🥀75. 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞

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Taehyung approached Rosie's door. He had practically sprinted from his car, a gnawing anxiety building in his chest after hearing the urgency in her voice.

Something was wrong. He could feel in the way she had spoken, the tremor beneath her words.

He didn't bother knocking. Instead, he pushed the door open to find Rosie seated at her desk, her hands gripping the edges of an ancient-looking book. The golden light from a nearby lamp bathed her face, highlighting her troubled eyes.

"Rosie," Taehyung called softly, stepping into the room.

His voice brought her gaze to him, and the relief in her expression was immediate, though the tension remained.

"You came," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she motioned for him to come closer.

Taehyung crossed the room quickly, his sharp eyes scanning her and the desk. His gaze landed on the book in her trembling hands.

"What happened?"

"This.... book," Rosie exhaled shakily, her fingers brushing against the now-dim pages of the book.

"This... this isn't just a book," she began, her words faltering. "It's something else. It showed me—" She broke off, struggling to put the enormity of her thoughts into words.

"It showed me something I think you need to see."

"Take your time," he said gently, his voice steady. "Start from the beginning."

Rosie nodded, inhaling deeply as she tried to steady-state herself. "I was working here when the book suddenly began glowing," she explained, motioning to the ornate object in her hands. "It flipped open on its own. The pages—" Her voice faltered again, and she bit her lip. "The pages started writing themselves, Tae. It was... magic."

Taehyung's brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He leaned closer, inspecting the book. Though the text on the pages had faded, faint traces of ink glimmered under the light.

"What did it show you?"

Rosie hesitated before placing the book carefully on the desk. "I don't know how to explain it. But you need to see it for yourself." She looked at him, her gaze pleading.

"Touch it, Taehyung. It's like it reacts to the one meant to read it."

Taehyung didn't hesitate. He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the book's worn cover. The moment his hand made contact, a golden glow arose from the pages, and the air in the room grew heavier.

The book began to shine faintly and Taehyung's hand instinctively moved to the open page. As soon as his fingers grazed the paper, the ink began to swirl, reforming itself into sharp lines.

Taehyung's breath hitched as the ink swirled violently on the page. His hand trembled against the desk, his knuckles white. Taehyung's body stiffened, every muscle tensed like a bowstring. His discerning eyes widened with disbelief.

The image sharpened, pulling him into its depths.

A large moon hung in the ink-black sky, casting an eerie glow over the scene. Two figures were in the frame. One lay motionless on the ground, while the other knelt beside them, trembling. Taehyung's eyes widened, his vision blurring as the details became clearer.

The kneeling figure... It was him.

And the one on the ground—Taehyung felt the air leave his lungs.

"No... no, no," he whispered, his voice breaking.

The figure on the ground... her pale face, framed by dark locks, was serene in a way that filled him with dread.

Jungkook.

His wife's eyes closed as if in eternal slumber. Blood pooled beneath her, seeping into the unforgiving ground, the crimson stark against her white dress.

Taehyung's breaths became shallow, his fingers tightened against the desk's edge. His trembling fingers reached for the book, as if touching it could somehow change what he was seeing.

His lips trembling as he whispered hoarsely, "No! This isn't real," he choked, his voice raw.

His gaze darted to Rosie but she couldn't meet his eyes. Her trembling hands were pressed to her chest, her face pale.

She didn't need to say anything; her silence was confirmation enough.

Taehyung's eyes snapped back to the book, burning with desperation as the vision replayed.

The ink shimmered more brightly, replaying the scene again. His own figure shook Jungkook's limp body, blood smearing his hands as he clutched her, shaking her lifeless form. He was shouting something, his face contorted with grief and desperation, but the sound was muted, leaving Taehyung with only the visual torment.

The grief etched into his face was unlike anything Taehyung had ever seen of himself, and yet it felt horrifyingly real, like an insight of a truth he wasn't ready to accept.

He stumbled a step back, the chair screeching against the floor. His chest heaved, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. The calm Taehyung was replaced by a man stripped raw by a terror he didn't know how to fight.

"This isn't real," he muttered, shaking his head sharply as if he could will the image away.

"This can't be real."

But the book didn't relent. The ink shifted, showing the same scene again, more vivid this time.

Taehyung's knees buckled and he fell against the desk, his hands gripping its surface like a lifeline. His broad shoulders trembled as he leaned over, his head dipping low, eyes fixed on the cursed book.

"Stop it..." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the command carried a raw desperation.

The vision only grew louder in his mind, louder than the hammering of his own heartbeat.

Jungkook, lifeless.

Blood.

His own reflection, broken.

"STOP IT!"

The roar tore from his chest, shaking the room as his fist slammed onto the desk beside the book. The force of the blow rattled the lamp and sent a stack of papers fluttering to the ground.

Rosie flinched, her back pressing against the wall. Taehyung's gaze was fixed back on the book, a storm raging behind his eyes. He shook his head again, his lips pressing into a thin line as if trying to contain the scream clawing at his throat.

Finally, Taehyung's hand lashed out. He grabbed the book and slammed it against the desk before hurling it across the room with a ferocity that left Rosie frozen in place.

The book hit the floor with a sickening thud, its ancient pages fluttering open as it landed. Loose sheets scattered like feathers in the air, gliding to the ground in slow motion, illuminated faintly by the dying golden glow weakly from the book's center.

The golden glow faded, leaving only the oppressive darkness of the room.

Taehyung stood rooted, his chest heaving, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

But his eyes...

His eyes betrayed the battle within, a war between disbelief and the fear that this vision was more than just a trick.

Rosie's trembling voice cut through the stillness.

"Taehyung..."

He didn't turn to her. His jaw clenched and his dark eyes remained locked on the discarded book as if daring it to come to life again. But his rigid posture, his slightly trembling shoulders betrayed the turmoil roiling within him. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal.

