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Unbound X - (BTS x Reader)

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Genre: Fantasy | Dark Academia | Romance | Mystery | Action | Magic

T/W: Bullying, discrimination

Pairing: Reader x Taehyung, Reader x Jungkook (and a tiny bit of ot7),

A/N: This time I wanted to focus more on rumors, and what it does to 'reader'. They'll be petty, the usual school drama, but luckily there are people who have your back.

And it was also time for me to give Jungkook a little bit of attention. (next chapter you will be seeing more of him, just to remind you that Tae isn't the only LI hehe).

** Credits for line divider by strangergraphics-archive

Word count: 5774

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Chapter X - Sparks and Scandals

When Wednesday evening settles in, the first stars scatter around a velvet blue sky.

By now, the Academy's corridors are silent, save for the distant sound of the dining bell fading into silence. Most students have already retreated to their dormitories, their voices barely audible through the thick, stone walls of the arena grounds. Only the stubborn and the driven remain.

And, of course, yours truly.

Driven, or stupid. The line between those is thinner than you'd like to admit.

Professor Kwon's stern voice cuts through the air. “Again.”

Your muscles are burning with fatigue, sleeves damp with sweat and a cold breeze whispers through the colonnade beyond. Despite it all, you steady your stance and plant both boots wide on the stone ground.

“Do not mistake Evocation for brute force,” Kwon continues. His hands are folded behind his back as he paces a circle around you and his worn leather gloves glow faintly beneath the arena's lanterns. “You have to will it through intent. Magic listens to thought, not to panic.”

“I'm not panicking.” You mutter under your breath, though a quiver in your voice begs to differ. A familiar heat spreads through your palms as you call the flames to life once more.

Kwon's mouth twitches in what could almost be described as amusement, though his eyes narrow. “Then stop thinking like a mercenary from the slums.” He states. Your shoulders stiffen at his words. He means no insult, you're aware of that. It's the truth.

During your training sessions, you've learned that much about him. Kwon Jiyong neither flatters nor softens his observations.

Centering your breath again, you feel the familiar pull of Evocation flutter beneath your skin. You gather the flame carefully this time, without forcing it too much.

“Focus,” Professor Kwon says. “Breathe in, then release it.”

This time, the hurl of fire that leaps from your fingertips is narrow and clean—a streak of crimson red strikes the warded dummy in its chest. The wood turns black in an instant, then collapses in on itself, leaving behind only a scorch mark and smoke twining upwards.

That receives a single nod from him. “That's better,” He acknowledges. Coming from him, that's high praise, but he leaves you no time to bask in it. “Again.”

By the time the bell chimes the late hour through the arena, you are barely able to lift your arms from the strain. The last remnants of your conjured ward quiver beneath trembling fingers. Even your thoughts feel hazy, so when Kwon finally lowers his hands, you feel relief curling through your stomach.

“That's enough for tonight,” Kwon says finally.

Slowly, you straighten. Every muscle in your body aches, the bruises appearing beneath your sleeves throb with each minor movement. The exhaustion seeps deep through your bones, and thoughts alike.

“You've made progress in only four lessons.” Kwon praises as he moves toward the center of the space and he settles his gaze on you. “But your control fractures under pressure. Especially when you are tired.”

Nodding in understanding, you resist the urge to retort. There's no point in arguing when he's right. Not when you barely manage to stand straight.

“So, you will need more than solo drills,” He adds, his voice contemplative now. His footsteps echo against the stone as he paces. “Perhaps a sparring partner. One who can challenge your instincts. Force you to refine..”

At that, you raise a brow.

A partner? Already?

You open your mouth to protest instinctively, but he cuts it off with a single flick of his fingers. “Very well, I will arrange it,” He states simply as if the matter is already sealed and there is no room for negotiation. Then, he gestures toward the door. “Rest. You're no use to me half-dead.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath while rolling your eyes. Still, you follow his instructions with an incline of your head, before you turn around and stride toward the arched exit.

As you step into the open colonnade, the cold night air bites your skin. Lanterns light the path ahead, yet they do not offer any warmth tonight. You pull your cloak tighter around your body, Kwon's words echoing through your mind.

A sparring partner.

Just what you need. Another pair of eyes to watch you struggle through barely-contained fireballs and wards that are too broad. Maybe they'd sell tickets next. You could probably fund a lunch in the Capital that way.

You are lost in that charming thought when you round one of the marble pillars and slam straight into wall of solid muscle.

You freeze mid-step. So does the figure before you.

When you finally tilt your head up to face them, you meet a pair of cold, dark brown eyes and mutter a string of curses under your breath.

What was it with this man and constantly bumping into him?

Jungkook regards you with stillness, though a different emotion stirs behind his eyes. His posture is relaxed, there are no folds in his perfectly ironed robes, but there's an unusual tension hiding beneath his polished surface.

You do not question it. Yet.

“When will you finally learn to watch where you're going?” The frustration in the tone of his voice is clear and the man doesn't wait for you to reply. “Why are you out so late?”

Resisting the urge to cross your arms under his scrutiny, you bite back the insults already laid out on your tongue. “Training.”

He raises a brow. “Alone?”

“Last time I checked, we're allowed to use the training grounds by ourselves.” You counter.

“I suppose some of us need more practice than others.” He mutters, voice deceptively mild.

You simply snort, feeling too exhausted to be properly irritated. “And some of us need better hobbies than lurking in corners of corridors. Surely you have other admirers to terrorize tonight?”

Jungkook remains quiet with his gaze locked on yours and you're unsure whether he is insulted or impressed. Then, with the smallest tilt of his head, his voice drops to a softer tone, yet it is still laced with a certain edge. “I might, but they don’t talk back nearly as much.”

“Are you saying I should feel honored?”

He exhales, almost through a scoff. “I’m saying most people know when to keep their distance.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice, Jeon,” you quip smoothly. “Because for someone so bothered by me, you don’t seem to do much staying away.”

That finally earn a shift in his expression. “Don't flatter yourself,” His features tighten just slightly. Then, almost as if he's turning the thought over himself, he adds quietly, “I didn’t expect you to be the type to overreach.”

Arching a brow, the weariness in your features is replaced by grim amusement. “I thought you'd already decided what type I was.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, but despite the chill it sends down your spine, you press on in a light voice. “Don't worry, I'm not foolish enough to think a few controlled flames make me your equal.”

“You've been acting otherwise.” He states, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, well, acting a certain way and feeling aren't always the same thing.” A sigh escapes your lips. “If it helps, I wasn't trying to impress you. Or anyone else.”

“You didn't.” He says slightly too fast.

You study his face, noticing something beneath his composure. There's unease, perhaps. Or the same frustration you can still taste in your own mouth.

He can't stop thinking about the duel, you remind yourself. Half the Academy can't. Neither can you. But tonight, it's not your problem.

“Look, Jeon.. Whatever you think of me, I know the duel didn't exactly win me any favors. Least of all with you,” His gaze sharpens at your words. “So, consider this an apology,” You say evenly, head lifting despite the nerves going through your body. “Not that I expect you to care.”

This time, the silence is longer. Jungkook's fingers move once at his sleeve and when he speaks, his voice sounds low and tense. “Don't waste your breath apologizing.”

“Consider it wasted, then.”

Something flickers in his gaze again. Then, with a deep breath, he steps back. “Don’t get used to this,” he says softly. “Or to thinking you’ve earned a place here.”

Before you can answer, he moves past you and walks away.

Your pulse hammers faster now, tension prickling beneath your skin. You force your legs to move forward, pace swift despite the ache clawing at your limbs. “Focus,” you scold yourself under your breath. “Kwon’s right—you’ve got more work ahead than dodging Elite tempers.”

Yet even as you walk and your footsteps echo through the hallway—an unwelcome thought lingers.

Who will he choose?

And worse—why does it matter?

Whilst Jungkook's figure vanishes around the corner, unseen by you, he stops his pace and mumbles, “Damn it.”

You don't remember falling asleep that night.

At some point between dragging your bruised limbs to your dormitory and collapsing face-first onto your mattress, exhaustion must have won. Fragments of restless dreams offer no memory of the night before, but when the faint chime of the morning bell echoes through the dormitory, your body responds with a protest so sharp it draws a loud groan from your throat.

Every muscle aches and your limbs feel as if they are on fire. It reminds you much of the feeling when you woke up in the infirmary after the trials. At least this time, it wasn't the result of barely surviving a fight against three creatures. Instead, there was just one. And his name is Kwon Jiyong.

When you finally force yourself upright, the blankets slip off to reveal bruises painting your arms. Lovely souvenirs from relentless training.

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you wince slightly when your bare feet hit the icy floor.

Gods, you think, rolling your shoulders once and gritting your teeth at the tension burning through your joints. Kwon wasn't just training me. He was tenderizing me.

By the time you step into the corridor, pale sunlight filters through the arched windows. In the distance, the voices and footsteps of early-risers fill the hallway. You brace yourself for another long day of lectures, but something feels off far before you reach the spiraling stairwell.

It isn't the cold morning breeze nor the ache coiling through your limbs. And it isn't quite like the way you felt in the library or just before the trials.. This time it's in the way conversations dim as you pass and in the glances that linger for a moment too long.

Near the Eastern stairs, a group of students are huddled beneath a stone arch. Two girls and a boy you haven't seen before; nobles who learned from a young age how to use words like daggers. You catch fragments of their hushed conversation.

“... said she saw her with Jeon at the training grounds last night.” One of the girls say.

Ah, it never ceases to amaze how fast rumors spread in the Academy.

“Jungkook would never train with slum-borns,” The boy replies knowingly. “Unless she has found.. another way to make herself useful.”

“They say Kim Taehyung’s caught too. What’s the phrase? One foot in two beds?” Another girl chimes in. The chuckles that follows are instant.

You resist the temptation to turn around and plant a few questionable choices of words between their perfect teeth. Instead, you swallow them down.

Wonderful, you've gone up from 'slum-rat' to 'midnight amusement for Elites'.

Jimin's warnings echo in your mind. “They will come for you in ways you won’t expect. Not fire and lightning, but reputation. Doubt. They’ll whisper you out of existence if they can.”

Guess that memo made the rounds.

When you reach the classroom for Principles of Evocation, you slide into your seat well before the other students file in. This morning would be without friends, only first-years you barely know repeating whatever court of gossip flows their way.

As more students enter in groups, most of their voices dip only slightly, their eyes cutting toward you with barely concealed interest.

