Anger never builds; it only tears down. In the heat of a single moment, it can feel like strength, an armor to hide behind. But when the fire fades, all that's left are the ashes of what once mattered. Anger doesn't solve anything-it devours patienc...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Your emotions are the slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions.
Chapter 01: Eomma
The steady hum of the office clock was the only sound in Jungkook’s office until a sudden ringtone broke through the silence. His dark eyes flicked to his phone, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.
Jungkook’s brow furrowed. He hated answering calls from strangers. In his world, every unknown call could mean a threat, a scam, or someone trying to get to him because of who he was. Yet, something inside him tightened. For weeks, maybe months, he had been waiting—hoping—for this exact moment.
A part of him still believed she would call. That she was alive.
With a hesitant breath, he picked up. “Hello, this is Jeon Jungkook. Who is this?” His voice was steady, though his thumb nervously tapped the sleek pen on his desk.
There was a brief silence, followed by a soft, trembling voice that froze his entire being.
“Jungkook… it’s me.”l
His heart skipped a beat.
That voice. That gentle voice he thought he’d never hear again. His throat went dry, disbelief clouding his mind.
“Eomma…?” His tone cracked, the word escaping like a plea. “Is that really you?”
It wasn’t his biological mother. No—this was the woman who raised him, who stayed by his side when his real mother buried herself in social gatherings and corporate affairs. To Jungkook, she was his mother. She was the only person who gave him warmth when the rest of his family’s house felt cold and suffocating.
And now, she was alive.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, the mask of the confident CEO slipping into that of a longing son.
“Yes… I’ve been hiding,” her voice trembled, betraying exhaustion. “You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you? I’m alive, and maybe… safe for now. But Jungkook, I know why you’ve been desperate to find me. It’s the evidence, isn’t it?”
His pulse quickened at her words. The evidence.
It was the one thing tied to the dark truth behind his parents’ deaths. A truth buried so deep that entire lives had been ruined trying to conceal it. Kyushu—his nanny, his “Eomma”—was the only witness.
“Eomma…” he said, his voice strained. He wanted to ask a thousand questions at once, but the weight of her words left him speechless.
“I have it,” she continued, her voice breaking with quiet sobs. “I’ll give it to you, Jungkook. But I need you to promise me something first. Please. Will you do that for me?”
“I’ll do anything,” he vowed instantly, leaning forward in his chair as if she were right in front of him.
“If something happens to me,” she whispered, “promise me you’ll protect my son. Taehyung. You remember him, don’t you? He was just a boy back then… Please, don’t let him be dragged into this mess. Keep him safe, Jungkook. That’s all I ask of you.”
