The Wolf's Heart

3

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As Jungkook sat at the table, his mind was numb, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The maids moved silently, bringing forward a large plate covered in shimmering silk, and placed it before him with practiced ease. The cloth was removed gently, revealing an intricate ensemble of deep crimson fabric, gold embroidery, and delicate accessories, all far too elaborate for someone like him to wear comfortably. The moment he laid eyes on the outfit, his chest constricted as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.

His parents’ words felt like they were being spoken from a great distance, their voices dull and hollow in his ears. "This is your outfit for today. And these accessories," his father said, his tone calm, but too calculated, too final. Jungkook’s hands clenched at his sides, but he made no move to touch the clothes. He didn’t want to, not when everything about this situation felt wrong.

This can’t be happening, he thought. This isn’t me. This isn’t what I wanted.

His gaze flicked up to his parents, hoping to find some sign of doubt in their eyes, some flicker of regret. But they didn’t meet his gaze. His mother, always the compassionate one, looked at him with a mix of sadness and resignation. It felt like pity—no, more like she was apologizing for what was beyond her control, for the life she had pushed him toward.

His father’s eyes were unreadable, but the stiffness in his posture spoke volumes. He was a man who had already made his peace with this decision. The decision that would change Jungkook’s life forever. For the kingdom, they would say. For the greater good. But all Jungkook could hear in those words was the echo of a life he had no say in.

The knot in his stomach tightened, threatening to choke him. His heart beat faster, the pressure building in his chest. He knew it wasn’t just the clothes that made him feel this way. It was everything—the weight of his family’s expectations, the crushing certainty that nothing was his to choose, not even his future.

His brother, Seokjin, had made the decision for him, and now his parents were following through with it without a second thought. No one was asking him if he was ready, if he even wanted this. No one cared that Jungkook had spent his entire life waiting for his true mate, the one who would choose him just as he would choose them.

But none of that mattered now, did it?

I’m not ready. His mind screamed the words, but his body was frozen, unable to move. He had wanted love, not this forced union. He had wanted his mate to be someone who looked at him with desire, with longing—not because they were bound by duty, by tradition.

The maids moved to place the clothes in front of him, the red fabric gleaming like the blood he felt boiling inside his veins. This is it. This is my future now. He couldn’t bring himself to touch the clothing, his hands trembling at his sides, the pressure in his chest building until he could barely breathe. He could feel the suffocating weight of everything around him—the clothes, the expectations, the path laid out before him by his brother. By his family.

Why are they doing this? Jungkook thought, a rush of helplessness flooding him. Why don’t they care about what I want?

His mother’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, soft and kind but filled with something that made his stomach twist. "If you find it difficult to wear, ask Loona. She’s your personal maid for today."

Jungkook blinked at the mention of Loona. His body moved automatically, walking toward the chamber as Loona led him away from the dining area. His mind was still reeling, the weight of his situation pressing down on him harder with every step. He felt like a puppet, strung along by invisible strings, unable to break free from the destiny they had already chosen for him. There was no escaping it now.

When Loona began helping him into the crimson robe, Jungkook barely registered the actions. He watched the mirror in front of him, his reflection distorted by the golden threads of the fabric and the cold expression on his face. He felt distant from himself, like a stranger who had been forced into a life he never asked for.

The hairpin was placed in his hair, the pendant around his neck, but none of it felt real. It felt like the trappings of a cage he could never escape. The accessories, the robe—they were all symbols of a role he didn’t want to play.

In that moment, as Loona adjusted the final piece, Jungkook felt the full weight of his hopelessness. He could almost feel Kookoo, his wolf, stirring inside him, unsettled by his unease. But even Kookoo seemed distant, as though the bond between them, so strong and familiar, had become strained by the force of Jungkook’s own inner turmoil.

What have I become? Jungkook thought as he stared at his reflection, barely recognizing the person looking back at him. This wasn’t the life he had imagined. This wasn’t the future he had dreamed of.

And as Loona stepped back, giving him a final glance in the mirror, Jungkook had to fight the tears that threatened to break free.

But he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t show weakness—not today, not when everything was already in motion. He had no control. His heart ached with the realization that today was just the beginning of a life he never wanted.

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