Days of Grace | vkook

°17: The Request

   The clock had almost struck eleven when Jungkook finally decided to leave the dinner, thanking his father once again for the spontaneous invitation and wishing him a good night before making his way to his own chamber, light-headed and wobbly on his own legs.

Actually, it was a rarity for the boy to be drunk, and even though Jungkook didn't devour much wine, he felt the alcohol hit him right after the second glass, making him feel tipsy, giddy, and, most importantly, talkative.

It was probably one of the expensive sorts, one of the kinds that belted through your blood faster than one could register, and perhaps a luxury meant only for noblemen rather than common people. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the effect, and fortunately, it helped him endure the evening without any embarrassing mishaps. Much to his surprise, the Admiral didn't mention work even once after their little "I-want-you-to-become-a-Major" talk. Instead, they spent the remaining time reminiscing about old memories. Jungkook truly appreciated his father's gesture and cherished his company. It reminded him of the years when they still lived together. The boy was a half-toothed child back then, faithfully following his father's every step like an obedient puppy. He even remembered proudly vowing to surpass him in every imaginable category, be it melee or swordplay: Jungkook was fire and flame from the very start.

"Naive boy," he chuckled and leaned against the wall for support while stumbling towards the sleeping quarters.

He couldn't ignore the prying eyes and hushed whispers of passing servants and guards, their curiosity and amusement evident on their faces as they observed his unsteady form. Jungkook rubbed his tired eyes and shook his head, attempting to hide his reddened cheeks behind his long bangs. The strands fell perfectly above his eyelashes, concealing the mysteries hidden within his brown irises.

He knew he'd regret his current state tomorrow, no question. But in this moment, he lacked the capacity to concern himself with his appearance or about the other's opinions. The only desire consuming his heart was to wrap himself in the thick blanket on his bed and indulge in at least eight hours of deep slumber.

Yeah, that would be great, Jungkook hummed silently, keeping his head down and picking up the pace as he continued on his way.

If only did he know, that he wouldn't even set foot in his room for the next hour.

As the soldier walked along the corridor, Jungkook noticed some voices and whispers growing louder and, despite his less-than-perfect vision, he could make out a faint glow at the end of the hallway. He halted, squinting his eyes to get a clearer view, thought for a blink, and—

Isn't that the ... healer's study?

Déjà-vus and flashbacks assailed him. Jungkook could feel his brain kick into overdrive, and before he knew it, his hand was already weaponed with a small knife as he cautiously approached the room; every trace of alcohol seemingly purged from his system.

"Fuck!" echoed loudly through the hallway, causing the boy to startle as he recognized the General's voice.

He didn't hesitate a further second but peeked into the room, his jaw slightly dropping as he took in the scene unfolding before his widened eyes.

"I almost had him. If you hadn't thrown this... this thing at me!" General Min hissed, his voice filled with frustration, as the Prince carefully removed the last spike of a gardening tool from the man's shoulder. The wound oozed, staining his white shirt a deep, vengeful red.

"Quick!" the Prince ordered as he tore the shirt into two pieces and used a cloth to apply pressure to inhibit the blood flow. "I need something hard for a tourniquet."