JUNGKOOK's POV

I dial Eunwoo's number once again, the shrill tone ringing in my ear before it cuts to voicemail. Useless. Where the hell is that bastard when I need him the most?

Frustration claws at me as I toss my phone onto the desk. I glance at the screens displaying my stocks and investments, the numbers rising steadily-a symbol of the empire I've built, the empire I've expanded since winning that damned war. The gang is thriving: money flows in torrents, power solidified. Everything is perfect.

Well, almost everything.

For the gang, yes. For me? Not even close.

She's not here. Not by my side. Not where she belongs. Two years. Two agonizing years since she disappeared. I've scoured every dark corner, followed every whisper, chased every lead, yet it's as if she's vanished into thin air.

She was the light in my shadowed existence. A beacon in the void of my world. And now? Now, I' m just a man consumed by her absence, drowning in the emptiness she left behind. I thought I was strong, invincible even, but without her, I'm nothing.

Addicted. That's what I've become. Addicted to her presence, her laugh, the way her eyes softened even when the rest of the world hardened against me. And now? Look at me. A broken shell of what I once was, consumed by rage and regret.

Anyone foolish enough to mention her name in my presence would feel the cold kiss of a blade before they could finish their sentence. Fear-it fuels me, gives me purpose. The trembling gazes, the stammering voices, they keep me grounded, but they're not her. She never feared me. She stood unwavering, even when she should have run.

I miss her. My angel.

The only remnants of her in my life are the three dogs she named. I watch them from my office window, pretending they still guard her like they did the day she met them. It's pathetic, I know. But that's all I have left.

Grabbing the glass of whiskey on my desk, I down it in one swig, the liquid burning my throat, a fleeting distraction from the inferno raging inside me. For a moment, I welcome the numbness, but it doesn't last. The pain always returns. The nightmares, vivid and relentless, claw at my mind every time I close my eyes.

The glass shatters in my grip, jagged edges slicing into my palm. Blood trickles down, but I barely notice. The physical pain pales in comparison to the torment in my chest. I let the shards fall to the floor, crimson droplets marking their descent.

I'm teetering on the edge of another outburst when the door creaks open.

Eunwoo strides in, his usual nonchalance plastered on his face. The sight of him stokes the embers of my anger. Before he can speak, I glare at him, fists clenched so tightly my nails bite into my palms.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I snap, my voice low and venomous.

"Boss, 1-"

I raise a hand, silencing him. But then it hits me. A scent. Familiar. Intoxicating. Her scent.

My chest tightens, and my gaze sharpens. In an instant, I have him pinned against the wall, my fist clutching his collar.

"You better have a good fucking reason why you smell like her." My voice is a deadly whisper, laced with fire.

Eunwoo's eyes widened, guilt flashing across his face. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He tries to avoid my gaze, looking anywhere but at me.

"Answer me," I growl, my grip tightening around his throat.

"I... I went to see her." His words hit me like a sledgehammer, a mixture of hope and fury surging through me.

Blinded by rage, I release him with a forceful shove. He stumbles, his back slamming against the opposite wall.

"How?" My voice is a roar now, and when he doesn't respond fast enough, I kick at his ribs, eliciting a groan of pain.

"I-I did my own research," he chokes out, clutching his side.

"Where is she?"

He hesitates, turning his head away, but I press my foot against his bruised rib until he cries out.

"All the information is on my computer," he wheezes.

A sadistic smile spreads across my face as I pull out my phone.

"Prepare a private jet," I ordered my assistant, my tone cold and commanding. "And get a hacker to comb through Eunwoo's database. I want everything."

"Yes, sir," she replies curtly, and I hang up.

Turning back to Eunwoo, I glare at him, my voice dropping to a menacing growl.

"Do this behind my back again, and a bruised rib will be the least of your worries."

He nods weakly, too afraid to argue.

As I leave the room, my thoughts race. She's within reach. After all this time, I might finally see her again. My heart pounds with anticipation, though a small part of me wonders will she even recognize me? Has she changed? Of course, she has. She's clever. She's always been clever.

