SO... WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

“You look dead,” Taehyung said flatly as the door creaked open just enough to reveal Aera. “Like a zombie. A sleep-deprived, mildly tragic zombie.”

“Tae? What time is it?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and ignoring the jab.

“Better question—do you even know what day it is?” he shot back. He didn’t wait for an answer, just shouldered the door open and stepped inside. Aera followed, sluggish and silent.

“Is it my birthday?” she guessed.

“Wrong!” Taehyung declared with the enthusiasm of Na Yeong Seok on The Game Caterers. He kicked off his shoes and padded inside, eyes skimming the unfamiliar surroundings. It was his first time in her place.

“Yours, then?” she tried again.

“Even wrong-er,” he said, finally locating the kitchen. He shoved aside a pile of empty takeout containers with his arm to make space, then set down the food he brought. “Have you been high or what? Both our birthdays were two months ago. We exchanged J-Hope’s album, remember?”

“Sorry, Tae. I forgot,” Aera murmured, guilt seeping into her voice at the slight drop in his tone. She looked around like she didn’t quite recognize the place, then pulled out a chair and sat, arms folded on the countertop, trying not to look as miserable as she felt.

Taehyung shrugged off his coat and dropped it beside the takeout.

“So, did you forget to show up at work, too? Or did you decide Kim Enterprises—and your role as a landscape architect—was just a dream?”

Aera rubbed at her temples.

“I didn’t. I’m just... not feeling great.”

“Wow, what a coincidence,” he said, grabbing a pair of chopsticks. “Half the office caught the same mysterious illness right after Mr. Boss ran off on his honeymoon.” He nodded sagely, clearly amused with himself.

“You do look like you got hit by a truck. Emotionally, I assume?” Taehyung said a beat later, watching her slump into the chair, absentmindedly twisting the end of her hoodie between her fingers.

“Pretty much,” she said, nodding faintly, her voice barely above a breath.

Taehyung slid a box of black bean noodles toward her, his voice soft.

“Whatever’s on your mind, I hope you know you can talk to me.”

Aera’s eyes filled almost instantly, and she sniffled.

“It sounds crazy. I don’t think you’ll believe me,” she whispered, the words thick with unspoken weight. She met his eyes and gave a small, shaky smile—something about it pressed against his chest, unexpectedly heavy.

Taehyung leaned back, lips curling.

“Try me—unless you’re about to tell me angels are real and they sent you to say I’ve got a shot with Jung Hoseok. In that case, I’ll believe every word.”

Her laugh broke through, quiet but real. Taehyung grinned, satisfied.

Silence lingered for a few moments as Aera gathered herself, her gaze drifting somewhere far away. She looked like she was sorting through a cluttered attic of memories, trying to find the one box that explained everything. But it was all too tangled—too layered to unravel in a single breath.

Eventually, she anchored herself in the most recent moment—the one that still echoed loudest in her mind.

“Do you remember when I left suddenly at Mr. Kim’s wedding?” she asked, her tone soft, eyes fixed on Taehyung.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. You seemed off. I walked you to the cab, remember? What happened?”

“I ran into Jungkook that night—”

Taehyung raised a brow. “You mean our Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook? Since when are you two on a first-name basis?” He grinned as a flush crept into Aera’s cheeks.

She looked away, heat blooming under her skin. “Y-yeah,” she muttered, then steadied herself. “But that’s the thing. He’s not... Jeon Jungkook. Not really.”

Taehyung leaned back, the chopsticks stalling mid-snap between his fingers. “I knew it! I always had a hunch there was something off about him. I mean, come on—his name literally sounds like a second lead in a K-drama thriller, don’t you think?”

Aera blinked. “I—wait, what?”

Of all the ways she thought this would go, that wasn’t one of them. But then again, this was Taehyung. Of course he’d say something like that.

“Tae, I’m being serious.”

He set his chopsticks down, still smirking but intelligible now. “Alright. I’m listening.”

“He—” she hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “He’s my best friend from school.”

Then she told him everything. How she ended up at Kim Enterprises. How Jungkook pretended not to know her. The slip-up that gave him away. How it all finally clicked, piece by piece—just like it had before she explained it to Jiyoung over the phone.

And just like Jiyoung, Taehyung blinked, then narrowed his eyes.

“What the actual twist…” he said, eyebrows drawn, confused but totally hooked. “That’s some traumatizing shit. I think I need to call in sick tomorrow just to process this like you.”

