwork has been laid.”

Taezum smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Good. Make sure it’s seamless. I want no loose ends. Once he’s in my hands, we’ll proceed with the plan.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Lee said. “And the documents? The ones he needs to sign?”

Taezum walked to his desk, pulling out a folder filled with legal papers. Divorce papers. He ran his fingers over the embossed seal. “He’ll sign them, willingly or not. Once he’s out of the picture, Taehyung will have no choice but to look my way.”

“Understood,” Mr. Lee said, exiting the room to finalize the arrangements.

Taezum turned back to the window, his jaw tightening. “Taehyung, you will be mine. Nothing and no one will stand in my way.”

The morning sun streamed through the windows as Jungkook waved Taehyung off with a smile. Tteokie barked softly from the door, wagging his tail as Taehyung’s car disappeared down the driveway.

The house settled into a quiet rhythm, the kind Jungkook had grown to appreciate. It was a comforting routine—cleaning up, tending to the small garden in the balcony, and making sure everything was in order before Taehyung returned in the evening.

Jungkook tied an apron around his waist, humming softly as he picked up the laundry basket. Tteokie followed him, occasionally pawing at the basket or sniffing curiously at the freshly folded clothes.

“Are you helping or making my job harder?” Jungkook teased, earning a small bark from the puppy.

Jungkook’s phone vibrated on the countertop, the sound sharp against the quiet of the room. He glanced at it quickly, still half-focused on the task of folding the laundry. Without checking the caller ID, he reached for the device, not thinking twice.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice was a bit hoarse from the lack of conversation.

A familiar voice answered almost immediately. “Jungkook, it’s Mr. Lee. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Jungkook straightened up, a bit surprised to hear from his old tutor. “Mr. Lee, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Actually, I wanted to catch up with you. I know it’s been some time since our last meeting, but I thought we could share a meal together.” Mr. Lee’s voice was calm, almost soothing. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“That sounds nice,” Jungkook replied, the warmth in his tone betraying the fact that he genuinely appreciated the gesture. “How about I meet you later, maybe at that Japanese restaurant we used to visit?”

Mr. Lee chuckled softly. “Perfect. I’ll see you there, then. I’ll make sure to get a table ready. Until then, take care.”

“See you soon,” Jungkook said, and with that, he ended the call, sliding the phone back onto the counter.

He felt a strange sense of nostalgia as he resumed his chores, wondering about how much had changed in the years since he had last spoken to Mr. Lee. Despite his curiosity, he continued working, unaware that this seemingly innocent phone call would be the beginning of something far darker than he could have imagined.

Taezum stood by the large window in his private office, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The evening sky had darkened into a deep shade of blue, but it wasn’t the serene view that held his attention. Instead, his mind was focused on the events that had been set into motion earlier that day. Everything was falling into place, just as he had meticulously planned.

A knock at the door broke his reverie. He turned, his expression impassive, as Mr. Lee entered the room with a bow, his face betraying no emotion.

“You did well,” Taezum said, his voice smooth and calculating, but there was a subtle glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He walked over to the desk, where Mr. Lee stood, and placed a hand on his back in an almost congratulatory manner. “The phone call... it went exactly as planned. Jungkook is in motion now. You’ve done good, Mr. Lee. Very good.”

Mr. Lee bowed lower, his face neutral but the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. “I’m honored that you trusted me with the task, sir.”

Taezum’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. He always appreciated efficiency, especially when it came to his plans. The pieces were falling into place, and soon everything would be under his control. He had spent years waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, nothing—nothing—would stand in his way.

Turning away from Mr. Lee, Taezum stepped toward the desk, his fingers brushing across the papers laid out before him, though his mind was still far from the documents in front of him.

“Soon, Jungkook will be exactly where I need him to be,” Taezum murmured, more to himself than to Mr. Lee. He paused, his thoughts slipping back to the first time Jungkook had rejected him, the sting of it still fresh in his memory. “Once that’s done, Taehyung will have no choice but to fall in line.”

Mr. Lee didn’t respond, his silence respectful as Taezum’s eyes narrowed in thought. Everything was going according to plan. The path to Taehyung’s trust, and ultimately his power, would be theirs for the taking.

“Excellent work,” Taezum said again, his voice low, almost like a promise. He turned to Mr. Lee, his eyes cold and calculating. “Stay alert. Our work is far from over.”

Mr. Lee gave another respectful nod before silently exiting the room, leaving Taezum alone with his thoughts. As the door clicked shut, Taezum allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction, knowing that the storm he had carefully orchestrated was already beginning to ripple outward, reaching Jungkook and Taehyung in ways they could not yet comprehend.

