His Darkest Desire ||Taekook||

chapter six

An hour later, Taehyung found himself once again in the same room where he'd first awoken from the blur of unconsciousness. Shadows pooled in the corners, the faintest light barely brushing the walls. The darkness wasn't just in the room's design — it clung to the air, thick and unmoving, like a silence that had forgotten how to lift. No windows broke the gloom, no promise of morning. The weight of it pressed on him, quiet and cruel. There was no escape — not from the room, not from the feeling.

After Jungkook sent him back to the same room he'd been trapped in the day before, the door was locked behind him with a final, echoing click. Only a single maid entered, silent and fleeting, bringing food without meeting his eyes. The walls were beginning to close in, and Taehyung's patience frayed with each passing hour. Who did Jungkook think he was? First the abduction, then the fall from the window — and now this, a gilded prison dressed in shadows. Fury simmered beneath his skin. He wasn't a plaything to be tossed aside and caged.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled, kicking his legs to shove the covers off his body. The room had to be at least 85 degrees, and sweat clung to his skin like a second layer. The maid's eyes softened as she sighed, lifting the spoon for the fifth time. He felt a pang of guilt for ignoring her efforts—she'd gone out of her way to make him eat—but hunger was the last thing on his mind.

He missed Mina. Even after everything that had happened, a part of him still clung to the hope that she was out there, looking for him. But then he chuckled bitterly. She probably wouldn't care if he were already dead.

The maid, on the other hand, wasn't even allowed to speak to him—not even to coax him into eating. She still flinched every time she got too close, the fear in her eyes lingering after that night. After Jungkook had nearly killed him.

Those dark, mysterious eyes that bore into him only deepened his curiosity. Who was Jungkook, really? There was a wall between them—something unspoken, something broken—and no matter how civil their interactions pretended to be, Jungkook always treated him with a cold, biting rudeness.

But who was he kidding? Memories of his eight-year-old self were fragmented, pieces missing like torn-out pages. What puzzled him most was why Jungkook wanted anything to do with him. Was he just another name on the list—another person Jungkook intended to kill like all the others yesterday?

He sighed at his spiraling thoughts, then looked over at the maid. She still stood there, quiet and patient, holding the now-cold bowl of food. Hesitating, he finally opened his mouth and took a bite. It had cooled, yes, but the flavors still warmed something hollow inside him. He hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and his body was starting to remind him.

As he took another bite, his stomach growled loudly, making him wince. Embarrassed, he glanced away, only to hear a small, amused chuckle from the maid. It was the first sound she'd made, and surprisingly, it comforted him. Even if she never spoke, her presence made the silence more bearable.

Hopefully, I'll get out of here soon.

"Yes, Taehyung. You need to stay strong. Remember what Hoseok taught you. Use that as your weapon."
The words echoed in his head as he drank the glass of water. It was easier said than done, but he had to try. He would try. This time, he wouldn't let himself down—and he prayed his death wasn't waiting around the corner.

"Thank you," he murmured, offering the maid a halfhearted smile, even as the weight of everything threatened to pull him under.

                                                                                           ***

"What was so important that you had to drag me here?" Jungkook asked, poking the inside of his cheek, his sharp gaze settling on Jin—his assistant and eldest hyung. Jin had started working for him a few years ago and had been by his side ever since, managing the tangled web of Jungkook's mafia dealings with meticulous precision.