When I step into the car waiting for me, the guard hands me a USB drive, detailing the information they've uncovered.

"She's in Daegu," he explains. "Attending high school under the name Choi Yoona. She works at a small café. Her records state she's eighteen."

A smirk tugs at my lips. Of course, she's reinvented herself. She's resourceful like that. But it infuriates me that she's done all this without me.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a low groan. When I get her back, I'll need to tread carefully. I can't just cage her like before. I'll have to earn her trust, rebuild what I shattered.

The jet is ready by the time I arrive. As I board, the guard asks, "When should we take her, sir?"

I glare at him, my voice like ice.

"None of you will touch her."

The thought of her in someone else's grasp ignites a fury I can barely contain.

"What name will you use, sir?"

I pause, considering my options before replying with a name that will allow me to move unnoticed.

As the jet takes off, I close my eyes, the thought of her consuming me. I'm so close now. So close to bringing her back where she belongs.

--

Y/N's POV

It had been a week since Eunwoo last made an appearance, and, to my surprise, I felt oddly calm about it. I had managed to convince my friends that I reported the suspicious car to the police. They believed me without question, and thankfully, Rose hadn't brought up the unsettling café incident again.

Now it was lunchtime, and the usual chatter filled the air as we gathered around our regular table. Lighthearted conversation flowed until Kazuha, with her usual knack for stirring excitement, dropped a topic that instantly commanded everyone's attention.

"Have you guys heard about the new exchange student coming here from Busan?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with intrigue.

We all shook our heads, leaning in slightly, curiosity piqued.

"It was pretty sudden," she continued, scrolling through her phone for emphasis. "But apparently, the school didn't want to risk its reputation, so they accepted it without much fuss." Kazuha paused for dramatic effect, her gaze lifting to meet mine, Yunjin's, and Jisoo's across the table.

"And," she added, her voice rising with excitement, "I heard he's hot!"

That was enough to send Yunjin into a flurry of enthusiastic chatter, and soon she and Kazuha were animatedly discussing their "types." I rolled my eyes, turning my attention away from the conversation. The whole thing felt tiresome, yet I wasn't surprised by their reaction.

Before I could fully detach myself, Jisoo, ever the instigator, pulled me back in.

"What about you, Yoona? What's your type?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

I groaned and dropped my head onto the table, eliciting amused laughter from all sides. Their expressions were predatory, like lions cornering an unsuspecting gazelle.

"Just give us a description!" Yunjin chimed in, her tone playful yet insistent.

Resigned, I lifted my head, resting my chin on my hand as I pretended to deliberate.

"Uhm..." I began, but the image of Jungkook immediately flashed in my mind-his piercing eyes, his raven-black hair, his towering presence. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

"Black hair... tall."

My thoughts lingered on the rest of the description that I dared not voice aloud. Has wings...

The table erupted into cooing and squeals, snapping me out of my reverie. Kazuha and Yunjin's faces were adorned with devious smirks that practically screamed mischief.

"What?" I asked, confusion creasing my brow.

Their giggles only intensified, and when I glanced at Taehyung sitting nearby, his expression was priceless-a mix of shock and disbelief, as if I'd just summoned a ghost.

Then it dawned on me.

He was tall. He had black hair.

Panic set in, and I failed my arms defensively, trying to dispel their teasing assumptions, but it was too late. Kazuha and Yunjin were already brainstorming relationship nicknames, their laughter ringing in my ears.

I shot Taehyung an apologetic glance, feeling a guilty tug at my chest. Turning to the others, I adopted a more authoritative tone.

"It's not going to happen," I declared firmly. "I need to focus on school right now, not relationships."

Kazuha and Yunjin pouted in disappointment, but Jisoo nodded in understanding, offering me a small smile of support.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, I gathered my books and rose from my seat. Catching sight of Kazuha's sulking face, I patted her shoulder lightly.

"Don't worry," I said with a wink. "I'm sure you'll score the new Italian kid."

That earned me a giggle from her.

