Chapter 67: The Whisper of Headlines
The morning began before the sun.
Not because of alarms, or schedules, or obligations.
But because Kim Taehyung rose early with one arm still
curled protectively around Jungkook's waist—his lips brushing softly over the
younger's shoulder, murmuring words too quiet for daylight.
V was already awake in the study, scrolling through a tablet
screen filled with digital articles that didn’t just whisper anymore—they
screamed.
"Koo: The Phantom of the Modern Art World?"
"Anonymous Artist Sells Out in Hours—Who Is the
Billionaire Collector Protecting Him?"
"Jeon Jungkook? Just a Rumor, or Something More?"
His jaw clenched slightly as he scrolled. The internet was
moving faster than their containment.
By the time Taehyung slipped into the room, still barefoot
in his robe, the air between them was already filled with silent tension.
“You saw it?” V asked without looking up.
“I did,” Taehyung murmured. “They're narrowing in.”
“Someone posted a picture of him from behind,” V added. “Low
resolution. Leaving the exhibit. They think he’s a chaebol heir. Others say
mafia.”
A short silence.
Then Taehyung sighed. “Both are correct. But none should be
proven.”
The chair squeaked slightly as V sat back, pushing the
tablet away and rubbing his temples. “It’s not just about protecting Koo now.
It’s about protecting Jungkook. The lines are blurring.”
Taehyung glanced toward the hallway where Jungkook’s soft
voice could be faintly heard, humming as he padded around the kitchen in bunny
slippers. “He doesn’t understand what this means.”
“He shouldn’t have to.”
“Then we do what we always do.”
V’s eyes lifted slowly.
“We protect what’s ours.”
Later that afternoon, the plan began.
Niki was the first to propose the idea: a controlled
interview—one anonymous, black-curtained, heavily edited session filmed from
behind, with voice modulation if necessary. The world would get a taste of
Koo—but no face, no real name.
Only mystery.
And perhaps a little art.
“Koo can speak through his brush,” she explained as they
gathered in the library. “But I need something real. A moment. A sentence. A
silhouette. We’ll record it here, in the mansion. One camera. One question. No
revealing details.”
Jungkook curled deeper into his blanket on the window seat,
eyes peeking over the edge. “I don’t like cameras.”
“You won’t see it,” Taehyung said gently, running his
fingers through his hair. “You’ll talk to me. Or Daddy.”
“I want Daddy,” Jungkook mumbled, reaching his arms out
toward V. “Only Daddy.”
V moved instantly, lifting him easily into his lap with one
strong arm as Jungkook’s cheek pressed against his chest.
“Then Daddy it is,” V whispered, stroking his back. “No one
will touch you, little one. They’ll hear only your voice. And if you want…
Daddy will say the words for you.”
Jungkook nodded. “I’ll whisper them to you.”
The camera session happened that night, under the low light
of golden lamps. Jungkook sat behind a lace curtain, cradled in V’s lap as
Taehyung stood behind the camera, and Niki watched with headphones on.
Only one question was asked.
"Why do you paint?"
Jungkook didn’t answer right away.
His voice came as a whisper, breath brushing over V’s
throat.
“Because sometimes… when I can’t speak, the colors can.”
V’s voice carried the sentence aloud.
And the camera captured it—softly, subtly, beautifully. The
silhouette of an artist curled in safety. The velvet sound of protection. And
the truth, buried in metaphor.
It was enough.
And the world would soon hear it.
That night, as the twins carried Jungkook to bed—his body
draped bonelessly between them after too many kisses, too much whispered
praise, and the nervous exhaustion of the day—he mumbled something into the
darkness.
“Dada… Daddy…”
“Yes, love,” Taehyung murmured, brushing the curls back from
his damp forehead.
“…what if they find me anyway?”
V leaned closer, his lips brushing Jungkook’s ear.
“Then let them look,” he whispered. “They’ll never get past
us.”
And Jungkook smiled sleepily, curling tighter into the
center of the bed as four arms surrounded him.
Safe.
Shielded.
Loved.
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