Chapter Text
The rain beat incessantly against the villa’s windows. It was a dark night, the sky covered with black clouds that seemed to reflect the weight of the worries Jungkook carried on his shoulders. He had spent the day on a mission with the Park men, a series of deliveries that had concluded without any issues. But every moment had been a delicate game of nerves. He constantly felt the need to be doubly alert, not only to the outside world but also to himself, making sure nothing would emerge to topple the castle of lies he had built.
After weeks of relentless work, Jungkook had earned a stable position within the Family’s inner circle. He wasn’t a trusted man yet, but his name was starting to circulate, accompanied by a tacit respect. Despite everything, the true goal of the mission — penetrating the heart of the Park family — still seemed far off. Jimin remained elusive, surrounded by a wall of cautious suspicion toward anyone who had not yet earned his trust, a trust that no one seemed able to break.
But if the heir of the Jeon family were honest with himself, he would admit that something didn’t add up in the stories his father had told him. Every time he spoke with Jimin, every time he watched him interact with his men, the calculated coldness he had been warned about never fully manifested. Instead, he sensed a depth, an emotional complexity that unsettled him. Jimin wasn’t just a cold puppet master of a criminal dynasty; there was humanity in him, a vulnerable side that made him all too real.
That night, as he watched the rain run down the window, Jungkook's phone vibrated. A message. He glanced at it quickly, and his heart jumped:
*“The moon will be high over the water in an hour. Listen to the silence where our memories blend.”*
There was no need to check the sender’s number — it would have been useless, a disposable phone, like the one he hid from the Park family to maintain communications with the Jeon.
The meeting with Seok-hoon, his father, was the first contact they had since the mission began, but Jungkook didn’t feel ready. It wasn’t just a matter of reporting information; it was those doubts about Jimin, which didn’t match what he had been taught since childhood.
He got ready quickly, slipping on a black coat, and quietly left the villa. The air was cold, and the sound of the rain seemed to muffle every noise, creating an eerie atmosphere as he headed toward the meeting place.
Their meetings always took place in the same spot: an old abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, far from prying eyes. When Jungkook arrived, he saw his father’s black car already parked near the entrance, where one of Seok-hoon’s trusted men was waiting, allowing him to pass without a word.
Inside, the air was damp and heavy with the smell of rust. Seok-hoon waited, seated on a metal chair, his figure cast against the peeling walls by the dim light. His face was impassive, but his eyes betrayed a calculated coldness.
“You’re here,” he said without preamble. “Tell me, how is it going?”
Jungkook approached, keeping his gaze lowered for a moment. Even though it was his father, there had never been warmth in their meetings.
“Things are going as planned. I’m in, within the Park circle. I’m starting to make a name for myself, but it won’t be quick to reach the heart.”
Seok-hoon stared at him intensely, as if trying to peer inside him. Whatever he saw, he didn’t let it show as he spoke his next words:
“Good. Don’t disappoint me.” It wasn’t the expectation of a father wanting to be proud of his son, but the cold order of a strict superior.
Jungkook nodded, but inside he felt the weight of the lie growing. His father couldn’t imagine how difficult it was to maintain the façade, especially in front of Jimin, who seemed less cruel than he had been told.
“I understand, father,” he replied calmly.
“Is there anything else to add?”
The question sounded like a challenge. Jungkook knew he couldn’t voice the doubts stirring inside him. It would be a sign of weakness, perhaps even betrayal, and he knew all too well how his father dealt with traitors.
Jungkook shook his head, and without another word, watched his father’s car disappear into the darkness.
When he returned to the Park villa, the sky was beginning to lighten. The rain had stopped, but the air was still heavy, thick with tension. He felt tired, as always after meeting his father. He paused at the entrance, gazing at the villa silhouetted against the horizon. That house, which was supposed to be just the playing field for his mission, was starting to feel like a prison.
As he approached the door, he heard light footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Jimin in the courtyard. He was alone, without his usual escort. He wore a light jacket, despite the night’s humidity. His enigmatic eyes fixed on Jungkook.
“It’s late,” Jimin said, his tone almost… concerned. “Where have you been?”
“Around, just getting some air,” Jungkook lied.
Jimin studied him for a long moment, as if he could see through the lie. Then, he gave a faint smile.
“Be careful,” he finally said. “Sometimes, the air can be dangerous.”
Jungkook watched him walk away, as he inhaled deeply the scent of the damp earth, heavy with petrichor.