You ignore it, keeping your gaze fixated on the front of the room where Professor Park Jinyoung's voice rambles on about ice shaping and magical resistance. Your hands are neatly folded atop your desk. From the outside, you seem perfectly composed. From the inside? Well enough. You've had worse mornings. Worse fights. Worse company. This is merely noise.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

It doesn’t take long for someone to test your patience.

It happens when Professor Park grants the class a ten minute break— just enough for fresh ink, new parchment and petty schemes.

From the corner of your eye, you see a group of students approach.

Only when a shadow falls across your desk, do you look up. Three figures stand before you. The first girl has sleek hair dyed rose-gold, you know her as Kazuha from House Nakamura. Beside her stands Yunjin from House Huh, her hair is tied in a braid and pink stained lips are curled in cruel amusement.

The boy you do not know, he's round-faced and broad-shouldered and wears golden accessories around his neck and fingers as if he's trying to convince himself more than others that he's nobility.

“Hi there,” Huh Yunjin's honey-sweet voice drawls. “We thought we’d come congratulate you.”

Your face is blank as you look at them. “Congratulate me? For surviving class?”

Kazuha follows, “For climbing so high,” She slightly tilts her head, folding her arms across her chest. “From the slums to plaything for the Golden Boys. We were wondering how exhausting it must be for you.. juggling your new admirers.”

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips. “Ah, yes. My busy schedule of public duels and scandalous dates. Truly, I don’t even know how I manage.”

The boy smirks, eyes sweeping you with condescension. “No need to be modest. You've clearly mastered the art of.. persuasion.”

“Persuasion, huh?” You murmur as your elbow rests on the table and your head is propped in the palm of your hand. “Here I thought I was accepted due to my talent.. Not because of mattress diplomacy.”

Yunjin draws a sharp breath. “You’d best be careful,” She hisses now, mask slipping. “You may be a novelty now, but Elites don’t like sharing their toys. And no one likes a filthy little upstart who thinks she belongs.”

You lean back slightly, letting your gaze sweep across all three of them. “You’re right. I don’t belong to any of them,” you say softly. “Which must make it all the more frustrating for you that I got their attention without lifting a finger, while you're still badly craving it.”

Their faces tighten, satisfaction blooming in your chest. Before any of them can recover, Professor Park’s voice cuts across the room once more. “Break is over. Back to your seats.”

The trio lingers for a second longer, hatred filled in their eyes, but they move away with the rest of the class' attention as the lecture resumes.

The headache that's been threatening since this morning has finally arrived in full.

After Transmutation Theory, the final class of the day, finally ends, you trail behind the last wave of first-years exiting the classroom. Your fingers ache from taking notes, brain swimming in formulas and mass-to-mana ratios. You rub your temples frustratedly, half-wishing for a minor healing potion and half-wishing for unconsciousness.

The day has been excruciatingly long.

The worst part isn't even the schoolwork, although the assignments are piled high enough to crush any student. The worst part are the whispers that seem to fill every classroom, each corridor.

They follow you wherever you go.

If there was ever any doubt, it is gone now. Jimin was correct. Entirely, painfully correct. The nobles were coming at you with gossip and sharp tongues.

You lost count of how many times you caught eyes lingering on you, how many conversations halted mid-sentence when you passed. Some were more blatant than others—a few first-years had even smirked openly when you entered the library, no doubt already imagining themselves superior to the "slum-born necromancer clawing her way up through seduction."

Apparently, slum-born girls don’t get attention unless they’re offering something in return.

When you heard that one, you had laughed. Loud enough for those spreading it to flinch. But after the fifth time you heard it—and the seventh—you started laughing a little less. And now, as you near the Grand Hall, the edges of your composure are beginning to fray.

Once you enter, the warmth of the hall hits you in an instant— twin rows of glowing crystal chandeliers cast light across the area, their reflections shimmering faintly in the polished floor. Long rectangular tables stretch from one end of the hall to the other packed with students draped in the shades of the Academy's robes.

Every head turns to you.

Lifting your head, your steps remain even. You will not shrink; you won't give them the satisfaction.

Across the room, you find them— your friends, seated at their usual table, already halfway through dinner. Yuqi waves at you and relief crosses her face when your eyes meet hers. She gestures to the empty seat beside her and you head straight for it, ignoring the trail of whispers that follow you.

The moment you sit down, Shuhua already leans in. Her eyes are alight with familiar mischief. “So,” she begins, voice filled with curiosity. “Why does half the school think you've tamed two of the most impossible men in the Academy?”

You sigh, tipping your head back against the chair-rest. “I’d rather face Kwon again than have this conversation.”

“That bad, huh?” Soyeon asks, arching a brow.

“Worse,” you mutter. “It followed me through every single class. I couldn’t take three steps without someone assuming I’d invited Jungkook and Taehyung into my bed.”

Yuqi’s smile falters, her teasing look softening in an instant. “You know none of us believe that, right?”

Shuhua nods quickly and the playful tone in her voice disappears. “Obviously. You’re not the type to bother with that kind of nonsense. Not when you have a far more thrilling relationship with life itself.”

“Besides,” Soyeon adds, “anyone who actually knows you would laugh themselves sick at the thought of you swooning over nobles.”

Their words ease the nerves in your stomach if only slightly. You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear that. “Thank you.” you murmur softly.

Yuqi reaches out under the table, giving your wrist a quick squeeze. “Don’t let them get in your head. They’re just jealous. They can’t stand that someone like you is standing at the same level they’re so desperate to protect.”

“At least you have Taehyung on your side.” She adds with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh goddess.” you mutter.

Shuhua grins and seizes the opportunity. “He did wink at you in the market. You can’t deny that.”

“Maybe he had something in his eye.”

“Maybe you were in his eye. Like you are right now.”

You nearly choke on your water. “Stop.”

The other girls chuckle, and despite the exhale leaving you, you cannot help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

From across the room, the unmistakable presence of the Elite Table draws your attention.. You don’t mean to look—but your eyes move upward before you can stop them.

There, beneath the arched stained-glass window, five of them are seated.

Jung Hoseok is the first to come into view— the usual grin on his face is replaced by something more thoughtful. Beside him sits Min Yoongi, colder eyes than Jungkook's flicking lazily over the hall without betraying a hint of emotion. Kim Seokjin leans back with the kind of arrogance that would infuriate you if it didn't fit him so well. And Park Jimin looks the most relaxed, though there's an edge beneath his languid posture as his fingers drum lightly against the edge of his goblet.

And then there is Taehyung.

He sits slightly apart from the others, elbow propped on the table, fingers tapping a slow, idle rhythm against his chin. His eyes meet yours almost instantly—as if he’d been waiting for the chance. There’s no smirk this time.

You glance away swiftly, heart skipping once against your will.

He must have heard. He'd have to be deaf not to. And I doubt Jennie would let it rest until he did.

That thought pulls your gaze sideways—where the devil herself sits like royalty presiding over the court.

Jennie is seated upright. Her crimson lips are curved into a smile too sharp for pleasantries. Lisa lounges next to her, one boot crossed over her knee whilst her eyes are disinterested, though her lips twitch faintly at something Rose says. Jisoo's expression, as always, is carved from ice and she, too, listens to her friend speak.

Jennie's gaze lock onto yours. And if looks could kill, you'd already be sprawled across the marble table. Not the most awful way to die, you'd always expected it to be in the gutter somewhere in the Iron Quarters where nobody could find your body. Sorry. Too grim.

Forcing your eyes down to your plate, your hand curl unconsciously around the edges. The words you've repeated to yourself all day echo through your mind again—you’re stronger than this, don’t let them win. But right now, they don't sound very convincing.

You can’t do this right now.

Without another word, you shove back from the table, rising abruptly.

“Hey,” Yuqi says quickly, reaching out. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply curtly. The crack in your voice is too obvious, to your dismay. You swallow and try again. “I just need air.”

Soyeon studies your face for a short second, her usual sharp gaze softening just slightly.

“Do you need one of us to come with you?” Shuhua asks softly, all traces of teasing gone now.

You manage a thin smile—gratitude too big for words in this moment. But you shake your head lightly, turn around and leave the Grand Hall, with each step being faster than the last.

The moment the doors close behind you, the knot in your chest loosens just barely enough to let you breathe.

From the far end of the hall, crystal goblets are filled with imported wine, porcelain cutlery cuts through meals too beautiful to touch and a lazy laughter curls through the Elite table.

At the center of it all, Jennie is seated with her chin propped elegantly on her hand as she absentmindedly plays with a slice of sugared plum on her plate. Her half-lidded gaze is alert, but she doesn’t need to hear the words to recognize the shift is in her favor.

“She didn't even finish her food,” Lisa remarks, slowly swirling the goblet in her hand. “She looked like she might throw up..”

A smug smirk crosses Jennie's face. “Would you stay if every student was whispering about whose bed you crawled into last night?”

Taehyung, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet at the end of the table, finally looks up. He glances at the two girls and raises a brow in confusion. “So the rumors are true?”

“They’re rumors. Truth is optional.” Jennie muses.

Taehyung's expression doesn't change, but the tone of his voice drops. “That’s not what I asked.”

Before she can answer, Seokjin speaks up from across the table, lounging like this is just another theater play he’s barely paying attention to. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? She was seen near the practice yard with Jungkook. That’s more than enough to get people talking.”

A colder edge slips into Taehyung's gaze. “That doesn’t mean anything happened.”

“She disappeared for hours yesterday,” Rose chimes in, idly twirling a loose strand of hair around one finger. “And now both you and Jungkook are hovering. It’s not like we made it up from nothing.”

“So you're the one who started this?” Taehyung’s voice is too calm as he looks at Jennie— the kind of calm that is more threatening than raised voices would ever be.

Jennie’s shoulders stiffen. “It wasn’t just me,” she says quickly, lips pursed into a thin line. “Seokjin suggested it during morning lecture. Lisa helped spreading it through the Conservatory girls. And Yoongi…” she gestures loosely to where he sits with one arm propped against the table, only half-listening, “said it would die out in a few days.”

Yoongi doesn’t look up. He lifts his glass with the same casual grace he always does and simply says, “And you'll see that I'm right.”

Lisa shrugs, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “You’re acting like we started a war. It’s just a few rumors. And anyway, it’s not like it will affect you.”

Taehyung just stares at them. “You made her the center of a scandal. And for what?”

Jennie scoffs lightly, though there’s a slight crack under the sound. “Don’t act like you care.. You've heard the nobles talk about it and now, all of a sudden you want to act like we personally offended you?”

