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　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　.
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　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀,
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Jia's PoV

The moon hung high in the sky, its pale light spilling through the half-open blinds of Jia's bedroom, casting thin silver lines across the darkened room. She lay on her back, the blankets twisted around her legs, unable to find peace in the cool night air. Sleep was elusive, every time she closed her eyes, her mind refused to still. Her thoughts spun in circles, reeling from the day's events.

She shifted under the covers, the familiar ache of frustration pressing into her chest as her brain replayed the last few hours. The garden party, Ryu Han, Taehyung, and Jaehyun—it all felt like an intricate web of lies, suspicion, and unspoken tension. And there she was, tangled in the center of it all, struggling to keep herself from being pulled in deeper.

The night had been too perfect, too deceiving, with its beautiful surroundings masking the undercurrents of power and danger. The Han Church's influence loomed larger than ever, and with Ryu Han's unsettling presence still fresh in her memory, Jia couldn't help but wonder just how close she was to crossing the line from agent to target.

She sighed, turning onto her side, her cheek pressing into the cool pillow as her thoughts drifted back to her mission. Every step she'd taken, every decision she made, had led her to this moment. And yet, here she was, no closer to her goal of infiltrating Geum Entertainment's operations or understanding Jungkook's movements. The mission had been clear from the start—get close to Kim Taehyung, learn about Jungkook's operations through him, and gather enough information to bring down the entire empire. But so far, Taehyung remained a distant, impenetrable figure, while Jaehyun...

Jaehyun.

Jia bit her lip, the familiar knot of conflicting emotions tightening in her chest. Jaehyun was a puzzle she couldn't quite solve, and the more time she spent with him, the more tangled her feelings became. He was charming, unpredictable, and maddeningly confident. He was also supposed to be her way in—just another step in her mission.

But that was where the problem lay, wasn't it? Jaehyun wasn't just a step anymore. Somewhere along the way, he'd become something more, something complicated.

She rolled onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling as she thought of their banter, the way he'd teased her at the party earlier, the brief moments where their connection had felt genuine—unguarded. She hated to admit it, but there were times when she forgot who she was supposed to be around him. He had a way of disarming her, of making her laugh, even when she knew she shouldn't let her guard down.

Her mind wandered to the moment in the alleyway, when his lips had pressed against hers with such intensity that it had stolen her breath. She could still feel the echo of that kiss, the heat of his touch, the way her heart had raced against her will. She closed her eyes, willing the memory to fade, but it clung to her, stirring something deep within that she didn't want to acknowledge.

It was dangerous, this connection they had. Dangerous and reckless.

Because Jaehyun wasn't just a man. He was a means to an end. And yet, every time she thought about the mission, about using him to get to Taehyung, she hesitated. Something about him—whether it was his unpredictability or the fact that he made her feel alive in ways she hadn't in years—made it hard to think of him as just another pawn.

She groaned softly, rubbing her face with her hands, trying to push the thoughts away. It didn't matter how she felt about him. The mission came first. It always had, always would. But deep down, she knew that wasn't entirely true anymore. She was starting to care, and that was dangerous.

Jia sat up in bed, leaning her back against the cool wall as she pulled her knees to her chest. The mission felt like it was spiraling out of control, slipping further from her grasp with every passing day. She'd thought she could manipulate Jaehyun, get close to him to reach Taehyung, but now it felt like she was the one being played.

And there was another layer to her unease: Ryu Han. Seeing him at the party had shaken her. His presence reminded her just how deep the Han Church's roots went, how powerful they were, and how much danger she was truly in. The President's order to stay away from Ryu complicated everything, but now that she had seen the way Ryu and Taehyung interacted—she was convinced that he played a larger role in this than anyone at the NIS suspected.

She couldn't shake the feeling that Taehyung was at that party as more than just a guest. She knew better than to believe it was a coincidence. Taehyung had been invited for a reason—likely in place of Jungkook. But why? Was it a show of power, a way to taunt him after the destruction of his factory?

Her thoughts spiraled further, dissecting every glance, every word exchanged between Ryu, Taehyung, and Jaehyun. And then there was Jaehyun's reaction—the way his entire demeanor had shifted the moment Ryu appeared. He had gone from playful and relaxed to deadly serious in the blink of an eye, his body tense, his eyes sharp with something dark and dangerous. It wasn't just caution she had seen in him. It was personal.

But why? Why would Jaehyun, the marketing manager of Geum Entertainment, care so deeply about Ryu Han, a man who should have been nothing more than a powerful religious leader? What had Ryu Han done to him that made him so angry and willing for revenge? And why had Taehyung looked equally unsettled? There were too many unanswered questions, and Jia knew that if she wasn't careful, she could easily find herself caught in the crossfire between these men.

The thought made her shiver. She needed to stay focused, needed to keep her eye on the prize—Jungkook. The ultimate target. Everything hinged on getting close to him, uncovering the truth of his criminal empire, and bringing him down. But now there were too many pieces on the board, and she wasn't sure which ones were working together or which would turn against her.

She exhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. The mission felt like it was unraveling, but she couldn't afford to lose control. Not now. Not when she was so close. She had to play her cards carefully, to stay ahead of the game.

