A HEART FOR AN EYE.

CHAPTER 3: COLOURFUL NIGHTMARES.

A week later,

Little Jeon Jungkook lowered his gaze, fixating upon his blood-stained and heavily chained feet, each step a burden under the weight of his newfound servitude. The cold, heavy iron links that bound him seemed to echo the weight of his new voluptuous master's harsh words as they left the opulent confines of the palace gates behind. His young shoulders, normally straight with the pride of innocence, now bore the cruel burden of his shame.

"Move it, you accursed son of a murderer," the master's voice boomed with unchecked fury, slicing through the air like a whip. The epithet struck Jungkook like a physical blow, the accusation hanging heavy around him like a shroud. It was a label not of his own making, but one that fate had cruelly thrust upon him, tainting every moment of his existence under this new yoke of bondage.

"Do you think I have time to waste on a worthless wretch like you?"

His words were a relentless barrage, tearing at Jungkook's fragile sense of self-worth. Each syllable was a reminder of his perceived guilt, a condemnation that stung more deeply with every passing moment.

As they passed beneath the shadow of the towering palace walls, Jungkook's thoughts raced with confusion and fear. He struggled to reconcile the life he once knew-filled with laughter, games, and the warmth of family-with this stark new reality of chains and servitude.

As he stumbled forward, Jungkook's thoughts flickered between defiance and despair. The weight of the chains around his ankles mirrored the weight of judgment that seemed to crush his spirit.

"Keep up, you worthless creature," the master's voice pierced through his reverie, each word a lash that drove him onward. "Your kind deserves no pity."

Each command was laced with venom, pushing Jungkook further into a corner of despair. Each step forward felt like a step deeper into an unknown abyss, where his identity was being reshaped by forces beyond his control. He yearned to scream-to challenge the injustice of his fate-but the shackles of fear and shame held him fast.

So he moved, one blistered step after another, shame coursing through his veins with every heartbeat.

He dared not look up for fear of meeting the accusing gazes of the onlookers who lined the streets, their faces contorted with contempt and disgust. "You rotten piece of shit," angry townsfolk shouted, hurling insults and stones at him. But their words were distant echoes against the thunderous condemnation of his own mind.

The spectacle of his family's massacre in the town square replayed in his mind like a gruesome tableau. He remembered the crowd's fervor, their faces contorted with bloodlust and judgment as they watched his mother and kin meet their grim fate. The memory seared his consciousness, each detail etched with vivid clarity-the jeers, the cries for justice, the sickening thud of the executioner's blade.

And he who was deened too young for the gallows was now, branded by association, bore the weight of their supposed crimes as if they were his own, as if there was any guilt to begin with. Sold into slavery, he was to become a living reminder of the town's collective outrage, condemned to a life of servitude where every task would carry the burden of his tainted lineage.

The onlookers, emboldened by the master's vitriol, continued their assault.

"You'll never wash away the stain of your mother's sins!" one shouted, the words cutting through the air like a knife. Another hurled a stone that struck Jungkook's shoulder, eliciting a sharp cry of pain that echoed through the grim alleyway. He stumbled but managed to regain his footing, his resolve hardening against the torrent of hatred aimed his way.

The stones continued to rain down, each impact a testament to the hatred and fear that surrounded him.

But in the midst of this crucible, Jungkook clung to the flicker of defiance within him. It was a spark of resilience amidst the overwhelming darkness, a silent vow to endure despite the odds stacked against him. With each step, he silently repeated a mantra of survival, clinging to the hope that one day he might find a way to reclaim his family's dignity and to punish his tormentors beyond the damning legacy that had been unfairly thrust upon him.

But for now, as he trudged onward with bowed head and bruised spirit, Jungkook knew that survival meant more than dragging one bloodied foot after the other, enduring the bite of hunger and ignoring the stench of his own vomit that was threatening to turn his insides out.-it meant preserving the fragile ember of hope that refused to be extinguished, no matter how fierce the storm of condemnation raged around him.