Anger never builds; it only tears down. In the heat of a single moment, it can feel like strength, an armor to hide behind. But when the fire fades, all that's left are the ashes of what once mattered. Anger doesn't solve anything-it devours patienc...
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Healing doesn’t erase the scars, but it stops them from controlling you.
Chapter 23: Plan
The atmosphere inside the office shifted instantly, like the walls themselves were pressing closer, as though the room was suffocating him. Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened with the kind of unease he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t the pristine office, decorated with expensive furniture and cold professionalism, that unsettled him—it was the man sitting inside. Jungkook.
The recognition had struck him like a lightning bolt, searing through his nerves. Those familiar eyes, sharp yet unreadable, locked with his for only a second before Jungkook turned away. But that fleeting connection was enough to send Taehyung spiraling.
“It seems like you have a guest,” Jungkook’s voice broke through the silence, low but heavy. He rose from his seat, straightening his blazer as if shaking off invisible dust. “We can just talk next time.”
The words were polite, almost casual, but Taehyung caught the tension laced beneath them. Jungkook’s tone wasn’t dismissive—it was deliberate, as though layered with things unsaid. His footsteps echoed against the polished floor as he moved toward the door.
“I told you not to come back here!” Gaeul’s voice snapped, sharp and frantic, shattering the brittle calm that lingered. She slammed her palm against the desk, eyes blazing as she glared at Jungkook’s retreating form. “What part of that can’t you understand?! You’re the one barging in here out of nowhere!”
But Jungkook didn’t flinch. His movements remained steady, almost defiant in their calm. He didn’t bother to look back at her, didn’t spare her anger a single glance. Instead, he simply walked on, as though her words slid right off him, weightless and meaningless.
Then it happened—the briefest brush of contact as he passed Taehyung. Their shoulders collided, not violently, but firmly enough to make Taehyung stumble half a step back. The heat of Jungkook’s presence lingered, a sharp reminder that this wasn’t a dream, that he was here, real and closer than Taehyung had ever prepared himself for. Taehyung’s pulse quickened, and he found himself holding his breath until Jungkook disappeared beyond the door, leaving behind a silence that roared louder than any argument.
The door clicked shut.
Gaeul dragged her hands through her hair in frustration, muttering curses under her breath before exhaling loudly. Then, as though flipping a switch, she plastered on a smile. Her lips curved upward, but her eyes still held remnants of her irritation. She turned to Taehyung, masking the tension that still crackled in the air.
“Sorry about that,” she said lightly, her tone laced with forced cheerfulness. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
But Taehyung couldn’t immediately respond. His ears were still ringing, his mind reeling. He had come here seeking answers, clarity about Gaeul and her role in the tangled mess of his life. Instead, he had stumbled into Jungkook—into a confrontation that felt less like a coincidence and more like fate’s cruel game.
For the first time since he arrived, he wondered if he had just walked into the wrong place at the worst possible time.
She waved a hand dismissively at the man and offered Taehyung the same chair Jungkook had been occupying. “Please, don’t mind him. Sit.” Her voice was calm but there was an edge of purpose beneath it.
Taehyung forced a faint smile and lowered himself into the chair, palms pressing lightly against the worn fabric as if to steady the sudden tremor of nerves. The room smelled faintly of paper and dust; a thin sliver of late-afternoon light fell across the desk where Gaeul was already rifling through a drawer. She withdrew a brown envelope with a deliberateness that made Taehyung's pulse stutter.
“I'm sure you want to know everything,” she said, sliding the envelope across the desk. “Here — take a look.”
He peeled the flap open and his eyes scanned the contents. Photocopies, handwritten notes, a timeline printed in neat columns: evidence that tied Jungkook to the incident. Each piece seemed to slot into place like a small, harsh truth. The more he read, the more the picture sharpened — and yet there was a nagging dissonance, a small detail that refused to fit. He couldn't name it, but it prickled at the back of his mind like a splinter.
Gaeul watched him with an expression that was almost indulgent. “Surprised?” she asked. “Don’t be. Knowing him, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Her words were flat, but her eyes betrayed a quiet conviction. “You might think you can’t fight someone with that kind of influence. That’s exactly why I’m here — to help you take him down.”
“How?” Taehyung asked before he could stop himself. The determination in his voice startled even him; there was a steadiness now where there had only been fear moments before.
Gaeul leaned back and folded her hands. “There are two things we need that will change everything — a USB and an envelope.” She tapped the desk twice, as if punctuating the gravity of it. “Your mother had them. Whatever’s on that drive and in that envelope will make it impossible for anyone to ignore what’s been done.”
He blinked, the name of the objects echoing in his head as though they were talismans. He had forgotten about them, shoved into the corner of memory with so many other things he’d tried not to think about. “USB? Envelope?” he repeated, searching his face for the same certainty he felt inside.
“Yes.” Gaeul’s voice was quiet but absolute. “You have to find every place your mother might have hidden them. She was frightened — I tried to reach her, but she hid. After she died, I started putting the pieces together and I realized Jungkook was the only one who would benefit from silencing her.” Her gaze sharpened. “I found you because of what you did to him. I believed that you will be capable of slowing him down. You’ve already started this.”
Taehyung’s chest tightened. The memory she referenced — the desperate, terrible moment that had set everything spiraling — rose like bile in his throat. “If I find them,” he said slowly, testing the words, “would you... would you actually make sure he goes to jail?”
Gaeul’s mouth curved into a small, confident smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not as powerful as he is, but I know how to make people listen. I know how to expose the right thing in the right place so it can’t be swept under the rug. If those items exist and you bring them to me, I will use them.” Her tone hardened into something close to a promise. “We have to move fast. Do you want him brought down or not?”
Taehyung looked at her. There was a flicker — some unnameable calculation — crossing his face. He didn’t fully trust her; trusting anyone felt risky as walking on thin ice. Yet the evidence, the conviction in her voice, the ache for justice and answer that had lodged in his chest for months — they made his decision for him.
“I’ll find them,” he said. The words were small but steady. “But if this goes south — if you betray me — I won’t forgive you.”
Gaeul’s grin was all teeth and steel. “You won’t have to,” she said. “We’ll succeed.”
Taehyung left the room with the envelope heavy in his hands like a new life. Hope and suspicion tangled together in his chest; he couldn’t tell which emotion would carry him further, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a direction — a plan — and the faintest, most dangerous glimmer of control.