"This... lie... it's not real," he spat, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

"Taehyung, stop. Listen to me."

He froze mid-step, his head snapping toward her, his gaze sharp.

"What, Rosie? What is this? What the hell does it mean?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion.

"Why am I seeing this? Why is it her?"

Rosie hesitated, the truth heavy on her tongue. But there was no time for hesitation. Taehyung deserved the answers, even if they would cut deep.

"It's the blood moon," she said quietly, her voice trembling with fear. "The scene you saw... it's a future tied to the blood moon."

Taehyung's brow furrowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "What does that have to do with Jungkook?"

Rosie swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his piercing gaze. She drew a deep breath, willing her voice to steady as she explained.

"As you know, the blood moon is a rare celestial event, one that amplifies magic—both light and dark. It's a time when fates are often decided, when destinies are sealed. The book..." She motioned to the artifact lying still on the floor, its glow now faint but persistent.

"It's tied to that power. It reveals glimpses of what might come to pass."

Rosie faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor. The words felt like poison on her tongue. But she had to say them. Slowly, she raised her eyes back to Taehyung, whose expression was a maelstrom of anguish and fury.

"This is the truth, Taehyung," she said, her voice breaking. "On the blood moon night, Jungkook, the Alara, is meant to di—"

"NO!"

Taehyung's roar tore through the room, shaking the very air around them. The walls seemed to tremble under the force of his fury. Rosie flinched, instinctively stepping back as his rage crackled like electricity in the confined space.

His chest heaved, his eyes blazing with a dangerous intensity as he took a step toward her.

"Don't," he hissed, his voice low and trembling, barely contained. "Don't you dare complete that sentence."

Rosie's breath hitched, her throat dry as she stared at him.

"Taehyung," she tried again, softer this time, her voice trembling as she reached out a hand. "This isn't easy for me to say, but you have to understand—this prophecy, this vision—it isn't set in stone. But it's what the stars have aligned for."

"Aligned?" he repeated, the word laced with venom, his voice like ice. He took a step closer to her, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the dimly lit room. His lips curled in a bitter sneer.

"I don't care what's aligned. I don't care what the stars say. I'll tear them from the sky myself before I let that happen."

His hands clenched into fists, the nails biting into his palms hard enough to draw blood, but he didn't notice. His mind was consumed by the image from the book, the haunting vision of Jungkook lying still in his arms, her warmth stolen away.

The sight branded itself into his soul, a wound that bled despair and rage in equal measure.

Rosie hesitated, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the edges of the ancient book. The air between them was thick with unspoken truths that could shatter everything. She could see the battle raging in his dark, stormy eyes—a man who had endured pain but was now teetering on the edge of something far greater.

But she had to say it—he needed to hear it.

"Taehyung," Rosie began, her voice was firmer though grief trembled beneath it. She steadied herself and locked eyes with him.

"Do you know why Jungkook is the Alara? Why she was chosen?"

His jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining as he ground his teeth. He didn't respond but his silence urged her to continue.

"She is the light to your darkness," Rosie said, her tone softening as she stepped closer, though caution kept her at arm's length.

"The one who can pierce through the shadows that have haunted you your entire life. Do you think it's a coincidence that she came into your life, Taehyung? That she stood by you, even when the world turned against you? She's more than just your wife, your partner—she's your salvation."

Taehyung's breath hitched, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words, his broad shoulders stiffening.

Unspoken memories of Jungkook flooded his mind: her melodic giggles when she tease him, her voice soft as she called his name in the quietest hours of the night, the fire in her eyes when she challenged him, refusing to let him retreat into his shadows.

"And on the blood moon night," Rosie continued, her tone heavy with sorrow, "that love, that light, will burn brighter than anything you've ever known. It's her love for you, Taehyung—her unwavering, selfless love—that will compel her to make the ultimate sacrifice."

"No."

The word was barely a whisper, his voice cracking. He staggered back, his legs suddenly unsteady as the enormity of her words hit him like a blow to the chest.

Rosie pressed on, her gaze locked with his, tears glistening in her eyes.

"That's why she's the Alara, Taehyung. She isn't just meant to be your light; she's destined to be the one who saves you. Her life... her sacrifice will break every curse, every shadow, every chain that binds you. The darkness you've carried—whether it's the jinn's curse or your past—will vanish. Because she'll take it upon herself. For you."

"No! That's not her destiny! That's not love! That's—"

"That's the truth," Rosie interjected sharply, stepping closer to him.

"It's cruel, I know, but it's the truth. Taehyung, Jungkook is the Alara because she was born to love you, to save you, even at the cost of herself. That's what makes her light so powerful—it's her willingness to give everything for you, even her life."

"I can't lose her, Rosie. I can't," he murmured, his voice shaking.

"That's what makes her the Alara. Her love for you is beyond reason, beyond fear. She sees every scar you try to hide, every shadow you keep locked away—and still, she chooses you. Not because she has to, but because she wants to. That's her power. That's why she's your Alara."

Taehyung's breath came in shuddering gasps, his mind racing.

"I'll change it. I'll fight fate. I don't care what it takes, I won't let Jungkook do this."

"Then fight for her," Rosie said, a spark of defiance was present in her eyes. "Because the blood moon will test you, Taehyung. It will tear you apart. It will make you question everything—your strength, your love, even your will to go on. And if you falter, if you fail, the vision will come true. And you will lose her."

Her words struck him like a dagger, but they ignited something deep within him—a fire that burned brighter than his despair.

"She's my light, Rosie. But I'll be hers, too. I'll protect her—no matter what. I'll rewrite this fate if I have to. Jungkook is my everything, and I won't lose her. Not now, not ever."

Rosie stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Then prepare yourself, Taehyung. Because the blood moon is coming, and it will demand more from you than you've ever given before. If you want to save her, you'll have to be stronger than fate itself."

