WARNINGS ⚠️

1.THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION ! And advised for adult audience.

2.𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱.!!!

3.𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁/𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀.!!!

WARNINGS ⚠️

!!IMPORTANT!!

This story is entirely original. Any similarities to other works are coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited and constitutes plagiarism. Respect the author's creativity.

The moon hung low over the Jeon Villa, casting silver streaks across the black marble of the sprawling royal estate. Though it was late, the villa buzzed with quiet tension, every corner brimming with whispers and speculation. The news had already escaped the walls of the empire, traveling faster than wildfire: Jeon Jungkook, the Emperor of the Underworld, was married.

But the marriage wasn't what anyone expected. No ceremony, no grandeur, no spectacle. Just a signature on a piece of paper, a simple band exchanged like an afterthought. For a man whose mere name could make continents tremble, this was unthinkable.

The underworld was in chaos. The whispers began with the lieutenants, spreading quickly to the captains, and then to the rival mafias. The Emperor of the Underworld, Jeon Jungkook—the untouchable devil, Lucifer himself—was married. But there was no celebrations, not even the faintest sign of celebration. But would there be a reception atleast for the new Empress. A union of such magnitude should have shaken the world with its extravagance, yet all it had taken was a quiet signing of papers.

In the quiet corners of the villa, the staff exchanged hushed words as they went about their duties.

"Did you hear? The Emperor... married?"
"Yes, but there wasn't even a ceremony! Can you imagine?"
"Who is it? Who did he marry?"
"They say it's Park Jimin... his right hand."
"His right hand? That's impossible! he's just a shadow, not someone with power or status."
"Still, the Emperor chose him. That means something."
"Or it means nothing. You know how the Emperor is—ruthless, calculated. There's always a reason."

Jeon Jungkook's unpredictability had always been his greatest weapon, and now, with this sudden marriage, he had reminded the world that even his personal life was a battlefield no one could comprehend.

What does it mean?" one rival boss mused over a cigar in his shadowy office.
"Why Park Jimin?" another speculated during a meeting in Paris.
"It's just the Emperor being the Emperor," someone murmured, the fear in their voice unmistakable.

These whispers were echoed in mafia circles across the world. Jungkook's decision, as unexpected as it was, became the topic of every meeting, every deal, every gathering. Rival leaders speculated about the motive behind the union, while allies wondered what it meant for the empire.

In the grand sitting room of the Jeon Villa, Minhae paced restlessly, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor. Yeji sat nearby, her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone with feigned disinterest.

"This is absurd," Minhae hissed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "A marriage without a ceremony? No announcement? No guests? Does he even understand what this means for the Jeon family's reputation? He is going beyond everything."

Yeji glanced up, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp. "Mother, do you really think he cares about that? He's Jeon Jungkook. The world bows to him. Why would he care what anyone thinks?"

Minhae's lips thinned, her frustration evident. "This isn't just about him! A marriage is supposed to strengthen alliances, showcase our power. This—" she gestured wildly, "—is a disgrace!"

Yeji raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I think it's brilliant. By doing it this way, he's shown that he doesn't need a ceremony to prove his power. It's a flex, Mother. A big one."

Minhae's gaze darkened. "And what about the spouse he's chosen? Park Jimin? A man with no lineage, no connections, no standing. He's just a shadow. How does that help us?"

Yeji shrugged. "Maybe that's the point. He doesn't need anyone's help and I believe you as his step mother shouldn't interfere in his life or else now the me nor Namjoon can save you from him, don't provoke that monster, mom."

Minhae's frustration boiled over, but she knew better than to voice her thoughts further. She might resent Jungkook's decision, but she feared him far more than she loved the Jeon name.

In the solitude of his room, Jimin sat at his desk, staring at his phone. The device felt heavier than ever, as though it knew the weight of the conversation he was avoiding.

His eyes flicked to the shiny diamonds embedded wedding band on his finger, its simple design mocking him with its permanence. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. How was he supposed to tell Jihyun?

The image of Jihyun's hopeful face flashed in his mind, and guilt twisted in his chest. His younger brother had always been his reason for surviving, his happiness in the chaotic sea of the mafia world. And now, he had to explain that he was married—to the Emperor, no less without his presence Jimin had got married. How will he tell this to the brother who was most excited about Jimin getting married.

Jimin's hand hovered over his phone, his thumb brushing against the screen. He could already imagine Jihyun's reaction: confusion, concern, maybe even anger or fear. But how could he explain something he barely understood himself?

He placed the phone back on the desk with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "One step at a time," he muttered to himself, though the words felt hollow.

