Jungkook focus

When in the evening of the fifth day of poisoning Jungkook slipped back into the Park mansion's guestroom, he was almost instantly pushed back outside by a pair of small hands on his chest. In the last second, he could clutch onto the window's edges in order not to fall out backwards.

"Little prin-" he began to scold her for almost killing him but one of the small hands clasped over his mouth.

"Be quiet!" she whispered with frightened eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned when she let go of his face.

"You need to leave. My husband is back," she told him and pushed a bundle with his clothes into his arms.

"Your husband?" Jungkook asked dumbly. All the time he had been living here, he had never thought of the fact that there, of course, was a husband that could come home at any time.

"Yes," she sneered. "In case you did not notice I have a son who obviously has a father." She was in a bad mood, Jungkook could tell.

"Where am I supposed to go?" he asked her when she pressed her whole money pouch into his hand and pushed him towards the window again. The drawings of his face were still decorating all the boards in the capital, so he could not simply walk into a guesthouse and ask for a room.

That made her halt and finally look at him properly. "I do not know," she admitted. "I seriously do not know. But promise me to observe the crown prince's reaction once the first prince breaks down," she asked of him.

"Little princess," Jungkook sighed. "You caused my face to be placated all over the kingdom, you push me out of your house, and now you expect me to fulfil another order of yours?" Was this not too much?

Her panicked eyes wandered all over his face when she was searching for something to reply. "Please," she whispered then. "I will pay you twice."

That was not exactly unexpected, but why did it bother Jungkook that he was offered more money? He should say thank you and leave. It was not the first time he would sleep in a tree or under a bridge. But something about this was stroking him the wrong way.

He shook off the feeling. "Don't swallow your words, princess," he growled and turned around to jump out into the night.

He needed to find a place where he could change into his own clothes. And he needed a place to sleep. So, when he saw the brightly illuminated windows of the brothel down the road, an idea came to his mind. He needed a place where no one would ask questions or demand answers. He weighed the pouch in his hand. This should be enough to buy him some fun for a whole week. With a grin he pulled out the silken handkerchief of the prince to cover his face. Royal guards sure would be welcome in a brothel.

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The girl which the brothel mother had sent to him had bored him to death, so he had sent her away and had changed into his own clothes before leaving through the window with a jar of wine. If he was lucky, he would find some drunkards on the streets to start a fight with. It had been a long time since he had had a nice fistfight with someone.

But he must be doomed by destiny, because before he realized where his feet were carrying him, he had come to stand next to the tree he had used to jump over the palace garden walls at his first attempt of assassinating the crown prince. The best thing would be to leave and never come back here. But then again, he had no better place to go to either and could just spend the night in the old pine's crown.

Fixing the half full wine jar to his sash and shouldering the bundle of guard robes, he started to climb up the resin-sticky trunk of the old tree. Since the day that unfriendly physician had removed the stitches, he felt much better. The wound was still straining in a strange way, but it no longer was painful to move.

When he reached the branch that he had used to jump the fence, he sat down, one leg dangling on each side of it, and cushioned his head against the trunk in his back with the bundle. It was a nice night, warm and quiet, perfect for sleeping outside. He should have just stolen the wine and saved the money for the girl.

Emptying the other half of the jar, he looked over the palace grounds. The roofs he could get a glimpse of were mere schemes in the light of the clouded moon and only the tower was still illuminated in the soft orange sheen of candles. The rest was just as dark as the streets of the capital outside. It would be so easy to slip in. Had it not been for the third prince, Jungkook would have succeeded the first time. Maybe he should just go now and strangle the crown prince with his bare hands.

Stupid little brute, he heard the voice of the little princess in his head. He could almost feel the slap to his chest she would give him for going against her order. When there was no crown prince anymore, poisoning the first prince would have been in vain. What a waste of resources and Jungkook's efforts of climbing the hallway of the concubine's quarter every day. He should not be rash.

But he urged to jump over that silly wall and walk through the palace gardens. Simply because he could, simply for the rush of being better than those red-robed palace dogs. He could kill the king, or the first prince, or anyone he pleased. This one little branch he was sitting on allowed him to roam the palace to his heart's content. The thought made him feel powerful.

Before he could think about any reason not to do it, he was already jumping over the gap between the tree and the wall and swung his body into the palace gardens. The jump from the wall down to the ground was a hard one, but Jungkook had jumped from higher places in his life. Only this time he forgot that making a roll to take off the edge would inevitably put pressure on his wound, and he cursed quietly when he stumbled a few steps and almost ran into a small tree.