Taehyung didn't wait to hear another word. He spun on his heel. The door slammed behind him, echoing through the still night.

Sliding into his car, he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his breathing ragged. The engine roared to life and he pressed the accelerator hard, the tires screeching against the pavement as he sped into the night.

The wind howled through the window, but the chill in the air was nothing compared to the ice in his chest. His thoughts raced faster than the car, looping over Rosie's words like a cursed mantra.

"Jungkook's love will demand everything... She will sacrifice herself for you."

"No!" Taehyung's voice tore through the confined space. He pounded the steering wheel, his frustration spilling over. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the needle on the speedometer climbing higher as the city lights blurred into a smear of colors.

He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to escape the suffocating reality closing in on him. The world outside was a blur—trees, streetlights, and the occasional flash of a startled animal—but his mind was consumed by Rosie's words, her piercing voice echoing in his head.

"She will sacrifice everything for you... because she chooses to."

His vision blurred with unshed tears, but he didn't slow down. The car swerved dangerously as the road curved, but Taehyung didn't care. All he could think about was escaping the suffocating truth Rosie had laid bare.

The wheels screeched as he turned abruptly onto a dirt road leading toward the Dark Valley. The place was infamous—a barren stretch of land where no light dared to enter, as if earth rejected life.

His mind was a battlefield of memories and fears.

Jungkook's laughter, her soft touch, the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him—all of it clashed violently with the image of her lifeless body etched into the cursed pages of that book.

Jungkook was his anchor, his light in the endless sea of darkness he had lived in for so long. The thought of losing her was unbearable, an abyss he couldn't fathom.

Finally, he slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt in a clearing. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths.

Taehyung stepped out of the car, the cold night air biting at his skin. He stood there, staring into the abyss below, his heart heavy with anguish. The moon above offered no solace, its pale light only deepening the shadows around him. The man stumbled out, the cold night air hitting him like a slap. His legs carried him forward, aimlessly, into the valley's depths.

The cold air of the Dark Valley bit into Taehyung's skin but he didn't feel it. Each step he took felt heavy, his boots crunching against the gravel. The wind howled around him, whispering cruel truths that he couldn't ignore.

He stumbled to a stop near a jagged cliff's edge. The abyss below yawned open like a maw and for a moment, Taehyung wondered if it would swallow him whole—if that might be easier than facing the possibility of losing her.

Jungkook.

Her name was a lifeline, a source keeping him from falling apart entirely.

Kara's action's, her lies and manipulation.

His father's betrayal, the lies woven so perfectly and the agonizing image of Jungkook's lifeless body beneath the blood moon.

Taehyung's chest heaved, his heart pounding in his ears as the anger he had been holding in for so long finally tore free.

His body was a coiled spring, ready to snap, and it did—violently.

"Whyyyyyyyy?!"

His voice ripped through the night like a beast awakened from its slumber.

"Why the hell does it have to be like this?!"

His hands trembled at his sides, clenched into fists as his chest heaved with every breath. "I didn't ask for this!"

His voice grew louder, sharper, as though it could pierce the heavens themselves.

"I didn't ask to be born into this cursed family, this life of blood and shadows! I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for any of this!"

His knees buckled and he slammed his fists into the hard ground, dirt flying up around him with the force of his fury. His knuckles cracked with the impact but he welcomed the pain—anything to distract from the raging fire inside him. He struck the earth again and again, each blow sending shockwaves through his body, each strike was a desperate release of his torment.

"What more do you want from me?" His voice broke, filled with desperation, as his body trembled from his frustration. His head hung low, eyes burning with unshed tears as he stared at the dirt beneath him.

"You've taken everything from me. My peace. My freedom. My life—and now you want her too. Jungkook..."

He couldn't finish. His throat constricted, and he gasped for breath, his chest tight, as if the air had betrayed him.

Images of Jungkook danced before his eyes. Her shy smile the first time she'd laughed at one of his terrible jokes. The way she'd scold him for being reckless, only to fuss over him moments later. Her unwavering determination, her strength and the softness she only showed him when the world wasn't looking.

Jungkook was his.

She was everything.

And now she was destined to die for him.

"Why her?" he snarled, his voice thick with venom. "Why does she have to die because of my mistakes? Why does the universe want to punish her for my sins?!"

Taehyung's mind reeled back to the moment she'd first entered his life. She'd been an unyielding force, challenging his walls with her fiery spirit and undeniable warmth.

And he—he had been lost in her from the start.

Even before he realized it, she'd become the center of his universe, the sole reason he began to believe he deserved a chance at happiness.

The unspoken love he carried for her was a secret he cherished.

But now, with the prophecy looming over them.

It felt like a cruel punishment.

Taehyung had always thought he had time—time to show her, to tell her how much she meant to him. Time to make her see that she wasn't just his wife or his partner; she was the only reason he knew what love felt like.

But the stars had stolen that time from him.

The cursed prophecy, the blood moon—it threatened to take her away before he could tell her how much he adored her. How she made him want to be better, to fight harder, to dream of a future he never thought possible.

"I can't lose her," he growled, his voice rising with desperation. "I won't lose her."

Taehyung slammed his fists into the ground, the sharp pain grounding him in his despair. The jagged rocks tore at his knuckles, but he didn't care. The physical pain was nothing compared to the torment tearing through his heart.

His hands balled into fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, but he didn't care. The pain was nothing compared to the agony in his chest.

"She's the light in my damn darkness, and they want to rip her away from me!"

He let out a guttural scream, a sound that came from deep within his chest, full of rage and helplessness. The wind howled in response, as though mocking him but Taehyung didn't care.

"It's not fair!" he spat, his words laced with fury. His eyes blazed, every inch of his body vibrating with the intensity of his emotion. "She's my everything. And you want her to bleed for me?! You want her to give her life—for me?!"

