Chapter 91: Exposure
The estate gates had never opened for anyone unannounced,
but this time, they parted with a quiet groan of metal under pressure—an
unspoken exception granted for the woman standing stubbornly beneath the
drizzle, her coat soaked, holding a box of cream puffs and a folder marked
“Urgent.”
Niki Park had never been afraid of rich people, even less so
of mysterious billionaires who rarely spoke. She had once fought off a
collector trying to auction off one of Koo’s paintings as a fake—and won. She
had slept on train benches chasing Jungkook’s commissions through Europe,
managed his identity with a lawyer’s precision, and had now, in an ironic
twist, become the only outsider to know almost everything.
Almost.
Not that she knew about the two towering men currently
looming behind her on silent feet as she entered the mansion’s marbled foyer.
Taehyung's voice was calm, low, with a subtle trace of
amusement. “You’ve been persistent.”
Niki turned, a few drops of rain clinging to her lashes. “I
was his assistant before all this,” she said. “And his friend. I haven’t seen
him in weeks. He hasn’t responded to messages. That’s not Jungkook.”
Behind her, V stepped out of the shadows, gloves off,
expression unreadable. “He’s been… occupied.”
“I’m sure he has.” She narrowed her eyes just slightly. “But
that doesn’t excuse disappearing.”
The tension between them could be cut with the silver cake
knife she hadn’t yet handed over. Then—
A thud echoed from upstairs.
Not violent. Not sharp. Just the soft, clumsy sound of
someone… tumbling?
“Daaaaaddyyyy!” came a muffled call, dragging like silk
through molasses, laced with unmistakable mischief.
Niki blinked.
“What—”
Another thud. Then a squeal of delight.
“Daaddaa!! Where’s my bunnyyyyy—he’s hiding!”
The sound of soft footfalls followed, and then, bounding
down the staircase like a delighted child on a sugar high, came the one and
only Jeon Jungkook.
Wearing nothing but an oversized pastel hoodie and fuzzy
socks.
His face was painted with streaks of blue, there was a pink
plush rabbit tucked under one arm, and his other hand held what looked
suspiciously like one of V’s belts, looped around his wrist like a leash.
“Hi, Nunu!” he chirped with a grin that could melt glaciers.
Niki stared.
Open-mouthed.
Speechless.
Utterly, hopelessly confused.
“…Jungkook?”
He froze halfway down the stairs, blinking at her. Then
tilted his head. “…Noona?”
Behind him, V appeared silently, buttoning up his black
shirt halfway, lips still slightly red from—
Niki didn’t want to know.
She raised a finger. “Am I… hallucinating?”
Jungkook, unbothered, skipped the rest of the way down and
latched onto her in a hug. “Missed you,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “I was
busy bein’ a bunny.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’ve gone insane.”
“Nooo,” he grinned. “Just little.”
V and Taehyung exchanged the barest of glances.
Taehyung stepped forward with the elegance of a prince.
“Would you like tea, Miss Park? Jungkook can be quite expressive when he’s
safe.”
“I—I—yes,” she stammered, letting him guide her into a
sunken lounge. “He’s expressive alright. Is this… is this permanent?”
“Depends on the mood,” V murmured, sitting beside Jungkook
and casually letting the younger boy curl into his side. “And how many cookies
he’s had.”
“Koo doesn’t eat sugar,” she reminded him.
“He does now,” Taehyung said with a slow smile.
Later, after Jungkook had passed out in V’s lap—murmuring
about bunny tails and blanket forts—Niki finally got her chance to speak.
“I came because something happened,” she said, pushing the
folder across the glass table. “One of Koo’s paintings sold last week. For
triple market value. But here’s the thing—it wasn’t from the official
collection.”
V’s eyes narrowed. “Forged?”
“No. Real.” She flipped the page. “This photo was taken
during the Paris exhibit. Someone managed to snap this.”
A grainy image of Jungkook’s hand, mid-stroke with a brush.
His ring. His signature wrist tattoo.
“Internet forums are exploding. They’re trying to match body
marks, fingernails, anything. His anonymity is slipping.”
Taehyung’s jaw tensed. “Was this shared publicly?”
“Only on niche art forums. But that won’t last.”
V slowly leaned back, eyes dark. “Then it’s time.”
Niki looked between them. “Time for what?”
They didn’t answer.
That night, the security at the estate doubled. Every staff
member signed new NDAs. Cameras were checked. And in the studio, Jungkook sat
in silence as V gently brushed through his damp hair.
“You okay, baby?” V whispered.
Jungkook blinked. “Did I make trouble?”
“No,” Taehyung said from behind, wrapping his arms around
them both. “You just made noise. And sometimes, that’s exactly what the world
needs.”
Jungkook tilted his head. “What happens now?”
V’s fingers stilled. “Now, the world starts watching.”
And maybe—just maybe—it was time to show them what love
looked like when wrapped in velvet, guarded by shadows, and painted in the
blood-red hues of devotion.
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