And yet, as she lay back down, pulling the blanket over her, she couldn't stop thinking about Jaehyun. The way his smile had faded when Ryu appeared, the dangerous glint in his eyes when he'd watched Ryu walk away. There was something about him she still didn't understand, something he was hiding. But whatever it was, it was tied to Ryu Han.

Her mind kept circling back to the same question, one that left a sour taste in her mouth: Was Jaehyun more involved in this than he let on? The NIS gave her a clean slate for his name, but the only problem was, what would happen if she pushed too hard?

As her eyes drifted shut, sleep finally beginning to pull her under, she whispered a silent promise to herself.

'The mission comes first.'

'Always.'

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Jeon Jungkook sat in his usual spot, a booth draped in luxury with its velvet cushions and golden accents, the smell of alcohol mingling with the heavy scent of perfume lingering in the air. His dark eyes, sharp and unreadable, gazed at the glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid swirling as he tilted it lazily.

The room pulsed with low music, the bass vibrating through the walls, though the sound was muted here, as if the club itself respected his presence. Jungkook was deep in thought, his mind playing over recent events. The garden party, Ryu Han's appearance, the way Taehyung had kept a careful distance. And then there was Jia. He couldn't shake the image of her from his mind—the fire in her eyes, the way she held herself amidst the deceit.

The door creaked open, and without even looking up, Jungkook knew who it was. One of the club's workers entered, her outfit leaving little to the imagination. She moved with deliberate slowness, the sway of her hips calculated to draw his attention. Her eyes locked onto him, a coy smile curving her lips, as she sidled up next to him.

"Thought you might need some company tonight," she purred, her voice dripping with suggestion as she leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath on his neck.

Jungkook's gaze flickered to her, but there was no real interest in his eyes. She was just part of the scenery—something that came with the power he wielded, the status he held in this city. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, letting the silence linger for a moment before finally speaking, his voice low and cold.

"I'm not in the mood." His words were blunt, his tone dismissive, but it didn't deter her. She giggled lightly, fingers brushing over his forearm as if trying to coax him.

"Maybe I could change that," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear now, her hand resting on his thigh.

Jungkook's jaw tightened slightly, but his face remained impassive. He set his glass down with a soft clink, finally turning his full attention to her. His eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his features, and in an instant, the playful atmosphere she'd been trying to create evaporated. There was no mistaking the quiet danger in his gaze.

"You don't change anything," he said, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "Now, leave."

The woman froze for a beat, her confidence faltering under his stare. There was no more room for flirtation, no more space for her to try to push his boundaries. With a small, nervous smile, she quickly stood and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind her.

Alone once again, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable. He reached for his whiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass as he brought it back to his lips. His thoughts drifted back to Jia, their tangled web of lies and attraction tightening with each encounter. There was something about her, something dangerous and exciting, something that gnawed at him in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

The sound of the club's distant music faded into the background, as Jungkook's mind began to spin a different kind of strategy.

Jungkook swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his mind slipping from thoughts of Jia to the Han Church, and specifically, to Ryu Han. A low chuckle escaped his lips, though no one else was there to hear it. The audacity of Ryu Han amused him—the man parading around with his sense of power, reveling in the illusion that he held some sort of advantage simply because Jungkook hadn't retaliated yet.

'Let him think that', Jungkook mused, lips curling into a faint, dangerous smile as he brought the glass back to his mouth. The whiskey burned pleasantly as it slid down his throat, grounding him in the dark amusement of his thoughts. He hadn't retaliated—yet. But that wasn't because he lacked the power to do so. No, his silence had been calculated, a careful decision to let the old man build his little empire within the shadows of the Han Church, oblivious to the fact that Jungkook had been watching. Always watching.

'Power is a funny thing', he mulled, staring into his glass as if it held the secrets of the world. People like Ryu Han always mistook silence for weakness, believing that if there was no immediate strike, there was no threat. He chuckled again, the sound dark and low. It wasn't the first time someone had underestimated him, but it never failed to amuse him just how shortsighted people could be.

Ryu Han's little garden party earlier had been a clear display of his arrogance, the way the old man walked through his sea of supporters, pretending he was untouchable. Jungkook had noticed the subtle shifts in Taehyung's demeanour, too—the way he had stiffened slightly when Ryu Han appeared. No one else might have caught it, but Jungkook had spent years learning to read the smallest of tells. Taehyung had played his part well, but the tension was there.

And then there was Jaehyun—the mask Jungkook wore. Jungkook couldn't help but find the whole situation amusing; here he was, slipping through the cracks of the very world the NIS was desperate to tear apart. Jia had no idea. Ryu Han had no idea. To them, Jaehyun was just another cog in the machine, a man they could mould or manipulate. 'Fools.'

But soon, the pieces would fall into place. He knew how to bide his time, to let the illusion of power swell around those who thought they held it, only to strip it away when they least expected. And when he did, the fall would be catastrophic.

Ryu Han had been clever—crafting his little cult under the guise of religion, weaving corruption through politics, through men like those at the garden party. But he had made one crucial mistake: believing that because Jungkook hadn't struck, he wouldn't.

