Hyungie plaything {Jikook}

33

"Sylvorth needs his angel. It is your duty to give him what he desires."

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In a hidden chamber far from the outsiders’ view, figures moved in shadowed silence.

The walls of the space were adorned with crude paintings of wild animals and spiraling patterns, smeared in deep red dye. The faint glow of a ceremonial fire cast long, dancing shadows over the scene, revealing a small gathering of the tribe’s elders.

At the center of the room stood a young shaman girl, her body painted with intricate markings, her eyes wide and almost feverish. A circle of robed figures surrounded her, murmuring in a language that pulsed with a strange rhythm. Her breath hitched as she stepped forward, clutching a carved wooden staff adorned with feathers and bones.

“The Sylvorth demands balance,” she intoned, her voice trembling yet filled with conviction. Her gaze swept over the room, locking with each elder as if daring them to challenge her. “The outsiders have disturbed our sacred grounds. The light of the temple is burning again. It must be fed.”

An elder, a man whose face was lined with age and wisdom, raised a hand to silence the murmurs. “We cannot act in haste. The Sylvorth demands balance, yes, but the offering must be chosen with care.”

The shaman girl’s lips curled into a tight smile. “The choice has already been made.” She gestured toward a crude drawing pinned to the wall. It depicted a figure draped in flowing garments, a scarf covering their face.

“The boy,” she whispered, her tone laced with certainty. “The one who carries the feather. He is marked by the Sylvorth. His beauty and his spirit—he is the perfect offering.”

Another elder shifted uncomfortably. “You mean the one with the outsiders? The child who hides behind the one they call Jungkook?”

The shaman nodded, her painted face solemn. “The child’s innocence will appease the Sylvorth. If we do not act, the balance will crumble, and the forest will claim us all.”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

The shaman’s voice echoed once more, “The ritual must take place before the first light. The Sylvorth waits for no one.”

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The long dimly lit room felt like a cave—barren and unwelcoming with no chairs or proper beds except for a few thin mats strewn across the cold hard floor. Barely furnished with only the essentials, it had a shabby bathroom crammed awkwardly into one corner.

Clearly comfort was nowhere to be found.

Jungkook was the first to enter, shutting the door behind him with a dull thud. Rainwater dripped from his soaked raincoat onto the floor as he paused to survey the bleak surroundings. His face remained unreadable but the slight sag of his shoulders hinted at his exhaustion. Wordlessly he removed his coat and hung it on a nail protruding from the wall.

From the other side of the room Taehyung groaned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh great, we’re broke again…” He rolled his eyes, his frustration with their sorry living conditions evident.

In Taehyung’s arms Ace giggled, blissfully unaware of the tension. With a small sigh Taehyung handed the baby over to J-Hope, who welcomed her eagerly, her laughter momentarily brightening the dreary atmosphere.

Taehyung shrugged off his coat and let it crumple to the floor, running a hand through his damp hair as he scanned the room. His expression hardened. "How can we stay here tonight? I don’t think so," he said firmly.