“I figured it was just some petty nobles making up some dumb rumors,” Taehyung answers tightly. “Anyway, she has done nothing to deserve that, but all of you sat here, tearing her apart like she’s entertainment.”

“She’s from the slums,” Seokjin mutters, his voice laced with disdain. “And she caught the eye of two Elites. It’s laughable. This is just the world reminding her where she stands.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenches. “She never asked for anyone’s attention.”

Lisa lets out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to defend her, you know. You’re not the one they’re tearing down. Men never suffer the consequences for rumors such as this one. She's the only one who will get branded. You will not.”

There’s a long silence, followed by the scrape of a chair. Taehyung stands up. “This is pathetic,” he mutters. His disappointed gaze sweeps across the others. “All this power, and this is how you use it.”

Jennie straightens abruptly, voice raised. “Where are you going?”

“Away from this.” His eyes don’t turn to her. “You all sound like bored children.”

He’s gone a second later, cloak rustling softly behind him as he disappears through the doors. Jennie stares after him with her jaw clenched. Her hands, perfectly still before, are now clenched beneath the table. “He always walks away when things get inconvenient,” she says under her breath.

Lisa leans in closer, resting her arm lightly around Jennie's shoulder. “He’s just in one of his moods again,” she reassures calmly, brushing a speck of dust from Jennie’s sleeve with a flick of her fingers. “You know how he is. In a bad mood one moment, then charming the next. He’ll get over it.”

Jennie doesn’t answer. Her gaze is still fixed on the doors Taehyung disappeared through.

Seokjin exhales a long breath and reclines deeper into his chair. “Let him throw his little tantrum. He'll remember exactly why slum-born girls don't survive in our world sooner or later.”

Across from them, Jimin has been silent through the entire ordeal. Now, his gaze drifts from one speaker to the next. His fingers tap once against his goblet. His lips part slightly—as if a thought hovered—but he ended up not saying anything.

Some battles were not worth joining yet.

But Hoseok chuckles softly. He tips his goblet back with a smooth, lazy grace and sets it down. “Well,” he drawls in amusement. “whatever she may be, the girl certainly knows how to draw a room’s attention and a little chaos in this place… that I do enjoy.”

Seokjin arches a brow. “Seriously? Even you can’t charm your way out of that one, Hoseok.”

“I never said I would,” Hoseok replies, smile tilting. “But watching it unfold? I wouldn’t miss it.”

After leaving the Grand Hall, you don't head back to the dorms.

Instead, you follow the winding path between torchlit hedges and stone archways as exhaustion still tugs at your limbs. The voices are still stuck in your head; their laughter cutting in all the right places. Pity hidden behind tight smiles and side glances.. None of them dared say your name out loud.

Your fingers tighten slightly in the folds of your sleeve. You know better than to let words get under your skin. It's not the first time people have whispered nasty rumors behind your back. It's not the first time they've tried to make you feel small and shameful.

And yet, somehow, this time the hurt is worse.

You try not to hate the nobles— those born into marble towers and taught to sneer from birth, but it's difficult not to let the loathing seep in when their eyes look at you like you're mud dragged into their perfectly polished world. As if the mere idea of someone like you breathing the same air is offensive.

But then you remember Namjoon standing in that narrow alleyway in the Capital, watching over a small boy as if kindness was second nature to him. Something had changed your view then, you had been nearly hopeful.

So maybe not Namjoon..

And maybe not Taehyung either.

There’s still something about him you haven’t figured out. He had looked at you like he saw something. Whether it was curiosity or something more dangerous, you’re still uncertain. But he had never mocked you. Not like the others do when they think you're not listening. Certainly not like Jennie and Jungkook had done.

And then there’s Jimin. Cryptic Jimin. Who never says much unless he wants it to matter. You don’t know why he warned you back then, but his words echo louder now than they did when he first said them: They’ll come for you in ways you won’t expect. He wasn’t wrong, and in a way, he had prepared you for what was to come.

Still... there were other things to worry about besides petty noble drama.

The rumors hurt, yes—but they don’t curl around your ribs at night. They don’t follow you into sleep like the nightmares do.

You haven’t seen anything strange in the past few days—no flickers at the corner of your eye, no phantom footsteps behind you. But that doesn’t mean the dread is gone. You still remember the way the shadows writhed in your sleep. The burn of violet flames, a voice too ancient to belong to anything human. You remember the red gleam between the shelves in the library. That split-second of certainty that something had been watching you.

And you knew that silence doesn’t mean safety. It just means it’s waiting.

By the time you reach the Academy’s eastern wing, the world around you is quiet. Torches flicker along the marbled pillars, casting faint light through the arches. The training yard looms ahead.

Tugging your cloak tighter around you, you step inside, but the sharp crack of lightning stops you in your tracks.

The unmistakable form of Jungkook is already there and he hasn't noticed you yet.

His stance is focused, every movement he makes is deliberate and quick. His coat is discarded to the side, sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscled arms and sweat gleams across his temple. You watch, unsure whether to turn away or step forward and disrupt his training, but something about the scene captivates you.

With a precise sweep of his arm, a spear materializes—conjured mid-motion—and just as it takes form, lightning coils around it in a blaze of crackling light. He twists, hurls it forward, and the weapon slams into the enchanted barrier with a thunderous snap. Energy arcs in every direction, illuminating the outline of his body in gold-blue for just a second.

You’ve seen power before. You’ve even tasted it. But this is different.

It’s beautiful.

And for a moment you forget the whispers, the rumors, the ache still tucked behind your ribs. You just watch.

Until he turns around.

His eyes lock onto yours and, for a mere second, surprise flickers across his face. It's gone as fast as it had appeared, hidden beneath the same, cold wall he always wears.

His voice cuts through the air. “Are you lost?”

Opening your mouth to say something, the words get lost in your throat. Instead, you stammer a: “I- No.. I was just..”

“What—are you following me now?”

You lift your chin slightly, though the words don’t come as fast as they usually do.

His eyes narrow at your silence, and the conjured lance disappears with a flick of his hand, leaving only a trail of smoke and a loud crackle behind.

“Well?” He prompts. “If you’ve come to gawk, don’t bother pretending it’s for training.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” you finally manage to say, “I just needed some air.”

You don’t know what makes you say it.

Perhaps it's the frustration from the whispers and stares still burning in your chest. Or perhaps it's the way your hands still itch for something to fight that isn't rumor or silence. Or maybe.. it's the way he moved, each strike quick and without hesitation —like the entire world could fall apart and he’d somehow still land on his feet.

“Fight me.”

“Excuse me?”

For a moment, you hesitate whether to continue. This wasn't how you imagined saying it, if you ever did. There's no sarcasm on your tongue, no brilliant retort.

“I want to spar,” you say again, more evenly this time. “With you.”

His gaze sweeps over you once, “You want to fight me?”

There’s something in his voice that isn’t quite disbelief. More like... suspicion.

You nod sternly. “Yes.”

Jungkook lets out a scoff, dragging a hand through his hair as if the sheer absurdity of the idea irritates him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

A pause follows, one filled with tension and something that feels strangely like curiosity. He studies you as though trying to find the punchline. When he doesn’t, he lets out a sigh. “You’re not ready. What if you lose control again?”

“I won't let it get that far,” You say. “If I can't handle it, I'll surrender.”

Jungkook exhales slowly, though the expression in his face shifts slightly. “This is a waste of time.”

You don’t respond. Instead, you let your steady stance speak for you. He watches you a moment longer, then finally gives the smallest of nods.

“Fine. But don't think I'll go easy on you.”

Excitedly, you nod. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

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Unbound IX - (BTS x Reader)

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Genre: Fantasy | Dark Academia | Romance | Mystery | Action | Magic

T/W: Dark ritual, discrimination, classism

Pairing: Reader x Taehyung, Reader x Jungkook (and a tiny bit of ot7),

A/N: I genuinely had so much fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!

** Credits for line divider by strangergraphics-archive

Word count: 5734

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Chapter IX - Behind Velvet and Gold

There is a strange kind of numbness that follows exhaustion.

Perhaps that's why your limbs feel detached from your body as you step through the arched gate of the Academy and onto the road that leads into the heart of the Capital.

Or perhaps it's the sheer insanity of what you are about to do.

After all, the most lavish weekends you used to have involved two potatoes and a secondhand book. Who would have ever figured you’d be strolling into the center of Lunareth's wealthier districts, clad in clean robes and walking beside nobility like it's just another Saturday?

It's almost comical.

“I mean it,” Shuhua sings beside you. “I don't care if you believe in them or not, we are getting matching aura rings. Yours is all dull and grey, it needs a cleanse.”

Yuqi laughs from your other side, looping her arm through yours. “Ignore her. There are more important things in life than aura rings.. Such as do we have breakfast first or start with shopping?”

Shuhua doesn't give any of you the time to answer. “Fashion first, food after,” She declares immediately. “Otherwise I'll bloat and none of the tailoring will fit properly.”

“Goddess forbid,” Soyeon mutters behind you, trailing two steps behind with her arms crossed like she's shielding herself from the sheer decadence of her surroundings. “A tragedy more grave than war.”

Truth be told, you are barely paying attention.

You are more intrigued by the city around you.. It is unlike anything you have ever come across.

Breathtaking.

It's not like the Capital you passed through when you first arrived. Back when your boots were scuffed, robes covered in holes and you had drawn too much unwanted attention.

This part of the Capital is made of gleaming, golden roads.

Boutiques line the boulevard, their storefronts shifting appearance from ancient stone to crystalline illusions in the blink of an eye. You pass towering glass domes and balconies of marble floating in the air, each banister, inlaid with its own family crest, flutters in the wind.

Chatter drifts from a café shaped like a lotus, a theater is built entirely of enchanted mirrored panels and above it all, lanterns dance lazily through the streets, casting warmth even in broad daylight.

One of them dips just low enough to hover in front of you. It flickers, seems to sniff you, then lunges back into the air with what can only be described as a disapproving puff.

“Rude.” You mutter.

You try not to gape too openly as you walk, but it's hard not to stare.

The streets are bustling. Nobles wear silk and tailored coats, each with a crest stitched into their clothes. You watch in awe as a noblewoman glides by without touching the ground. She doesn't look at you, in fact, nobody does.

You should feel out of place.

You do feel out of place.

And yet—there’s a certain kind of high that comes with being allowed here. With not being stopped and chased out.

“Alright,” Shuhua announces as she halts in front of a store with a curved sign etched in crystal: AURA & ARIA: Soul-Attuned Charms and Personalized Glamourwear. “This is our first stop.”

Yuqi groans. “Shu, we’re only here for a few hours, not a full month.”

