Chapter 97: Bloodlines and Broken Chains

 

The morning sun leaked through the velvet drapes of the estate’s eastern wing, draping the polished floors in golden warmth. Jungkook—still very much Koo—stirred in the cocoon of the silk sheets, tangled between the two warm bodies he trusted more than anything in the world.

 

Taehyung’s arms were wrapped loosely around his waist from behind, one of his legs slotted between Koo’s. V lay on his other side, hand splayed lazily across Koo’s bare stomach, fingers twitching occasionally, as if they were still painting dreams into him.

 

Koo blinked slowly, lips parting into a breathy yawn as he snuggled deeper between them, a low hum of contentment vibrating in his throat.

 

“I feel like a sandwich,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

 

Taehyung chuckled against his nape, his lips brushing the delicate skin there. “You’re our favorite kind.”

 

“Messy. Sweet. Naughty,” V added from the other side, brushing Koo’s tousled hair out of his eyes.

 

A soft giggle escaped him, but then a whisper of memory cut through the calm—the painting, the gate, the crown of thorns.

 

Koo stilled.

 

V noticed immediately.

 

“Talk to me,” he murmured, propping himself up on one elbow.

 

“I saw it again,” Koo whispered, voice tight. “In my dream. The manor. But this time I wasn’t outside… I was inside. There were chains.”

 

Taehyung sat up behind him, arms staying wrapped securely around Koo’s waist. “Chains?”

 

Koo nodded slowly. “On the walls. Big, rusted. Like they were used for... someone.”

 

V’s jaw clenched subtly.

 

“We’ll have to go there,” he murmured. “We need to find that place. I think it’s time we stop guessing.”

 

Koo’s eyes widened. “Go... there? You mean it’s real?”

 

“We don’t know for sure,” Taehyung said softly, fingers drawing slow patterns over Koo’s stomach to soothe him. “But there’s a chance. V and I were planning to reach out to an old contact who specializes in lost syndicate archives.”

 

“You mean like... a mafia historian?” Koo tilted his head, only half-joking.

 

“Something like that,” V replied. “Her name is Sera Lim. Used to work with one of the Orchid Clan’s archivists before the clan fell apart. If anyone knows where the Thorn Crown estate is—or was—she will.”

 

Koo didn’t speak for a moment. Then: “I want to go.”

 

“No,” both twins said at once.

 

Koo huffed and sat up, blanket pooling around his waist. “Why not?!”

 

“Because if it is what we think it is, it won’t be safe,” Taehyung said calmly, though his voice carried a warning edge. “You’ve only just begun to settle here. We’re not throwing you back into a possible trauma site.”

 

“But I need to know,” Koo argued, small hands curling into fists over the sheets. “I don’t want to live scared. I want to know why I was hidden. I want to remember everything.”

 

Silence stretched for a moment too long.

 

Then V sat up, brushing his hand across Koo’s jaw. “Not alone,” he said firmly. “If we go, we go together. No arguments. No running ahead. And no being brave without backup.”

 

Koo’s chin wobbled.

 

“I wasn’t gonna run,” he whispered.

 

Taehyung pulled him gently back into his chest. “We know. But your past is buried deep, baby. And whatever’s down there… it was never meant to be found.”

 

Later that evening…

 

The meeting with Sera Lim was arranged in a private lounge above an old bookstore in Gangnam. Discreet, secure, and shielded by layers of false storefronts and rotating guards who looked like harmless pensioners selling bookmarks.

 

Sera Lim was young—far younger than Koo expected. Barely in her early thirties, dressed sharply in a caramel suit and rectangular glasses that framed sharp eyes.

 

“You must be Koo,” she said with a small smile. “Or should I say... Jeon Jungkook?”

 

Koo stiffened.

 

Taehyung subtly stepped closer.

 

“You know his name?” V asked quietly.

 

“I know many names,” she replied, calm and unafraid. “But only a few matter. The name you should be asking about... is Jeon Il-Hwan.”

 

The name struck Jungkook like a thunderbolt.

 

“My grandfather,” he whispered. “That was his name.”

 

Sera nodded slowly. “He was the final patriarch of the Thorn Crown family before the clan fell. Rumors say he went mad. That he sealed off the estate and forbade anyone from entering. That he erased records of his own children.”

 

Koo’s hands trembled.

 

“Why?”

 

Sera folded her hands. “Because one of them gave birth to you.”

 

Everything inside Jungkook stilled.

 

“You’re the last heir,” she said gently. “The only remaining descendant of the Jeon bloodline. The Thorn Crown wasn’t just a mafia clan, Jungkook. It was a dynasty of secret-keepers. Your grandfather destroyed the family to hide what he’d done.”

 

“What did he do?” V asked coldly.

 

Sera hesitated. “There are… whispers. That the family experimented. That they trained children in isolation. Raised them as weapons.”

 

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

 

“The chains in the walls,” he whispered, remembering. “The way the air felt heavy. The voices. The screams—”

 

He didn’t realize he was crying until Taehyung’s arm wrapped around his waist.

 

V stood behind him, a hand braced on his shoulder.

 

Sera continued, softer now. “If you want answers, you’ll need to go to the estate. It still stands. Sealed. Forgotten. It’s off the map. But I know where it is.”

 

“We’ll go,” Taehyung said.

 

“When?” Sera asked.

 

V looked down at Jungkook, then back up.

 

“Tonight.”

 

Hours later…

 

The drive was long.

 

Through forests choked with vines. Past roads that barely looked like roads. The GPS died halfway through, and only Sera’s map kept them moving.

 

It wasn’t until near dawn that they reached it.

 

The Thorn Crown estate loomed like something ripped from a nightmare.

 

Vines climbed its sides like strangling veins. Windows shattered. The front gate—still bearing that carved crown of thorns—hung loosely on rusted hinges. And beyond it, nothing but silence.

 

Koo stepped out of the car, legs shaking.

 

His eyes locked on the gate. His fingers twitched at his sides.

 

“I know this place,” he whispered.

 

And then, barely audible: “I was born here.”

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