Chapter 7 || "Professor Kim: A victim. A Survivor. A Saint." || BOOK 2 OF PHOENIX IN HIS ARMS.

 

The mansion was quiet once again—well, at least for a few fleeting minutes.

But peace, as fate had decided, was not meant to linger long in the house that held Jeo- KIM Jungkook.

After a dramatic showdown with the floor and a heated verbal argument with the marble pillar, Jungkook shuffled through the hallway, lips pouting, cheeks flushed, and eyes still damp from unshed tears.

And now…

He was thirsty.

Not just thirsty—"parched, dying in the desert, crying for water" kind of thirsty. So naturally, his drunken brain decided that the next epic quest of the night would be to raid the kitchen.

Slowly, he waddled into the massive, sleek, dimly-lit kitchen that gleamed under the ambient glow of the ceiling lights. For a brief moment, the space was still—almost serene.

Then…

CRASH.

A glass clattered onto the floor.
BANG. A cabinet door swung open violently.
THUD. Several boxes, some wrapped in velvet ribbons, came flying from a shelf.

“Koooooookieeee is thirsty. Hyungie, where do you hide the pretty juice with the bubbles?!” he called out as he opened drawers and cupboards like a mini tornado, tossing utensils, Tupperware, and pans to the floor like confetti. “No pretty juice? No coconut drink? Where’s my banana milk?!”

He opened the refrigerator, squinting, groaning dramatically. “You’re all green. I don’t like you. I want pink. Blue. purple. I want love. Where are you, hyungie?”

Drawers were pulled. A stack of bowls slid off the counter. A cutting board clattered to the floor. Jungkook was clearly searching for something… although it was obvious even he didn’t know what.

The sound of crashing and muttered curses soon woke a few maids from the servant quarters. Three of them rushed toward the kitchen in alarm, assuming perhaps a burglar had broken in.

“Is that a thief—?”

“Check if the back door is locked—!”

But what they found instead was far more shocking than any burglar.

Standing in the centre of the wreckage, surrounded by toppled jars, broken noodles, and a sea of flying utensils, was their young master Jungkook, dramatically clutching a ladle in one hand and glaring into the fridge with all the intensity of a betrayed prince.

“Y-young Master Jungkook?!” One of the older maids stepped forward hesitantly. “Are… are you searching for something? Please tell us. We will find it for you.”

Jungkook turned slowly, pout still deep, eyes wide and glassy. His voice came out soft, lost, and utterly pitiful.

“I’m… I’m lookin’ for Hyungieee,” he sniffled. “I… I can’t find him…”

And then—true to his dramatic soul—he tripped over the rolling lid of a pot, stumbled, and landed on his butt with a loud thump.

The maids gasped and rushed to him. “Young master! Are you alright?”

But Jungkook’s eyes welled up like a kicked puppy.

His lips quivered.

And then—
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The waterworks exploded.

“Hyungiiiiiiiie left meeeeeeee! He’s gooooone!”

He rubbed his eyes with his sleeves and hiccupped between sobs. One of the newer maids, Soojin, gasped, crouching beside him, completely mesmerized.

“He’s so cute…” she whispered in awe. “Even while crying. I want to keep him in my pocket!”

Suddenly, one of the older maids, more experienced in surviving Jungkook’s chaos, frowned. “He seems… drunk.”

“Go call the Master and Madam. Quickly!”

Within minutes, heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. The kitchen doors opened again—and in came Mr. and Mrs. Kim, faces etched with concern.

But the moment they laid eyes on their baby bunny, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor with a whisk in his hand and tears streaming down his cheeks like a broken cartoon character, concern turned to barely stifled laughter.

“Kookie?! What happened, sweetheart? Why are you crying?” Mrs. Kim gasped as she hurried over, kneeling beside him and holding his wet face gently. “And weren’t you at your friend’s house for a sleepover? Why are you—”

But Jungkook sniffled and cut her off mid-sentence.

“Momma! I can’t find Hyungie!!” he cried. “He’s not here! Look—!”

He grabbed a pot lid beside him and lifted it.

“Not under here.”

He flipped a mixing bowl.

“Not here either.”

He held up a spoon, stared at it for a second like it might give him answers, then dropped it with a sob.

“He’s gone, Momma. I looked everywhere. Is he angry because I called him ‘old man with no teeth’ this morning?” Jungkook sniffled louder now, tears falling again in fresh waves. “He left me? Doesn’t he love Kookie anymore? Waaaaahh!”

Mrs. Kim tried to soothe him, gently stroking his hair. But Mr. Kim raised a brow, folding his arms.

“Kookie… are you drunk?”

Jungkook froze. Then turned to stare at him—utterly horrified—as if Mr. Kim had just spoken in ancient Martian.

“DADAaaa?! How can you say that to your baby?!”

He gasped loudly. “You don’t recognize me anymore?! I am your baby kookie. Not drunk. How can you call me someone else’s name? Did you… Did you replace me with another son?! Am I adopted?! HUUUUAAAAAAAAAA!!”

Mrs. Kim turned away, biting her lip, clearly on the verge of laughing out loud. Mr. Kim coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“I want Hyungie!” Jungkook wailed, trying to stand while clutching the countertop. “Is he with that drunk owl-faced squirrel man you were saying about?! HUH?! That DUCK! That BALD, TOOTHLESS, STINKY POOP-FACED DRUNK!! He doesn’t even have a cute name like me. How can Hyungie like him?! He’s not as pretty as me!! I’m the prettiest! Everyone wants to marry me! How can Hyungie cheat on me with a guy with a name as weird as Drunk? Does he like weird names?”

He pointed dramatically to the ceiling. “I will find a richer and handsomer hubby and make Hyungie cry with jealousy! I’ll bully him and—”

He stumbled again, falling into Soojin’s arms, who squealed but caught him just in time.

The maids stood in complete silence, jaws open, watching this drunken baby threaten invisible rivals with vengeance and tragic heartbreak like a soap opera’s lost prince.

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Kim exchanged glances.

Mrs. Kim’s lips twitched.
Mr. Kim bit the inside of his cheek.

They held it… held it…

And then—

BURST OUT LAUGHING.

Because what else could they do?

This was Kookie, after all.

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