“I need at least one dress,” Shuhua argues. “And a hairpin that changes color based on my mood. It’s called self-care.”

Soyeon pinches the bridge of her nose. “What you really need is a leash.”

You laugh softly. “Let’s just get it over with before she explodes.”

The store’s interior is somehow even more extravagant. Floating racks of garments fly between glass pillars. The scent of lavender and starlight hangs in the air—no, seriously, the perfume spell at the door whispered it to you as you walked in.

A woman with silver-threaded braids appears from seemingly nowhere. “Welcome, honored guests. You shine beautifully today.”

Yuqi snorts. “That’s a new one.”

The woman ignores her comment. “Are you looking for emotion-mirroring accessories, subtle wear or full form-transfiguration ensembles?” The woman asks, bowing just slightly.

Shuhua claps her hands and gestures to you. “She needs a dress. Something dark and dramatic that says ‘I command the death but I’m also cute.”

The woman widens her eyes at the statement, but Yuqi quickly waves it away. “She's just joking. Nobody commands the death. Really.”

It takes almost an hour before you drag yourselves out of the shop.

Shuhua emerges triumphantly with a laced dress, two charmed rings and a pair of earrings that give compliments when activated. Yuqi finds a silk scarf with a spell woven into it that changes its texture to match the wearer’s emotions and Soyeon refuses to buy anything and loudly complains about how they are being “financially manipulated by magic.”

One look at the price tag had made you realize you cannot afford anything. And though Shuhua insists on buying something for you, you manage to distract her by mentioning the matching aura rings she had talked about before.

Lunch is a blur of food so pretty, you almost feel bad eating it and somewhere between enchanted pastries and bottomless goblets filled with cider, you start to forget why you were nervous to come in the first place.

Everything feels great for a while.. until it changes.

You know you've wandered too far the moment the cobblestone floor stops gleaming.

It wasn't intentional. One second, you were behind Yuqi and Shuhua, barely listening as they argued about cursed hairpins and whether mood rings could be rigged, while Soyeon threatened to sue every street vendor who so much as glanced her way, when you noticed a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye.

The crowd around you blurred and, without meaning to, you slowed your steps. You blinked once, perhaps twice, and suddenly your friends were gone and you were alone.

The charm of the capital doesn't reach this far. The stores and floating lanterns lighting the upper districts vanished. Here, the street lamps are sparse and the old buildings lean inwards as if they are too tired to hold themselves up. Bits of old paper stick to the walls, remains of fliers long expired. You can still feel the magic lingering in the air, but it is faint now, barely hanging on beneath a stronger scent of smoke and damp stone. It feels familiar.

The place reminds you of home. The Iron Quarters. The flaws hidden under all that velvet and gold.

You should turn back and find your friends. Instead, something guides your feet toward a narrow alleyway where the sunlight no longer reaches. It's instinct, possibly, a gut feeling you don't fully understand until a sharp cry cuts through the silence.

You stiffen at the sound.

Without hesitation, you turn quickly. Your footsteps hit the uneven ground as you round the corner and find them. Two broad men in patrol uniforms, with cold expressions on their faces, are gripping a young boy by the arms. He's small, barely eleven, and his skin is smudged with dirt, his clothing too thin for the evening chill. One of the guards has his fingers curled around the boy's wrist, whilst the other is lifting the edge of his collar. The shimmer of a containment rune is visible in the dark and realization hits you in an instant. They're trying to activate it.

The boy twists in their hold, his voice is high-pitched and laced with panic. “I didn’t steal! I swear. I didn’t take anything!”

“Quiet!” One of the men snaps, his grip tightening.

They don't notice your presence until you speak. “Let him go.”

Both heads immediately turn to look at you. The older man, the one closest to the boy, narrows his eyes as he steps forward. His posture is squared as if he's ready to knock the stranger disrupting him aside. “And who the hell are you?”

Planting your arms at your side, you walk toward them in fake confidence. You're unsure what you look like, but hope your attempt to intimidate them masks the fear within and, hopefully, they don't pay attention to your exhaustion, the bruising from training and your slightly messy hair.

“Move along, girl. This ain't got nothin' to do with ya.”

Instead of following his instruction, you straighten. Their eyes drop to your robes and the change in their expression is instant; the older man stares at the hem of your robes, at the crest embroidered near your chest and he takes a full step back while releasing his grip on the boy.

“Aye, she's from the Academy.” He whispers to the younger one.

Even if they don't know your exact identity, they are highly aware of the consequences of a formal complaint from Astrelia and one of its, usually, influential students. The younger guard steps back too, clearing his throat. “There was a report,” He explains stiffly. “Possible theft.”

“I’m sure,” You reply sarcastically. “And I’m sure whatever crime he might have committed would’ve been solved by choking him in an alley.”

The older one, seemingly irked by the sudden interruption, glances away and after a tense silence, the two of them mutter something between an apology and an excuse before they turn around. You watch them vanish around the corner, then crouch beside the boy.

He is pressed against the wall, his breathing uneven as he hugs his knees to his chest.

“Hey. Are you okay?” You ask softly.

He nods a little uncertainly, but when he finally speaks his voice is hoarse. “I wasn’t stealing, I swear! I wasn’t even inside the stall. I just... I wanted to see if they had any scraps left.” He mumbles, eyes darting nervously down the alleyway.

“You don't have to explain,” You say gently and offer a hand. He takes it hesitantly. “What's your name?”

“Tae... Taeyoung...” When he stands up, you catch the traces of an old spell-burn on his wrist. Somebody tried to brand him, probably more than once.

Your chest aches at the sight. “I’m sorry, Taeyoung,” You murmur, apologizing for both the guards and the branding. “They shouldn’t have touched you.”

A grateful smile crosses his face. “Thank you, miss. For saving me.” The boy replies as if stopping two guards in an alley rewrites the inequality carved into the entire world.

You barely manage a smile. “I'm glad I could be of help, but next time, I may not be there..”

A deep voice interrupts, before you can say anything else.

“He’s good at finding trouble,” It says calmly. “Unfortunately, trouble tends to find him back.”

Turning slowly, you see him standing at the end of the street. A tall figure wearing dark robes, a satchel to his side and a family crest barely visible beneath his cloak.

Of course, you recognize Kim Namjoon immediately. He's standing there the same way he'd stood when you were the one cornered. After that moment, you've seen him more than once. At school, during classes. Seated beside the rest of his Elite friends, though never quite paying attention. He has never acknowledged you and you never blamed him. In fact, you almost admired how he managed to disappear in plain sight— too clever to be arrogant, too powerful to be ignored, too careful to be caught picking sides.

Now, with no audience around, you finally get to meet him properly.

You rise from your feet, brushing off your hands. “I never thought I'd find an Elite wandering these sort of alleys, but I suppose this isn't your first tour down here.”

Namjoon's expression barely changes as he draws near. “I come here often.”

You arch a brow in surprise. “Is this some sort of weekly community service or something?”

He lets out a faint breath, shaking his head weakly. “Not exactly..”

Once he closes the distance, you study him and your voice turns a little more dry. “Funny.. I've seen you at the Academy often, but you're a little harder to spot, when you're not pulling someone out of a sketchy alley.” Namjoon meets your eyes, his lips turning into the faintest smile. Shifting your stance, you fold your arms across your chest. “Of course, that may have been just a one-time exception.. You've done a pretty good job pretending I don't exist ever since.”

He lowers his gaze. “I'm sorry.. It wasn’t personal. I just..”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Don't worry, I get it. Elite politics. You have an appearance to uphold. Wouldn't want your friends to think you're not heartless.”

Namjoon lets out a soft exhale, somewhere between a sigh and a suppressed laugh. “Yeah.. They don’t really see much outside their circle.”

“Shame,” You murmur, tilting your head. “They're missing out on the Capital's real hidden gems. Crumbling alleys, charming officers with questionable morals and a notable lack of sunlight,” You gesture vaguely around you. “Not that I’m complaining. It's... good to see a familiar face.”

His brown eyes study you for a moment longer. “So, you do remember? That.. time?”

You shrug lightly. “Hard to forget someone who saved me from three strangers in an alleyway, instead of leaving me to fend for myself. It kind of leaves an impression.. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is..” Clearing your throat, the following words come out softer than you intended to. “Thank you. For that time.”

His expression softens for a mere second, his voice lowers just a touch more. “I didn't expect you to thank me. Especially since I didn't exactly stand up for you against Jungkook or even tried to stop that fight during class.”

A sigh escapes your lips. “You couldn’t have,” You say honestly. “I was already losing control by then, so it wasn't on you,” A smile crosses your face. “Besides… I’m full of surprises. And questionable life choices,” your tone turns lighter, eyes meeting his. “But that’s a conversation for another time.”

The little boy tugs on your sleeve, interrupting the conversation.

Oh, right. You almost forgot he was still there.

“Miss? Do you know him?He comes here every week. He even brings us food. Books, too. Mama says he’s strange, but nice.”

You glance at Namjoon sideways. He doesn't look smug or proud about it, merely nods like it's not a big deal. As if he didn't just become the first person you've met from the Elite who makes you not feel bad about this world. Aside from Taehyung, even if you're still unsure about where his interest stems from.

“You come back here regularly?” You ask, genuinely curious now.

Namjoon nods, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “My family used to live near here. Not here exactly, but close. My parents made sure I never forgot what the world looked like outside marble towers.”

You feel your heart lighten. “Smart parents.”

He hums. “I would agree. But when you're surrounded by people who only value legacy and bloodlines, that kind of thinking doesn't exactly fit.”

“Still, you're here,” You say, feeling a new gained respect for the man in front of you. “A walking contradiction in prestigious robes.”

“Guilty.” He chuckles and adjusts the strap around his shoulder. A short silence follows, but it doesn't feel awkward.

“I'm glad I ran into you,” You say finally as you fidget with your fingers. “I don’t get to see a lot of good nobles. Actually, I wasn’t sure they existed.”

Namjoon’s eyes meet yours, and something flickers there—something akin to vulnerability. His gaze drops briefly to the ground before settling on you again. “I wish I could say there were more of us,” He admits. “But I’ve learned that being silent in the right rooms is sometimes the only way to stay in them.”

You nod understandingly. “For what it’s worth...” You say gently, “I wish someone like you had been around when I was a kid. Might’ve made the world seem a little less hopeless.”

His expression changes, contemplative, before he answers in a low voice, “I wish I had been.”