He laughed bitterly, the sound twisted, like it had come from a man who had lost everything. It echoed into the abyss like the death knell of hope.

"What kind of sick, twisted fate is this?!"

The wind still in response, the world holding its breath as Taehyung gathered himself. He grabbed a rock, its sharp edges biting into his skin, and with a roar of defiance, hurled it into the abyss. He watched it disappear into the void, wishing he could throw his pain with it.

"Take me!"

Taehyung screamed, voice shaking with anger, the words ringing across the valley like a roar of defiance.

"Take my life, my soul, my damn curse—but leave Jungkook the hell out of it! Take me but not her! You hear me?! You want my life? You want my pain? Take it! But leave her alone!"

Taehyung's breath came in ragged gasps as he stood there, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot and wild. His body trembled with adrenaline, every fiber of his being screaming for action, for answers, for a way to save her.

To save Jungkook.

"She's mine!" Taehyung roared, his voice a thunderclap that broke the silence. This time, it wasn't a plea.

It was a promise—a warning.

His eyes, wild and unyielding, blazed with an intensity that rivaled the stars.

"Do you hear me? She's mine! And I will rip this world apart before I let you take her!"

Taehyung pointed his finger to the heavens, challenging the universe itself. His gaze was fierce, unyielding, as he swore into the night sky.

"I'll burn this world to the ground before I let you take her. Do you hear me?! I'll tear apart the heavens, the stars, the blood moons. I'll destroy everything you've built. I won't let you win. I won't lose her!"

"You want a monster?" he sneered, his voice filled with dangerous conviction. "You made me one. And now you'll see exactly what that means. You want to see the fury of a man who has nothing left to lose?"

Taehyung laughed—a bitter, guttural sound—and the earth tremble beneath him.

"I will show you. You call her my Alara. My light in the darkness. But she's more than that. She's my reason to fight. My reason to breathe. She's my everything."

Taehyung's lips curled into a deadly smile, his bloodied hands dropping to his sides as he stared down the vast, empty void before him. The wind picked up again, but this time it didn't mock him.

It seemed to carry his words, spreading them like a curse.

"I'll show you what it means to defy fate itself."

Taehyung's body shook, trembling not from weakness but from his rage. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, the pain of it barely registering as he turned toward the earth, wanting to destroy something, anything, to release the burning fire inside him.

Without a second thought, he slammed his fist into the ground, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through his entire body. The earth cracked beneath him, but it was nothing compared to the damage the inside of him was taking. Blood poured from his knuckles, staining the dirt beneath him, mixing with the darkened soil.

But Taehyung didn't stop. He struck again and again, each blow tearing into the earth with a viciousness that seemed to match the storm inside his chest.

He was a beast now—his rage, raw and primal, taking over his every movement. His hair hung in messy strands around his face, his coat soaked with sweat and dirt, a dark contrast against the blood that stained his hands. His knuckles were torn open further but the pain was insignificant compared to the agony in his heart.

He didn't care. Nothing mattered.

He would break everything to keep her safe.

The silence was suffocating. Taehyung felt like he was drowning in his own helplessness. His breaths came ragged, his bloodied hands twitching as if they still wanted to tear through the very fabric of fate.

But what could he destroy when the enemy was destiny itself?

His jaw clenched as his gaze drifted to his car. The matte-black paint gleamed under the weak moonlight, its aggressive curves and sharp edges a mirror to the chaos in his soul.

His slow steps echoed against the silent valley as he moved toward the car, his boots crushing dried leaves and dirt underfoot. The wind howled, but it could not cool the fire building in his chest.

His fingers trembled as he reached for his pocket, pulling out his lighter. His eyes gleamed as he snapped the lighter shut. Then flicked it open again, the small flame dancing to life.

"Tch." Taehyung scoffed, eyes flickering with something wicked as he held the lighter closer, watching the small flame dance—so fragile yet so destructive.

His fingers played with it, as if teasing the fire itself.

With zero hesitation, he tossed the lighter onto the hood of the car.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

WHOOSH.

The flames spread like a beast unleashed, devouring the paint, curling against the windshield, licking at the tires like hungry tongues of vengeance. The engine caught fire with a violent roar, the heat rippling through the air in waves.

He watched. He didn't move.

The fire crackled, reflecting in his hollow eyes, flickering golds and oranges licking up into the night sky. Taehyung stepped back, his silhouette bathed in orange and gold, his expression unreadable as the inferno reflected in his eyes.

𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘗𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘜𝘯𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥.

He could feel the heat on his skin, the embers floating past him like fireflies of destruction. His dress shirt was soaked in sweat, dirt smudged across his sleeves, his knuckles still bleeding from earlier.

And then—

𝘽𝙊𝙊𝙈.

The car exploded, a burst of red and gold lighting up the night, sending flames shooting into the sky like fireworks of destruction, black smoke curling into the heavens like an omen of war.

The force of the blast sent shockwaves through the ground, rattling the trees, sending dried leaves scattering like startled birds.

But Taehyung stood his ground.

His body swayed slightly from the impact, but his feet remained planted. His breath came in heavy, his skin glistening with sweat, his eyes wild and glowing with defiance.

The flames reflected in his dark irises, mirroring the raging promise in his soul.

If fate thought it could take Jungkook from him, it would have to go through hell itself—because he was no longer just a man.

He was a storm. A man willing to burn the world for the person he loved.

Then, like the calm after a storm, the fight seemed to drain from him, leaving behind a silence that was almost deafening. He lowered himself to the muddy ground, the earth cold beneath him. The anger still lingered but exhaustion crept in, dragging him down.

The fog curled and twisted in the wind, as if teasing him with its mysteries.

Taehyung sat on the ground, his long legs drawn up as he wrapped his bloodied arms tightly around his knees. His creaseless coat was now soaked and muddied, clinging to his broad shoulders as the cold night air bit into his skin.

