when jungkook wakes up in the middle of his favorite kind of story, he's not the hero. nope, he's the villain-the scheming prince doomed to lose his engagement to the ruthless rmperor taehyung when the beautiful heroine shows up.
villain or not, he'...
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Jungkook had tried everything to escape the damned webtoon.
At first, it had seemed manageable-survive long enough to figure out a way back to his world. But as the days turned into weeks, and the Emperor, Kim Taehyung, showed no signs of nullifying their engagement, his desperation grew. Jungkook was nothing if not resourceful, but when faced with the possibility of a blade severing his head from his neck at the hands of his future husband, resourcefulness gave way to desperation.
The first attempt was simple: poison. Rat poison, to be exact. It wasn't the most glamorous option, but it was quick, efficient, and accessible. Jungkook hadn't hesitated, gulping down the bitter liquid in the kitchen with the grim determination of someone whose fate was already sealed. He had even felt his body seize and his consciousness slip away with some satisfaction, thinking, Finally, it's over.
It wasn't.
He woke up two days later, skin glowing, cheeks rosy, and hair shinier than it had ever been. The maids had practically wept with delight, crowing about how his "beauty sleep" had made him even more radiant. Jungkook wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
His next plan was more straightforward. He climbed to the top floor of the grand manor, stepped onto the edge of the balcony, and leapt. The wind whipped past him, the ground rushing closer, and for a moment, he thought, This will work. And then the gardener-a spry man with arms like tree trunks-caught him mid-air, hoisting him up like a sack of potatoes.
"Young master, please don't run off again! You'll give the staff a fright!" the gardener had laughed, as if Jungkook had merely tripped. The staff treated the incident like some comedic mishap, and Jungkook had been forced to endure a mortifying lecture on "safety" from the head maid.
Fine. If falling didn't work, suffocation might. He locked himself in his chambers one night, grabbed a pillow, and pressed it down against his face with all his strength. But the pillows here were too soft. No matter how much pressure he applied, it was like trying to strangle himself with a cloud. He gave up when he started sobbing into the infuriatingly luxurious feather stuffing.
