*SHE WAS LIKE A WAR AND I WAS DETERMINED TO WIN*

<Night 11pm>

"Hey, Park Jimin," Prince Ji-hyeok began in his drunken state, holding his glass of mokgolli.

"If you are Kim’s son, then why did you change your royal last name to Park, huh?" he slurred, a mocking grin on his face.

Prince Park Jimin was sitting in a circle with his five friends in his spacious royal chamber. They were drinking mokgolli together, the room thick with the heavy scent of alcohol.

"I hate my father to death," Jimin snapped, his words bitter and harsh as the alcohol took its toll. "That bastard never once cared about me or my mother! He left my mother to die when she was ill and never gave a damn about us! That’s why I changed my surname to my mother's," he spat, each word full of venom, as he took another gulp of his drink.

"Jimin, we’re out of alcohol!" one of his friends whined.

"Ye-nam!" Jimin yelled, his frustration boiling over. "Ye-nam!! You b!tch!" he screamed again, but there was no answer. "That stupid b!tch, I’ll slice her head in two!" he raged, rising unsteadily to his feet. "This is my place in this house!" His nostrils flared, chest heaving with anger. "When I become King, I’m going to kill all of them!" he roared, storming out of the room to fetch more alcohol for himself and his friends.

Yesol was passing by Jimin's quarters when his friends spotted her.

"Hey, Yesol!!!" one of them shouted. She stopped, turning to face them with a furrowed brow. "Come here!" they called her towards their seats. With a roll of her eyes, she reluctantly approached them.

"Pour me a drink, come on!" one of them demanded, raising his bottle. She clenched her jaw in anger, feeling insulted, and looked down in disdain.

"We don't serve dogs," she retorted, raising an eyebrow.

All the princes lifted their heads in surprise at the insult from a woman. Their pride was wounded by Yesol’s bold words.

"What?" Ji-hyeok howled, his alcohol-fueled haze lifting as his ego took over. He glared at her, fury in his eyes.

"WE. DON'T. SERVE. DOGS, you punk!" she repeated loudly, her voice unyielding.

Prince Tae-sang stood up and grabbed her hair roughly. "What did you say, you b!tch?!" he snarled, tightening his grip. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the pain, trying to free herself from his hold.

"Leave!" she threatened, her voice tight and determined.

"Do you know what will happen if Jimin finds out? Huh?!" he yelled, his breath hot in her ear. "Fvcking pour me a drink, Kim Yesol!!" His voice boomed with male pride.

"What's going on here?" Jimin’s voice rang out from the back, drawing everyone's attention. He entered the room, and Tae-sang released his grip, shoving Yesol away lightly. She glared at Jimin, already knowing whatever came next wouldn't be in her favor.

"We asked Yesol to pour us a drink, but she insulted us instead!" Ji-hyeok stood, pointing at her.

Jimin fixed her with a cold, deathly glare. "Pour them a drink, Yesol," he ordered, his tone dark and commanding. She didn't budge, continuing to look at his shameless brother. "Fvcking pour my friends a drink, you w!tch!!" he yelled, his voice booming and making Yesol flinch at the force of his words.

When she didn’t move to obey Jimin’s orders, he grabbed her chin roughly, causing pain to shoot through Yesol’s body. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the cold, unreasoning hate burning in Jimin’s gaze.

“You will pour all of us a drink,” he gritted through clenched teeth, his grip tightening in a silent threat.

“How shameless can you be, asking your sister to pour a drink for your friends?” she questioned, her voice trembling and breaking with emotion.

“You deserve it!” he shot back, his words sharp and cold.

Tears slid down her cheeks, her body shaking as she sobbed. “Oraboni...” she sniffled. “What did I ever do to deserve this? Why do you hate me so much?” The question hung in the air, her heart breaking as she sought the reason behind his cruelty. It wasn’t his actions that hurt her the most, but the seething hatred packed in his words. Now, she needed to understand why.

“Why do I hate you so much? You’re curious?” he sneered, tightening his hold on her chin. “I hate your smile! I hate how you’re always so happy, Yesol. I hate how easy your life is, while I’ve had to fight for everything. I hate your happiness, I hate your ease!” His voice was full of venom.

“You think my life is easy just because I’m happy?” she asked, her voice faltering with the weight of his accusation. She was broken, crushed by his words.