The wind howled through the dark valley, tugging at his disheveled hair and torn clothes, but he remained still, as if rooted to the ground. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of night creatures were the only sounds around him, yet they seemed to echo too loudly in his ears.

It was the kind of silence that only magnified the storm raging within.

As if the heavens themselves shared his torment, the first drops of rain began to fall.

Light at first, cool droplets peppered Taehyung's disheveled hair and streaked the dried blood and mud caked on his knuckles. The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, the rain hammering against the earth with ferocity.

Taehyung didn't move.

He sat there, motionless, as the rain soaked through his coat and shirt, the cold water biting against his skin. His dark hair clung to his forehead, plastered to his face, as rivulets of rainwater ran down his sharp jawline. The ground beneath him softened into mud, pooling around his boots but he paid it no mind.

The storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest within him.

The rain masked the tear tracks that had silently trailed down his face moments before, merging with the droplets that now fell relentlessly. Lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating his striking silhouette—a man on the verge of shattering.

His broad shoulders hunched forward, his head bowed, fists clenched so tightly that the jagged crescents of his nails dug deeper into his palms. He looked as if he were holding the weight of the universe in his hands—and losing.

Jungkook's face filled his mind, piercing through the chaos. His breath hitched as the memory seized him. He could still see her, twirling under the last rainstorm they shared.

Her laughter rang out as she tried to pull him into her joy.

Jungkook had always been like that—untamed, unafraid, finding beauty in chaos. He, on the other hand, had merely watched, arms crossed as he tried to suppress the warmth in his heart.

"Let's Dance," she'd pleaded, her small hands tugging at his larger ones.

He had grumbled, resisting at first, but in the end, her innocence had won. He let himself be pulled into her world, his movements stiff and awkward until her giggles loosened his resolve.

Now, the memory clawed at his soul, cutting deeper than any blade.

The rain that had once been a witness to their joy now mocked him with its relentless downpour. His fists clenched tighter as he struggled to keep the image of her smile from fading. He inhaled deeply, the scent of earth and rain filling his lungs as he lifted his head slightly.

Finally, Taehyung tilted his head back, the rain cascading over his face as his eyes locked on the swirling mist above the cliffs. His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as he ground his teeth together. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the rain wash over him, as though it could cleanse him of the anguish rooted deep within.

But the ache remained, throbbing in his chest like an open wound.

He unfolded his arms from around his knees and slowly rose to his feet, the mud clinging to his boots as the rain continued to pelt him mercilessly. His movements were almost mechanical.

The wind whipped around him, his soaked coat flaring slightly as he stood tall, his head tipped toward the heavens.

"If this is what you want," he murmured, his voice cutting through the storm, "then I'll fight you for her. For us."

Thunder roared in the distance, as if answering his challenge but Taehyung didn't flinch. His lips pressed into a thin line, his hands curling into fists at his sides once more, despite the sting from his bruised and bloodied knuckles.

He took one step forward, his boots sinking into the mud, but his gaze remained locked on the shrouded cliffs. Rainwater dripped from the ends of his hair, streaming down his chiseled features, but it only made him look fiercer—unyielding in the face of the storm.

A faint vibration broke through the cacophony of rain and thunder. His phone buzzed in his pocket—a small sound against the hurricane. For a moment, Taehyung didn't react, his focus remaining fixed on the horizon. The cliffs seemed endless, a void that mirrored his thoughts.

But the persistent buzz broke through his reverie, demanding his attention. With a reluctant sigh, Taehyung pulled the phone from his coat pocket, the screen glowing faintly against the darkened sky.

"Home Minister"

The name flashed on the screen and Taehyung's heart clenched.

It was Jungkook.

His Alara. His wife.

The person he was willing to tear the heavens apart to protect.

For a second, his thumb hovered over the screen, the cold metal slippery against his trembling hands. His jaw clenched, emotions crashing over him like the storm—love, guilt and an aching fear that settled deep in his chest.

But then his expression hardened, a mask of control falling into place. He pressed the side button firmly, silencing the call without answering. The screen went dark, leaving only the sound of the rain and the rumble of thunder to accompany him.

His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white against the slick metal surface.

"Not now, Mrs Kim," he murmured under his breath.

"I can't let you hear this... I can't let you see me like this."

His trembling hand shoved the phone back into his pocket. He tilted his head skyward, letting the rain mix with the tears he refused to acknowledge.

The storm battered him but it was nothing compared to the chaos raging within. Jungkook's voice echoed in his mind, her laughter like sunlight piercing through his endless night.

How could he face her knowing the truth of what was to come?

How could he speak to her, knowing the storm that awaited them both?

Taehyung ran a hand through his drenched hair, his head tipping back toward the darkened sky. The rain masked the tears that threatened to spill again, his breaths shallow as the ache in his chest grew heavier.

He let out a shaky sigh, his voice trembling as he whispered, "You have no idea how much I need you right now, Jungkook. But I can't... I can't let you carry this weight."

"This fight is mine," he growled to himself, his tone resolute despite the anguish etched into his features. "I won't let you pay the price for me. I'll find a way. I swear it."

The phone buzzed again but Taehyung didn't look. He didn't need to. He already knew it would be her, asking where he was, if he was okay, if he needed her.

And as much as he craved her presence, he couldn't bear the thought of her seeing him broken, drenched, and consumed by the truth he had just learned.

The rain continued to pour and Taehyung stood there, a lone figure against the storm, his heart heavy with determination. The world might conspire to take her from him, but he would fight with everything he had to rewrite their fate.

For her.

For them.

For the love that burned brighter than any darkness that dared to consume them.

Taehyung's heart thudded in his chest as he turned away, his fury still hot, still seething. He knew there was only one thing left for him to do.

Nothing would stop him. Not fate. Not the gods. Nothing.