When you glance back at the boy beside you—steadier now on his own two feet, wide-eyed but no longer shaking—you offer him a small nod. Then your gaze turns back to Namjoon, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Well,” you say lightly, a touch of warmth threading through your words, “It’s never too late to be someone’s hero.”

Namjoon smiles warmly. His shoulders ease, hands sinking deeper into his pockets. “Don’t say that out loud,” He murmurs. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

You grin, tilting your head. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As you step back toward the main street, the boy gives a shy wave. You lift your fingers in return. Namjoon stays where he is, watching in silence, the faint smile lingering as his eyes follow you. His stance is still, almost at ease. And so is the feeling in your chest, the thought of somebody being here to help those in need.

Next day

The sun still hovers low on the horizon as you and the girls cross the stone bridge that leads from the Academy grounds into the Market Quarter beyond. Veils of mist cling to the river below, lingering beneath the pale morning sun. The Market is starting to wake; voices are shouting in the distant, the sound of rumbling carts fill the streets and the scent of crushed herbs and warm bread reaches your nose long before you see the stalls.

It should be a peaceful scene.

If only it weren't for those accompanying you.

“You know,” Yuqi starts casually. Her arm slips through yours as the four of you move forward. “You still haven't told us where you vanished off to yesterday.”

Shuhua falls into step on your other side, eyes filled with far too much mischief for this early in the day. “Right? One second we're looking at love potions, next thing we know—poof. Gone,” She grins. “Not that we're judging. It’s healthy to have a little mystery.”

Yuqi snorts. “Not much of a mystery when we all know it was a secret date with Lover Boy.”

You resist the urge to sigh. Instead, you look at Soyeon from behind you. “Soyeon, a little help here?”

Soyeon cocks her brow. “You're on your own here,” she says dryly, though there is a hint of amusement in her voice. “I know you keep saying you don't trust him, but it's hard to support your words when you keep staring at him with heart eyes whenever he enters a room.”

“I'm not staring at Taehyung with heart eyes!”

Really. You are not.

“You're dodging the question!” Yuqi bellows, while softly hitting your shoulder. “Just admit it. When we finally found you yesterday, you reeked like Elite.”

You roll your eyes. “Not sure how one would smell like Elite.. Ugh, If I admit I got lost, will that end this conversation?”

Yuqi gasps, feigning deep offense. “Lost? In the Capital? After all that combat training? Surely that's a lie.”

Shuhua wiggles her brows. “Exactly. Besides, it was a very specific disappearance. Right after we saw him at the gates and he smiled at you like he knew something we didn't.”

You nearly trip over a loose cobblestone on the ground. “He wasn’t smiling at me.”

“Of course not,” Yuqi says solemnly. “Just smiling at the air directly in front of you. Happens all the time.”

You glare at her. “I didn’t see Taehyung yesterday.”

Not a lie. Technically. He wasn't the Elite you met.

Instead, the memory of Namjoon's voice in that dim alley remain in your thoughts and your chest tightens. You had promised him you wouldn't tell anyone about it and you intend to keep that promise. So, you lift your chin and say, “I wandered off, that’s all.”

Soyeon makes a thoughtful noise. “Hm.. Well, that I believe. You’ve got that ‘follow the shadows’ look on you sometimes.”

Shuhua twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “We just don’t want you falling too far into them, darling.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation shifts as you cross beneath the arched stone gate that marks the entrance to the Market. The streets here are narrower than the grand boulevards of the Capital, but no less bustling.

Stalls crowd every open space, each with their own flags fluttering in the breeze. Vendors sell crystalline vials and bundles of dried herbs, strangely colored concoctions and enchanted stones.

Yuqi pulls the crinkled assignment list from her pocket and waves it in the air. “Alright, ingredients first, gossip later. We’ve got a Transmutation assessment tomorrow.”

Shuhua wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. You know what’s annoying about Transmutation? Everyone’s ingredients smell different and half the student population don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Soyeon mutters. “Last time someone turned their cauldron into a literal mushroom cloud.”

Yuqi snickers. “At least yours always smells good. I swear your last project smelled like vanilla and lilies.”

Shuhua beams. “Thanks. When it comes to Transmutation, aesthetic matters.”

You smile faintly, but your mind is half elsewhere.

Taehyung doesn’t always know what he wants. That makes him unpredictable.

Jimin's words echo in your mind. You haven't forgotten them. Not during training, nor during your friends' teasing. You like to think you know better than to trust pretty words and easy smiles, though there's a traitorous and curious part of you that wonders what it is he does want.

Shaking those thoughts away, you instead scan the crowd. The Market grows busier by the minute - many students in Academy robes walk from stall to stall in groups, calling out greetings or haggling with the vendors.

Yuqi slows beside you. “Let’s start at the herb stalls,” She suggests. “Early batch always sells fast.”

Nodding in agreement, you match her pace with the others trailing behind. As you weave through the stalls, you can’t help but glance toward every flash of deep navy clad figure in the crowd.

It’s foolish, maybe.

But a voice in your head whispers—you can't avoid them forever.

And, knowing your luck, you won't have to wait long until you see them again.

As the sun rises higher and the morning drapes itself in soft gold and blues, the Market grows even more crowded. You and your friends push through the wave of students and vendors, drawn toward a row of herb sellers lining the north side. You catch a whiff of crushed mint and iron root, and clay braziers breathe out thin streams of smoke.

Yuqi pauses in front of a stall, where baskets filled with stalks are laid out on the shelves and large jars holding powdered roots are each labeled with a tag that describes its contents.

She's holding a list with the necessities in her right hand, whilst tracing the letters with the other and her eyes are thoroughly scanning the page. “Okay, we need Mandrake root and three bundles of dusk thorn. Two vials of powdered night orchids.. And, goddess help us, ether-blessed sprigs. They triple the price of those every time.”

Shuhua lets out a dramatic sigh. “At this point, I should be charging them for my presence.”

Soyeon elbows her lightly. “As if anyone would pay.”

You chuckle softly at their endless bickering, yet your gaze is focused on a bundle of silver leaf on the shelves. As your fingers move toward it, a familiar voice reaches your eardrums.

“...I told you, the merchant at the east end had the purest batch last time. You’ll get half-shelved stock here.”

Instantly, your body freezes and when you catch a flicker of deep navy robes from the corner of your eyes, you turn your head slowly to find the source of it.

Three figures approach the stall, still oblivious to your presence. Jeon Jungkook is the first one to come into view, his eyes already sweeping the ingredients. To your surprise, an uneasy feeling flickers through your chest by the sight of him as you are reminded of the duel in combat class.

You hadn’t meant for it to go that far.

During the fight, your magic had acted before your reason had caught up. You’d seen the shadows wrap around him— and his inability to contain his raw magic—and even now, part of you wonder if you could have stopped it sooner. The fear in his eyes at that moment haunts you more than you care to admit, even more so the amusement laced in his expression.

You hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. You’d just wanted to prove you belonged. To him.. and to yourself most of all.

Beside him, you catch sight of Park Jimin, shoulders relaxed as his gaze glides across the jars and bundles with slight disinterest. Yet beneath that calm surface, you find a sharpness in his eyes as though he is cataloging every detail without seeming to care. Behind both of them, as though he has all the time in the world, Kim Taehyung trails at a leisurely pace with his hands tucked into his pockets and dark curls falling messily across his brow. There's a certain grace to him, the kind that catches attention whether he intends it or not, but the subtle lift of one brow makes it clear he knows exactly the kind of effect he has.

Of all the stalls in the market, and all the hours in the day..

“Don’t say anything,” You hear Yuqi mutter under her breath beside you. “Just grab what we need.”

Shuhua’s voice lowers, though unable to stop herself from teasing you. “You mean, don’t swoon the moment Lover Boy bats his lashes.”

Gritting your teeth, you ignore her. Instead, you turn back to the herbs and busy your hands tying a bundle of dusk thorn, though the weight of their sheer presence drawing closer is palpable.

The thoughts about the duel twist in your stomach. Perhaps.. Perhaps you owe him an apology. Some kind of acknowledgment, at least. But before you can even think through the words, he stops at the stall's edge and speaks. “Well, still here, I see,” Jungkook's voice holds no emotion and the guilt you felt only seconds before vanishes like smoke in the wind.

Glancing up, you straighten your posture. “Jeon.”

“I didn't think you would survive your last stunt, much less be allowed to roam the grounds freely.” He remarks coldly.

You look up to meet his gaze shortly. “Yeah, trust me.. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, probing for the cracks you might be hiding. A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes sent a chill down your spine. “I suppose standards have slipped.”

To be fair, the smartest thing to do is to gather the things you need and leave. But whenever have you decided to do the smart thing?

“Maybe they have,” You say softly. “But then again, I’m still here. So either I’m not the only problem or the Academy’s more forgiving than you think..”

He merely scoffs. “You lost control. That’s not something to be proud of.”

Exhaling slowly, your fingers brush over the bundle of dusk thorn in your grasp.  I know, you want to say. I didn’t mean to. The words are caught in the back of your throat and you nearly let them out. Though one glance at his eyes makes you swallow them down.

“Perhaps it isn't,” You answer instead. “But you didn’t seem to mind the fight itself.”

There is a subtle pause in his breath, a muscle twitching at his temple. “I don’t mind a challenge,” Jungkook replies curtly, though the tension in his voice betrays the composure he’s trying to maintain. “What I do mind is reckless arrogance.”

Setting the bundle of herbs down, you turn to him completely. “Good,” You mutter, meeting his gaze. “Then you’ll be thrilled to know I’m working on both.”

His eyes linger on yours, a little too long for comfort. And beneath the layer of disdain, that same flicker from after the duel returns. Frustration, tinged with curiosity, the tiniest crack in an otherwise perfect mask. You wonder if he even realizes it's there.

Before the tension can build any further, a familiar voice cuts through the conversation.

“You’re going to scare her off,” Taehyung says lightly, stepping in with a lazy grin that somehow both soothes and provokes. “Which would be a shame. I was rather hoping to run into you.”

He directs his last words at you, eyes laced with amusement as he leans casually against the stall. His presence pulls away the tension, replacing it with something lighter.

You catch Jimin's gaze for a brief second, though he remains silent.

Jungkook spares Taehyung a brief glance, irritation barely masked. “I’m sure you were.” He mutters.

Taehyung smiles wider, utterly unbothered by his friend. “Of course. Markets are so much more enjoyable when you run into interesting people.”

Jungkook's eyes flick to you for a second longer than necessary, before they turn back to Taehyung and his voice turns cold. “You’ll get bored of this one too.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns sharply on his heel and walks off.

