The hours stretch endlessly as you sit on the bed, surrounded by the dark opulence of Jungkook's bedroom. The silence is almost suffocating, broken only by the ticking of a clock on the wall. You can't sleep; your thoughts are racing too fast, fueled by the fear and uncertainty of what lies ahead. You wonder if you're really nothing more than a possession now—a living, breathing object at the mercy of a man whose gaze is colder than ice.
After what feels like an eternity, the door opens again. You tense, expecting to see Jungkook, but it's a maid carrying a tray of food. She places it on a small table by the window and glances at you with a mixture of pity and caution.
"The boss says you should eat," she murmurs, her eyes quickly darting away from yours as if she's afraid to engage for too long. "You don't want to make him angry." She doesn't wait for a response before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
Your stomach twists in hunger, but also in defiance. There's a part of you that resents the idea of eating anything given to you under these circumstances. The food is a reminder that you're completely at Jungkook's mercy, reliant on him even for the basic necessity of a meal. But as the hours continue to pass, the ache in your stomach grows impossible to ignore, and reluctantly, you force yourself to eat.
The next day, the door opens again, this time without a knock. Jungkook steps in, his expression unreadable as always. He surveys the room briefly, his gaze flicking to the half-eaten tray of food before settling back on you. "You didn't finish your meal," he says, his voice flat, but there's an undertone of disapproval.
"I... I wasn't hungry," you reply, though your voice wavers. You don't know why you feel the need to explain yourself to him, but the way he looks at you makes you feel small, as if your every action is being judged.
Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly, and he steps closer. "When I give you food, you eat all of it. I don't care if you're hungry or not. Disobeying even the smallest command will have consequences."
You flinch as he reaches out, his fingers gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "I don't think you understand the position you're in," he continues, his voice lowering dangerously. "You're here because I allow it. You're alive because I permit it. I could just as easily take that away." His grip tightens momentarily before he releases you, the touch leaving a burning sensation in its wake.
Your heart pounds in your chest, but something inside you stirs—a flicker of rebellion that you can't quite extinguish. "Then why did you even bother keeping me here?" The words come out before you can stop them, a challenge hidden in your trembling voice. "If I'm so worthless, why not just—"
"Enough." His tone is sharp, like a knife cutting through the air. Jungkook's eyes darken as he takes a step back, his jaw clenching. "You don't get to ask questions. You don't get to speak out of turn. The only thing you need to do is obey."
You can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface, but there's something else there too, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze as he watches you. He turns away suddenly, as if dismissing you entirely. "Clean the room. Every corner, every surface. Don't leave anything untouched," he orders, his voice once again composed, though there's an edge to it. "I'll be back in an hour. If it's not spotless, you'll regret it."
He leaves without another word, and you're left staring at the door, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The task itself is simple enough, but you know this isn't about the cleanliness of the room. It's about breaking you down, making you understand that you have no control, not even over the most mundane aspects of your life.
You move quickly, almost frantically, grabbing a cloth and starting with the dusting. You scrub every surface as if your life depends on it—because, in a way, it does. The minutes slip by, and you work harder, pushing yourself past exhaustion. There's a desperation in your movements, a need to prove something, though you're not even sure what that is.
When the door swings open exactly an hour later, Jungkook steps in and sweeps his gaze around the room. He doesn't say anything, but you notice his eyes pause on a corner where a faint layer of dust remains on a shelf you missed in your haste.
He turns to you, his expression unreadable. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost too calm.
"I—I tried..." you stammer, taking a step back instinctively as he approaches. "I didn't see that spot, I swear..."
Jungkook's gaze hardens, and before you can react, he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer until you're only inches apart. "I told you there would be consequences," he murmurs, his tone laced with a cold promise. "If you want to defy me, even in small ways, I will show you exactly what happens when you disappoint me."
He releases you abruptly, and the sudden absence of his grip feels almost as jarring as his touch. "You'll sleep on the floor tonight," he says, gesturing to the cold, hard ground. "And you'll do the cleaning again tomorrow, but this time, you'll make sure it's perfect. If it's not, we'll see just how far I need to go to teach you your place."
As he walks out, you sink to the floor, exhaustion and frustration washing over you in waves. You want to cry, to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of it all, but you know that would only make things worse. You're beginning to understand that Jungkook is not a man who gives second chances. Every mistake, every act of defiance, will cost you more than you can afford to lose.
Curling up on the cold floor, you close your eyes and take a shaky breath. You're not sure how long you can endure this, but there's a part of you that refuses to be broken, even as you lay on the ground of the bedroom that's starting to feel more like a cage.