“Is it not, Yesol?” he scoffed. “You became a princess the moment you were born, then the Queen of the largest kingdom in Korea…” He shook his head in disgust. “That’s why I hate you. I hate your life, it’s like a sharp thorn in my eye—it burns, it hurts me. Do you want to know more?” He pushed her down, his eyes dark with contempt.

Yesol cried silently, feeling the sharp sting of Jimin's fingers still imprinted on her cheeks. But the physical pain barely registered anymore. Jimin had never cared to know her, to understand the truth of her life or the struggles she faced.

He had never tried to see beyond the surface of her happiness, yet he had formed a cruel opinion of her. His harsh words dug deep, leaving marks far worse than the ones on her skin. She felt as fragile as cracked glass—one more hit, one more unkind word, and she would shatter completely.

His accusations had once hurt her less, when she didn't understand why he despised her. But now, knowing the reason behind his hatred—something so painfully unjust—made his words ache even more.

How could her own brother hate her for something as simple as her happiness? A happiness that, in truth, had been a mere mask she wore. He had never seen the real her, the one who had learned to smile through her pain.

Words were the sharpest weapons. They didn't just hurt—they stayed, they festered, and they changed you. Jimin’s words, cruel and unrelenting, had done just that. They had lodged themselves in her mind, becoming a constant, unwelcome companion.

Today, Prince Jimin hadn’t just hurt her—he had scarred her, giving her a trauma she would never be able to escape from. A memory that would haunt her forever.

____________________

"Welcome home, Min Yoongi!" Jungkook greeted with a sneaky smile, the mock affection dripping from his voice.

Lord Min Yoongi, standing at 5'10", was unbothered as his servants fussed over his attire. Without even sparing a glance at the man who had just called him out, he remained focused on his own reflection.

Yoongi, one of the greatest rulers of the 18th century, was the undisputed master of Jeju Island. With his imposing presence, he had earned respect through both his strength and intellect. A man who was skilled in everything from sword fighting to archery to wrestling, Yoongi's true passion was war.

He relished the thrill of battle and the bloodshed of his enemies. Though he was 1.74m tall, his stature was the least significant thing about him. His hands and mouth were sharper than any blade, able to cut down adversaries with precision and ease.

Jeju, a small yet fiercely coveted island, was protected by Yoongi's unwavering dominance. To outsiders, it was an impossible fortress; no one could step foot on the island without his permission, and even the idea of taking Jeju from him was laughable.

Jungkook and Yoongi shared a bond, one forged in mutual trust. For Jungkook, Yoongi was the closest thing to an older brother, a constant in his life who he could rely on. Yoongi, in turn, viewed Jungkook as the younger brother he never had, someone he could trust beyond all others. They could betray the world, but not each other.

Yoongi finally turned around, a dangerous glint in his eyes. With a speed that seemed to defy time, he hurled a vase at Jungkook, his frustration evident. "Call me HYUNG, you punk!" he hissed, his tone sharp with irritation.

And as if he already anticipated the vase coming his way, Jungkook effortlessly caught it mid-air, avoiding the hit with a smirk. Yoongi, his pale face showing a hint of annoyance, watched as his servants left his quarters. Once the room was clear, Yoongi stepped closer to Jungkook, his eyes tracing the taller man's figure. He looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Yaah, somebody look at this boy. Last time I saw you, you were smaller than me!" Yoongi grumbled, narrowing his eyes in mock disapproval.

Jungkook chuckled. "That was five years ago, Min forgetful Yoongi. I was 17 then."

Yoongi scoffed. "I told you to call me 'hyung', you brat!" His hands moved as if ready to grab him.

"Alright, HYUNG!" Jungkook teased, raising his voice just to provoke him further.

Yoongi shook his head. "Kids nowadays have no respect for their elders. Didn't even bring me a welcome gift!" he muttered, throwing a side-eye at Jungkook.

Their playful banter, though light, carried the depth of years spent together, their friendship forged in moments like these.

"Aye, Hyung, I'm not that bad of a brother. I do have a gift for you," Jungkook said with a mischievous grin. "A VERY FUN GIFT!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. He knew Jungkook could never disappoint him. The playful tension between them was palpable, the kind that only years of close friendship could create.

______________________

CRASH!!