"Stupid lap dog," he pressed out through gritted teeth but was fast to press his lips together and hide behind one of the bushes when he saw a bobbing torch coming closer. A night patrol crossed the path in front of the wall. That was new. Apparently, the palace had learned something after Jungkook had broken in more than once.

When the patrol was out of sight, he dared to move again. Staying away from the paths and walking only in-between the trees and bushes, he avoided the tower on his way and eventually slipped through the hallway windows of an unguarded side of the palace complex. It was almost too easy to get inside. He smiled satisfied.

That was until he felt how short-breathed he already was from this little exercise. "So out of shape, Jungkook. You're slacking off," he whispered to himself and leaned against the wall for a moment. Being bound to the bed for one week had done him no good, and his back slowly started to pulse with pain as well. Maybe he should have stayed outside.

What did he even expect from going inside the palace? He could not kill the king because that would cause prince Namjoon to take the crown; he could not kill the consort because then he was sure that the little princess would cut off his head with her own hands; and the first prince and his mother were living next to the bathhouse outside the inner palace; his actions had been totally stupid.

Slowly, he slid down the wall. You need to think before acting, Jungkook, his master had said innumerable times. Fine. So Jungkook would think now. Should he just go back outside? Or was there something else he could do?

He could steal something. The palace was rich, and no one would care if something small was missing, but Jungkook would gain satisfaction from that. It would be like a keepsake of the time he had successfully slipped into the palace without being detected.

With a grin he stood up and sneaked toward the hallway door that led onto the yard and poked a hole into the paper screen to spy for guards outside. Everything was dark and quiet.

Thus, a moment later he stood in front of the first building. This was not the king's quarters and not the crown prince's either. Hence, this must be the place where...

Shaken from horror Jungkook pulled back the hand that had been about to open the door of the residence. This was the consort's place which meant that this building in front of him belonged to the third prince.

"Why do I have such bad luck?" he asked the door accusingly and sat down on the stairs he had just climbed. He could already hear Dahee's teasing. Even during an idle night, he had gone to find her brother's quarter; did he have second thoughts?

But then again, the little princess did not need to know where he had been, and the third prince sure had some valuable things that could be taken for a keepsake. Compared to his mother's hairpins those would most likely be of greater interest to Jungkook. Also, he was not prone on sneaking into a woman's room. Being convicted for theft, fine. Being convicted for being a pervert, no thank you.

You already have the handkerchief, a nasty voice in his head reminded him when he stood up to open the door, but he brushed it off. A handkerchief could barely be called valuable. What was a piece of fabric compared to gold and gems? A ring would be too showy, but maybe he could find a pendant.

Determined to bring this night to a satisfying end, Jungkook placed a hand on the door to enter the main room when a thought crossed his mind. The place he was most likely to find something valuable was the dressing room, so maybe he should not bother with the main room but slip in through the side window instead. If all the residences of the palace were the same, the dressing room should be on the left. Deciding that this was better than roaming the study, Jungkook walked around the house and jumped in through the window of said room.

The first thing he noticed when his eyes had gotten used to the darkness was that there was no wall that separated the dressing room from the other rooms like at the crown prince's and the first prince's quarters, which caused him to stand directly in the bedchamber of the third prince, and the second thing was the small shadow on the floor that came closer quickly.

Jungkook's first reaction was to kick at the strange shape but then he remembered that there was a dog the prince took care of and he crouched down instead to pet the shadow's ears and stuff its mouth with some sweets he had bought yesterday. A wet nose poked his hand.

"Good boy," he praised it with a last stroke of the head, wishing that the sweets would glue its teeth together. Hopefully he could find something valuable before the figure in bed would take notice of him.

The commode seemed the most likely place to find small goods.

But once he had stepped close enough to his furniture of interest, he was quick to retreat when a pale face stared back at him. On instinct, his hand reached for his dagger but only met emptiness. Right, the little princess had forgotten to give him his weapon in her eagerness to push him out of the window.

When nothing came at him, however, he took a closer look and found something quite amusing. What had glared at him was his own wanted picture just that this one looked strangely different. Someone had painted the whites of his eyes with red and had added two big horns to his forehead. Jungkook chuckled and looked at the lump on the bed. What a peculiar man the third prince was.

Suddenly in high spirits, Jungkook began to rummage the drawers of the commode. There were neatly arranged rings and bracelets, sangtugwans in all shapes and materials, and pendants of all shades of jade. A palm-sized dark one with a black tassel caught his eye and he slipped it into his lapels before closing the drawers again.

