Anger never builds; it only tears down. In the heat of a single moment, it can feel like strength, an armor to hide behind. But when the fire fades, all that's left are the ashes of what once mattered. Anger doesn't solve anything-it devours patienc...
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The truth is, not everyone you love will stay - but you will.
Chapter 09: Truth
Jungkook couldn’t believe the truth staring back at him. He had struck the son of the very woman he once called Eomma—the woman who raised him, who protected him, who cared for him when no one else did. His chest tightened with a guilt so suffocating it left him dizzy. He had been searching for her, desperate for answers, only to discover her son now in front of him, bound, broken, and spitting accusations like venom.
“What's your name?” Jungkook asked, though the trembling in his voice betrayed that he already knew. He didn’t want to assume—he needed to hear it with his own ears, as if the sound of it would confirm the nightmare he was walking into.
“Do you even care about my identity?! What—”
“Just tell me your name!” Jungkook snapped, his voice sharp enough to slice through the basement air.
Taehyung flinched, but his eyes blazed. “Taehyung. Kim Taehyung, you bastard!”
The world fell out from under Jungkook. The syllables sealed it—Kyushu’s son, the boy she had spoken about with such pride in her voice, the reason she worked herself half to death. Jungkook’s hand raked through his hair as he crouched down again, his face a mix of shock, regret, and something far darker.
“What happened to her?” His words came out softer this time, as if he was begging, almost pleading for an explanation.
“Why are you asking something you’re supposed to know?!” Taehyung growled, his voice dripping with disgust.
“Do you really think I’d ask if I already knew?” Jungkook shot back, his jaw tense, his voice cutting through the accusations like glass.
That silenced Taehyung. He wanted to scream that Jungkook was lying, to call him out as the monster he believed he was. But when he looked into Jungkook’s eyes, something inside him faltered. They weren’t the eyes of a man hiding guilt. They were confused, desperate, trembling with sincerity.
Still, Taehyung refused to let go of his rage. His lips quivered, and tears welled despite his stubbornness. “How come… how come you’re asking me as if you’re not the one who killed her?” His voice cracked. “You fucking killed her!” The words tore from his throat like blades.
The room spun for Jungkook. His breath stuttered. She’s dead… That’s why she never came. That’s why his calls went unanswered, why the night she was supposed to tell him everything stretched on into silence. His gut twisted—he had known something was wrong, but he hadn’t imagined this.
“I didn’t kill her,” Jungkook forced out, his tone raw. “Believe it or not, Taehyung, I didn’t kill her. I had no reason to.”
“Liar!” Taehyung’s scream echoed against the walls, jagged and sharp. “Your name was the last thing she ever said! Tell me—why the fuck would she mention your name if you had nothing to do with her death?!” His chest rose and fell rapidly, his sobs breaking through his fury.
Jungkook’s expression faltered, disbelief carving deep lines into his face. “She called me,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “She told me she wanted to meet me. She said she finally had the truth about my parents’ death. I waited, Taehyung. I waited for her until the night swallowed me whole, but she never came. She never answered again.” He pressed his palm to his forehead, his voice cracking as he continued. “I can show you the call logs. I can prove it. But I swear to you—I didn’t know she was gone. If I had, I would have gone to her… I would have seen her one last time.” His eyes blurred with tears, threatening to spill.
Taehyung’s body shook. His mother’s last words—Jungkook. His whole world narrowed on that memory, that single name she gasped with her final breath. He wanted so badly to believe Jungkook, but how could he, when grief had poisoned every vein in his body?
“Then who?!” Taehyung cried out, his voice splitting. “Who would kill her? Why did she have to die like that?!” Tears streamed down his face, hot and unstoppable.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook said, his voice thick with anguish. “I don’t know who could have done it. But listen—her death, it’s tied to my parents’. I know it. She knew the truth, and that’s why someone silenced her.” He swallowed hard, fighting against the lump in his throat. “And now… now she’s gone because of it.”
His chest heaved with ragged breaths. He had failed her—failed the woman who treated him like a son. The weight of it crushed him, leaving him hollow.
“So you’re still the reason she died.” Taehyung’s voice was quieter, but no less sharp. He didn’t care if Jungkook wasn’t the one who held the gun. His mother was dead because of him—because of the world he lived in.
“I’m sorry.” Jungkook’s voice trembled as the words spilled out, useless and small. He knew sorry wasn’t enough, but it was all he had.
Taehyung’s shoulders shook violently as he choked on his sobs. “What should I do now? I lost the only person who ever took care of me… Why does this always have to happen to me?” His voice broke like shattered glass. “We were fine—we were living fine—and now she’s gone. Because of you. Because of someone like you!”
The sight of him—the boy left behind, crying like a child who had lost everything—stabbed at something buried deep inside Jungkook. Against every instinct, against every wall he built, he wanted to pull Taehyung into his arms, to give him the comfort he had once been denied. But he didn’t move. He stayed frozen, pity tearing at his chest, guilt eating him alive. He knew exactly what Taehyung was feeling because he had lived it himself—the gutting pain of loss, the suffocating loneliness, the endless ache that refused to fade.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Taehyung.” Jungkook’s voice shook, each word trembling like fragile glass. “I should have realized sooner. I should have protected her. I was desperate for answers, and I dragged her into danger. If I hadn’t agreed to meet her, maybe she’d still be alive.” His voice broke, his throat tight. “Maybe I could have saved her.”
“I hate you…” Taehyung’s sobs turned bitter, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. “I hate you so much.”
His words cut deeper than any blade. Jungkook’s body ached with a sorrow he couldn’t name, watching Taehyung crumble in front of him. And so he let him cry—let him spill every ounce of grief he had buried, because he knew. He knew there was no shortcut through pain.
And for the first time in years, Jeon Jungkook felt powerless.