While Jimin wrestled with his thoughts, the Emperor was preparing to unleash hell.

***Jeon Jungkook's customised Japanese sharp Katana***

⚠️‼️ ⚠️Gore scene ahead: you've been warned already, can be uncomfortable for reading to few of you. so please don't blame me later. ⚠️‼️⚠️

In the underground chamber of the Jeon Villa, the air was thick with tension. The room, dimly lit by flickering flames, felt like the bowels of hell itself. The walls were lined with weapons, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the firelight, and at the center stood a single chair—cold, metallic, and unforgiving.

A man sat in the chair, bound and bloodied, his breaths ragged and uneven. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at the figure looming over him.

Jeon Jungkook. The Emperor's presence was suffocating, his dark eyes gleaming with a predatory light. He held a sharp katana in one hand, its blade glinting ominously. His suit was immaculate, not a single thread out of place, a stark contrast to the carnage he was about to unleash.

"You betrayed me," Jungkook said, his voice low and cold. Each word was like the strike of a hammer, heavy and final.

The man whimpered, shaking his head violently. "N-no, Your Majesty, I swear—"

Jungkook tilted his head, his expression devoid of emotion. "You swear? Cut the crap out of those same shitty dialogues as always," he repeated, his tone mocking.

The man's voice cracked. "I... I didn't mean to—"

"Silence."

The single word was a command, and the man fell silent instantly, his body trembling.

Jungkook stepped closer, the tip of the katana tracing a slow, deliberate path along the man's cheek. "Do you know what happens to those who betray me?"

The man's breath hitched, his eyes filling with tears. "P-please... mercy..."

Jungkook's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Mercy?" He laughed softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "Do you think Lucifer grants mercy?"

Jungkook yanked the man by his hairs in a strong grip as the man yelped painfully by the force of deadly grip.
With a swift, fluid motion, Jungkook brought the katana down, the blade slicing cleanly through the man's shoulder. A blood-curdling scream filled the chamber, echoing off the walls.

Jungkook's expression didn't change. He stepped back, watching impassively as the man writhed in agony.

"You should have thought of mercy," Jungkook said, his voice calm and detached, "before you decided to cross me."

The room was silent except for the man's ragged breathing and the faint drip of blood onto the floor. Jungkook turned to one of his lieutenants, who stood silently by the wall. Their souls shivering inside they knew what was about to come.

"Tear off his fucking shirt, as I have this itch to tear off his skin." Jungkook commanded in a low growl.

As the man was on his knees infront of the Emperor, Jungkook gripped on that gang leader's wrist with a force as he began to slide of the skin from his hand and peeled it off so nonchalantly as if he was peeling of potatoe skin. The action was utterly painful and nerve wracking the man's shouts might be heard in the entire Jeon villa perhaps. The blood gushed on the floor and the part of flesh or skin fell on the ground separated. 

"Ahhhhhh....... No.... I beg you..... please stop!! Please stop...... ahhhhh."the gang leader's shouts and tries to run away as he cries and shouts in pain. But Jungkook's grip was so powerful that man couldn't even move back leave about running off.

As the Emperor peeled off his skin from the other hand as well which again fell on the ground. "Don't fucking sting my ears, you wrote your death sentence by even having thought of going against me motherfucker." And with that Jungkook gestured one of his men, who made the gang leader stand up, as Jungkook adjusted his slides his fingers through his customized royal katana made of gold detailings, his dark intense gaze fascinate admiring the sharp edge of his beloved katana. And just like that he amputated gang leader's both legs in one strong and powerful strike. The man got separated by his legs and fell on the floor in his pool of blood. As just the legs were amputated the man wasn't dead yet unfortunately for himself.

"Burn him alive in the middle of market," Jungkook ordered, his tone devoid of emotion. "And make sure his associates and all the people understands what happens to those who defy me."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the lieutenant replied, bowing deeply.

⚠️*** gore scene ends here ***⚠️

Later that night, Jungkook returned to his quarters, his steps measured and deliberate. The scent of blood still lingered faintly in the air, but his expression was as composed as ever. But few stains covered his shirt from the incident.

He found Jimin standing by the window, his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. Who was smoking lost in his thoughts.

"You're still awake," Jungkook said, his tone neutral.

Jimin turned, his gaze unreadable. "Couldn't sleep."

Jungkook nodded, moving to the small bar in the corner of the room. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light.

"You'll get used to it," Jungkook said, taking a sip.

"Get used to what?" Jimin asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

"This," Jungkook replied, gesturing vaguely. "The weight. The chaos. The inevitability."

