Casanova | Jungkook | ✓

treinta y seis | verdad

Translation for Spanish words
used in this chapter —

Verdad — truth
Buen dios — good God

-

Jeon Jungkook did not return home, as his amor and friends expected; as his nurse hoped, too.

No, the man urged his mare to gallop towards a familiar building resonating within the city of Seville. A place where he'd never want to visit again, but willed himself to go.

Seeing its flat-roofed building cramped along with the hundreds of other murky architecture had him slowing Coco down with a slight tug of her reigns. Blinking rapidly, he noticed the sign and allowed himself to breathe a little harder than before.

Prisíon de Seville. It was just as unwelcoming as the first time he'd seen it, dark walls and small doors, as if rebuking you for even thinking to enter.

Let it mock him. Jeon Jungkook was on a mission.

He entered the building, steps unhurried as he reached the desk. The apparent Mr Ki was with another policeman this time, checking a heavy file.

"Buenos dias," Jungkook greeted, voice grave despite the somewhat kind words. "I'm here to see a Sir Jeon."

Mr Ki raised a brow as he looked up at the young man. "Ah, the boy from before," he voiced out, remembering his entrance with Seokjin just under a month. "And who do you wish to avenge this time?"

"Not to avenge, Mr Ki." His eyes darkened till no light dared shelter in the pair. "But to punish."

The other officer whipped his head to Jungkook. "Buen Dios, it's his child isn't it?" He stacked the files atop a hundred others scattered on the desk. "Jeon Jungkook?"

The said man nodded. "That's the one."

"If you are here to see him, I'll show you the way. You are a family member after all, so visits are permissible."

The officer whispered some orders to Mr Ki in rapid Spanish, and gestured for Jungkook to follow him to the cells.

He was being lead to another place entirely, far from the dirtied area of where Taehyung resided. In fact, they stayed walking in the ground floor, whereas last time Jungkook had shovelled deeper underground.

When the officer stopped before a steel door, he pulled out a ring of keys, singling out one and jamming it through the door.

Clicking open, the door pushed back. "You have an hour, Mr Jeon."

Dipping his head in acknowledgment, the man stepped inside, hearing the door close behind him.

He raised his head, letting out a breath he'd somehow held in.

Sir Jeon, the absolute bastard, sat before a grand table, a small feast of duck, lamb and a rich colour of vegetables looking exquisite upon the surface.

Jungkook's eyes angrily darted to every part of this supposed 'prison', comparing Taehyung's rough stone walls to clean, flat, beige painted surroundings, from the floor to sleep on to a single bed with velvet bedding neatly folded upon the sheets. Where Taehyung had no light to see, Sir Jeon had tore a little piece of the sun and hung it over his ceiling.