Who? (Jungkook FF)

Chapter 4

Seohwa places a glass of orange juice in front of Jungkook.

He glances at it, then up at her. "Thanks for inviting me again," he says flatly, turning back to his food without waiting for a response.

"Aish, don't mention it. It's just my way of saying thanks," she replies, her voice too warm, too hopeful.

Jungkook smiles—a cold, casual thing—and digs in. She watches him like a predator, calculating.

Suddenly, he drops a piece of food on his shirt. Looking up, he asks, "Got a wet tissue?"

"Yeah, wait here." She stands and heads to the kitchen, unaware.

Jungkook's eyes flick to her drinks on the table. His hand moves faster than she thinks—quiet, precise. The glass she just set down gets spiked.

Seohwa returns, smiling sweetly, "Here." She sits, placing the tissue down.

"Thank you, Madam Seohwa," Jungkook says with mock politeness, wiping his shirt.

A soft laugh slips from her lips. He looks up.

"You know, Y/N's always been clumsy—spills food on herself since she was a kid," she says fondly.

"She's adorable," Jungkook replies, voice low, amused.

"No. She's reckless," Seohwa scoffs, rolling her eyes.

Jungkook chuckles quietly.

She grips her glass tight. Jungkook sees it.

"That's why she needs someone to watch over her. She's careless as hell. Thank God she's got a kind man like you," she says sincerely.

Jungkook's smile stays calm, unreadable. This old woman talks too much. Soon, she won't talk at all.

Seohwa lifts the glass to her lips.

He keeps eating, eyes fixed on his plate. This is the last time he tastes her cooking.

His mind catalogues the meal—warm, comforting, drenched in false love. Such a pity it ends this way, all because her daughter pissed him off.

He hears her swallow.

"It's time you rest in peace. Don't worry about your daughter—I'll take care of her," Jungkook says without looking up.

Seohwa's brow furrows. "What?" she whispers, disbelief creeping in.

He sets down his fork and knife, finally meeting her eyes.

"I poisoned your drink," he states flatly.

A chill claws through her spine. Panic blooms. "What?" Her gaze darts to the glass—half empty now.

Jungkook says nothing. Just watches.

Suddenly, she chokes, poison burning fire through her throat and lungs. She spits, gasps violently, metallic bitterness flooding her mouth. Tears prick her reddening eyes. She meets his gaze—cold, detached.

Her body collapses from the chair, hitting the floor hard. She claws for air, terror overtaking her.

To Jungkook, her gasps are pathetic, like a dying animal's final struggle. A twitch of a smirk crosses his lips. This old woman fights too long.

Then silence.

He takes a final sip of juice, tilts his head.

Quiet.

He stands and surveys the room. Too many traces left by a guest.

His wristwatch tells him Y/N will be home in thirty minutes.