Jimin's jaw tightened. "And if I don't want to get used to it?"

Jungkook smirked faintly, setting the glass down. "Then you'll break. And I don't have time for broken things."

The words stung, but Jimin refused to let it show. As then his gaze fell upon the blood stains of Jungkook's shirt, the right hand instantly realised what method of torture might had been used on the betrayer. Ofcourse he knew he was Jungkook's shadow for a reason, something similar to the real, that's what a shadow is to be precise.

"Go to bed, Jimin," Jungkook said, his tone softer now. "Tomorrow will be worse."

Jimin watched as Jungkook left the room, his emotions a tangled mess. For a brief moment, he wondered if the Emperor was as unbreakable as he seemed—or if he, too, carried cracks beneath his cold, impenetrable surface. Meanwhile cursing his own fate.

As Jungkook turned to leave, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor, Jimin remained by the window, his gaze trailing after the Emperor's imposing figure. The room felt colder, heavier, as if Jungkook's presence lingered like a storm cloud even after he had walked away.

But then, something clicked in Jimin's mind—a realization hit, that sent a strange jolt through him. The date. "1st September". The day they had signed their marriage agreement. The day his life had been irreversibly changed.

It was also Jeon Jungkook's birthday.

The thought hit Jimin like a punch to the chest, the weight of it pulling him out of his chaotic whirl of emotions. He stared at the closed door Jungkook had disappeared through, his mind racing.

Of all days... he chose today?

Jimin's hand instinctively tightened around the ring on his finger, his thoughts turbulent. Why? Was it a power play? A cruel joke? Or did it mean something deeper?

Before he could think better of it, Jimin found himself striding out of his room, his feet carrying him toward Jungkook's private study. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, but he refused to stop, refused to back down. He needed answers.

Jungkook sat in the dimly lit study, a glass of whiskey still in his hand, the amber liquid swirling gently as he leaned back in his chair. His expression was calm, unreadable, but there was a faint flicker in his eyes—a rare moment of introspection.

The knock on the door was firm, almost demanding. Without looking up, Jungkook's voice cut through the silence. "Enter."

Jimin pushed the door open, stepping inside with an unusual fire in his eyes. Jungkook glanced at him briefly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "What's the matter, still couldn't sleep?"

"No," Jimin said bluntly, his voice steady but tinged with something sharper. He took a step closer. "Why today?"

Jungkook arched an eyebrow, setting his glass down on the desk, as he looked up from the stack of files he was working upon. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with me," Jimin snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why did you choose today, of all days, to get married? Your birthday, Jungk—"

He stopped himself, biting down on the name, remembering the unspoken rule that no one, not even him, was allowed to speak it.

The faint smirk on Jungkook's lips widened, a dark amusement glinting in his eyes. "Careful, Jimin. That was almost a second sin."

Jimin's jaw clenched, but he refused to back down. "Answer me."

Jungkook leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he regarded Jimin with a predatory intensity. "And why does it matter to you besides I'm not subjectaboe to answer anyone ?"

"Because it's your birthday," Jimin said, his voice rising slightly. "Because it feels like some kind of twisted game—tying me to you on a day that's supposed to be about you."

Jungkook's gaze darkened, his smirk fading. "Do you think I care about birthdays? About celebrations? About anything that resembles sentimentality?"

Jimin faltered for a moment, the weight of Jungkook's words sinking in.

"This day means nothing to me," Jungkook continued, his voice low and cold. "It hasn't meant anything for a long time...... And now, it's just another day—one that serves one more purpose to me."

Jimin stared at him, his chest tightening. "Then why?" he pressed, his voice quieter now. "Why did you pick it?"

Jungkook leaned back, his expression unreadable once more. "Because it's efficient," he said simply. "And because no one would forget the date."

The answer felt both calculated and hollow, but Jimin could see the faintest flicker of something deeper in Jungkook's eyes—something he couldn't quite place.

"Go back to bed, Jimin," Jungkook said, picking up his glass again. "This conversation is over."

Jimin hesitated, his mind still racing, but he knew he wouldn't get anything more out of Jungkook tonight. With a quiet nod, he turned and left the study, his thoughts heavier than ever. "But still your answer doesn't fit, I'm not convinced......" Jimin was about to complete his sentence but was met with a sharp deadly glare from the devil. He runs on his heels to walk away silently now.

Behind him, Jungkook took a slow sip of his whiskey, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame of the single candle lighting the room. For the briefest moment, his expression softened—just enough for a flicker of something human to shine through. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask he wore so well.

To Be Continued...

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