Moments later, horrifying screams and the clashing sounds of swords filled the air, breaking through the doors of Jimin's room. Everyone in the room, including Jimin's friends, froze, their eyes wide with fear. The alcohol that had once flowed freely now felt heavy in their veins, replaced by a sharp, instinctual terror. They glanced at each other, unsure, yet knowing danger was imminent.

Without hesitation, Jimin rushed to grab his sword, his movements swift and precise. He made his way to the door, his friends following behind him, their gazes fixed on the door in tense anticipation.

Jimin unlocked the door to reveal a scene of chaos. Court ladies and servants ran inside, their faces pale with terror, while soldiers rushed out, weapons in hand. Was it a war?

"What is happening in the palace?" Jimin demanded, his voice edged with urgency as he caught one of the court ladies by the arm.

"The—the Jeons broke in, Prince!" she stammered, tears streaking down her face.

"What?" Jimin whispered, his muscles tense, every nerve on high alert. It was war. He released the lady and moved swiftly, his friends trailing behind him. They left the room in a hurry, leaving Yesol standing alone.

"The Jeons..." Yesol murmured, her sister's words echoing in her mind. A chill ran down her spine. She swallowed hard, panic rising within her chest, before bolting out of the room without a second thought.

Yesol’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat like a drum of terror. The thought of Jeon Jungkook—his merciless eyes, his reputation as the most dangerous man in the kingdom—haunted her. She had heard the rumors, the stories, of the cruelty that ran through his veins. In her mind, he was nothing short of a monster.

His very name brought a chill to her spine, and the idea of facing him, even in the chaos of a war, filled her with paralyzing fear. All she had ever known about him was his strength, his ruthless determination, and his ability to strike without hesitation.

To her, Jungkook wasn’t just a threat; he was the embodiment of fear itself, a force of nature that could wipe away everything in an instant. The only way to survive, she believed, was to stay out of his path.

Her wide brown eyes filled with tears as the horrific scene unfolded before her. Every step felt like it took her deeper into a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

She had imagined war, read about it in history books, but nothing could have prepared her for the brutal reality. The carnage, the senseless violence, the innocent lives caught in the crossfire—it was too much for her to bear. She felt helpless, a fragile observer in a world of chaos.

Her chest tightened, her breathing ragged, as she forced herself to keep moving, her heart a heavy weight in her chest. She wanted to stop it all. She wanted to run to the front lines, to fight, to do something.

She wanted to save the people who were dying, to protect them from the madness that consumed the palace. But all she could do was run—run for her life, for her survival. She was a princess, born to be a queen, to stand above the fray, to remain untouched by the darkness that swirled around her. But in this moment, she felt like nothing more than a helpless girl, too weak to make a difference.

And then suddenly she bumped into something hard, she stumbled almost falling towards the gravity when a man pulled her against him by her wrist. She gasped meeting his cold eyes, her own face tear soaked and a mask of fear and powerless-ness.

Yesol’s heart raced as she struggled to free herself from his grip. The man’s hold on her was firm and unyielding, his fingers digging into her waist like steel bands.

His dark eyes glinted beneath the cloth that covered his face, making her skin crawl with unease. She could feel the heat from his body pressing against hers, and the discomfort twisted in her gut. The man's presence was suffocating, his every movement calculated and controlled.

Her breaths hitched when he pulled her closer into him. Yesol’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but fear clouded her thoughts. Who was he? Why had he stopped her? She couldn’t think, only react, her body shaking with a mixture of fear and revulsion.

Her eyes darted around, desperate for a way out. She was trapped—caught in the iron grip of a stranger with no way of knowing what he intended. Her pulse quickened, her body screaming for freedom, but the man only seemed to enjoy her helplessness, his grip never loosening. Every second felt like an eternity.

"You are majestic, lady," Jungkook spoke through his mask, his words laced with filthy thoughts as he admired her helplessness.

"Leave her, Jeon Jungkook!" Seokjin shouted, stepping forward, his sword now pressed to Jungkook's neck. Jungkook scoffed, reluctantly releasing his hold on Yesol’s slim waist. She stumbled back, finding a small semblance of safety behind Jin. Seokjin took a step closer, his sword still aimed at Jungkook, eyes burning with fury.

"Go back to your quarters, Yesol!" Jin commanded, voice stern. She nodded silently, stepping away from them, but Jungkook tilted his head to watch her retreat past Seokjin’s broad frame.