'Patience is its own form of power', Jungkook reminded himself, tipping his glass toward the dim light of the VIP room. He smirked as he thought of Ryu Han's face when the tables would turn. Jungkook had no doubt that the man had anticipated retaliation after burning his textile factory, a silent expectation lingering in the air. The fact that Jungkook had done nothing yet must have lulled Ryu Han into a false sense of security, making him think that perhaps, just perhaps, Jungkook wasn't as formidable as the legends said.

'Let him think that.'

Because when the time came, Ryu Han would realise just how wrong he had been. When Jungkook moved, it wouldn't be a quiet strike. It would be devastating.

He glanced at his phone on the table, a notification lighting up the screen. Another update on the Han Church's movements, perhaps? He didn't bother to check. He had enough information for now. What interested him more was how close Jia was getting to uncovering the layers of the church, oblivious to the fact that Jaehyun and Jungkook were one and the same. She had no idea that her so-called ally would soon destroy everything Ryu Han had built. And after that?

He drained the last of his whiskey, the glass clinking as he set it down on the table.

'After that, Jia, we'll see where your loyalties really lie.'

With that final thought, a dangerous gleam sparked in his eyes, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The game was far from over, but Jungkook knew one thing for certain: he would win, and when he did, he'd take down everyone who had dared to challenge him—including Ryu Han.

As Jungkook finished his last sip of whiskey, savoring the burn and the weight of his thoughts, the door to the VIP room swung open. Taehyung strode in, his usually calm demeanor cracking with urgency. Jungkook didn't flinch, his body still relaxed, lounging back in the plush seat, but he raised an eyebrow at the abrupt entrance.

"Jungkook," Taehyung began, slightly out of breath, "Mujin's come up with a plan. He thinks it's time to move on to the Han Church. He's got a strategy mapped out—something that can wipe them out completely."

Jungkook placed his glass down on the table with deliberate slowness, the clink of glass against wood the only sound in the room for a beat. His dark eyes flicked up to Taehyung, expression unreadable. He let the silence hang between them, knowing it would force Taehyung to say more, to fill the void.

"Mujin's certain," Taehyung pressed, stepping closer, his voice a mix of excitement and tension. "The timing is perfect. Ryu Han is too comfortable right now. He's convinced we're not going to retaliate. He won't see this coming."

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and amused. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on Taehyung's face. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice smooth but laced with something darker beneath the surface.

Taehyung nodded, his expression serious. "This could be it. We hit them hard, fast, and they won't have time to react. Ryu Han will be finished, and the Han Church will crumble. No more games."

Jungkook studied him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a relaxed motion. His lips curled into a half-smile, but there was no warmth in it. "And what makes Mujin think we should rush into this?" he asked, voice calm, but the question hung in the air like a knife.

Taehyung hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Because waiting could give them time to regroup. If we don't move now, they might grow stronger."

Jungkook's smile widened, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Let them regroup," he said, voice soft but carrying a weight of authority. "Let them believe they're untouchable. The more comfortable Ryu Han feels, the harder he'll fall when I'm ready to strike."

Taehyung shifted, clearly conflicted between following Mujin's aggressive approach and Jungkook's more patient strategy. "But Jungkook, if we wait too long—"

"I said wait," Jungkook interrupted, his tone turning sharp, though he hadn't raised his voice. The sudden change in his attitude was palpable, the air in the room thickening with tension. "This isn't about rushing in and throwing punches. It's about playing the long game. You know that."

Taehyung took a breath, nodding slowly. He knew better than to argue once Jungkook had made a decision. Jungkook was always five steps ahead, seeing the angles others missed.

Jungkook stood up, moving to the window that overlooked the city, his hands sliding into the pockets of his tailored black trousers. He stared out at the glowing skyline, his reflection faintly visible in the glass, but his mind was far from the view.

"Ryu Han thinks he's in control," Jungkook mused, his voice a low hum, more to himself than to Taehyung. "He thinks because I haven't retaliated yet, I won't. That's the mistake he's made. The longer we let him play his game, the more satisfying it'll be when we tear it all down."

He turned back to Taehyung, his expression unreadable once more. "Tell Mujin to hold off. I'll decide when it's time to move."

Taehyung nodded, swallowing back any further protest. He knew Jungkook's way—patience laced with ruthlessness, and the results were always devastating when he finally decided to act.

"As you wish, Jungkook," Taehyung said, bowing his head slightly before turning to leave.

But just as he reached the door, Jungkook spoke again, his voice softer but carrying a sharp edge. "And Taehyung, make sure Ryu Han stays comfortable. I want him to feel untouchable."

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder, catching the faint smirk on Jungkook's lips. "Understood."

As the door closed behind him, Jungkook returned to his seat, picking up his glass again, though it was empty now. He swirled it in the air, as if still savouring the taste of his whiskey, his mind spinning with thoughts of the Han Church, Ryu Han, and the coming storm that only he knew was brewing.

Let them believe they've won.

The real game hadn't even begun.

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Ahh this might be a bit of a boring chapter I'm soo sorry!!

I promise the next one is interesting 💯

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