Aera sighed, pulling her knees to her chest as she curled into the chair. “Didn’t Jungkook tell you any of this? You were the only one in the office he actually talked to,” she asked quietly, the hope in her voice almost childlike.

Taehyung shook his head. “No... This isn’t the kind of thing people just talk about.”

Her throat tightened, thick with the words she couldn’t say. She nodded instead, blinking fast. “Right…”

When she sniffled again, Taehyung stepped around the counter and wrapped his arms around her, folding her into his warmth.

“I hate that he went through all of that alone. I hate that I wasn’t there. I was his best friend, Tae,” she whispered into his shoulder, her voice breaking.

He rubbed her back slowly. “You didn’t know, Buttercup. None of this is on you.”

“I didn’t even try hard enough to find him,” Aera said, her voice barely holding together. “I was so selfish, Tae. I hate myself for it.”

Taehyung pulled her closer, his tone gentle but firm. “You were just a kid. You couldn’t have known where he was.”

She broke, the sobs coming fast and hard, spilling out of her like they’d been waiting for years. Taehyung didn’t say anything else—he just held her, steady, like the ground she needed.

He let her cry. Let her say everything she needed to say, even when the words turned cruel against herself. It had to come out—all of it—so something lighter could take its place.

When her trembling finally slowed, Taehyung loosened his hold and gently brushed the damp hair from her face. Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed and glossy. Her lips quivered, raw from holding back too much for too long.

He tugged his sleeves over his hands and gently wiped at her cheeks. Then he stood, crossed the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and came back to her.

Aera took it in both hands, drinking slowly through soft, shaky hiccups.

“You should talk to him,” Taehyung said once Aera had settled.

She nodded, wordless. But when she noticed his back was turned—microwaving the long-forgotten takeout—she spoke up. “I know. Yes.”

“Do it tomorrow,” he said, rifling through her cabinets for plates. “He’ll be back by then.”

Her brow furrowed. “Where’d he go?”

“Jeju. Site check,” he answered, setting the plates down. He grabbed the warmed food and pulled a chair beside her.

The rich, spicy scent of food drifted through the air, warm and inviting. It made her mouth water, and her stomach let out a quiet, traitorous growl. She hadn’t eaten properly in days—stress had knotted her insides too tightly, and guilt had dulled every craving. Still, she managed a quiet “thanks” to Taehyung.

He just smiled like he always did and ruffled her hair. “What made him give it away, though? I’m curious,” he asked, slurping up a mouthful of noodles.

Aera cleared her throat, already feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “He called me princess,” she said, almost under her breath. “It was my dad’s nickname for me when I was little. Jungkook picked it up, and it just stuck.”

She stuffed a bite of food into her mouth to hide her face.

Taehyung gave her a look—brows raised, head tilted—then slowly nodded like something had just clicked. She nudged him with her elbow.

“Say it.”

He burst out laughing. “I mean, I get it—you’ve got that whole quiet, soft charm. But Jungkook? I never took him for the sentimental type. He always went for the baby girl vibe. Remember Nari? New Year’s party?”

Aera groaned. “No, don’t remind me. That’s gross, Tae.”

She made a face, and Taehyung laughed so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

“Oh, I’m so going to tease him for this.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just thinking of him saying princess gives me secondhand embarrassment. Imagine him saying it in bed—”

“I hate you, Tae!”

Taehyung was wheezing, cheeks sore from laughing, barely able to catch his breath. The image was just too much. Aera, laughing despite herself, started pelting him with rolled-up napkins.

“God, I’m so screwed. What did I even get myself into,” Aera murmured, not knowing how deeply those words would echo the next day.

Taehyung’s visit had brightened her more than she expected. She went to bed feeling lighter, like hope had cracked through the haze. Ambition, excitement, and just a flicker of nerves tangled in her chest. Tomorrow, she’d see Jungkook again. And maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t fake it this time. Maybe he’d smile at her the way he used to, back when things were simpler.

The next morning, a pair of warm, almond-shaped eyes locked with hers, and she blinked, thrown off.

“Sorry—what were you saying?” she asked, still a little distracted after catching a glimpse of mop-like hair bouncing down the hallway.

Jimin grinned, hopeful. “I said, how about I treat you to lunch today? It’s been a few days since I saw you.”

Taehyung appeared out of nowhere behind Jimin, looking completely unhinged. He was waving his arms like a maniac, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like “Abort! Abort! Come with me!”

Aera stood frozen at the threshold of the meeting room, still recovering from the Parks’ Jeju Project debrief. She had no idea what was going on, but judging by the wild panic in Taehyung’s eyes, she figured she’d better find out.