"Respectfully, Jungkook!" Seokjin’s warning was sharp, but Jungkook only tilted his head, eyes still fixed on Yesol’s form as she left, the space between them suddenly too far.

Jungkook removed his mask, the sly grin not leaving his lips. "Respect would be the last thing I’d give," he said, his gaze never straying from her. "And... Yesol?" His smile turned almost imperceptibly softer, a flicker of something deeper in his voice. "The way she looked at me... there's something more beneath that fearful mask, isn't there?"

Seokjin's grip on his sword tightened, a growl escaping his throat. "You're talking about my Queen," he seethed.

"Queen?" Jungkook chuckled softly. "No wonder King Kim Seokjin is out in the middle of the night..." His voice held a certain cold amusement. "But maybe... she has something to offer, more than you realize."

"That’s none of your fvcking business!" Seokjin snapped, pressing the blade closer, his anger barely contained.

Jungkook's expression darkened, the playful edge to his words turning sharp. "I’m not sorry to say this, but now that she’s in my line of sight, she’s become my business," he said coolly, stepping closer as if testing the space between them. "One night, maybe? Just to see what lies behind those eyes of hers... I think she’s hiding something, Seokjin. Something you haven’t yet seen, something you will never see..." he mocked.

Jungkook stood there, still watching the empty hallway behind Jin, his mind far from the present moment. His thoughts lingered on Yesol—her presence, her grace, the way her fear had blended so seamlessly with her determination.

There was something raw about her, something real that he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was undeniable; it was the way her eyes, wide with fear yet sharp with something else, had locked onto his.

He let out a quiet breath, his eyes still following the empty path she had taken. What was it about her? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the pull was undeniable. There was more to this encounter than just tonight—he was certain of that. And for once, Jungkook didn’t mind the mystery.

Seokjin smirked, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think someone as dirty, worthless, and good-for-nothing as you has the privilege to even look at her? You don't deserve to even lay eyes on the princess."

Jungkook's gaze darkened, a small smirk forming, though it held traces of pain, anger, and something almost resigned. "You're right, Seokjin," he said quietly, his tone colder than before. "I don't deserve anything in this world." He let his gaze fall to the floor for a moment, then snapped his eyes back to Jin's. "But you know what people like me do when we’re denied those privileges?"

A dark smile curled on his lips, one that was equal parts unsettling and confident. "We start to seize" he said, his voice dropping into something more dangerous, his eyebrow arched in challenge.

Seokjin's grip tightened on his sword, his muscles tense as he growled, "So, you're saying you're going to snatch her from me?"

Jungkook's expression never wavered, his voice low and deadly, "Don’t test me, Seokjin. I can kill for what I want. And if it comes to that, it could cost you more than just your life—it could cost you your kingdom." His words hung in the air, heavy with threat, as his gaze never left Seokjin's.

"I do not fear you, Jeon Jungkook. Men like you are nothing compared to someone like me. People like you should be cleaning my boots" Seokjin sneered.

Jungkook's grin was tight, his patience wearing thin. "You made a mistake, Seokjin. A big mistake. Until now, I was merely asking for her, but now, I will claim her over your funeral," he said coldly, his eyes narrowing, darkening with intent. His thoughts were consumed by the lengths he'd go to for Yesol. She was no longer a desire; she had become an absolute demand—something he would take at any cost.

Seokjin scoffed, stepping back, his sword still held firmly in hand. "Try all you want, you will never have her. She belongs to me."

Jungkook's eyes never left him as he turned to leave, his words hanging in the air like a promise. He didn’t look back, but the threat was clear—this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

_______________________

"There shall be no war here anymore!" Jungkook’s voice rang out sharply across the courtyard from the balcony of the Kim's Castle. His commanding presence drew the attention of every soldier. "Back to our kingdom!" he ordered coldly, then turned and walked away from the center of the balcony, his footsteps steady and unfazed as he descended the stairs.

Yoongi stood at the edge of the courtyard, eyes narrowed in disbelief. "What did this punk just say?" he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t going to let this slide so easily. "Yaah, Jeon Jungkook!" Yoongi called out sharply, his voice cutting through the air. Without waiting for an answer, he jogged out of the castle, determined to catch up with the reckless man.

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