With a final glance at the darkening skyline, Taezum sat down in the chair behind his desk, fingers steepled as he watched the first pieces of his grand design start to unfold. It was only a matter of time now.

Jungkook woke to the harsh glare of a single bulb swinging above him. His wrists and ankles were bound, the cold steel of the chair digging into his skin. He winced, his head pounding from whatever drug had been used on him.

The door creaked open, and Taezum entered, his expression smug.

“Welcome back to reality, Jungkook,” he said, circling the chair like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Taezum?” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse. “What is this? Why are you doing this?”

Taezum leaned down, his face inches from Jungkook’s. “Because you’re in my way. You’ve always been in my way. Taehyung should have been mine. But no, you had to swoop in with your naïve charm and take what’s rightfully mine.”

“You’re insane,” Jungkook spat.

Taezum straightened, his smile cruel. “Perhaps. But insanity gets results. You’ll sign these,” he said, tossing the divorce papers onto the table in front of Jungkook. “And then, you’ll disappear from Taehyung’s life forever.”

Jungkook’s hands trembled, but he clenched his fists. “I’ll never sign them.”

Taezum’s smirk deepened. “Oh, you will. You’ll beg me to let you sign them by the time I’m done with you.”

He motioned to Mr. Lee, who stepped forward, a tray of instruments in hand. “Shall we begin?”

---

After the quite eventful day, Taehyung came back home, hoping for some peace, even if it was just for a few hours.He had been looking forward to returning to his quiet home, where Jungkook’s presence would ground him, even if just for a while.

However, as he entered, he immediately felt something was off. The usual sound of Jungkook humming or the soft rustling of paper seemed absent. Taehyung paused at the door, his eyes scanning the quiet interior. “Jungkook?” he called softly, unsure why the house felt so still. Normally, his husband would at least greet him or be in the middle of one of his little tasks. But there was nothing.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the nagging feeling in his chest. Maybe Jungkook was in the kitchen, making himself a snack, or engrossed in one of his projects. Taehyung decided to head that way, but as he passed through the hallway, the silence grew more oppressive.

Stepping into the kitchen, Taehyung felt a flicker of confusion. It was empty. The countertops were untouched, the kitchen still as if no one had been in there for hours. A sense of unease crept over him, but he tried to dismiss it.

“Jungkook?” he called again, louder this time, a tinge of urgency creeping into his voice. Still, no response.

His pulse quickened. This wasn’t like Jungkook. He would never leave without even a word. Taehyung moved from room to room, checking everywhere. The living room, the bedroom, the study. Nothing. No sign of him at all.

His mind raced. Had Jungkook left without telling him? But why? Where would he have gone? The house was far too quiet, as if something was missing. The dread that had settled in his stomach began to grow heavier. He had to be somewhere.

Trying to ignore the rising panic in his chest, Taehyung pulled out his phone, dialing Jimin’s number. Jimin, his ever-reliable secretary, would know if Jungkook had gone out or if he had planned anything. He had to know where his husband was. The line rang a few times before Jimin’s voice came through, sounding casual.

“Hyung, what’s up?” Jimin asked.

“Jimin, have you heard from Jungkook today?” Taehyung asked quickly, his tone more urgent than he intended. “Did he have any plans?”

Jimin paused for a moment before replying, “No, hyung, I haven’t heard anything. Why? Is something wrong?”

Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat. “I can’t find him anywhere,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “He’s not here. Did he mention anything to you?”

“Nothing at all, hyung,” Jimin replied, his voice tinged with confusion. “I thought he was with you today. Do you need me to check on him?”

“Yes. Call around, ask anyone if they’ve seen him, and let me know if you find anything.” Taehyung's voice was tight, the knot in his stomach growing.

“Of course, hyung. I’ll get on it right away.”

Taehyung hung up, his thoughts racing. What had happened to Jungkook? Why was he missing? He tried to calm himself, telling himself it could be something trivial, a simple misunderstanding. But the unease gnawed at him, growing more intense with each passing second. He knew Jungkook wouldn’t just disappear without a word, without leaving a trace. Something was wrong.

Taehyung paced the house once more, checking every corner, hoping for some sign that Jungkook had just stepped out or was hiding somewhere. But the emptiness in the house was suffocating. Every moment without an answer made him feel more helpless.

As his mind raced, he noticed a familiar sight that stopped him in his tracks. Tteokie, their little puppy, was curled up on the couch, asleep, its small chest rising and falling gently. The sight of the tiny dog—who had been Jungkook’s pride and joy since the day they got it—should have been comforting, but instead, it added to his growing sense of dread.

