Hostage Handbook

Chapter Thirteen | Insistent Feet

YEOREUM

I wake up to a damp feeling between my legs, throbbing for me to find a pad. I tighten the jacket around me and wander towards the kitchen with a gnawing pain in my stomach.

Jungkook, Dayeon and Hyojung are sitting around the dining table. Ms Kim probably cooked them their breakfast. No one else in this world can make such impeccable crepes.

"It's Her Majesty," Dayeon cries as soon as I step on the kitchen tiles.

I force a smile as I tug a loaf of bread out of the pantry. It'll only be more awkward if I turn and run at this point.

"Good morning," I say. "Don't mind me. Enjoy your breakfast."

Quickly, a smash cuts through the thickening air. I turn around with a mouthful of bread to realise that Jungkook is glaring at me. His gaze is sharper than the glass shards beside his feet.

"Mr Jeon," Dayeon mumbles. "Is everything okay?"

The golden combination to diffuse a situation with Jungkook is to downplay his rage and seduce him to bed. My physical situation makes it gnarly to do the second part, so I need to emphasise the first.

I force a laugh through my quivering lips. "Ladies, you two didn't work hard enough last night," I say. "Jungkook is still quite energetic."

My light-heartedness dissolves the two women's fear. They loosen their posture and exchange a relieved look.

"We tried our best, Empress-nim. We literally fainted last night," Hyojung says, eyeing Jungkook. The blush on her face is as prominent as the hickeys her loose bathrobe reveals. "Mr Jeon is too energetic."

"I know, right? Mr Jeon is rough and energetic. I liked it." Dayeon grins at me. "How was your night, Empress-nim?"

"I had a pretty nice night. Thanks for asking."

Hyojung runs her eyes across my jacket. Her ambiguous look reminds me of the garment's owner, Jimin. I shrug the jacket off, but Hyojung's stupidity is quicker than my awkward movements.

"Was Park Jimin-ssi all right?" Hyojung teases.

"Nothing happened between us," I say, risking a glance at Jungkook. "I got my period, and he had an emergency to attend to."

"Pitiful," Dayeon cries. "I shipped Jimin-ssi with you—"

"Fuck off," Jungkook snaps.

"Mr Jeon," Hyojung and Dayeon stutter simultaneously.

I squint my eyes at the women, signally them to leave. They give me a thankful nod before they sprint out of the castle with stark white faces. Their frantic footsteps echo through the walls, beating against the anxiety that intensifies with every beat of my heart.

Jungkook drags Jimin's jacket off me, tugging me towards him in the process. He flicks the stove on high and pitches the jacket into the flames—a twisted hue of crimson tints his grimace.

"Jungkook, I am sorry for my tantrum," I utter, trying to sound calm. "I had a horrible night, and you have already gotten what you want, so please calm down."

Jungkook shoves me to the empty side of the dining table and pins me against the timber material with his weight. My throat clenches when he buries his face into the crook of my neck, kissing me like he is going to eat me up.

The smell of Jungkook's agarwood shower gel is mixed with a foreign tinge of sweetness that doesn't belong to either of us. The cloying stench makes me want to rip my nose out.