ANCIENT | SEQUEL TO YOUTH | JJK

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Jeongguk follows the man behind the bar, through a door and down down a dimly lit back hallway. As much as he tries to steel himself, the sting of Haneul's words lingers, tainting his conscience. As much as Jeongguk hates to admit it, she's right. She isn't his anymore. He doesn't know if she ever truly did belong to him, because she was always inherently free—she was Haneul. She was independent and strong, smart and capable and passionate—all things that made her ever so alluring, and yet, fleeting. All the reasons why he loved her.

The reasons why he loves her.

But also, the reasons why he doesn't deserve her. Hardly a few hours back from Italy, where he had spent months engraving the fact that he wasn't worthy of Haneul into the empty space between his ribs, and he had already forgotten just that. There, out on the dance floor just now, he had forgotten how much he hurt her, how much she didn't deserve it. He was overwhelmed by even the concept of being near her, and the jealousy of seeing her with Hoseok overpowered all of his better judgment.

Hell, Haneul didn't deserve his bullshit at all. She deserves someone like Jung Hoseok—someone kind, caring, positive. Someone who can make her laugh, someone who can treat her right. Someone without so much baggage. Despite the words he exchanged with Hoseok earlier, he can admit that if Haneul is going to be with anyone who isn't him, he thinks he can learn to accept it if it's Hoseok. At least then he'll know that Haneul will have someone with a heart of gold.

"Hey, watch it, Wanderer." The man snaps at Jeongguk, who is so lost in thought he runs into the man when he stops in front of a door. "We're here." He says, and throws open the door. The room is luxurious, clearly meant to be a VIP lounge of some sort. And, surely enough, the person Jeongguk sets his eyes on is very important.

"Wanderer." Haneul's grandmother says, her voice warm, but her eyes hypothermic. It gives Jeongguk chills, but he covers them up with the clench of his jaw. "It's been a while. You look good. Older."

"Cut the bullshit." Jeongguk snaps. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?" Mrs. Choi asks. She enjoys this, enjoys watching him squirm and get frustrated.

"You know exactly who. And you also know where he is, so get talking." He demands, but his words fall of deaf ears.

"I hope the flight from Italy wasn't too turbulent. You must have some intense jet-lag." Mrs. Choi continues, standing up from the couch she's sitting on. Jeongguk moves to start towards her, but the man who brought him to the back room grabs him and holds him back. "You won't touch me. Then you'll never know where Taehyung is." She draws a small object from her pocket, and with the flick of her wrist, a sharp blade extends. Jeongguk doesn't struggle or even flinch when she comes to stand in front of him, tracing his jawline with the switchblade.

"I don't care what you do to me. Torture me, kill me—whatever. Just give back Taehyung. He didn't start this, I did." He says, past the point of worrying about his own wellbeing.

"You forget what this entire feud is about, Wanderer. It was never about killing you. It was about taking everyone you love," she murmurs, tone sweet, but words cutting and violent, "and crushing them." Jeongguk has a sinking feeling in his stomach now, blood running cold. She traces up the side of his face now, and the metal is freezing against his clammy skin. "Although torturing you is tempting."

"You're a psychopath." Jeongguk exclaims, in awe of the utter lack of humanity in Mrs. Choi. At this, she digs the blade into the edge of his cheekbone shallowly, earning a wince from Jeongguk as crimson liquid drips down his face.

"Try me." She grins, utterly gone behind her eyes. Jeongguk's cold gaze clashes with her own for a few seconds before she flicks the blade away and steps back. "Let him go." She says, puzzling Jeongguk as the man holding him releases his grip.