“I’m sorry, Jimin, I actually promised to have lunch with someone else,” she lied smoothly, already inching away. Taehyung had started bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was about to explode.

Jimin’s face dimmed just a little. “Oh... maybe tomorrow, then?”

Before Taehyung could actually slam his head into the nearest wall—which he looked this close to doing—Aera called out, “Yeah, sure!” and sprinted toward him. She grabbed his arm just as he jammed a fist into his mouth to muffle a scream.

“What is going on?” she asked, breathless.

Taehyung yanked his fist free, gasping. “I wish I was born a female.”

“What?”

“I mean it,” he said, eyes wide, like this was life or death. “I have a full-on princess kink. I want Jungkook to call me princess.”

Aera stared at him, horrified. “Taehyung. What the hell. Can you be serious for once?”

“I am serious. I’m having a gay panic. Look for yourself. Have your own panic attack.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

Her heart stopped working instantly.

Aera had felt a little let down this morning when she heard Jungkook would only be coming in after lunch. But now? Now she was grateful. Because looking at him like this, there was no way she could’ve worked with a straight face—or a functioning brain.

Taehyung’s gay panic was entirely justified. And his sudden obsession with being called princess? Honestly, same. The way Jungkook looked right now… everyone in the building would kill for that honor.

“Nari nearly passed out when he smiled at her,” Taehyung whispered in awe. “He said ‘good morning’ and she hasn’t recovered.”

“I don’t think she ever will,” Aera replied, her voice barely a breath. “I don’t think any of us will.”

Jungkook had always been good-looking. That wasn’t news. But this? This was something else entirely. This was rude.

Short, tousled hair. Hollow cheeks. That stupidly perfect body—broad shoulders, trim waist, long legs—and that dimpled smile that could stop traffic. It wasn’t just hot. It was offensive.

And then there was the shirt.

A soft, worn-in blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the top three buttons undone like he didn’t know what chaos he was causing. His pecs peeked out with every move, taut and unfair. He wasn’t just walking around the office—he was strutting like a problem.

Aera’s brain flatlined. Beside her, Taehyung whimpered.

Jungkook was walking straight toward them.

“I can’t do this. I’m out. Bye,” Taehyung muttered, clapping a hand on Aera’s shoulder before making a hasty escape toward the guys’ washroom.

Aera blinked. “Wait, Taehyung!” she called after him, spinning around, but he was already gone.

Great. Now it was just her.

“Aera?” The sound of her name stopped her cold. Jungkook’s voice—smooth, familiar, devastating—wrapped around her like a trap.

She turned slowly, heart thudding.

“What are you doing here?”

Her mouth went dry. Her name had never sounded so beautiful, and God, she could feel herself getting hooked on it—on him—all over again.

“Nothing! Just heading out for lunch. The meeting with the Parks ended a bit ago,” she blurted, way too fast, like her mouth was trying to outrun her nerves.

Jungkook raised a brow. “Mind if I tag along? I need a quick update so I can loop Seokjin in.”

He said it so casually, like there wasn’t still frost in the air between them. Like her heart hadn’t just skidded to a halt the moment he spoke.

“Yeah, sure,” she said without thinking, hoping this was the moment—the conversation they’d both been skirting around. Work came first, she reminded herself. But she couldn’t shake the thought that Jungkook could’ve just asked the project lead instead of her.

They ended up at a quiet, hole-in-the-wall restaurant run by a middle-aged couple. The kind of place that smelled like home and served meals that arrived still bubbling. Aera ordered dolsot bibimbap, Jungkook went with oxtail soup.

“Thank you,” they said together when their food arrived, bowing their heads.

“Careful—the bowl’s hot,” the man warned before leaving them with a smile and a polite bow.

Aera picked up her chopsticks and began mixing her rice, the sizzle rising as she stirred. Across from her, Jungkook lazily spun his spoon in his soup, eyes fixed on her with quiet interest.

He didn’t start eating right away. He just… watched.

When she took her first bite and reached for her yuja tea immediately after, he finally spoke, a hint of amusement threading through it.

“Still can’t handle spicy food?” He shook his head, smiling into his soup. “You liked it even as a kid, but it never liked you back.”

She looked up, caught between surprise and something else. He hadn’t brought up their past in a long time. But now, sitting across from her like no time had passed at all, he just had.

And just like that, the silence between them cracked.

“Didn’t think you’d remember,” Aera said, her words quiet but laced with bite. “Figured you never really knew me at all, Mr. Jeon.”

