Chapter 113: The Prince’s Crown

The cathedral stood like a skeleton of glory, ribs of stone arched into a shattered sky, its stained-glass eyes long since shattered by war and time. It had once been a sanctuary, a place of worship and choir-song, but now it was only dust and whispers.

 

And it was calling them.

 

The message from Valter had been clear.

 

“If you want the truth, come to the altar. Bring only the boy.”

 

Jungkook stared at the crumbling structure from the backseat of the car. Rain streaked the windows, blurring the world into swirls of gray. His fingers tapped rhythmically on his thigh, slow, deliberate.

 

“Are you sure about this?” V asked from beside him, eyes scanning the area, calculating every shadow, every flicker of movement.

 

“No,” Jungkook said simply, then turned to Taehyung who sat on his other side. “But I have to go.”

 

Taehyung didn’t argue. He never did when it came to Jungkook’s decisions—not since they crossed the border into the dark territories of his past. He just leaned forward, pressed his lips softly to Jungkook’s brow, and whispered, “Then go, baby. But come back.”

 

Jungkook didn’t speak, only nodded.

 

Then he stepped out into the rain alone.

 

The inside of the cathedral was colder than death.

 

His boots echoed across the marble floor as he walked toward the altar, where faint candlelight flickered. The air smelled like mildew, wet stone, and old prayers never answered.

 

On the altar lay a box.

 

Black. Ornate. Carved with the Jung crest.

 

Jungkook’s hands trembled as he opened it.

 

Inside was a letter. A tape recorder. A single silver crown.

 

His fingers brushed the crown first—cool, jagged, fitted perfectly to a head that once belonged to a boy no one had protected. Then he unfolded the letter.

 

His eyes scanned the words, breath catching by the third line.

 

And then his fingers curled into fists.

 

Because the letter wasn’t from Valter.

 

It was from his father.

 

My son,

If you are reading this, then the empire has already burned, and I have paid for my sins. You were never supposed to be part of this war. But the moment you were born, I knew they would try to make you their pawn. That is why I let them take you. Why I let you believe I abandoned you. Because you were the only thing I ever loved more than my kingdom.

I failed you. But I hope one day, you will understand.

 

Jungkook’s breath hitched. The world spun.

 

He stumbled back, eyes wide, heartbeat thundering in his ears.

 

And then the tape crackled to life.

 

A voice—deep, tired, unmistakably his father’s.

 

“If he hears this… if he finds this… then he has become more than I ever dreamed. And I beg of you, Jeon Jungkook—don’t become what they tried to make me. You were born a prince. But that doesn’t mean you must rule with blood.”

 

The tape clicked off.

 

Silence followed.

 

Then footsteps.

 

Jungkook whipped around, blade already in hand, but it was V—followed closely by Taehyung, rainwater dripping from their coats, their expressions tight with concern.

 

“You were supposed to wait outside,” Jungkook whispered, throat dry.

 

“You were gone too long,” Taehyung said, eyes flickering to the open box, then to Jungkook’s face.

 

He saw the tears.

 

Didn’t say a word about them.

 

Just stepped forward and pulled Jungkook into his chest, arms folding around him with quiet understanding.

 

V walked slowly to the altar, picking up the crown.

 

“Your father… he planned this.”

 

Jungkook nodded, lips pressed to Taehyung’s throat, voice muffled. “He knew it would all fall. He knew someone would come for him.”

 

Taehyung’s fingers stroked through his damp hair. “But he didn’t count on you surviving.”

 

Jungkook pulled back, eyes cold now. Clear.

 

“No. He didn’t.”

 

V turned the crown in his hands, then stepped forward and gently placed it on Jungkook’s head.

 

It fit perfectly.

 

“You’re not just the heir,” V murmured.

 

“You’re the retribution,” Taehyung added.

 

And Jungkook—silent, regal in ruin—smiled with no joy.

 

Only purpose.

 

That night, back at the safehouse, Jungkook didn’t sleep.

 

He sat on the rooftop beneath a sky that had no stars, watching the cathedral crumble further in the distance. In his lap sat the box.

 

The letter.

 

The crown.

 

V came first, silently settling beside him with a thermos of tea.

 

“You know what comes next?” he asked after a while.

 

Jungkook nodded. “We burn everything. Every trace. Every last man still loyal to the throne that ruined this world.”

 

V didn’t argue.

 

“You’re different now,” he said.

 

Jungkook looked at him, expression unreadable. “Do you hate it?”

 

“No,” V said, eyes on the horizon. “I love you more for surviving it.”

 

Taehyung joined them a moment later, pulling Jungkook into his arms from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

 

“No more running,” he whispered.

 

“No,” Jungkook agreed. “Only ending.”

 

And as the rain began again, falling soft and slow over their kingdom of ghosts, the blood prince closed his eyes…

 

…and crowned himself king.

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