The Symbol Of Darkness

⑧Not Interested

The modernly decorated, spacious living room resounded with low, pacifying music as Jungkook perused Jin Mo’s file once again before going to sleep. It was a habit of his for the past three years. His only concern, his only goal and purpose in life, was to get Jin Mo. He owed it to his most beloved and important person, who wasn’t alive anymore. 

He owed it to his hyung. His hyung Kang Ho, so he could give him justice. So that his soul could finally rest in peace. So that Kang Ho, their parents, and Jungkook himself could get closure. He had to catch Jin Mo, no matter what.

He had to catch his hyung’s killer. 

With an uneasy feeling clenching his chest, he shut the file and rose to his feet to place it in the safe where all his important items were. He turned off the music and switched off the lights before trudging towards his room. 

His house wasn’t lavish or outrageously big; it had a commodious living room, two normal bedrooms with double beds and one bathroom. It also had a broad unnecessary parking space, which he once was planning to restructure it into a yard with grass and maybe a porch swing. But with the death of his hyung, every plan he had made with him vanished and never crossed his mind again over the past three years. 

They bought that house together and lived together since Jungkook came of age. It was still difficult at times to continue living in that house. All the memories... Everything was too much for him sometimes. Maybe that was why he hadn’t changed a thing in that house since his hyung’s loss. And he wouldn’t do it in the future either. 

Slipping under the covers to the left side of the bed as he usually did, he released a soft sigh and smacked the light switch above his head, the room plunging into complete darkness instantly. The bizarre uneasiness still gnawed at his chest as he attempted to empty his head from useless thoughts of the previous events with Taehyung.

The victory was sweet, but the aftermath left a sour taste behind. He did feel just a smidgen of remorse for the harsh words he spewed at him. On the other hand, though, why did he care? He was curt to almost everyone, and Taehyung was no different. 

Several minutes of utter silence crawled by, and beside that uneasiness prickling his chest, a foreboding bloomed. His eyes popped open, wide and alert, at the creepy sense behind him, and he dragged his hand down the side of the bed, wanting to reach for his gun that was attached to the bottom, but a click and a light whoosh froze him up. He knew this combination of sounds all too well; whoever was behind him just drew out their gun. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Jungkook slowly raised his hands at the unknown, gruff voice and twisted his head at a creep to look at the intruder as he sat straighter. “Who are you?” 

“You don’t need to know.” The door burst open then and three more masked people entered. The one turned on the lights and the other two neared him. “You have something we want.”

“And what’s that?” He scanned each one in depth, trying to recognize or distinguish anything, but all he could see were their eyes. 

“A cube. A metallic cube. Where is it?”

A nonplussed look tightened his features even more and made his vision swim in a pool of startle and dumbfoundedness. “What?” 

One of the men grunted as he charged towards him and yanked his hair hard enough to pin him to the bed. “Answer the fucking question.” 

Jungkook instinctively grasped his wrist but loosened his hold right away at the consecutive tsk sounds of caution that the masked man with the gun still pointed at him released. “Keep your hands above your head if you don’t want to die, detective.”