His Baby Daddy [ Taekook ]

Chapter 30

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The Crystal Citadel was a masterpiece of cold, unyielding architecture, built from glass that never fogged and stone that never warmed. But tonight, the air inside the Queen’s private solarium felt different. It was stagnant, thick with the metallic tang of magic and the heavy scent of rain that refused to fall.

Mishil had already told Jungkook everything—about her past with the Snow Moon Pack, about her bond with its Alpha, Ruhan, and about the truth she had carried in silence for thirty years: that Ruhan was Taehyung’s biological father. Now, as fate finally drew them toward one another, both father and son were on the brink of learning the same truth.

Jungkook sat across from Queen Mishil. Between them sat a low table of polished obsidian, holding a tea service that had long since gone cold. Jungkook’s hands were folded over the swell of his belly, his fingers twitching rhythmically. He could feel the Convergence pulsing within him—a golden thrum of energy that connected his heartbeat to the pup’s, and their combined souls to the heartbeat of the world outside.

Across from him, Mishil looked every bit the Alabaster Queen. Her gown was a rigid sculpture of silver and white, her face a mask of royal indifference. But Jungkook, heightened by the pregnancy and the ancient magic he now carried, could see the cracks. He saw the way her pulse fluttered at the hollow of her throat. He saw the way she kept glancing toward the heavy, arched doors of the solarium as if expecting a ghost.

“The air is shifting, Majesty,” Jungkook said softly, breaking a silence that had lasted nearly an hour. “The North is calling. Can you feel it?”

Mishil’s eyes snapped to his. They were a piercing, frozen blue, but deep within them, Jungkook saw a flickering light—the same light he had seen in Taehyung’s eyes when he was stirred to passion.

“The North is a graveyard of dreams, Jungkook,” Mishil replied, her voice steady but thin. “Do not look for life where only frost remains.”

“But the frost is melting,” Jungkook countered. “Taehyung is there. He is with the Snow Moon. He is with… Ruhan.”

At the mention of the Alpha’s name, Mishil’s regal composure didn’t just crack—it shattered. She gripped the edge of the obsidian table so hard her knuckles turned white. “You should not speak that name here,” she hissed. “This palace has ears of stone and tongues of shadow.”

Before Jungkook could respond, the lanterns in the room flickered. The steady blue moon-fire that lit the solarium gasped, turning a sickly, jaundiced yellow before dying out completely. In the sudden darkness, the shadows in the corners of the room didn’t just pool—they curdled.

A sound like sandpaper dragged across silk filled the room. From beneath the heavy oak doors, a trail of grey, oily smoke began to seep inside. It didn’t dissipate. It coiled, thickening, shaping itself into something vast and serpentine—charred bone and shifting ash forming a massive, wingless creature.