The words landed like a punch. Jungkook’s expression faltered, guilt spreading across his face like a shadow.

He jabbed at his food with the back of his spoon, eyes fixed on the bowl.

“Listen, about that, prin—”

“Please don’t call me that,” she cut in sharply. “My name is Aera.”

Jungkook shut his eyes and let out a slow, weighted sigh. “I was an asshole,” he admitted. “I know that now. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. You didn’t deserve it.”

He looked up at her then, eyes wide with something close to desperation.

“Be mad. Yell. Say whatever you want. Just… don’t hate me.”

She stared at him for a long moment, chest tight.

“I don’t hate you, Jungkook,” she said, barely above a whisper.

The anger, the hurt, the resentment—it all rose to the surface… then slipped away, replacing it with something heavier.

Grief.

“Why?” Aera asked, barely holding steady. “I just want to know why you pushed me away.”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to the table, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his spoon.

“Because I thought I was protecting you,” he said finally. “At least, that’s what I told myself. But honestly…” He gave a dry laugh. “It was a shitty excuse. A coward’s way out.”

“Protect me from what?”

He hesitated, then tapped his chest lightly, right above his heart. “From me. From whatever mess I was back then. I convinced myself I wasn’t good for you, that I’d just end up hurting you.”

Aera stared at him, disbelief etched across her face. “How could you even think that?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was quiet now. “I was in my own head too much. I thought walking away would spare you. But all I did was ruin something good.”

He looked up at her, eyes soft with regret.

“I’m sorry, princess. I really am.”

Her eyes shimmered, the tears rising for one last time. “I’m sorry too. About your mother… I should’ve been there.”

Jungkook gave a small, sad smile as he reached across the table and laid his hand gently over hers.

“It’s okay, princess. I’m okay now.”

She looked down at their hands, then laced her fingers through his. The touch steadied her.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

He squeezed back. “I’ve missed you too.”

Aera let out a soft, tearful laugh, and Jungkook’s chuckle followed right after—quiet, warm, like it used to be.

Her heart ached again, but not the way it used to.

This ache was gentler. Something like healing.

The tense air between them had finally settled. Whatever wall had stood between them for years was cracking, piece by piece, under the quiet rhythm of shared food and soft conversation.

Aera still had questions. And Jungkook, between bites of oxtail and sips of tea, answered them all without hesitation. Like he owed her the truth. Like he wanted her to have it.

“So, Jeon?” she asked, eyeing him over her bowl.

He looked up, eyes wide and innocent as he chewed. “What about it?” he asked, mouth still half full.

“How’d you end up with the surname?”

“Oh, that,” he said, swallowing. “The foster home I was placed in was named after someone—Mr. Jeon. All the kids took on the name by default.”

“Isn’t that kind of weird?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Maybe. But it stuck. I think it suits me.”

Aera snorted. “Of course you’d think that.”

He grinned, unbothered.

She leaned back. “What about the guy you punched? At the wedding?”

“Yeong’s son,” he said, as if it were obvious. “He crashed the wedding. I wasn’t about to let him screw it up like his dad did.”

“Oh.”

A beat passed.

“Okay, but seriously…” Aera squinted at him. “What was that devil line about?”

“What devil line?”

She dropped her voice an octave, mimicking his tone dramatically. “Of course I am. Jeon Jungkook—the devil no one asked for, princess.”

Jungkook winced, slouching in his seat. “You just had to bring that up, huh?”

“Well, of course!” She burst into laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “You sounded like a rejected webtoon villain.”

He pulled a face, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

Aera did. And in that moment, everything inside her began to loosen—her heart, wound tight for far too long, finally exhaled. She had found her best friend again.

They finished eating with full stomachs, fuller hearts, and cheeks sore from laughing too much. Jungkook claimed he paid for her meal; Aera swore she’d paid for his. In the end, they somehow managed to cover each other’s tabs.

Outside their company building, Aera turned to him with a grin. “So, are you going to ignore me again?”

Jungkook smirked. “Depends. Do you want me to ignore you?”

The grin faded as Aera replied, a little too casually, “I don’t know. I might have confided in Taehyung about the emotional chaos you threw me into.”

Jungkook’s shoulders sagged. “Fantastic. Can’t wait for the lecture.”

And as expected, Taehyung gave him an earful—scolding him for treating Aera the way he did, especially when he’d known her for so long. Then, naturally, he pivoted to Jungkook’s new look, dramatically sighing about how unfair it was that he wasn’t into guys. “If you were, you’d be mine by now.”

Jungkook dodged him for two days straight.