Till death do us part [ j.jk × p.jm ]

chapter 17

Under the cover of night, a shadowy figure stealthily infiltrated Jimin's studio, its identity concealed by the darkness that enveloped the room. Moonlight filtered through the windows, casting an eerie glow upon the scene as the intruder moved with silent purpose. With a deft hand, they secured the door, ensuring their actions would go unnoticed.

In the dimly lit space, the figure's movements were fluid, betraying a familiarity with the surroundings. Their eyes glinted with determination as they approached the workstation, where Jimin's meticulously crafted designs lay scattered amidst a plethora of materials.

Each fabric, each tool, bore witness to Jimin's artistic prowess, a stark reminder of the success that eluded the shadowy figure.

With a calculated precision, the intruder began to sabotage Jimin's materials, their actions fueled by a simmering resentment that had long festered in the depths of their soul. Bottles of paint were emptied, their contents spilled across the pristine surfaces. Canvases were slashed, their once pristine surfaces marred by jagged gashes.

Piece by piece, the tools of Jimin's trade were rendered useless, transformed into mere remnants of their former selves. But amidst the destruction, there was a sense of satisfaction, a vindication that coursed through the intruder's veins like a drug.

For tonight, they were not just destroying Jimin's designs; they were dismantling the very foundation of his craft, leaving nothing but chaos and ruin in their wake. And as they slipped away into the night, leaving behind a studio in disarray, they knew that the seeds of doubt they had sown would continue to grow, casting a shadow over Jimin's once unassailable confidence.

The morning sun cast its golden rays upon the world as Jimin stepped in his fashion studio, a sense of anticipation coursing through him. But as he crossed the threshold and surveyed the scene before him, his heart plummeted like a stone sinking into the depths of despair.

The studio, once a sanctuary of creativity and inspiration, lay in ruins before him. Fabrics were torn and strewn across the floor, mannequins toppled over in disarray, and the remnants of his painstakingly crafted designs lay scattered amidst the chaos.

But it was not just the destruction of his materials that left Jimin reeling; it was the sense of violation that hung heavy in the air. Someone had deliberately targeted him, their actions a cruel affront to everything he had worked so hard to achieve.

As Jimin surveyed the wreckage, a surge of anger bubbled up inside him, mingling with the overwhelming sense of disbelief. Who could have done this? And why? The questions swirled in his mind like a tempest, each one driving him further into the depths of despair.

And as he took the first tentative steps towards salvaging what remained of his studio, Jimin's thoughts turned to the one person who had always harbored resentment towards him: Jeon. It all suddenly clicked into place, and Jimin's fury surged.

Cursing the word "That fucking bastard.." under his breath, Jimin wasted no time. He stormed to his car, his hands trembling with rage as he revved the engine. Without a moment's hesitation, he headed straight for the Jeon mansion, determined to confront him and demand answers for the destruction wrought upon his studio.

Jimin stormed into Jungkook's office with the force of a tempest, his presence commanding attention and sending ripples of tension through the air. It was a scene reminiscent of a confrontation from the annals of nature itself, a clash of wills that seemed inevitable in its intensity. And yet, as he stood before Jungkook's desk, a sense of déjà vu washed over him, a haunting reminder of the tumultuous exchange that had unfolded in this very room only a day prior.