"Heart Of The Azure Dragon"- Taekook/Vkook-Book 1 Of "The Sacred Beasts"

Chapter - One

No one's pov-

Jeongguk stepped into the elevator, his heavy boots making a soft thud against the floor as the doors slid shut. He was used to this routine-entering the building, the quietness that surrounded him, the space he had to himself. As usual, he was dressed in all black: a black jacket, a simple black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and boots that clicked with each step. His cap pulled low, hiding most of his face, but his presence was enough to make people glance away in unease. Jeongguk had long since grown accustomed to the looks of fear, the way people avoided him, the way his mere presence seemed to stop conversation.

He didn't mind, though. He was used to being alone. It was safer that way.

The familiar hum of the elevator and the soft chime of the floors passing by was the only sound until- click. The door to the elevator slid open again just as it was about to close completely, and a hand stopped it with perfect timing.

Jeongguk's gaze flickered to the boy who stepped in. The sudden intrusion startled him for a brief moment. The boy was young, maybe around his age, and his presence was an odd contrast to Jeongguk's usual solitude. He was wearing a casual outfit-a t-shirt underneath an open shirt, paired with a beanie and headphones resting comfortably over it. Something about him stood out, but not in the way people usually did. There was something easy about him, something that Jeongguk couldn't quite place. The boy's eyes briefly met Jeongguk's, and for a split second, Jeongguk's heart skipped a beat.

He couldn't explain it, but the boy's stare... It was different. It was like the weight of it settled over him, and for a moment, he almost forgot how to breathe. It was a feeling that startled him, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

But Jeongguk wasn't one to be caught off guard. He quickly masked his surprise, turning his gaze toward the elevator's doors, letting the cap pull lower to obscure his face further. He was skilled at hiding-he always had been. He couldn't let anyone get too close, especially not someone who had the nerve to look at him like that.

The boy, it seemed, had noticed the shift. He glanced over, and Jeongguk could feel the weight of the stare that lingered, a soft pressure against his skin. But Jeongguk was quicker this time, tilting his head away and staring down at his boots, hoping the boy wouldn't realize who he was. It wasn't just that he didn't want the attention-it was that he didn't want anyone to see him. Not the real him.

The elevator moved on in silence, the soft hum the only thing keeping them company. But Jeongguk's mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment the boy stepped in, that brief, strange moment where his breath had hitched. He told himself to shake it off-he wasn't some kid who would be affected by something as simple as a stranger's glance. But deep down, Jeongguk knew it was something more. Something he didn't want to admit.

The elevator dinged, signaling his floor. He glanced briefly at the boy, still standing silently by the corner, before stepping out, the door closing behind him with a soft whoosh. As the elevator ascended, Jeongguk let out a slow breath he didn't realize he was holding.

That was odd. And he couldn't shake the feeling that his encounter with this boy, whoever he was, was far from over.

Jeongguk stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, his thoughts still lingering on the boy from earlier. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was different about him. There was an unfamiliar weight in his chest, a fluttering that he couldn't quite place. He had been in situations like this before, where a brief encounter with a stranger left a lasting impression, but this time was different. He couldn't figure out why.

He composed himself quickly, walking down the hall with his usual cold, intimidating gait, shoulders squared, face set in its usual impassive expression. He couldn't let something as trivial as a chance meeting throw him off balance. He had work to do-classes to attend, projects to complete. His routine had always been his anchor. Routine was predictable, reliable. He could always count on it to keep his mind occupied, his focus sharp.