Satisfied with his catch, he looked back at the demon-ish drawing of himself. Who would have expected a prince to have a drawing of an assassin decorating their room. And not with a red cross over it, drawn in hatred for the attempt of killing their brother, but with the alluring thrill of a netherworld creature. More than anything it looked like an altar picture.

Jungkook's hands were itching to get the incense box that no doubt must be somewhere inside of here and place it under his portrait, but he did not want to scare the third prince to death when he found out that someone had been in his room at night, so he just chuckled and bowed to his own altar, palms pressed together in an attempt of a praying posture.

"Almighty Jungkook, hear my prayer of-"

It was a quiet rumble of slurred words that caused him to snap out of his bliss and made him turn his head into the direction of the bed. Apparently, his host had woken up. Time to leave.

But when he was about to climb out of a different window to avoid passing the bed, a painfilled whimper made him halt. When a choked sob followed, he was already moving back inside. The third prince was not awake, he was sleep talking. Well, as much as quiet sobbing could be called talking.

Cautious Jungkook walked closer. And indeed, the face of the prince was twisted, and his limbs moved weakly. What could someone like him possibly dream about to leave him in such a sorry state? Was his mother taking his money away? Did he not get the jewel he wanted?

"Jimn... no," the deep voice mumbled and Jungkook walked closer to listen. "Jimin. Jimin," the prince cried.

Jimin? The lap dog Jimin? Or was the prince dreaming of a girl? Hankwang House had a pleasure girl named Jimin.

Jungkook jumped in shock when a hand grabbed his trouser leg. He should leave. If this was a nightmare, the man was about to wake up and Jungkook should not challenge a horde of guards in his state. He might be the best in his line of profession, but he also knew his physical limits.

As gently as possible he tried to pry away the fingers from his clothes but failed against the death grip of the prince. Slowly starting to become nervous, he thought about his options. He could not take off his trousers and leave it here and he could not cut off a piece of fabric either or the man would know someone had broken in. And any technique of knocking the other out could as well cause him to wake up instead.

"Don', please don..." the deep voice kept blabbering and Jungkook's leg was pulled further onto the bed.

Was his karma truly this bad? If this kept going on, the next thing would be the prince hugging his leg in his sleep.

A peculiar idea crossed Jungkook's mind at that thought. But would that work with adults as well?

Slow and cautious, he kneeled on the bed next to the shaking man and stretched out a hand to stroke over the soft black hair. It felt like a delicate fabric rather than something on a human body. Did all the royal family members have such soft hair, or was it only that Jungkook's hair was too unkempt? A little overly self-aware he grabbed the messy topknot on his own head. It felt like straw.

The body under his hand stirred and rolled onto its side to curl around his knees, and Jungkook felt his heart almost lurching out of his chest.

Please don't wake up, he thought desperately and resumed stroking the prince's head. It felt stupid. All he had ever done was swinging a blade, and that was what he should be doing, but right now he was stuck with petting a grown man's head because he had not been able to keep down his curiosity and stay away from him. Stupid, so stupid.

But however silly, it seemed to work. The body in his care had stopped fidgeting and was breathing calmly again, so Jungkook's heartbeat slowed down as well. But with his heart slowing down, his thoughts became clearer as well.

This situation was undignifying and so below him that he wanted to hit something to calm down the anger that was curling in his guts. He did not even know whether he was angry at himself or at the prince, he just knew he wanted to see someone suffer. He wanted to see the pain his fist could cause and the fear they felt when they understood he was about to kill them.

And it would be so easy to end the live under his palm. He looked down at the sleeping face, and slowly his hand wandered deeper until his thumb came to rest on the pulse point of the man in his grasp. He held the power to end the future king's life in this very moment. It was his to decide whether to kill or to protect and it made him feel lightheaded and more powerful than roaming the palace grounds or poisoning the first prince ever could.

With every gush of blood that rushed past his thumb, his intent to kill grew stronger and stronger. But when his hand closed around the thick neck and he looked at the peaceful face, he remembered that he had no reason to kill the third prince. Ending this one's life was shedding blood in vain, and his master had told him that death without reason was like killing one's own soul.

The prince might picture him as a demon, but Jungkook was not. He had principles. And now that he thought about it, he also did not want to deal with the little princess in case her baby brother died.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, he let go of the prince's neck and pried away the long-fingered hand that no longer held to his trousers like it was a lifeline. He should never come back here. Tonight had been a stupid spur of the moment and Jungkook would learn from his mistake. He would stay away from the third prince.

After giving the dog another candy, he hurried out of the window.

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This is how a jade pendant/charm looks like: