The Wolf's Heart

8

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Taehyung arrived at the edge of Liancheng as the sun began its descent, casting a warm, amber glow over the city. He rode in a grand horse-drawn carriage, flanked by guards, but he couldn't bring himself to feel the pride that his family expected of him. Instead, he gazed out of the carriage window, his eyes scanning the crowded festival grounds. People wandered joyfully, laughing and chattering, oblivious to the pressures and expectations that weighed on his shoulders.

He had purposely delayed his arrival, dragging out every moment in an attempt to avoid the relentless talk of marriage and mates that he knew awaited him. This festival, which was a celebration for everyone else, felt like a trap to him, a stage set for his family to parade him around in front of potential mates and allies. They would talk about duty, honor, and legacy as if those were enough to build a life on.

The carriage pulled up to the grand mansion where the royals from various regions were gathering, each one eager to share their alliances, titles, and lineages. With a heavy sigh, Taehyung dismounted, looking up at the ornate mansion with barely concealed disdain. This place, which should have been a welcoming sanctuary for him, felt cold and uninviting. He couldn't wait to be done with the pleasantries and superficial greetings that awaited him inside.

As he stepped through the mansion's grand doors, he was greeted with an opulent sight. Royals and nobility milled about in luxurious attire, their laughter ringing through the hall. Taehyung forced himself to wear a polite smile, the practiced, effortless mask he had perfected over years of training. He exchanged brief nods with familiar faces, but he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at him.

While others dove into conversation, he slipped away toward the nearest balcony. The sky was painted in hues of pink and violet, the setting sun casting its last rays over the lotus-filled ponds below. In that moment, as he looked out over the city, he felt a rare sense of peace, if only because the twilight felt real, untouched by the pressures and expectations swirling around him.

How much longer do I have to keep up this charade? he wondered, his gaze distant. How much longer until I find something-or someone-that's truly mine?

Van stirred within him, a silent reassurance. She was his constant companion, the one being who understood the yearning in his heart. She shared his quiet hope that, somewhere among the people gathered below, there might be someone different-someone who saw him for who he truly was, not the royal puppet his family needed him to be.

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The Jeons exchanged pleasantries with the Kim royals, both families wearing the practiced smiles and formal tones expected of them in these carefully orchestrated encounters. Dk Jeon, Jungkook's elder brother, was the one who spoke, his voice laced with subtle pride as he inclined his head toward the Kims.

"I trust you're giving serious thought to our proposal," dk said smoothly, his tone as poised as ever. "I believe my brother would make a fine addition to your family as Crown Prince Taehyung's spouse. He has yet to find his mate, after all, and there could be no one more suitable than a prince of such esteem."

Royal Kim Daehyun, Taehyung's father, returned the smile, nodding approvingly. "Rest assured, Dk Jeon, we are giving your proposal the highest consideration," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of authority. His eyes flicked briefly to his son, clearly expecting him to show his support for the potential alliance.

Taehyung's jaw clenched, his smile fading as he felt his pulse quicken. He hated this-all of it. The forced smiles, the transactional nature of something as sacred as marriage, the assumption that his future could be decided by talks in a crowded hall. His fists tightened at his sides, the muscles in his forearms taut as he tried to keep his expression neutral. He despised the way his family acted as if he were simply a piece in their grand strategy, a prize to be bartered and bargained away without a thought to his own desires.

Yet, the Kims and Jeons seemed oblivious to his discomfort, their conversation continuing in bright, polished tones.

Unbeknownst to them, Jungkook was nowhere near the grand hall. Instead, he was kneeling beside a young child near the outskirts of the festival, his heart aching as he tried to calm the little one. The child, tears streaming down her cheeks, clutched Jungkook's hand tightly as he offered her a comforting smile.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "We'll find your mother together, all right? I won't leave your side until we do."

He held her hand with gentle patience, scanning the crowd for any sign of a worried mother. Despite his own turbulent feelings and the looming dread of his arranged marriage, Jungkook couldn't ignore someone in need, especially not a frightened child. Helping her brought him a small, precious moment of peace-a reminder of the kindness and compassion he cherished in himself, even when everything else felt uncertain.

Jungkook's absence from the hall went unnoticed by most, but Taehyung, who had grown weary of the exchange, scanned the room, wondering why he hadn't yet met the Jeons' younger son. There was something almost refreshing in the mystery, the hope that this "perfect match" wasn't simply another noble with practiced manners and empty ambitions.

Yet he dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came, his mind circling back to the present, to the tension in his shoulders and the irritation simmering just beneath the surface. They're all the same, he reminded himself bitterly, just like everyone else here, dancing to the tune of duty and obligation.

But across the festival grounds, Jungkook was laughing softly as he held the child's hand, her worries beginning to ease as he led her toward the bustling crowd, his heart warmed by the simple kindness of helping another.

Neither of them could have known it yet, but in the gentle twilight of Liancheng's Spring Festival, their fates were already beginning to intertwine, bound by invisible threads that neither tradition nor duty could sever.

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