Desolate Innocence ||T.K.V||

▶︎Chapter 21▶︎

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Six months later

Winter slowly faded away, and the gentle warmth of spring and autumn began to take over. These new seasons brought new life and happiness to Jungkook's world—like the seasons themselves had brought change to his heart.

For the first time, he was stepping out of the shell he had built around himself.

And the ones who helped him the most...

Were the Kims.

And his closest friend—someone he trusted without even realizing—was Kim V.

Kim V was still a mystery to the world. He wore his mask every day, hiding a face he hadn't shown in decades. But deep down, he knew... his little cat had already seen what was beneath it. Jungkook had seen his real face—whether by accident or fate—and yet, V never pushed him away.

Maybe he should've. Maybe anyone else would've. But not V.

Because even though he tried to stay distant, he couldn't ignore the quiet footsteps of that sneaky little cat who always wandered near him, watching him from corners, trailing behind him like a whisper.

And V was a vampire for a reason. His senses were sharp. He always knew when Jungkook was nearby—even when the boy thought he was being subtle.

But instead of feeling bothered, he felt... calm.

Safe, even.

As strange as it was, the presence of Jungkook had become something like sunlight through closed curtains. Soft. Uninvited. But warm.

"Mr V?"

That soft voice echoed through the silent air of the library—the one place in the manor that remained untouched by the world. It was V's sanctuary. His private haven. No servants stepped foot in it, no birds sang near its tall windows, not even dust dared to settle where his presence reigned cold and quiet.

And yet, like always... his little cat had found a way in.

Jungkook sat cross-legged just a few feet away, a book open in his lap—though his eyes had been more on V than on the pages. They often ended up like this now, side by side in silence, immersed in V's collection of older, darker genres. V's taste in books was dense—vampires, ancient warlords, old gods forgotten by time—but Jungkook read them without complaint. Even when he didn't understand half the things written, he read. Because it was with him.

V was sprawled in his chair with quiet elegance, legs crossed, gloved fingers holding the thick book gently. The dim lamp beside him flickered warm light over the sharp edges of his mask.

"Say," he replied in his usual rough, hoarse voice, not looking up from his book—yet fully aware of the way Jungkook's presence softened the room.

His tone sounded like gravel soaked in honey. Calm, reserved, but not cold. It was how he always spoke to his little cat.

"How do you write so gracefully, I want to learn too, I want to write like you," His voice again echoed like a soft whisper. V's eyes slowly lifted from the pages, the flame of the lamp dancing over the curves of his silver mask. He looked at Jungkook—not with surprise, but with a quiet awareness, like he'd been expecting the question all along.

The younger sat there, doe eyes wide with admiration, his soft voice barely above a whisper as he repeated, "I want to write like you..."

For a long moment, V said nothing. Just the faint rustle of the pages between his gloved fingers filled the silence. Then finally, in a low, thoughtful murmur, he spoke.