Royally Yours (Jikook AU📱📲)

18

“Prepare the car. I will leave for Andriana Palace right away.”

No reply came from the guards. Jungkook frowned, irritation flashing across his face.

The guards exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to follow the unusual order.

Jungkook let out a long, annoyed sigh. “Tch! Do as I say. If I stay here, Father will make me meet all those nobles personally.” He paused, eyeing the hesitant guards. “The official party is over, so I’m not obligated to stay. Let one of the main palace guards know that I’m tired.”

Finally, the guards understood that it was no longer optional. They hurriedly scurried off to prepare transportation for their crown prince.

---

Jungkook slipped quietly out of the palace, moving with the ease of someone who had done this countless times before.

Halfway down the grand corridor, his phone buzzed. A call from his father. He ignored it, letting it ring into silence.

Before leaving the palace grounds, he stopped by Namjoon’s private chambers. They exchanged a few hurried words, but there was no time for a proper conversation. Jungkook’s urgency was palpable. Namjoon, perceptive as always, didn’t try to stop him.

'On the way to Andriana Palace, the car glided through the streets of Seoulvenia. Jungkook stared through the window, thoughts tangled around the day’s events.

The sky above was a purplish blue, deepening as the sun set. Rain began to drizzle lightly, droplets pattering against the glass, the rhythmic sound strangely calming.

'Today… today was oddly beautiful,' he thought.

He replayed the scene in his mind—the moment the dancer from Ruvana appeared on stage, draped in flowing silk, moving as though gravity itself dared not touch him. Half of his costume dragged behind him, brushing the floor, yet his feet seemed impossibly light, barely making contact with the ground.

Jungkook recalled how the dancer had never glanced at the audience, never sought their approval, never bowed to the eyes of the aristocrats.

'He was in his own world.'

'He looked… so free.'

Jungkook froze mid-thought, the words hitting him like a paradox.

'I found a slave… free?'

His eyes narrowed in confusion, the notion defying everything he thought he knew about the world. 'It… it doesn’t even make sense…'

---

His phone buzzed, breaking the reverie. BamBam’s whiny message blinked on the screen. Jungkook opened the chat, scanning the text.

Even as he scolded BamBam internally—‘he deserved a punch’—he couldn’t shake the lingering guilt.

'Why would I… hit him? He just tried to talk to me…'

His brows furrowed. 'I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.'

Despite being the highest-ranking person in society, the hierarchy never interfered with their friendship. In this circle, they spoke as equals, acknowledging each other’s gratitude and apologies sincerely.

---

Back at the palace, Jungkook finally stepped into his private chambers. He freshened up, refusing the elaborate dishes the butler offered, choosing instead a simple glass of milk. He sank onto the bed, the glass cradled in his hands.

Memories of the day swirled in his mind—the boredom of the beginning of the party, the impressive performances of the slaves, the elegance, the sheer presence. And above all, the dancer from Ruvana.

As he replayed the performance in his head, his thoughts drifted to the finer details—how the silk had flowed around him, how his feet barely touched the floor, how his sharp eyes had commanded the stage without seeking validation.

'He… he never looked at anyone but himself. And yet… I can’t stop thinking about him.'

Jungkook’s hand tightened around the glass. He felt a pull he didn’t understand, a strange tug in his chest.

Before he could settle, his phone buzzed again. Seok Jin’s message lit up the screen, accompanied by a photo of Jimin. Jungkook’s heart skipped, eyes narrowing as he stared at the image.