“Where’s Jungkook, buddy?” Taehyung whispered to the sleeping puppy, though he knew the dog wouldn’t answer. Tteokie stirred, stretching and yawning before tucking its head back into its paws, blissfully unaware of the tension in the air.

Taehyung let out a frustrated sigh. Tteokie’s presence only reminded him of Jungkook’s absence, a presence that felt so solid in their home but was now missing. It was as though the house itself had lost its warmth, its spark. Jungkook had always been the light of their home, always bringing a sense of joy to the mundane moments.

Taehyung’s mind raced. He couldn’t just stand there, feeling helpless. He needed to find Jungkook.

His phone buzzed suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. Jimin’s name appeared on the screen. Taehyung’s heart lurched. He quickly answered the call, hoping for some good news.

“Hyung, I called everyone. No one’s seen him today. I even reached out to his friends, but they haven’t heard from him either,” Jimin said, his voice tight with concern. “Do you want me to keep looking, or should I report it to the authorities?”

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat. “Jimin…please, keep looking. I can’t…I can’t explain it, but something feels off. Something isn’t right.”

“I’ll keep searching, hyung. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung ended the call and stared at the quiet house around him. Every shadow felt more menacing, every corner more hollow without Jungkook’s comforting presence. He needed to find his husband, no matter what it took.

---

Jungkook’s hands trembled, but he clenched his fists. “I’ll never sign them.”

Taezum’s smirk deepened. “Oh, you will. You’ll beg me to let you sign them by the time I’m done with you.”

He motioned to Mr. Lee, who stepped forward, a tray of cold instruments in hand. The glint of metal caught Jungkook’s eye, sending a shiver down his spine. His breath quickened, but he held his ground.

“Start with him,” Taezum ordered, his tone sharp and commanding.

Mr. Lee’s hands were steady, almost unnervingly so, as he began laying out the tools before him. Each item seemed more ominous than the last: a belt, an iron rod, and other items that made Jungkook’s stomach twist in fear. The man’s face remained calm, devoid of empathy.

Jungkook's heart pounded in his chest as Mr. Lee advanced toward him, but he refused to show any signs of fear. He wasn’t going to give Taezum the satisfaction. His resolve was stronger than it had ever been, but he was alone—alone in this place of torment.

“Still so defiant, Jungkook?” Taezum’s voice was taunting, dripping with malicious amusement. “You’ll break, just like everyone else.”

Jungkook could feel his resolve wavering, but he didn’t respond, staring straight ahead. His mind raced, searching for a way out, but there was no escape. He was trapped, and Taezum would make sure he knew it.

Mr. Lee didn’t wait for an answer. The first strike came unexpectedly—sharp and jarring, like a thunderclap against his skin. The belt lashed across his back, and Jungkook bit down on his lip, refusing to give Taezum the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. The pain seared through him, spreading like wildfire, but he didn’t break. Not yet.

“Still so proud?” Taezum mused, his tone mockingly sympathetic. “You’ll come to realize that pride won’t save you.”

Each hit came like a storm, one after another. Jungkook gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound. He could feel his skin burning, his body trembling with the weight of the pain, but there was a small part of him that clung to hope—that one day Taezum’s cruelty would end.

When it seemed like the worst was over, Mr. Lee approached him again, this time holding a cruel-looking iron rod. Jungkook’s breath hitched as the man brandished it with ease, knowing exactly what to do.

“I’m not signing your damn papers,” Jungkook spat out, blood from a split lip staining his teeth. “I’d rather die than let you win.”

Taezum laughed, the sound cold and unsettling. “You don’t get to choose how this ends, Jungkook. You’ll sign them. You’ll regret not doing it sooner.”

The rod pressed against his shoulder, the pain intensifying as it twisted. It was not a quick strike; it was a slow, deliberate pressure designed to break him down. Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he might suffocate on the pain. His vision blurred, but he refused to give in. His body might bend, but his spirit wouldn’t break.

Taezum leaned in close, his breath hot on Jungkook’s ear. “You can’t last much longer, can you? You’re already shaking. You’ll beg me soon enough.”

But Jungkook held on, biting down on his lip until it bled. He couldn’t let Taezum see him weak—not now, not ever.

Days passed in a haze of pain, each one blending into the next, with no clear end in sight. Jungkook had become numb to the relentless torment, his mind often drifting in and out of lucidity as his body began to show signs of the abuse. His once bright eyes had dulled, hollowed by exhaustion and the emotional toll of the isolation. But still, despite it all, he clung to the sliver of hope that Taehyung would find him—would come for him.

But the days stretched on, and the only sounds in the dim, cold room were the harsh rhythm of his own breathing and the occasional murmur from Taezum, who seemed to take pleasure in watching him weaken.

