Hostage Handbook

Chapter Three | Sordid Images

YEOREUM

Jungkook comes here almost every single night. Sometimes, he just stops by for a short hour, and he stays here for much longer other times.

I wrestle through my long days with the DVDs and novels in the study room on the second floor Jungkook dedicated to me. There are some interesting board games, but most are multiplayer ones, and not one person in this entire castle would even dare to look at me once Jungkook is gone, except for Jungkook's cat, Victoria the Second.

Sometimes, it feels oddly relaxing just lying next to Victoria the Second, but most of the time, my hand itches to touch my heart like it is trying to assure me there is still an active heartbeat.

I did things I never thought I would do. One morning, I crawled out of bed, clutching the blanket to my chest as Jungkook beheld me. We had fucked the previous night—previous afternoon to night, if I was to be accurate—but I had an innocent persona I wanted to maintain. There was no way I would let Jungkook watch me roam around the room stark naked.

I treaded careful and slow enough to keep Jungkook's eyes on me and tripped onto my knees when his gaze began to falter. My full lower body was served to Jungkook in a sunny daze—the slit, the redness, the folds—I was a free buffet for him.

Jungkook marched off the bed and plunged into me. He tugged my hair as he slipped in and out while I kneeled like a dog. Jungkook told me it was mindblowing, so I coyly snuggled against him in the bath and complained about how sudden he was—even though I planned everything so well the timeslots could fit into a spreadsheet. The conversation was enough to trigger another round of humiliating sex. I can never understand how Jungkook thinks I enjoy getting fucked like a bitch. I am a human. I am a woman. I am a human woman.

The door squeaks open with Ms Kim and the maids. Another depressing day begins.

Ms Kim wrestles me into a pink gown and frees me to do Jungkook's tie. His eyes are shackled to my lips, staring deep into the redness; he is mesmerised. Jungkook leaves ticklish kisses down my face while I work on his tie.

Jungkook's spontaneous, childish shenanigans siphon my energy. I resent forcing the same girlish giggle that encourages him to continue when I actually want him to leave me alone forever.

I take a step back to admire the work of art I have created from suppressed frustration. Jungkook pulls me into a suffocating embrace and runs his fingers down my hair. Jungkook lets Ms Kim leash me with all kinds of Victorian-styled accessories—even my ankles fail to escape that fate—but he is strangely obsessed with keeping my hair untouched.

"Stop looking at my tie. It's perfect, like always. You should look at me more instead," Jungkook whines. "There's a copy of Titanic in your study room. Let's watch it together tonight. You've always wanted to watch that."

"How did you know I wanted to watch that?"

"You told Min Yoongi at The Organisation Headquarters a couple of days before you had to leave for your mission, didn't you?" Jungkook cranes forward to inspect the shudder in my eyes. "Yoongi Oppa, how was your shift? Yoongi Oppa, I have never watched Titanic before," he scorns, mimicking the way I talked. "The surveillance tapes from The Organisation is now my go-to lunch break movie. Fun fact, that place is full of cameras."

"Why are you suddenly talking about this?"

"Because you acted so differently around Min Yoongi," Jungkook says. The sharp edge in his voice lures me to believe we're in some sort of an argument—something completely impossible to happen between us, a captor and a hostage. "You've never even called Kim Taehyung Oppa, right?"