Chapter 101: The Unveiling

 

The private jet soared above the clouds, cutting a silver path through the night as Seoul loomed ahead. But the silence inside the cabin wasn’t of uncertainty anymore—it was the kind of silence that builds in the chest just before something momentous.

 

Jungkook sat between Taehyung and V, not curled into them this time, but upright. Alert. Calm in a way he hadn’t been before—because for once, he wasn’t reacting to the world. He was leading it.

 

In front of him sat a box.

 

Unmarked. Heavy. Locked.

 

Inside it were hundreds of sketches—his early works, his rawest pain, his most vulnerable moments that had once been sold behind his back to men who saw value only in tragedy.

 

Now, they were his again.

 

And this time, he didn’t plan to keep them hidden.

 

V handed him a velvet-bound folder, crisp and elegant. Inside were files—the beginning of something new. Jungkook’s new gallery. A private one. Independently owned. Fully protected under three shell companies, all legal, all bulletproof. Not under “Koo.” Not under “Kim.” But under his real name.

 

Jeon Jungkook.

 

“You really want to do this?” Taehyung asked softly, his voice steady but eyes watching closely.

 

Jungkook nodded, fingers brushing the edge of the folder.

 

“I want them to know. Not who I married. Not who I belong to. But what I own. What I created. What I survived.”

 

He looked between them.

 

“And I want to do it with both of you beside me.”

 

V didn’t smile often. But the small curve of his lips was enough to send heat across Jungkook’s cheeks. He reached over, brushing his thumb beneath Jungkook’s bottom lip—a soft, reverent touch.

 

“Then let the world see you,” he whispered. “Let them try to handle it.”

 

—

 

The gallery opened one month later.

 

Quietly.

 

No press releases. No interviews. Just a single invitation sent to the highest art critics, museum curators, and cultural icons around the world.

 

The gallery’s name?

 

Ashes.

 

Minimalist. Three floors. Each dedicated to a theme—Pain, Freedom, and Love.

 

On the topmost floor stood a single sculpture in the center.

 

A boy, carved from obsidian, cradled in the arms of two faceless men. One pressed a hand to his chest. The other curved protectively around his back.

 

There was no plaque.

 

No explanation.

 

But everyone who stood before it could feel it.

 

Raw. Sacred. Untouched by the public’s gaze—and yet, made for it.

 

A week after the soft opening, the news hit the media like a detonation.

 

“Jeon Jungkook: The Hidden Artist Behind ‘Koo’ Reveals Identity.”

“Ashes Gallery Sets New Standard in Healing Through Art.”

“Who Are the Silent Protectors Seen at Jungkook’s Side?”

 

Paparazzi stormed the front of the building.

 

They were met with black-suited guards and a single sign: Photography of the artist strictly prohibited.

 

But despite the lack of photos, rumors swirled.

 

And one image leaked from a security cam—a soft blur of Jungkook stepping into the gallery, flanked by two tall men in midnight suits, one wearing a crimson pin on his lapel, the other adjusting Jungkook’s scarf like the wind dared to touch him.

 

It was enough to fuel obsession.

 

But no one got closer.

 

Because inside the gallery, Jungkook lived in a sanctuary.

 

And every piece of him displayed on those walls had been chosen by him.

 

His little space even made appearances—mostly during after-hours, when the lights dimmed and the gallery emptied. He’d giggle barefoot down the stairs, oversized hoodie slipping from one shoulder, cheeks puffed as he demanded snacks and sleepy cuddles from his Dada and Daddy.

 

And the twins?

 

They had changed, too.

 

No longer just cold rulers of boardrooms and shadows. They were becoming men who smiled more often. Who touched without hesitation. Who whispered affirmations into soft skin and kissed away every old echo of fear.

 

—

 

One night, two months after the gallery opened, Jungkook stood at the rooftop garden of the Ashes building, wrapped in V’s long coat, the city glittering below them.

 

“I didn’t think I’d make it here,” he said quietly.

 

Taehyung stepped behind him, sliding arms around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. “You didn’t make it here alone.”

 

V joined them moments later, brushing a kiss to Jungkook’s temple before taking his hand.

 

“Do you regret it?” he asked. “Telling the world?”

 

Jungkook shook his head.

 

“No. They didn’t get the whole of me. Just what I chose to give.” He turned to face them, doe eyes soft with certainty. “The rest of me… stays with you.”

 

Taehyung smiled.

 

V bent low and kissed him slowly—intimately—until Jungkook whimpered against his lips, eyes fluttering closed, warmth sinking into his bones.

 

There was no more need to hide.

 

No need to fight for a place.

 

Because this—this rooftop, this gallery, these hands on his skin—this was home.

 

And for the first time in his life, Jungkook wasn’t someone’s secret.

 

He was the center of everything.

https://novelreadingislife.blogspot.com/2025/05/chapter-102-shadows-return.html