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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I built walls to feel safe, but now I can’t find the door.
Chapter 40: Leave
The faint scent of toasted bread and warm soup lingered in the small kitchen, a comforting contrast to the chill of the early morning air. The house was quiet, except for the soft clinking of dishes as Kyushu set the table before heading out. It wasn’t the Jeon mansion’s grandeur — no marble floors, no chandeliers, no servants bustling about — but it was warm. Lived in. Safe.
Jungkook had been staying at Kyushu’s modest home for the past week, ever since he’d been forced to leave his parents’ mansion. The change was drastic — from wide hallways and luxury to a small two-bedroom house tucked in a quiet neighborhood — yet Jungkook didn’t seem to complain. He never did.
It was Taehyung’s room that he was staying in now, the smaller of the two, with walls lined with schoolbooks and a desk cluttered with pens and sticky notes. Taehyung, Kyushu’s only son, had been living near his university dorm for weeks, studying day and night for his upcoming college entrance exams. His absence left the room quiet and empty — until Jungkook filled it with his presence, though even his silence carried the weight of someone still trying to breathe through grief.
Despite Kyushu’s insistence that he take time off school, Jungkook refused. “I’ll keep going,” he had told her once, his tone steady but distant. “If I stop, I’ll think too much.” And Kyushu had understood. Sometimes, focusing on something — anything — was the only way to survive.
That morning, she stood in front of his door, gently knocking twice before speaking. “Jungkook, I’m heading out now,” she said softly, her voice warm but edged with concern. “I have to drop by the police station for a bit. Don’t worry, I already made breakfast for you — soup and rice, the way you like it. Make sure to eat before you leave for class, okay?”
From inside the room came a muffled but cheerful voice, “Thank you, Eomma!”
Kyushu’s lips curved into a small smile at the word — Eomma. Jungkook had started calling her that just recently, maybe out of habit, maybe out of comfort. She didn’t correct him. Instead, she cherished it quietly.
She lingered for a moment outside the door, listening to the faint rustle of movement inside — drawers opening, the sound of him getting ready. He was trying, she thought. Trying to live. Trying to stay strong. And she couldn’t be prouder, even though her heart ached knowing how much he was still holding back.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her coat and bag from the rack. The morning sunlight was pale and cold as she stepped outside, locking the door behind her. Her expression hardened slightly — not with anger, but with quiet determination.
She was heading to the police station not just for “an update,” as she told Jungkook — but for answers. Answers about that night, about the Jeon couple’s deaths, and about the lingering suspicion she couldn’t shake off ever since she found that brown envelope.
