Living Inferno

Six

Jungkook sat at the grand dining table, the clinking of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation filling the opulent room. The smell of breakfast—freshly baked bread, eggs, and bacon—should have been comforting, but to Jungkook, it was suffocating. He stared at his plate, barely touching the food, his mind wandering as the weight of his father's cold presence bore down on him.

Across from him, his father sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid and authoritative, as always. But while Jungkook had grown used to the stern, disapproving gaze his father directed at him, it still stung—no matter how much he tried to convince himself it didn't.

Beside his father sat his stepmother, a woman Jungkook had never been able to tolerate. She was younger than his father, beautiful, but it was the kind of beauty that felt artificial. Jungkook knew exactly why she had married his father, and it wasn't for love. It was for the status, the wealth, the power that came with being married to one of the most influential men in the country. And it disgusted him.

His stepmother's voice was soft, almost sickeningly sweet, as she chatted animatedly with his father about some charity event she was planning to attend. Jungkook could feel the bile rising in his throat as he watched her, his hands clenching into fists beneath the table. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and his father, blinded by her charm, couldn't see it. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Beside her, Jungkook's stepsister, Lisa, sat with a smug expression on her face. She had inherited her mother's beauty and her sharp sense of manipulation, something Jungkook had learned to loathe over the years. Lisa was the perfect golden child in his father's eyes, always well-behaved, always playing the part of the dutiful daughter. She knew how to say all the right things, how to win people over with a smile that never reached her eyes.

Jungkook could barely stand to look at her.

"Jungkook," his father's voice cut through the fog of Jungkook's thoughts, cold and distant, as it always was when addressing him. "Are you listening?"

Jungkook snapped his head up, his jaw tightening. "Yes," he muttered, though he hadn't been. He knew better than to admit he had tuned out. His father's disapproval was always hovering just beneath the surface, ready to pounce at the slightest mistake.

His father raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I asked how things are going at school. You've been... absent."

The implication in his father's words wasn't lost on Jungkook. He knew what his father really meant—that he had heard the rumors, knew about the trouble surrounding him. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands still clenched beneath the table.

"School's fine," Jungkook replied, trying to sound indifferent, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

His father didn't seem convinced. "I'm not interested in vague answers, Jungkook. I want results. And I don't want to hear about any more problems. You're representing this family, and we can't afford scandals."

Jungkook's stomach twisted in anger, but he kept his expression neutral. It was always about the family. Always about reputation and image. His father didn't care about him, not really. He cared about what Jungkook's behavior meant for their name, for their standing in the world of politics and business.

Across the table, his stepmother smiled, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his father's arm. "Oh, darling, you're being too hard on him," she cooed, her voice syrupy sweet. "Jungkook's doing his best, aren't you, dear?"

Jungkook clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap back at her. He knew she didn't care about him either. Her concern was just another performance, a way to keep herself in his father's good graces. She was a snake, and Jungkook could see right through her act.