Chapter 77: The Shadows Stir

 

The calm after the storm didn’t last long.

 

Not in the Kim estate, and certainly not beyond the polished walls and velvet drapes of the mansion where Koo now lived cocooned between his Dada and Daddy. The fire had gone out, the sun risen, but tension simmered quietly under morning light like it always did in the world of men who lived among shadows.

 

Jungkook woke tangled between them—Taehyung’s hand curled gently against his chest, and V’s arm stretched protectively across his waist. Their breathing was deep, even, but Koo couldn’t sleep anymore. His body was sore in the sweetest way, from their possessive affection, from whispered promises pressed into his skin, and from the slow, building ache of having everything he wanted… and knowing it wasn’t safe.

 

Because the world had started asking questions.

 

And it never stopped at the surface.

 

Carefully, he slipped out from between them, bare feet padding across the wooden floor as the first blush of dawn reached through the tall windows. He didn’t go far—just to the balcony attached to the master bedroom. A warm robe wrapped around his form, coffee mug cradled between both hands.

 

Below, the gardens were still wet from the storm. Dew clung to everything like diamonds. And in the distance, the sea glittered faintly beneath the clearing sky.

 

He stood there quietly, just sipping.

 

And then he heard the door behind him open.

 

He didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

 

V stepped out beside him, also in a robe, his expression unreadable. His presence was quiet, powerful—like the sea itself.

 

“You’re up early,” V murmured, not quite questioning, but not neutral either.

 

Koo nodded without looking at him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

 

There was a pause.

 

Then V’s hand reached out, brushing back a strand of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear.

 

“You’re scared,” he said quietly.

 

Jungkook didn’t deny it.

 

“I didn’t think it would all happen this fast,” he said finally. “I didn’t think they’d care this much.”

 

“The world doesn’t care,” V replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked out at the horizon. “They’re just… hungry. For beauty. Mystery. Secrets. They’ll tear open anything to see what’s inside.”

 

Jungkook shivered. Not from the cold—but from the truth of it.

 

“Daddy…” he said, voice small, unsure.

 

V turned fully then, placing both hands on Koo’s cheeks, making him look up.

 

“You don’t need to be afraid of them,” he said. “You have us. And we’ll never let them near enough to touch you.”

 

“But what if they already have?” Jungkook whispered.

 

V’s jaw tightened. “Then we rip the hand off before it reaches you again.”

 

The words shouldn’t have comforted him—but they did.

 

Because he believed them.

 

V would burn the world for him if he had to.

 

And so would Taehyung.

 

As if summoned by thought, the other twin stepped out onto the balcony, sleep still in his eyes, his hair slightly tousled. He blinked at them, then leaned against the railing beside Jungkook.

 

“No one’s getting to you,” Taehyung muttered, sipping from a cup he must have stolen from the tray. “They don’t even know where to look.”

 

“But what if someone figures it out?” Jungkook asked, unable to keep the fear from his voice. “What if they start connecting the dots—me, Koo, you two?”

 

Taehyung’s gaze was steady, calm in that frightening way only he could manage.

 

“Then we erase the dots,” he said. “And the ones connecting them.”

 

It wasn’t a metaphor.

 

Jungkook’s throat tightened.

 

There it was again—that shadow behind their words, behind their gentleness. That reminder that the men who held him like something sacred were not saints. They were quiet gods with bloodied hands.

 

And Jungkook… was beginning to remember who he really was.

 

Not just the artist.

 

Not just the innocent.

 

He wasn’t defenseless. He never had been.

 

The world had just forgotten what Jeon Jungkook was capable of.

 

And so had he.

 

Until now.

 

Taehyung stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both him and V in a quiet, anchoring embrace.

 

“We’ll lay low for a few weeks,” he said softly. “No public appearances. No new releases. We let the hype die down. Then we move.”

 

Jungkook looked up at both of them. “Move how?”

 

V’s eyes flickered like a match. “We show them who they’re really playing with.”

 

A beat of silence.

 

And then Jungkook’s lips parted slightly. “I want to help.”

 

Both twins went still.

 

“You’ve helped enough, Koo,” Taehyung said gently.

 

“No,” Jungkook insisted, shaking his head. “I mean… I want to remember. Everything. I want to know who I was. What I did. What I can still do.”

 

The wind rustled through the leaves below. The waves crashed more softly.

 

And still, neither man spoke.

 

Until V leaned down and kissed his forehead.

 

“Then it’s time,” he said.

 

Taehyung nodded once.

 

“No more secrets.”

 

And just like that, the chapter closed on fear—and opened on reckoning.

 

Jungkook wasn’t just going to be protected.

 

He was going to fight back.

 

And the world had no idea what was coming.

 

Not when Jeon Jungkook’s masks started to fall.

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