"I'll burn everything to save her," he swore, his voice hoarse, his eyes locked ahead, his fists still clenched.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jungkook paced back and forth in their room, her feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. She let out a huff, crossing her arms as she turned to face the door for the umpteenth time, only to find it still shut.

"Where is he?" the wife muttered under her breath, her lips pressing into a pout.

Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her net shrug, pulling at the delicate fabric as if it would somehow summon Taehyung home faster.

Her hands moved to her hips as she resumed her pacing. "What could he even be doing this late? Meetings? No. He doesn't even like late meetings."

She paused, her lips pursing as a new thought struck her. "What if he's hurt? Or... Or in trouble?" Her eyes widened slightly, and she clutched the fabric tighter around herself. "What if—"

"No, no, stop it, Jungkook," she muttered, shaking her head as if to physically banish the thought. "He's fine. He's Kim Taehyung. He's probably just out... somewhere. And he knows magic,"

With a frustrated huff, Jungkook spun away from the window, her hands now tugging at her sleeves. She sat down on the edge of the bed, only to spring up a moment later.

Sitting still was impossible.

Her steps slowed, and she sank onto the armchair by the corner of the room, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her fingers toyed with a loose thread on the armrest as her mind wandered.

"What if he's soaking wet?" she whispered, her voice softer now.

Her bottom lip jutted out in a small pout, and her brows knit together. She rested her chin on her knees, glaring at the ceiling like it was Taehyung's fault for being late.

"He always acts like he's so big and tough," she grumbled, her voice turning into a whine. "Like he doesn't have someone waiting for him. Like he doesn't have a wife who—who worries about him! Stupid, arrogant, handsome man!"

Her fingers stopped fidgeting, and her eyes narrowed with determination.

"When he gets back," she declared, pointing a finger toward the door as if Taehyung could hear her, "he's going to explain himself. Every single detail. And then I'm going to yell at him! A lot!"

She paused, her pout returning. "But first, I'll make him some tea. And dry his hair. And maybe scold him while I'm doing it. And—and if he thinks he's getting away with this without a proper apology, he's got another thing coming!"

Jungkook let out a deep sigh, her anger dissipating into worry once more.

"Just come back, Mr Kim," she whispered, glancing at the door again. "Please."

Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, her phone clutched tightly in her hands. Her brows were knit with worry and her lips pressed into a soft pout as she stared at the glowing screen.

She let out a shaky sigh, her thumb hesitating over the call button. Her fingers trembled slightly and the soft fabric of her net shrug slipped down one shoulder, revealing her delicate collarbone. She absently pulled it back up, her hands restless as her concern deepened.

With a deep breath, Jungkook pressed the button and held the phone to her ear, her heart pounding in her chest. The soft ringing echoed in her ears, each chime heightening her anxiety.

"Come on, Mr Kim, " she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Pick up... please."

The ringing stopped abruptly, replaced by the monotone voicemail. She pulled the phone away, her shoulders slumping as she stared at the screen. Her lips trembled, and she bit down on them to stop the frustration from spilling over.

Jungkook let out an exaggerated huff, her thumb hovering over the call button. Her small fingers tapped against the side of the phone in impatience.

"Fine," she muttered, puffing her cheeks. "You want to ignore me? Let's see how you like this."

Jungkook's thumbs flew across the keyboard, the clacking of the keys quick and determined. Her pout deepened as she crafted her message, her brows furrowing in concentration.

Finally satisfied, she hit send, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite the worry still clouding her big doe eyes.

Satisfied, she put the phone down on the bedside table with a huff, crossing her arms. But not even a minute later, her resolve wavered and she grabbed the phone again, unlocking it to check for a response.

Still nothing.

Her features scrunched in frustration. She got up, her dress fluttering slightly as she moved to the window. The storm outside was relentless, rain cascading against the glass in steady streams. She placed a hand against the cold pane, her soft fingers trailing along the condensation as she tried to peer into the darkness.

"Why do you always do this?" she asked the empty room. "Why can't you just tell me where you are? You know how much I worry."

Her reflection in the glass caught her eye and she sighed at her own image. Her eyes glistened, the dim light highlighting her cheeks and the pout of her lips. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, the strands catching the glow of the bedside lamp.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and Jungkook spun around, hope lighting up her face. She grabbed it quickly, her heart skipping a beat, only to find it was another random notification.

Her shoulders fell and she let out a defeated sigh, tossing the phone back down with less care this time.

Jungkook walked back to the bed, sitting down with her legs tucked beneath her. She reached for the edge of the blanket, pulling it over her lap as she wrapped her arms around herself.

She leaned back against the headboard, her shoulders sinking as her concern pressed down on her. She glanced at the empty side of the bed, her chest tightening at the sight.

"Please come home."

Jungkook clutched a pillow tightly in her arms. She rested her chin on it, staring at the door and waiting. As the minutes dragged on, her eyes began to droop but her grip on the pillow never loosened.

Her last thought before she drifted off was of him—his smile, his protective embrace, the way he always looked at her like she was his entire world.

Jungkook's eyes grew heavy as the minutes dragged on. She curled up on the bed, her arms still wrapped around the pillow she had been clutching so tightly.

The rain continued to drum against the windows, its sound lulling her into a restless slumber. Her hair framed her peaceful yet slightly furrowed face. Even in her sleep, the faint crease on her forehead showed her concern for Taehyung.

Outside, the rain showed no signs of stopping. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp she had left on. Jungkook shifted slightly, her hand reached out instinctively, searching for warmth on the other side of the bed where Taehyung should have been.

Finding nothing but cool sheets, she let out an almost inaudible sigh.

Her lips parted as she mumbled his name, barely audible over the rain.

