[ complete ] 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐅

48. Answers.

Jungkook was fast asleep beside me, his breath steady and soft. He had just returned from a long business trip out of town, exhaustion evident in every line of his face. I wanted to stay. To curl into him and forget the storm brewing in my chest. But I couldn't.

I slid out of bed carefully, grabbed a sticky note from the drawer, and scribbled a quick message: "Going to meet a friend. I'll be back by 8. Don't worry - love you."

Keys in hand, I stepped out into the quiet air of the evening and started the car. The GPS was already set for the police station.

Ten minutes later, I was there.

The moment I stepped out of the car, a foul scent hit me-metallic, like blood and dust, mixed with something burnt. The air felt heavy with secrets. The station buzzed with the chaotic rhythm of crime-shackles clanging, officers barking orders, typewriters clicking, and pens scraping across paperwork.

I paused, suddenly unsure.

"Hello?" someone called.

I turned to see a young officer walking toward me with a polite wave.

"Hi," I replied, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You're here to see Officer Min? Are you Mrs. Jeon? Y/N Jeon Jungkook?"

"Yes."

"He's been expecting you. This way."

He led me through a maze of buzzing corridors and knocked on a door labeled "204 - Officer Min Yoongi."

A sharp voice replied from the other side. "Come in."

The officer pushed the door open. Inside, a man in a pressed navy-blue uniform sat behind a glass-topped desk. His leather chair-an elegant Herman Miller Cosm-creaked as he shifted. His cap rested precisely on one corner of the table. His head was bent over a thick case file labeled with a bold black 204.

"Officer Min, Mrs. Jeon is here."

Yoongi looked up slowly, his eyes locking with mine. Cold. Sharp. Calculating.

He closed the file and gestured for me to sit.

"You can leave," he told the younger officer.

I placed my satchel on the chair beside me and sat across from him.

"So," he said, removing his round spectacles and placing them on the file. "What do you want to know?"

I hesitated, my voice almost lost. "Suyeon... Kim Suyeon. Her case."

I hated how small I sounded.

Yoongi watched me for a beat too long before standing. "Technically, it's illegal to disclose this. But you're his wife. You deserve to know the truth."

He dusted off his sleeves, walked over to a large iron locker, and retrieved another thick file. The metal groaned as he opened the locker. My stomach twisted.

He returned, set the file down, and opened it.

I froze.

Photos spilled out. Crime scenes soaked in blood. Jungkook's bodyguards firing guns in public. Jungkook himself-caught mid-conversation with high-ranking syndicate members. And then... images I didn't want to process. Evidence from Suyeon's case. Her lifeless body. Bruises. Blood.

"What... what is this?" I whispered, recoiling.

"See for yourself," Yoongi said, his voice sharp as broken glass. "Your husband isn't who you think he is."

I looked up at him, my hands trembling.

"And about Suyeon-" he continued, his words ice-cold, "Jungkook was accused of her rape and murder."