Chapter 72: The Painted Trap
The late afternoon sky draped its gold over the sprawling
cityscape like a lover’s touch, soft and tender, yet deceptive in its
stillness. Beneath that gilded glow, a sleek black car pulled up at a
nondescript underground entrance of a luxury high-rise, hidden in plain sight.
Jungkook stepped out first.
He wore a long beige trench coat cinched at the waist, his
soft curls tucked beneath a wool beret. Oversized sunglasses shadowed his eyes,
and a black scarf concealed the lower half of his face. There was no signature
“Koo” charm on display—no paint-stained fingers, no bashful glances. This was a
ghost in motion.
Niki met him at the elevator, her expression tight but
relieved.
“You came,” she said softly.
Jungkook lowered his sunglasses. His eyes were calm but
piercing. “You sounded scared.”
“I was. I am.” Niki gave a quick glance behind him. The
twins remained inside the car, giving them space, but Jungkook knew every move
would be monitored. “It’s not just talk anymore. There’s funding behind this
hunt.”
They entered the elevator together, Niki tapping a private
keycard that took them to the top floor.
Inside the penthouse, the silence was thick.
Everything was clean, untouched—but the windows were blocked
out. Cameras dismantled. A safe house disguised as a studio flat.
“Who funded it?” Jungkook asked quietly, slipping off his
coat as he walked to the center of the room.
Niki hesitated. “A subsidiary of the Saito firm. You know
that name?”
Jungkook blinked. “From the Tokyo exhibit?”
“Exactly.” She moved quickly to a folder laid out on the
coffee table. “They purchased two of your pieces anonymously at the last global
showing. It turns out those purchases weren’t for investment—they were for
tracking. They embedded digital traces into the frame backing. They’ve been
trying to pinpoint your patterns, movements, exhibition preparation windows…”
Jungkook felt the chill crawl up his arms. “How much do they
know?”
“Enough to plan a fake gala.”
Jungkook’s eyes snapped to her.
Niki nodded grimly. “An exclusive invitation-only event in
Prague. They want Koo to attend. But it’s not real. The whole guest list?
Fabricated. They’re trying to smoke you out.”
There was silence.
Jungkook sat down slowly, fingers pressing against his
temple. “Why are they so desperate now?”
“Because your value has doubled overnight. After the Seoul
reveal—Koo has become more than myth. You're an icon in hiding. They don’t want
your art. They want the chaos of unmasking you.”
Jungkook gave a soft, bitter laugh.
“So they want a monster.”
Niki shook her head, kneeling in front of him. “They don’t
realize that monster doesn’t live alone.”
He met her eyes. “They’ll find out.”
Back at the mansion, dusk slipped through the windows like
wine spilling from a glass, and the twins stood in the war room—dressed in dark
suits, ready.
“We’ll accept the invitation,” V said coldly. “But we’ll
rewrite the rules.”
Taehyung’s hands slid into his pockets, voice dangerously
calm. “They wanted an art gala. We’ll give them one.”
“But on our terms,” V added. “In our city.”
That’s when Jungkook stepped into the room, now dressed in
black-on-black with a thin silver chain around his neck and rings sliding onto
his fingers like weapons.
“They wanted to trap Koo,” he said softly. “Let them. But
Koo won’t show up.”
He tilted his head, dark curls shadowing his eyes.
“I will.”
Three days later, the false gala was held in an underground
vault disguised as an elite venue in the Prague art district.
The twins didn’t send Jungkook alone.
They flanked him—Kim V on his left in a crisp wine-colored
suit with obsidian lapels, Kim Taehyung on the right in deep navy velvet that
clung like sin.
And Jungkook?
He was radiant in pearl-gray silk, the fabric cascading down
his frame like fog across a dream. No scarf, no glasses. His face was veiled
only in mystery—strikingly beautiful, hauntingly still.
The room went silent the moment they entered.
It was a crowd of power brokers, investors, shadow dealers
in luxury and legend. They had all come expecting a glimpse of myth.
But they hadn’t expected a boy who walked like a ghost and a
god in one body.
V guided him forward, slow and measured, while Taehyung’s
hand never left the small of Jungkook’s back.
“Koo,” someone breathed from across the room.
Jungkook didn’t blink.
Instead, he tilted his head and whispered, “Let’s begin.”
The gala turned to tension.
The crowd approached cautiously—some reaching with flattery,
others testing with veiled questions.
But Jungkook only smiled.
He answered none.
He simply walked past each person with deliberate grace
until they began whispering to one another in confusion. The myth was too
quiet. Too watchful. Too... in control.
That’s when the trap was triggered.
Midway through the curated exhibition of stolen paintings
(some of which were Jungkook’s, now reclaimed), a whisper went out.
“There's a press van outside.”
“Someone leaked this.”
“Security—! The exits—!”
And in the chaos, the Saito representative stepped forward,
cornering Jungkook near the side gallery.
“You should be grateful,” the man hissed. “The world
deserves to see you. And you—should be seen."
Jungkook blinked, lips parting slowly.
Then he whispered, “I think you mistook me for prey.”
Before the man could speak again, a cold hand landed on his
shoulder.
Kim V.
Taehyung appeared at the other side of the corridor,
blocking retreat. He took off his velvet gloves slowly, finger by finger.
“You wanted a reveal,” Taehyung said, his voice low and
lethal. “So here’s the truth.”
Jungkook stepped forward between them.
“I was never hidden,” he said softly. “You just didn’t know
where to look.”
Outside, the press never got a single image.
The feed cut out. The lights went dark. When the building
reopened hours later, not a single guest remained—and every trace of “Koo” was
scrubbed clean.
But within the collector’s underworld, the message was
received loud and clear.
Koo belonged to two shadows now.
And they would not allow him to be touched.
Later that night, inside the safety of a private villa on
the outskirts of Prague, Jungkook curled between his two lovers beneath a
blanket laced with the scent of lavender and skin.
He was quiet, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace.
Then he whispered, “Do you think… they’ll ever stop trying?”
Taehyung kissed his temple. “No.”
V’s arm tightened around his waist. “But they’ll never
succeed.”
Jungkook smiled sleepily, his voice muffled against
Taehyung’s chest.
“Dada… Daddy…”
Both men froze.
He giggled.
“Let’s break another art world tomorrow, okay?”
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