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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Chapter 09: Shadows of the Past
The days following the accident were a strange paradox for Taehyung. Jungkook’s opulent mansion, once a symbol of intimidating wealth and icy distance, had become a surprising haven. The maids, with their gentle efficiency and almost regal demeanor, treated him with a kindness that bordered on reverence.
He was, in a way, a prince in gilded captivity. Jungkook, consumed by a heavy guilt he couldn't quite articulate, insisted on Taehyung's complete recovery before allowing him to participate in even the simplest household tasks. Yet, Taehyung, restless with enforced idleness and a gnawing need to contribute, found himself drawn to the mundane rhythm of washing dishes.
The quiet clatter of porcelain against porcelain and the gentle swish of soapy water offered a small measure of solace, a grounding counterpoint to the swirling uncertainty of his life. It was in this domestic sanctuary that Sooyoung, one of the maids, found him.
“Mr. Kim, please, rest,” she urged, her voice soft but firm, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. “We’ll handle the chores. You don’t need to help.”
Taehyung offered a reassuring smile, a practiced mask concealing the turmoil within. “It’s alright, Sooyoung. It’s nothing new to me.”
Sooyoung’s brow furrowed, her worry deepening. “But you’re a guest, Mr. Kim. Mr. Jeon wouldn’t approve.”
A faint self-deprecating laugh escaped Taehyung’s lips. “I’m just… a freeloader, I suppose.” The word felt heavy, uncomfortable, hanging in the air between them.
Sooyoung’s confusion was palpable. “Freeloader? But aren’t you…?” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “his spouse?”
“His spouse?” The absurdity of the notion momentarily lightened the somber atmosphere.
“Yeah, you're his spouse, right?” she was genuine with her with her question. “if you're not, then maybe his boyfriend?”
“But I'm straight, and I think he is too; I don't think he would like someone like me.” Taehyung giggled.
Sooyoung blushed, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “Well, I’ve never seen Mr. Jeon so attentive to anyone. He’s usually very private, even with his close friends. He rarely lets anyone stay here for long. You seem… special to him.”
Taehyung considered her words, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. He understood her perspective; Jungkook’s behavior was indeed unusual. “I see… that makes sense,” he murmured. “But I’m just a stranger, really. I think he feels responsible for my accident, trying to make amends.”
Sooyoung nodded, her understanding evident. “I apologize if my questions were intrusive. I was simply… observant.” She bowed her head slightly, a gesture of respect.
“It’s quite alright,” Taehyung reassured her, his smile genuine this time. “I understand.”
“Oh well, I guess I'll take out the trash then,” Sooyoung uttered.
“No need, I'll do that instead,” Taehyung initiated.
“Are you sure, though? You're not fully recovered, right?” Sooyoung expressed her concern.
“I'm fine now. Besides, I think walking would be good for me. And also, I have something to buy,” Taehyung responded.
“Then, I'll water the plants, and if you need someone to assist you, just call me, okay?” she smiled.
“Yeah, sure,” Taehyung smiled back.
Sooyoung excused herself to tend to the garden, leaving Taehyung alone with his thoughts. He finished the dishes, the rhythmic motions a balm to his frayed nerves. He decided to take out the trash, a simple task that offered a brief respite from the suffocating weight of his grief and uncertainty.
As he stepped out into the cool evening air, a sleek black van materialized beside him, its tinted windows obscuring the occupants within. A woman emerged, her presence immediately commanding attention.
She was a vision of controlled power, her sharp features framed by a cascade of fiery red hair, partially concealed by a wide-brimmed hat that cast dramatic shadows on her face. She wore a tailored black pantsuit, the fabric clinging to her imposing figure, accentuating her sharp angles and commanding presence.
Expensive-looking jewelry glittered subtly against her dark skin, hinting at a life of privilege and perhaps, danger. Her eyes, the color brown with somehow gold, held an unnerving intensity that sent a shiver down Taehyung’s spine.
“Kim Taehyung?” she asked, her voice low and husky, carrying an undercurrent of authority that belied her seemingly calm demeanor.
Taehyung, startled, replied, “Yes? Who are you?”
“A friend of your mother’s,” she stated, her gaze unwavering. She didn't offer her name, her silence adding to the already thick atmosphere of mystery. “Kyushu, that’s your mother, isn’t it?” she asked, gesturing subtly towards a faded photograph Taehyung had tucked into his pocket.
Taehyung nodded, a knot tightening in his stomach. “How did you know her?”
The woman’s expression remained a mask of controlled composure, betraying nothing of her inner thoughts. “I was… informed of her death. She asked me to… look after you, should anything happen. She… mentioned something… peculiar. Something about her killer.”
Taehyung’s breath hitched. “What do you mean? Please, tell me. This could help solve her case.”
The woman’s lips tightened, a hint of grim determination hardening her features. “I can tell you, but on one condition: absolute secrecy. And before I reveal anything, you must go to this location,” she produced a business card, its surface smooth and cool beneath his fingertips.
The card was stark, devoid of any logo or identifying information, only an address printed in an elegant script.
“Discreetly. No one must follow you. Our safety depends on it.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, laced with urgency. “Remember, secrecy is paramount. If you’re discovered, we are both in danger.”
Taehyung stared at the card, the weight of the mystery pressing down on him with crushing force. He knew, instinctively, that this was a chance to uncover the truth about his mother’s death, a truth that seemed to be shrouded in shadows and veiled in danger.
He nodded, accepting the risk, the quest for justice now interwoven with a dangerous game of cat and mouse. The simple act of taking out the trash had just led him down a path far more treacherous than he could have ever imagined.