The beatings had slowed, replaced with hunger and fatigue as his captors denied him food and water, the cruelest torture of all. The hunger gnawed at his insides, but the worst part was the thirst—the dryness that coated his throat, making each breath feel like a struggle. His body trembled from weakness, yet the fire of defiance in his heart refused to be extinguished.

Taezum had grown impatient, his threats more venomous with each passing day. He wanted Jungkook to break. He wanted to see him kneel, to beg for release. But Jungkook wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not yet.

It was a late evening when the door to his makeshift prison creaked open, the cold air from the hallway rushing in with the sound of footsteps. Jungkook lifted his head slightly, his vision blurred, his body aching, but his resolve still intact.

Mr. Lee stepped inside first, followed by a figure Jungkook barely recognized. His face was bruised, his hands bound, and his posture stiff as he stood in the doorway, hesitating.

Taezum followed behind, his smile predatory, as if savoring the moment. “Well, Jungkook, we’ve been playing this little game for a while, haven’t we?”

Jungkook’s chest heaved, his breath shallow and ragged, but his gaze never wavered. He couldn’t let Taezum see him break. He wouldn’t. Not for anything.

“Jungkook,” Taezum said again, this time with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’ve held out for this long, but even you must know that you can’t last much longer. I have your answer already.”

Jungkook’s lips parted slightly, but his throat felt like sandpaper. His words, when they came, were barely a whisper. “You can’t control me. You can’t break me.”

Taezum’s expression faltered for a moment, as though the very idea of Jungkook’s resistance annoyed him. But then, that cruel smile returned, more dangerous than ever. He stepped forward, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, the air thick with the tension between them.

“You still think that, don’t you?” Taezum mused, his voice colder now. “But it’s not up to you anymore. You’ll sign those papers, Jungkook. You’ll do it.”

Jungkook felt his resolve harden in response. Taezum could take his body, could hurt him in ways that left scars he couldn’t see, but he couldn’t break his spirit. Not yet.

“Don’t touch me,” Jungkook growled, the words thick with a mixture of fear and anger. His hands were tied, his body in pain, but his voice still held defiance.

Taezum stopped in front of him, bending down to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with contempt, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot on Jungkook’s face. “It’s not about what you want anymore,” Taezum hissed. “It’s about what I want. And you’ll sign those papers.”

There was a pause. For a long moment, the only sound was the harsh, ragged breath coming from Jungkook’s chest. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, a constant reminder of the life he was fighting to hold on to.

Then, in one swift motion, Taezum backhanded him, the sting from the slap reverberating through his skull. Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, his cheek burning from the force, but his eyes remained clear, unwavering. He blinked slowly, the pain adding to the steady fire in his chest.

Taezum straightened, wiping his hand on his trousers as if wiping away a nuisance. “You think you can resist forever, but you won’t. You’ll submit. You’ll see.”

He motioned for Mr. Lee to bring the papers, the ones that Jungkook had refused to sign, and handed them to him. Mr. Lee placed the papers in front of Jungkook, the harsh light of the room casting long shadows across the words, the ink seeming to burn into his eyes.

“You’ve made this difficult,” Taezum said, with a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just slapped him across the face. “But I’m patient. You’ll break eventually. Everyone does.”

Jungkook’s hands, still bound and bruised, were trembling, but not from fear. It was from the overwhelming sense of defiance that refused to die. Even as his body ached, even as his mind swirled with confusion, he was determined to hold on to whatever shred of dignity he had left.

“I won’t sign,” Jungkook said again, more firmly this time. “Not for you.”

Taezum’s expression darkened, and his voice grew low and dangerous. “You’ll sign, Jungkook. It’s just a matter of time. And when you do, you’ll regret it. But not for long.”

He gestured for Mr. Lee to leave, and as the man turned, Taezum gave one last lingering look at Jungkook, the flicker of malice in his eyes enough to send a chill down his spine.

“You think you’re strong now,” Taezum said, his voice full of a twisted amusement. “But the longer you hold out, the harder it will be. You’ll break. And when you do, I’ll be here to take everything from you.”

As the door slammed shut behind them, Jungkook was left alone in the room again, his body bruised and weak, but his spirit still holding on. Despite the days of hunger, the pain, the isolation, there was still a spark within him, one that refused to die. Taezum’s threats, his cruelty—they didn’t define him. Not yet.

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, letting the silence wash over him. In the distance, he could almost hear Taehyung’s voice, a whisper of hope in the storm of his pain.

And he held on, one moment at a time, his heart beating strong despite everything.

**************************************

As promised new chapter
Your Author
~Antascia