Once he is out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Taehyung watches him go with a crooked grin before turning back to you. “You do have a talent for getting under his skin.”

“I’m not sure that’s a skill worth polishing..” You reply softly, though your heart is still hammering.

Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, but it makes things so much more entertaining.”

Now Jimin finally speaks. “Just be careful.” His voice is low, the words meant more for you than anyone else. His gaze flicks once toward where Jungkook disappeared.

Then, just for a mere second, you catch the way Taehyung glances sideways at him— brows shifting almost imperceptibly. Though just as quickly as it appeared, the lazy grin returns to his face. Jimin offers you a small nod before trailing after Jungkook.

You arch a brow at Taehyung who still lingers, gesturing toward his friends. “Aren’t you going to follow them?”

“I prefer my own pace,” He says with a wink. Then he leans in slightly, voice pitched just for you. “And for the record… it wasn’t just him who enjoyed that fight.” With that maddening smile, he spins around and strolls after his friends. Watching him go, you fight the warmth rising in your cheeks.

Behind you, three very familiar voices break the silence.

“Oh gods,”Shuhua breathes, looping her arm through yours with a conspiratorial grin. “That was a wink, right? I need confirmation.”

Yuqi purrs, her arms crossed and one brow arched. “Pretty sure it was. And funny, considering someone here vanished into the Capital yesterday and now has Elite boys making heart eyes at them in the middle of the market.”

You shoot her a stern look. “For the last time, I told you I wasn’t off with anyone,”

“Mmm,” Soyeon hums. “Strange though. First you disappear half the day and return with secrets. Now the two most unpredictable boys in the Academy can’t seem to leave you alone.”

“It’s not like I planned this!” You protest, voice strained. “And please, stop making it sound like some ridiculous romance story.”

Yuqi's grin widens. “Romance? You said nothing about romance.”

Shuhua gasps softly, mock innocence crossing her face. “Oh no. Are we in the middle of a forbidden enemies-to-something-more arc?”

“Stars above,” Soyeon mutters. “Don’t encourage her. Or him. Either of them.”

Yuqi leans in. “But did anyone else notice Jungkook? He was looking at you like you had just stolen his favorite artifact.”

“More like she has stolen his attention.” Shuhua chirps brightly.

You drag a hand through your hair. “I was just buying herbs. Herbs, thank you very much.”

Soyeon arches a brow. “Mmm. Herbs and a trail of admirers.” Then an unusual softness creeps into her voice. “But seriously.. Are you okay? After that duel, after… all this?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, before nodding. “I’m fine. Really.”

Yuqi exchanges a quick glance with Soyeon but lets it go. “Alright. But if any of them pulls anything, just say the word.”

Shuhua sighs dramatically. “Or let me at them first. I’ve been practicing my passive-aggressive hexes.”

They all grin and the teasing that follows leaves no room for guilt.

You exhale slowly, not trusting your legs to move just yet. Between Jungkook’s cold words and Taehyung’s infuriating grin, you can’t decide whether you’re flattered or in desperate need of a headache potion.

Far below the courtyard and lecture halls, deep within the Academy, a lone figure kneels at its center. The flicker of violet flames trace distorted lines across the floor, creating a summoning sigil long faded from the known curriculum.

Beside them rests an old grimoire and with trembling fingers, the students presses a dagger into their palm once more. Blood drips into the sigil.

The voice that follows is the same as before, too deep to belong to any human tongue.

“You dare call again, child.”

The student bows their head. “I must. The power... it answers her. It stirs because of her. I need to understand why.”

The circle shudders with a sudden pulse and the flames stretch higher,

“You are not ready.”

“I will be,” The student whispers, voice hoarse with desperation. “Please, teach me.”

The shadows writhe and a shape almost takes form; tattered wings and hollow eyes—but they fade just as quickly.

“The Child of Death awakens. You cannot control what you do not comprehend.”

The student shifts, sweat running down their temple. “Then what must I do?”

A silence stretches so long it seems eternal, until the voice returns.

“Observe. Listen. And when the veil thins—act.”

The flames fade to nothing and a faintly glowing mark remains.

Far above, unaware, you toss and turn in your sleep.

A dream claws at the edges of your mind.

Violet flames. Tattered wings. The sense of something watching.

You wake with a sharp gasp in the quiet of your room, heart pounding against your ribs and your throat feels dry.

After that, you lie awake for a long time, unable to shake the feeling that something beneath the stone, older than the Academy itself, is moving.

taglist:

@enfppuff

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Take your time! Don’t stress yourself

I’m afraid I’m always stressing 😭 But thanks, I’ll try not to put too much pressure on myself ~

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Unbound NOTE

Hi all,

First of all, thank you all for reading Unbound. I can't state this enough, but I appreciate you taking the time to read it! It means a lot to me and I hope you'll continue enjoying it.

Secondly, I won't be able to update this week since I will be out of the country for a week and I won't have access to my/ a computer. I want to try to finish Chapter 9 today, but since I still have some things to take care of I can't promise anything.

Lastly, if you'd like to read or prefer to read it on AO3, the chapters are also posted on there. Here's the link: CLICK.

Thanks again for the support. <3

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I am so obsessed with the updates wowww. I love how the story comes together and that she finally has an instructor🙌🏼

But like lowkey, is Jungkook a love interest in the future?? Cause he is a bitchhhhhh and honestly I don’t really see him and Oc cuddling on his bed in a few chapters if you get me. Taehyung ok I can definitely imagine that but jk…

I’m so glad you do 🥹🫶🏼

Lmaoooooo he really is tbh. But it’s gonna be a (slight) slow-burn enemies to lovers so it may take some time for them to open up to each other.

Whereas Taehyung is flirty and kind but now that Jimin revealed some secrets, reader might not trust him at all anymore. ~

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Unbound VIII - (BTS x Reader)

↳index

Genre: Fantasy | Dark Academia | Romance | Mystery | Action | Magic

T/W: Mentions of injury

Pairing: Reader x Taehyung, Reader x Jungkook (and a tiny bit of ot7),

A/N: Tried not to make this slow, but I think I failed. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, since updates will be more slow the next week and the week after (I won't have access to my computer too much)!

In this one; a letter from the Headmistress, meeting another professor and another Elite member appears to warn you.

** Credits for line divider by strangergraphics-archive

Word count: 4627

Previous ∘•···•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•···• Next

Chapter VIII - The Weight of Control

The remaining part of the day had passed in a haze. With a blank face and careful steps, you had avoided Jungkook’s gaze when you passed him in the corridors. Not that he spared you a glance— he may have been the only noble who had not looked at you since the Coliseum. Still, the tension was tangible.

After classes ended, you had gone straight to the dormitory, skipping dinner and the never ending lingering eyes all-together.

Your room is quiet.

The only sounds that fills the space comes from your uneven breath.

You’re seated on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest and your back resting against the headboard. The room is dim, lit only by the glow of a single candle on the nightstand and the moonlight seeping through the velvet curtains.

You keep replaying it in your head.

The chains. The way they had absorbed Jungkook's magic. The way you had absorbed his life force. How his face had changed— from superiority, to surprise, ending in fear. How his magic had reacted to yours by releasing a part of his untamed powers.

You shouldn’t have lost control.

No, you shouldn't have volunteered in the first place.

You bury your face into your hands. What the hell were you thinking? Challenging Jeon Jungkook, the most powerful and influential student in the Academy? Nearly unleashing a necromantic incident in front of half the school?

You could have hurt someone.

You could have killed someone.

The whispers are going to be worse now. And the Headmistress.. You don't even want to think about the consequences.

You were lucky to be invited. A girl from the slums with forbidden magic. After your affinities were shown to the entire school, you should have remained in the background. Instead, you lit yourself on fire just to prove you deserved to be seen. And now you were starting to wonder if Jungkook and Jennie were right.

Maybe you don't belong here.

Maybe you never did.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

You try to ignore it, but Soyeon’s voice follows, muffled through the door. “Open up before Shuhua picks the lock.”

“I was going to knock politely next.” Shuhua grumbles from the living area.

Reluctantly dragging yourself from the bed, your feet slowly carry you toward the door. The clink feels cold beneath your fingertips, before you open it to allow entrance to the three faces behind it. Yuqi, Shuhua and Soyeon all stand in front of you, eyes filled with concern and anger in equal measure.

Soyeon is the first to speak. “Are you insane?” She exclaims, waving her hands in the air. “Tell me you temporarily lost your mind and forgot who Jeon freaking Jungkook is.”

“Did you suffer a spell-induced concussion before the match?” Shuhua gasps dramatically. “Because that's the only explanation I can think of.”

Yuqi is the only one to stay silent. Her eyes are soft, as if she can see right through you and knows you have been spiraling since the duel.

You lower your head, brushing hair behind your hair with shaky fingers. “I don’t know.. I just.. I wanted to prove that I could do it.”

Soyeon merely scoffs at your explanation. “The only thing you proved, was that you could almost die in the first ten minutes.”

“Twice,” Shuhua adds. “We counted.”

Yuqi steps further into the room, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “That’s enough,” She says in a quiet voice. “I'm sure she's aware.”

Shuhua backs off and leans against your wardrobe, whilst Soyeon doesn't argue, running a hand through her hair. Their gaze instantly softens when they turn to look at you.

“I'm sorry,” Shuhua murmurs under her breath. “We’re just worried about you.”

“Are you alright?” Yuqi asks as she places a hand on your shoulder. Her voice is gentle, the worry within genuine.

You want to lie and tell her that everything is fine. That Jungkook deserved what was thrown at him. That you're not scared of what might happen next, but in the faces of the people who had been nothing if not supportive, you weren't able to.

“I'm scared,” You admit quietly. “My powers scared me today.”

Shuhua pushes off from the closet and sinks onto the end of your bed, her usual flair subdued. “It’s okay,” She whispers, her voice gentler than before. “I would be scared too. Honestly, if I had pulled chains from the underworld mid-duel, I would have screamed and passed out.”

“You did scream.” Soyeon mutters.

“It was a dramatic gasp,” Shuhua hisses, then softens again. “But really. You’re allowed to be shaken.”

“I.. I lost control,” You whisper. “I didn't mean to hurt him. I just wanted to prove to him, and to everyone, that I do belong here. That I'm not some mistake they let in, even if I thought so at first.”

Yuqi's expression turns to slight guilt. “You know you don't have to prove anything, right? Not to us, at least.” She states. “You do belong here. The fact that you were personally invited by Headmistress Choi proves that.”

