[ After three days ]
Three of soaking up the sea breeze and wallowing in his wounded pride, Jungkook was back in Seoul, but his mood was far from serene. The tranquil beaches of Jeju might have calmed the average soul, but for Jungkook, the sting of Kim Taehyung’s indirect criticism still lingered like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
He paced his room, the glow of the city outside doing little to soothe his irritation. Every now and then, he would glance at his phone screen, where a replay of The Table Tea podcast was paused on Taehyung’s face. That calm, almost untouchable expression—the way Taehyung had talked so effortlessly, criticizing "a certain type of youth" without naming names—infuriated him to no end.
Jungkook flopped onto his bed, ruffling his messy hair. “You, Kim,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling. “You judged me, huh? Thought you could just talk about me without consequences? What if you didn’t say my name? I know it was about me.” His voice grew louder as he sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at the empty room. “Well, guess what, Mr. Perfect? Two can play at that game.”
A sly grin crept across his face as he grabbed his camera from the bedside table. He set it up on his desk, angled it just right, and turned on the ring light. This was his turf. His thirty million followers worshipped him for his chaotic energy, his unapologetic confidence, and his ability to stir the pot like no other.
“Let’s do this,” he murmured, hitting the record button. The camera light blinked red, and Jungkook instantly transformed, his salty mood masked by a bright, infectious smile.
“Hey, everyone!” he greeted, waving at the camera. “Your boy is back from Jeju! Did you miss me? Of course, you did.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Because honestly, I missed you guys too.”
He spent the first fifteen minutes of the video talking about his trip, showing off the souvenirs he’d bought. There were seashell necklaces, handmade bracelets, and quirky little trinkets from local markets. He flipped through photos he had taken—pictures of pristine beaches, vibrant sunsets, and, of course, several selfies where he looked effortlessly cool.
“Jeju was amazing, you guys,” he said, holding up a beautifully packaged box of Jeju’s famous green tea. “This stuff? Life-changing. I swear, you’ll thank me later if you try it. Oh, and look at this,” he added, pulling out a small stuffed dolphin. “Isn’t this the cutest? I got it from this little shop near the harbor.”
But as the video went on, his tone shifted subtly. Jungkook started slipping in indirect jabs, his words laced with sarcasm and veiled annoyance.
“So, Jeju was so relaxing,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s funny, you know? When you’re surrounded by beautiful scenery and genuine, fun people, you realize how boring some people can be. Like, seriously, have you ever met those people who talk so much about being mature and wise, but they’re just… dull?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Listening to them is like, I don’t know, white noise? You just want to shut your ears and take a nap.”
He picked up another souvenir, a small figurine of a Jeju stone statue, and spun it around in his hands. “And don’t even get me started on people who think they’re too good for fun. Like, ‘Oh, I’m so intellectual, I only care about serious stuff.’ Bro, live a little. Touch some grass or something.”
Jungkook paused, glancing directly at the camera with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I mean, I’m not calling anyone out. I’m just saying there are some people out there who act like they’re so perfect. But let’s be real, good people don’t grow in this world by being boring. You have to have a little spice, you know?”
