Chapter 66: Noona Knows
The storm didn’t come with thunder this time.
It arrived as a flurry of emails. Invitations. Interview
requests. Feature articles. And with them, a quiet unraveling that began not
within the mansion walls—but beyond them.
Jungkook’s identity as Koo had not just stirred the art
world.
It had cracked it open.
“You have six new gallery requests,” Taehyung muttered as he
scrolled through Jungkook’s inbox, one brow raised as he stood over the sleek
desk in their study. “Three of them are in Europe. One offered a private jet.”
Jungkook blinked from where he was sprawled across the
tufted couch, chin propped on his crossed arms, his long sleeves bunching up
like cotton clouds. “Do I have to go?”
“No,” Kim V answered calmly, leaning against the bookshelf
with a glass of something dark in hand. “But they’ll keep asking. And the more
you avoid them, the more curious they’ll get.”
Jungkook’s lower lip jutted out in that soft, pouty way that
had recently become lethal to both twins. “But I only like drawing at home…
with my blankies... and with Dada and Daddy nearby.”
That voice. That tone. It wasn’t full little space—but it
danced on the edge, teasing. Naughty. Intentional.
And it worked.
V’s eyes darkened slightly, the same way they always did
when Jungkook weaponized his sweetness. “You can’t draw the world and hide from
it forever.”
“But what if I make Daddy and Dada my whole world?” Jungkook
chirped, pulling his knees up to his chest, oversized sleeves flopping around.
“Then I don’t need to draw anything else. Just you two.”
Taehyung turned to him slowly, one hand loosening the collar
of his shirt as his jaw flexed. “Koo.”
“Mm?”
“Come here.”
He pouted. “Why?”
V didn’t speak. He simply set the glass down and extended a
hand, commanding without words. When Jungkook hesitated, still bundled in his
plush cardigan like a mischievous kitten, Taehyung’s voice dropped lower.
“Because you just melted us with those damn words, and you
need to be kissed now.”
Jungkook squeaked—but obeyed.
Within seconds, he was pulled between them—held in
Taehyung’s lap, mouth caught between teasing and breathless sighs as V leaned
in from behind to press kisses to his neck.
The study faded.
Only warmth remained.
By the next morning, the quiet routine of their domestic
bubble shattered.
Because Niki Park called.
And Niki Park never called.
Jungkook stared at her name lighting up his screen like a
warning flare. His ‘noona,’ the only person alive who knew he was Koo. His
manager, his voice in the shadows, his partner in secrecy.
He slid the screen to answer.
“Noona?” he whispered.
“Koo,” came her sharp voice, strained, urgent, and low.
“Where the hell are you?”
His heart skipped.
“I’m…home?”
“You’re not answering any of the curators. Your exhibition
went viral, every major critic is digging into who you are—and now I’m getting
anonymous messages with grainy photos of you entering a black car outside a
private estate.”
Jungkook’s breath caught.
“They’re getting too close, Koo. I’ve been fielding calls
from Forbes. Forbes, do you hear me? They want a cover story. They think you’re
an exiled heir. A ghost. Someone in witness protection.”
He froze. “I—I didn’t tell anyone…”
“I know you didn’t,” Niki exhaled, voice softening slightly.
“But now, they’re guessing. And one wrong move… and someone’s going to figure
out more than just your name.”
Behind him, V had entered the room silently. He could tell
from the familiar scent, from the slight brush of fingertips at his back. And
when he turned—guilt in his eyes—V nodded once, as if saying: Let her come.
So he whispered, “Noona… I think you should visit.”
She arrived in less than two hours, dressed in dark pants, a
windbreaker, sunglasses, and fury.
But all that fury melted the second Jungkook opened the door
and whispered, “Noona…”
She pulled him into her arms immediately, fingers threading
through his messy curls. “You little brat,” she choked out. “You vanished. You
blew up the art world. And you didn’t even warn me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “I didn’t
even wanna go to the exhibit…”
“Then who did?”
A pause.
Two shadows appeared behind Jungkook at the foyer
entrance—tall, composed, devastatingly elegant. Taehyung in slate gray. V in
obsidian black. Their expressions unreadable, their eyes locked on Niki like
trained wolves guarding the gate.
Niki’s gaze flicked from one to the other, her jaw
tightening. “You must be the husbands.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “You know?”
“I figured it out even though your parents only told me that
they are your relatives and you are here for protection. Who won’t when you
call them dada and daddy?” she muttered, pushing her glasses up into her hair.
“I’ve known you too long, Koo. I knew something changed when your paintings
started showing fire and bruises and love.”
V stepped forward, not menacingly—but with his usual cold
authority. “We didn’t intend to bring him into the spotlight. That was never
the plan.”
“And yet here we are,” she replied calmly, raising a brow.
“The media is closing in. And if they ever find out who he’s married to…”
“We know,” Taehyung interrupted. “It would destroy the
illusion. Your Koo would vanish.”
“But my Jungkook would be safe,” she shot back, fierce.
Silence fell.
It wasn’t tension. It was respect.
The kind that passed between wolves.
“Then let me help,” Niki said finally. “I’ll manage the
press. We’ll keep his face hidden. I’ll set boundaries for appearances. He
doesn’t have to speak to anyone. He just paints. The rest is on me.”
“And us,” V added.
“And us,” Taehyung echoed.
Jungkook looked between them—his world colliding into a
single room.
One part of him—the artist. The other—the boy who whispered
“Dada” and “Daddy” and slept in the middle of a bed too big for loneliness.
He smiled softly.
Then he turned to Niki. “Noona. Will you stay for dinner?”
She blinked. “Dinner?”
“Yeah.” He grinned now. “Dada cooks sometimes. Daddy helps
him taste everything. And I do the dishes. Sometimes.”
Niki laughed, the sound more real than it had been in
months.
“Fine,” she said, ruffling his curls. “Dinner it is. But
only if you promise to sign ten canvases tomorrow.”
That night, as the mansion filled with the clatter of plates
and warm laughter, Jungkook found himself nestled between his two protectors at
the dinner table, legs tangled with theirs beneath the long linen cloth, eyes
heavy from wine and warmth.
V leaned in to whisper something against his ear. Taehyung
stole another kiss near his temple.
And across the table, Niki watched with quiet
wonder—realizing that the boy she once shielded from the world had found a
world of his own.
A world made of two kings and one golden heart.
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