"Mister... come home..."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The door creaked open, a gust of cold night air accompanying Taehyung as he stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, rainwater dripping from his disheveled hair, soaking his shirt and trailing behind him onto the wooden floor. Mud clung to his boots and the edges of his coat, and his knuckles—red and bloodied—hung loosely at his sides.

His bloodshot eyes swept across the dimly lit room until they landed on Jungkook.

His wife curled up on the bed, her face softened by the sleep. The bedside lamp cast warm light over her delicate features. She clutched a pillow close to her chest, her small frame rising and falling with each breath, oblivious to the chaos he carried in his heart and on his body.

Taehyung's throat tightened at the sight.

Jungkook was everything he wasn't—pure, untainted, and luminous, even in the quiet still night. Her presence calmed his storm and yet, tonight, her tranquility only amplified the darkness he carried.

"You don't even know, do you?" he whispered softly, his voice rough from the screaming earlier. "How much you mean to me. How much I'd give just to keep you safe."

The rain outside grew heavier, the rhythmic pattering against the windows filling the silence. Taehyung's gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before returning to her.

The husband stepped closer, his boots leaving faint marks on the floor, the sound of his movements muffled by the rain still pounding against the windows. Stopping just short of the bed, he knelt down slowly, his knees sinking into the plush rug as his eyes stayed locked on her sleeping form.

Taehyung swallowed hard. He shouldn't be near her right now.

His wife looked so breathtakingly beautiful, that for a moment, all the turmoil within him ceased. His darkness, his anger, his guilt—they all dissipated, leaving only awe and an aching unworthiness.

A bittersweet smile ghosted over his lips as he admired her features. Her lashes rested delicately on her cheeks and her lips, slightly parted in sleep.

The soft light catching the shimmer of her dress.

Jungkook was a vision—his Alara, his light in the endless night he called life.

But the contrast was almost cruel.

Taehyung was drenched in mud, rain and despair while Jungkook lay there, glowing, untouchable.

The husband reached out instinctively, his trembling hand stopping inches above her cheek. He hovered there, the pull to touch her almost unbearable. His fingers ached to brush that stray strand of hair from her face, to feel her skin beneath his palm.

But he couldn't.

The invisible barrier between them—the curse mocked him. He clenched his jaw and let his hand fall back to his side, his fingers curling into a fist. The blood from his knuckles smeared onto his palm but he didn't care.

"You don't belong in my darkness," he whispered, voice hoarse, raw. Broken.

But she did.

Jungkook was the only light left in him, and he was selfish enough to keep her. To hold on, even when his soul reeked of sin and fire. His eyes glistened, a storm of emotions swirling within them—guilt, love, desperation.

Jungkook didn't deserve any of this.

She didn't deserve him.

His wife deserved the light she so effortlessly gave to the world, not the darkness he carried.

Taehyung's gaze traveled down to her hand resting on the pillow, so small and delicate. It rested so close to him, yet felt worlds away. He clenched his fists tighter, the thought of her inevitable fate haunting him again.

"You're my light," he murmured hoarsely, his voice cracking. "My Alara. You saved me from myself... from everything. But why... why do you have to pay the price for my sins?"

His head dipped, strands of wet hair falling into his face. A drop of rainwater—or perhaps a tear—slid down his cheek, splashing onto the floor beneath him.

His free hand rested on the edge of the bed, fingers grazing the soft fabric of the sheets. He envied how easily she could sleep, how effortlessly she could exist in a world that had done nothing but take from them.

Jungkook stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She mumbled something in her sleep, something too soft for him to catch. His throat tightened.

What would she say if she saw him like this?

If she saw the wreckage he had left behind, the madness that had taken root inside him tonight?

Would she look at him with fear? With pity?

Or worse—with love?

A bitter chuckle left his lips, so quiet it barely disturbed the air between them. Love. Jungkook had always been too soft-hearted, too kind, too blind to the darkness that clung to him. Even when he tried to push her away, she refused to let go. Refused to hate him.

She should. She should hate him.

He let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against the mattress near her arm. He felt small like this, like a man stripped of his armor, his rage, his walls.

He lifted his bloodied hand, fingers curling, the bruises on his knuckles deep and ugly. The pain was distant now, a dull throb beneath his exhaustion. It felt deserved.

His entire life, he had fought, clawed and raged against fate. Against the cruel hands that had shaped him, molded him into this—this hollow shell of a man who could only destroy.

And yet, here she was. Jungkook.

The only thing untouched by the darkness that had consumed him. She lay so peacefully, her long lashes resting against her cheeks, her fingers lightly curled around the pillow.

She looked like something out of a dream. Something that didn't belong in his broken, cursed world.

He wanted to wake her up, hold her, bury his face into her neck, and beg her to tell him it wasn't real. He wanted her to touch his face, trace the wounds on his knuckles, press soft kisses against the bruises on his skin and tell him he wasn't a monster.

He wanted her to save him.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

She already was.

Jungkook saving him, pulling him back from the edge. And now, because of that, because of the cruel hands of fate—she was going to die for it.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shaking as he gritted his teeth. Taehyung shut his eyes, pressing a bruised hand over his face. He couldn't cry. Crying wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't save her. It wouldn't fix this.

"I'll fix this," he vowed, his voice firmer this time, though still low. "I don't care what it takes. I don't care if I have to fight the heavens themselves, Jungkook."

His hand twitched, wanting to reach out but knowing he couldn't. Instead, he stood slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow over her.

With one last look, he turned and walked to the window, his back to her.

The storm outside mirrored the one inside him, but for now, he let her sleep, undisturbed and peaceful, her light untouched by his darkness.

Rain lashed against the glass and faint streaks of lightning illuminated his drenched, disheveled state. His thoughts were a tumultuous mix of guilt, love, and despair, but all of it paused the moment he heard a soft rustle behind him.

"Mr Kim?"

The sleep-laden voice was delicate, almost hesitant but it struck him harder than the storm outside. His body stiffened and his hands curled into fists at his sides as he turned slowly.

