Jungkook’s Apartment
The room was dark, save for the bluish glow of the laptop screen casting eerie shadows on Jungkook’s face. He hadn’t left his apartment in days, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. He was a man possessed, consumed by an insatiable need to know everything. His fingers moved restlessly over the keyboard, pulling up old newspaper articles, court records, anything he could find about Kim Yura’s past. Each piece of information led to another, a tangled web that seemed to grow more convoluted the deeper he delved.
“Come on, come on…” he muttered under his breath, his eyes bloodshot and wild. The room was littered with empty coffee cups, crumpled papers, and cigarette butts—an uncharacteristic mess for someone as meticulous as Jungkook. But he didn’t care. Not when he was so close to the truth.
The PI report had only scratched the surface. Yura had been questioned, yes, but there was so much more to the story. He could feel it. Something dark and twisted lurking beneath the surface, something that didn’t add up. And he wasn’t going to stop until he uncovered it.
“Yura’s mother…died in 2010,” he murmured, scrolling through another article. “Ruled as an accident. But the police suspected foul play.” He clicked on a link, pulling up a grainy black-and-white photo of a woman lying in a pool of blood—a photo he’d seen a hundred times in the past few days.
The article described a broken home, an abusive husband, and a young girl—Kim Yura—left to pick up the pieces. But no matter how many times he read it, something felt off. Like there was a missing puzzle piece, a hidden connection that eluded him.
“What am I missing?” he thought, rubbing his temples in frustration. He was about to click away when a name caught his eye, buried deep within the text:
“Witnesses claim that the victim’s estranged sister, Jung Hae-Rin, was seen arguing with her days before the incident…”
Jungkook froze. His heart stopped, a cold chill running down his spine.
Jung Hae-Rin.
His mother’s name.
No. No, it couldn’t be. He clicked on the name, his hands trembling. An old photograph popped up on the screen—a grainy image of two women standing together, smiling. One of them was Yura’s mother, younger and carefree, her eyes bright and full of life. The other…
“Oh my God,” Jungkook whispered, his voice shaking. He reached out, tracing the outline of the second woman’s face with a trembling finger. It was her. His mother. His mother.
“What the hell…?”
Suddenly, the room seemed to tilt, the air growing thick and suffocating. Jungkook stumbled back, knocking over his chair. His mind raced, a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.
Why—how—was his mother connected to Yura’s family? What the hell did this mean?
He grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking as he dialed a number he hadn’t called in years. The line rang once, twice, and then—
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was gruff, tired. Familiar.
“Dad,” Jungkook whispered, his throat tight. “I need to ask you something.”
---
Parallel Flashbacks: Jungkook’s Troubled Past
The apartment was a war zone. Furniture overturned, picture frames shattered, the sharp, acrid smell of alcohol hanging in the air. Little Jungkook stood frozen in the corner, his tiny fists clenched at his sides as he watched his father rage through the living room, smashing everything in sight.
YOU ARE READING
The veil of lies
Fanfiction"You think you can just walk away, Yura?" Jungkook's voice was low, dangerous, laced with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. Yura took a step back, feeling the cold wall press against her. His gaze burned into hers, a mixture of love and...