"Thanks, Y/N. Bye!" she called as we parted ways.

Walking down the hall, I glanced out of a nearby window, only to spot a familiar sight that sent a shiver down my spine-a sleek black SUV parked near the school gates.

Just when I'd begun to think the creep had given up on tailing me.

I scoffed under my breath, forcing myself to focus as I headed to my next class. Yet, the murmurs about the mysterious exchange student followed me down the corridors, the excitement infecting everyone I passed.

Sliding into my usual seat at the back of the classroom, I let my gaze drift out the window. The SUV was still there, unmoving, just as it had been yesterday.

What was Eunwoo still doing here?

--

The next day at school was a whirlwind of chatter, and every hallway echoed the same subject-the new boy.

"He's so hot!"
"Did you see his eyes?"

Everyone seemed utterly bewitched by someone who hadn't even been there for a full day. The excitement was almost suffocating.

As I walked into the homeroom, my friends greeted me with their usual warmth. I smiled and joined them in the corner of the class. Our conversation turned to the homework, a welcome distraction from the buzz that seemed to follow the mysterious new student like a shadow.

Before long, the bell rang, signaling us to take our seats. I reluctantly moved to my desk in the middle of the class, dreading the company I was forced to endure.

Sitting next to me was none other than Jaemin-one of the biggest jerks in school. The moment I sat down, his face stretched into an insufferable smirk.

"Jaemin," I muttered under my breath, already exasperated.

"Y'know, Yoona," he began, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Prom is coming up, and I need someone hot to go with me."

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. It wasn't even a proper invitation. Typical Jaemin-too consumed by his own ego to simply ask.

"Really?" I sighed, not even sparing him a glance.

I could tell my indifference irked him, but I wasn't expecting what came next. His cold hand landed on my thigh, and before I could react, it started sliding higher.

My eyes widened in shock as he leaned closer, his voice a low, disgusting murmur in my ear. "I know you want me, babe."

Fury surged through me, and I acted on instinct. Grabbing his hand, I dug my nails into his skin before slapping it off my thigh with enough force to make him flinch. Jaemin yanked his hand away, wincing in pain.

I leaned in, my voice a sharp whisper that carried every ounce of my anger. "Never do that to me, or any other woman. You'll get the same reaction-or worse."

But just as I finished, I felt a piercing gaze settle on me.

Looking up, I met the eyes-or rather, the presence-of someone new. A pale, black-haired man stood near the doorway, his face partially obscured by a mask. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, and locked on me.

The infamous new kid.

Pulling away from Jaemin, I sat back in my chair, trying to shake off the unsettling encounter. Around me, whispers filled the room, growing louder as the teacher stepped forward to introduce him.

"Class, please give a warm welcome to our new Italian exchange student, Jeongguk Russo!" she announced, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.

The class responded with a chorus of greetings, though most were more akin to adoration. Even the teacher seemed smitten, her tone bordering on fawning.

"Please, Jeongguk, sit anywhere you like," she added, gesturing to the desks.

Jeongguk moved with a quiet confidence, and though his face was obscured by the mask and his hair, there was no denying his striking appearance. The mask added an air of mystery, and his dark hair cast shadows that concealed most of his features, making it nearly impossible to see his eyes.

Yet, even without a clear view, I could feel his gaze drilling into me.

And then, to my dismay, he chose the empty seat right next to mine.

I sighed inwardly, determined to focus on the teacher's speech. But curiosity got the better of me, and I stole a glance at him.

He wasn't looking at me anymore, giving me a chance to study him more closely. Through a strand of his dark hair, I caught a glimpse of one of his eyes-deep brown, yet flecked with something golden that shimmered faintly in the light.

I quickly averted my gaze as he turned toward me again, pretending to be engrossed in my notes.

When the bell finally rang, I grabbed my books and hurried out of the classroom with my friends. Their chatter filled the air, but their words were drowned out by a single name that lingered in my mind.

Jeongguk.

It felt strangely familiar, though I couldn't quite place it.

Jeongguk, huh?

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