Briefly, you close your eyes before opening them again. “I found Jungkook in the library last night,” You admit. “He told me I didn't belong. That I'm an accident waiting to happen. So, when his name showed up, I just wanted to shut him up. But instead, I made it worse. I was a danger. To him. To everyone.”

“You are not dangerous. You just have something powerful inside you that no one taught you how to handle.” Yuqi says immediately.

Soyeon lets out a deep exhale and drops to sit on your other side. “You do need to get control over your powers. That’s not up for debate. And what happened during the duel was.. awful, but it doesn’t mean that Jungkook is right,” She smiles softly, rarely so. “You lost control once. It’s not the same as being a monster. Besides, he lost control too.”

Shuhua nods. “From you? People expect that. From him? Not a chance. I bet he’s fuming in his room right now and can’t stop thinking about you.”

Despite yourself, a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“We will help you find a way to control your powers,” Yuqi says. “There’s gotta be something in the library.. Maybe a training method.”

“Or perhaps a spell that binds necromancy until you're ready,” Shuhua suggests. “Like a magical leash. Sexy, right?”

Soyeon glares at her. “This isn’t the time to joke around.”

“Who says I was joking?” Shuhua protests.

Your lips curve into a smile, though the ache in your chest remains alongside the thoughts running through your mind. What if you go too far next time and really hurt somebody? Would there even be a next time?

Another knock shatters the moment of peace and silence. Everyone freezes, then all of you stand up slowly to make your way toward the living area. Yuqi glances toward the door, eyes filled with confusion. “Are we expecting someone?”

“No.” You respond immediately.

Shuhua gasps, whispering, “It’s a bomb. A personal bomb. Sent by Jungkook himself. I knew it.”

“Jungkook doesn’t send bombs,” Soyeon sighs. “He sends lawsuits.”

“Same energy.” Shuhua whispers.

After a short debate on who would open, Soyeon grunts and marches toward it. “If I die, I want a necromantic funeral. I want my corpse to rise and sue all of you.”

Once she opens the door, a black crow flies in. It circles twice, before neatly landing on the back of a velvet chair. It cocks its head, staring directly at you, and drops a sealed envelope onto the floor.

Picking up the letter, you freeze. The seal is silver, adorned with the Headmistress's personal sigil. The paper smells faintly of sage.

In crimson inked writing, the message reads:

You are hereby summoned to my office tomorrow at first light. Do not be late.” — Headmistress Choi.

Shit.

“She must have heard about what happened.” You say, folding the parchment with stiff fingers.

“Maybe she just wants to talk to you,” Yuqi's words are meant to be reassuring, but you are not convinced. “She wasn't even there. She might just want to understand what happened.”

“Or she wants to find out if I have finally become a threat.”

Soyeon shakes her head. “You're just powerful. There's a difference.”

You remind yourself of the last conversation you had, when she had visited you in the infirmary. But you doubt that what you had showcased, was what she meant.

“They are shaken. Some frightened. But I suppose they are all awake now, in ways they were not before,” There’s a pause, before she continues. “You showed every student something they were raised to disbelieve: that power is not bred in gold-lined halls or inherited in family names. You showed them that greatness can come from the slums, from shadows.”

“Power scares people, she said so herself.”

Yuqi, beside you, loops an arm over your shoulder. “Please, you don’t scare us.”

Shuhua nods quickly in agreement. “Honestly, I’m more scared of Yuqi when someone messes with her hairbrush.”

“I will hex someone over my hairbrush.”

You smile weakly. “Thanks,” You whisper. “For not… freaking out. Or treating me like I’m cursed.”

“You are cursed,” Soyeon says. “But we like you anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shuhua chuckles. “I’m in this for the future bragging rights. Do you know how many people I’ll tell if you become Head Sorcerer or Conduit of the Dead or whatever? They will be so jealous when I tell them I know you personally.”

Yuqi rolls her eyes. “Ignore them. You’re not alone. You never were.”

The words ease the burden in your heart if only slightly, yet you wonder what it is the headmistress wishes to speak to you about.

The next morning, at first light as instructed, you find yourself outside of the Headmistress's office.

You have counted the floor tiles five times. They're flawless, polished into an unnatural shine. Maybe you'll miss them. You're certain you're about to be expelled, after all.

Sighing deeply, you try not to picture yourself being escorted out of the Academy by a pair of guards. Or worse— by Jeon Jungkook himself, personally requested to drag your slum-born disgrace back to 'the gutter where it belongs', as Jennie would say.

Though, you doubt he would sully his shoes.

You take one last deep breath and knock.

The door swings open by itself and, reluctantly, you step inside.

The Headmistress's office looks exactly as it did before. The shelves still curve around the room's circular core, the arched windows are framed by deep velvet curtains. The Grand Courtyard looks different than usual underneath the clouded sky.

Headmistress Choi sits in the centre of it all, behind her grand desk. “Punctual. I appreciate that.” She states with a nod.

Swallowing the nerves, you step inside. “I figured if I was going to be expelled, I should at least be on time.”

A small smile crosses her face. “I assure you, if I were planning to expel you, you would not have received a letter. You would have simply vanished from the records.”

Comforting.

She gestures to the chair and you take a seat. “Tea?” She offers as she conjures a set of delicate glass cups with a flick of her fingers.

“You’re offering me tea?” You ask, slightly uncertain.

“Would you prefer something stronger?”

“No. I just didn’t think tea was part of the execution protocol.”

“Miss [L/N],” Headmistress Choi says, voice laced with amusement, “You are not being executed.”

“Expelled, then?”

“No.”

“Forced into eternal servitude?”

That earns a small laugh from her. After a short silence, she shakes her head. “…Not today.”

You take the tea, hands trembling less now you that you knew expulsion was off the table.

“Professor Jung told me what happened at the duel,” She starts. “I would like to hear your side of it.” She gestures for you to speak.

“I.. I don't know. I lost control,” You mutter, staring down into your cup as if it has the answers to your questions. “One moment, we were simply dueling. I panicked, and against my wishes, my magic..” You clear your throat. “.. my necromancy magic reacted. I didn't want to summon those chains. I didn't mean to hurt Jungkook, but I couldn't control it.”

“Why did you wish to duel him? Professor Jung said you volunteered.”

“I just wanted to prove them wrong.” Your voice comes out softer than you intended.

When you look up, the Headmistress is watching you, though her eyes hold no malice. Only patience. She sets her teacup down. “Power is not meant to be proven in the eyes of others. It is meant to be known within your own soul.”

You nod, uncertain if those words were meant to comfort or terrify you.

“But I suppose you are right and it comforts me to know you are aware,” She continues. “You did lose control. And that is precisely why I have found a personal instructor..”

Your lift your head, cocking your brow in confusion. “Wait—you’re not punishing me?”

“I am preparing you. Punishment is for those who act out of malice. You acted out of desperation, as you did during the trials. This time it may have been poor judgment, yes, but it was not cruelty,” She narrows her eyes slightly. “However, the next time you lose control it may not be so easy to distinguish the difference.”

You nod understandingly. “So what happens now?”

“I am assigning you to someone. An instructor who specializes in difficult magic. Unique cases. And students who do not fit the regular curriculum.. Professor Kwon is waiting for you outside.”

“Wait. Right now?”

“Do you know how control is learned?” She asks as she rises from her seat. “It is not through theory, nor polite conversation. It is learned in pressure. In proximity to what you fear,” She opens the door with a small motion of her fingers. “And right now, it is yourself that you fear.”

Rising to your feet, you make your way toward the door but you halt before stepping through. “Headmistress?” you ask. “Did you find out who tampered with the trials?”

“We are still investigating,” She replies. “But whoever it is, they knew what they were doing. They masked their interference in a way we haven’t seen in decades. Whoever did it, it was personal. We do not yet know who did it, but I intend to find out,” With a slight incline of her head, she adds, “Go on. Your training begins now. And Miss [L/N]?” You pause, turning to look at her. “You do belong here. But whether you stay here… that will depend on how hard you are willing to fight for control.”

You walk through the door and waiting just down the hallway, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, is a man dressed in deep grey robes and worn leather gloves. His hair is ink-dark and cut short and his posture relaxed. His eyes seem clever, yet impossible to read, as they lock onto yours when you approach.

“Miss [L/N],” He says with a crooked smile. “Heard you’ve got a knack for chaos.”

You stare at him warily. “And you’re here to fix that?”

He pushes off the wall, his grin sharpening. “I’m here to teach you how to use it before it eats you alive.”

There are few names that carry both admiration and wariness in the magic world— Kwon Jiyong is one of them.

Once a rising star among the Arcblades, Jiyong was known for his brutal application of high-concept theory within battle. As a prodigy in multiple schools of magic, he could have secured a seat on the Grand Mage Council or led military divisions. Instead, he vanished from public life.

Rumors spread that he walked away because of principle, other whisper about a duel that went too far and ended with scorched earth and no survivors. They are all mistaken.

He started training students deemed "complicated".

Students like yourself.

The training grounds are mostly empty, besides the rows of wooden dummies lined in place, their limbs wrapped in burned cloth and lined with wards. Lingering in the air, is a faint scent of smoke. The years of magic duels have left their marks through a web of cracked stone.

Professor Kwon stands at the edge of the field, arms crossed as his coat sweeps back by a soft wind. “First lesson,” He says the moment you stop in front of him. “I don’t care what you think you’re capable of, but what you can do when it counts,” He turns his head toward the line of dummies. “We start simple. Show me what you've got.”

Hesitantly, you step forward, cracking your knuckles once to release the tension and steady your stance.

The first fire spell you cast is clean and controlled. A simple flame launches from your palm and strikes the dummy square in the chest. The wood smokes and it’s clear you’ve studied.

When you cast your second hurl of fire, hoping to push harder only slightly, the flame explodes too wide. The burst strikes two targets, before it twists unpredictably. The heat singes your arm and you stagger backward, muttering a series of curses under your breath.

Professor Kwon doesn’t flinch. “Typical,” he mutters softly as he rubs the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “You’re overcorrecting. Fire obeys intention, not emotion.”

You furrow your brows, brushing the remnants of ash from your sleeve. “Aren’t they basically the same thing?”

His eyes flick to yours. “Not when you’re trying to stay alive.”

Remaining in the same spot, he gestures toward you again. “Let’s test your second affinity. Abjuration. I’ll throw some spells—nothing lethal. Your job is to simply shield them.”

The first spell is a light wind burst and you react with a basic ward with little effort. The next spell follows soon after, a line of fire. You panic and cast a barrier so large it curves around not just yourself but several meters beyond.

Professor Kwon raises a brow. “Are you trying to defend the entire school?”