Watching as her fingers rubbed at her eyes, as her head tilted slightly, the way her soft pout deepened—as if she already knew something was wrong.

Taehyung hated that.

Hated that she could read him even when she was barely awake.

Jungkook was sitting up now, the net shrug slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing more of her bare arms. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, they blinked a few times as they adjusted to the dim light. When they focused on him, her soft expression shifted to one of concern.

"Mr Kim?" she repeated, her voice stronger this time, her brows knitting together as she took in his appearance.

Taehyung tried to speak but the words lodged in his throat. He could see her gaze sweeping over him, from the mud on his coat to the streaks of blood on his knuckles, to his damp, messy hair that clung to his forehead.

He was a mess.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, pushing the blanket off her and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool floor, but she didn't seem to notice as she stood up.

Jungkook's footsteps barely made a sound against the wooden floor as she approached him. Her brows furrowed further with every inch she closed between them, her gaze never leaving his disheveled form.

Jungkook's heart clenched as she took in Taehyung's state. His composed demeanor was shattered, replaced by a broken version of him she had never seen before. Her eyes darted to his knuckles, red and raw, with traces of blood streaking down to his wrists.

"Mr Kim," the wife questioned, her voice trembling with worry and fear.

"What happened? Where were you? Why are you like this?"

Her questions hung in the air, unanswered. Taehyung didn't look at her; his gaze remained fixed on the floor, his jaw clenched tight.

Without a word, he shrugged off his heavy, mud-stained coat and let it fall to the ground with a dull thud. Taehyung turned his head slightly, his profile illuminated by a flash of lightning. His jaw was tight, and his eyes, though hidden beneath damp strands of hair, burned with suppressed emotions.

"Mr Kim, I'm talking to you!" Jungkook demanded, her small hands reaching out instinctively. But just as her fingers were about to brush his arm, she stopped herself, her hands falling back to her sides.

Her chest tightened at the realization, the cruel curse that kept them apart, even now when he needed comfort the most.

Jungkook's brows furrowed as she watched him. He was avoiding her gaze, deliberately and it hurt more than she could admit. Her gaze flickered to his knuckles again.

"Your hands... you're bleeding."

Taehyung paused, his hand tightening for a brief moment before he tossed his phone onto the chair beside him. He flexed his fingers, as if testing the pain, but still, no words left his mouth.

Jungkook's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she watched him.

"Why won't you say anything? Do you know how late it is? I've been waiting for you—" Her voice broke and she stopped herself.

Taehyung didn't acknowledge her words. For a brief second, Jungkook thought he might respond, but then he turned away again, walking toward the mirror.

Taehyung rested his hands on the vanity, his head bowed. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath, his dark eyes meeting hers for the first time. The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.

Jungkook's lips trembled as she blinked back the stinging in her eyes. She wanted to shake him, to force him to open up, but all she could do was stand there, helpless.

Without a word, Jungkook turned toward the bedside table, her hands picking up the glass of water she had poured earlier. The soft clink of the glass against the wooden surface broke the tense silence.

She walked toward him. Taehyung stood before the mirror, his back to her, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead. His shirt hung loose, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his bruised, bloodied arms.

"Here," she said softly, extending the glass toward him.

Taehyung didn't move, his gaze locked on their reflection in the mirror. Jungkook's petite frame stood behind him, her soft presence entirely different to his disheveled and tormented state.

Jungkook's doe eyes, even in worry, held a glow he didn't think he deserved.

"Mr Kim," Jungkook urged, her voice gentle but insistent.

Still, Taehyung didn't take the glass.

Instead, his hands gripped the edge of the dresser, his knuckles whitening as he stared at their reflection. The storm raging inside him only grew stronger as he took in the contrast between them.

She was light, pure, untouched by the darkness that consumed him.

Jungkook frowned at his lack of response, taking a cautious step closer. "Please..." She hesitated for a moment before moving to stand directly behind him, her gaze flickering between his reflection and his tense shoulders.

"Look at us," Taehyung said suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

For the first time since he stepped into the room, Taehyung looked at her.

And Jungkook wished he hadn't.

Because what she saw in his eyes—those dark, hollow pools that once held warmth, mischief, love—was nothing but devastation. A soul stripped bare.

She barely had time to process it before he spoke again.

"I see the truth when I look at us."

Jungkook's breath hitched.

"You're light, Mrs. Kim." He exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching at his sides, restraining himself from reaching out. "You're everything good in this world."

Her lips parted, the instinct to deny, to fight, burning in her throat but he didn't let her.

He turned, facing her fully.

The sudden movement sent a jolt of panic through her veins but Jungkook refused to step back. She stood firm, her heart pounding as she watched him—watched the way he ran a hand through his damp hair, the way his chest rose and fell in a barely contained storm.

"And me?" His bitter laugh sliced through the air. He gestured to himself, his bruised, bloodied hands trembling as they hung uselessly at his sides. "I'm darkness. A storm that devours everything in its path."

Her heart clenched.

"That's not true," she whispered. Her feet moved before she could think, closing the space between them. "You're not—"

"Divorce me."

Jungkook froze.

Taehyung's voice was steady but the words weren't. They cracked at the edges, unraveling into something almost desperate.

Jungkook blinked, her lashes damp with something she refused to acknowledge. She searched his face, searched for something—anything—that would prove she had misheard him.

But all she found was ruin. His request settled in her chest like a cruel, merciless hand squeezing the air from her lungs.

But Taehyung only stepped back, creating a distance between them that she didn't know how to cross.

"Let me go, Jungkook. Before I destroy you too."

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the soft patter of rain against the window. She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out—her voice failing her.

Taehyung didn't move, his figure towering and unyielding yet his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions raging within.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What's Wrong with Mister Kim?

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