You release the spell, breathing heavily, but offering no reply. He circles you slowly now, voice calm. “This is your pattern. You go too small out of fear. Then too big out of fear.. If you don't change, you're going to end up killing yourself or somebody else.”

You press your lips together, a feeling of discouragement coursing through your body due to your inability to control simple magic spells

“And now,” he says, slowly stepping back, “I want to see the one thing no one will train you to use.”

He doesn't name it, yet you know what he means.

Taking a deep breath, you reach inward.

Nothing happens.

You try to reach deeper.

Still, nothing.

“I.. I can’t,” you say, frustration audible in the tone of your voice. “It doesn’t answer unless it has to.”

Professor Kwon studies you. “What kind of situations has it awakened in?”

You hesitate, then glance away. “Life-or-death.”

“Survival?”

You nod in reply.

He takes a single step back and rolls his shoulders. “Very well, then survive.”

Before you can say anything, Professor Kwon strikes. The spell lunges at you, a conjured silver spear, and you scream whilst instinctively summoning a barrier. It shatters on impact.

You're knocked off your feet, his spell grazes you shoulder as you are send sliding across the floor.

But, he doesn't quit.

Spell after spell are thrown at you— searing wind, binding force, illusion blades that slice the air. You scramble to your feet, dive sideways, conjure barriers that shatter instantly. Your body moves on adrenaline alone now, your mind barely able to keep up.

Professor Kwon's coat trails behind him as he walks forward without hesitation and uses one spell after the other. The way he moves is fluid, even more so than Jungkook. Worse? He has no pattern.

You duck low as ice splits the air overhead, roll and raise another barrier just in time to block a burst of flames.

Still, your forbidden magic stays silent.

Professor Kwon merely watches.

Only when your legs threaten to give out does he raise a hand. The spells vanish into thin air.

Collapsing to one knee, you gasp for air. Every bone aches with exhaustion. Your finger dig into the stone floor, heartbeat so loud you can barely hear the silence that follows.

He walks over slowly, then crouches beside you, elbows resting on his knees. “Do you want the truth?” He asks in a low voice.

You look up, but your body doesn't stop shaking.

“You’re not dangerous,” he says, his gaze flicking to the scorch marks on the field. “But you’re unrefined. Incomplete. Like a blade half-tempered,” He straightens again, brushing ash from his gloves. “It makes you more of a threat to the Academy, and to yourself.”

You grit your teeth. “So what do we do now?”

He raises a brow as he stands back up. “Now we train until you are no longer a threat.”

The rest of the session blurs together. Repetition. Sweat. Flame drills, abjuration exercises, theory thrown out the window in favor of instinct. He pushes you until your hands tremble from the sheer strain and your mouth tastes like metal. You don't speak much, don't ask for mercy and he doesn't offer praise.

By the end, your head is spinning and your fingers are burning, but you realize that this man may be your only shot at surviving your powers.

You nearly miss him at first.

The skies of grey have been replaced by a bright blue, cloudless sky. Your limbs ache, sweat clinging to the back of your neck and your head feels like it's about to burst.

All you wish to do is return to your dorm, collapse onto your bed and scream into a pillow for a while.

When you catch a silhouette leaning against the black-iron gate beyond the training field, you assume, foolishly so, that it's just another upper year cutting through the grounds. But as you step closer, the face before you is all too familiar.

His shoulders are relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest and one ankle over the other. The edge of his cloak dances along to the faintest breeze.

Park Jimin.

Instantly, you slow your steps. The first thought running through your mind is: Why is he here?

The second: How the hell did he know where to find me?

Jimin looks too composed, too clean. There is not a single crease in his robes and the silver crest embroidered on his chest is gleaming as if it was polished on the way here. There is not a drop of sweat visible on his perfectly sculpted face and the man has an infuriatingly, effortless grace that all the Elite seem to have.

His chocolate brown eyes find yours before you can look away and act like you hadn't seen him. Strangely, there is no animosity in them. Just mere curiosity that reminded you of another member of the Elite.

“I thought Elites don't usually loiter around broken-down arena's,” You say sarcastically as you approach. “Not enough mirrors out here.”

Jimin smiles lazily at your words. “I make exceptions.”

A few feet away from him, you halt your steps, arms folding across your chest. “How did you even know I was here?”

He lifts his shoulder in a small shrug. “Let’s just say I know where interesting things tend to happen.”

“So, what, this is curiosity, then?” You ask, arching a brow.

Jimin tilts his head in mock thought. “Let’s call it... professional concern.”

That only increases the confusion edged onto your face. “Did you see what happened in there?”

“I didn’t have to,” He replies in a casual tone. “You’re limping, your sleeve’s scorched, and you look like someone who just survived a small war. I’d guess the Headmistress has finally taken into consideration assigning you a teacher. And there's only one teacher who helps special cases,” He pauses, exhales slowly, and studies you. “From the looks of it Professor Kwon didn’t go easy on you.”

You don't look away, refusing to feel threatened by somebody like him. “Is that your way of saying I look hideous now?”

His eyes widen in surprise, then a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “I didn’t come here to mock you.”

“So why did you come?”

“To give you a warning.” He states simply, gaze still watching your face.

This catches your attention. “A warning?” You ask confusedly.

Jimin straightens from the gate, pushing off it and steps a little closer, yet not close enough to crowd you. “You've drawn attention. And I'm not talking about the petty, jealous kind. You challenged someone nobody else dared to and walked away unscathed. That's enough for them to see you as a threat.”

“So this is about Jungkook? If it is, I feel bad about it as it is. No need to rub it in. Tell him I said sorry.”

“It's not just about him. It's about all of them,” He clarifies. “To them, it doesn't matter how sorry you are. In their eyes, you were not supposed to survive the confrontation, let alone look competent when doing it. Hell, you're not even supposed to exist on the same playing field. Whether you want to or not, you check all those boxes.”

You tilt your head. “This wouldn’t happen to be a threat on behalf of someone else, would it?”

“If I wanted to threaten you,” He says easily, “Believe me, you’d know. And it wouldn’t start with a conversation.”

“That's reassuring.”

“I just came to tell you to be careful,” Jimin continues. “Jungkook doesn’t forget. Jennie doesn’t forgive. And Taehyung…”

Your stomach twists at his name..

“…doesn’t always know what he wants. That makes him unpredictable.”

“Why are you warning me at all?” You narrow your eyes, trying to read his face, but there's only genuine concern. It's the same way your grandmother used to look at you when patching your wounds, the same way Yuqi, Soyeon and Shuhua have been looking at you.

“Because I know what it feels like to be where you are.”

You suddenly remember Yuqi telling you that Park Jimin isn't from an influential family and made his way to the top. Now, you find yourself listening to him, though still wary.

“My family had influence. But not status. Not the kind that opens doors. I had to claw my way in. Charm them. Outmaneuver them. Become useful before they ackowledged me,” He glances down at the stone beneath his feet. “And even then, I nearly got swallowed whole.”

“And now?” you ask. “You became one of them.”

His faint smile returns. “Not quite. I just wear the mask better.”

“Why tell me all this?”

He looks at you sternly. “Because they will come for you in ways you won’t expect. Not fire and lightning, but reputation. Doubt. They’ll whisper you out of existence if they can.”

You fold your arms tighter across your chest. “Why should I trust anything you say?”

“You don't have to,” He mutters. “But if you're smart, then you know when to listen.”

You hesitate, then nod once.

He turns to leave, robes brushing against the stone as he walks. But after a few steps, he glances back over his shoulder.

“Oh, and don’t mistake silence for safety,” He says. “Sometimes the quiet ones are already planning their move.”

And with that, he disappears down the path, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat behind.

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Unbound VII (BTS x Reader)

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Genre: Fantasy | Dark Academia | Romance | Mystery | Action | Magic

T/W: Discrimination, Classism, Injuries.

Pairing: Reader x Taehyung, Reader x Jungkook (and a tiny bit of ot7),

A/N: thank you so so much for your patience! I hope you like it.

** Credits for line divider by strangergraphics-archive

Word count: 4938

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Chapter VII - Proving Grounds

Something stirs beneath the Academy.

In a chamber, buried far below, a hooded figure sits in the center of a circle. Around him, violet flames hover inches above the floor, creating flickering shadows across the stone tiles.

No sound fills the chamber, no torches burn along the walls. There is only silence and the occasional jittering insect slipping through the cracks.

The figure's robes are standard issue; Astrelian Academy uniform, but the hem is tattered and stained and the crest stitched to the chest is torn beyond recognition.

An open grimoire rests beside them. One hand hovers above its brittle pages where smudged ink forms a script in a language long forgotten. The other hand has a visible cut across the palm and drips freely into the circle below the.

A whisper leaves the student's lips.

“Shadows awaken..”

It does not take long before the flames surge high and the blood vanishes into the runes with a hiss. The grimoire's pages flutter despite the absence of the wind.

“You call.. and you beg..”

A shudder tears through the ground. Cracks form beneath the circle.

“..but you are not worthy.”

The student flinches and lowers their head, yet they do not retreat. Instead, they whisper a single name.

“Hmm.. interesting. Bring them to me, mortal.”

The flames vanish. The grimoire slams shut.

Silence returns—but it is tainted now. And deep beneath the Academy, the shadows are watching.

The first week at Astrelia passes in a blur of navigating the cursed hallways, attending theoretical and practical lectures and endless whispers and glances of nobles; with each being more hateful than the first. You had tried to keep your attention straight ahead and ignored the way their words clung to you.

There were only one pair of eyes that had never shown hostility.

When your eyes would wander and your thoughts would stray, you'd often catch Taehyung looking at you. And each time your eyes met, an instant, infuriatingly warm, smile would cross his face. You would be lying if you said it didn't unsettle you and your so-called friends certainly did not make things easier.

Ever since you had made the mistake of telling them what happened during your pairing with Taehyung in Illusion class — how he had taken your hand in his or had said that he wanted to spend a little more time with you rather than breaking the illusion in record time, your friends refused to let it slide.

You hadn't wanted to tell them. In fact, you had tried your absolute best to avoid the topic, but those three relentless forces combined had somehow managed to drag every single detail out of you and now every time Taehyung so much as breathed near you, Yuqi and Shuhua would look at each other with the brightest smiles crossing their faces that would hardly hide any secrets. Soyeon, on the other hand, was the only one who had still been cautious; still not trusting The Elite, nor him— and you had agreed with her.

Still, even though their antics were exhausting, there were more pressing matters than Taehyung's glances and your friends' mischief. At least they were less of a problem than the reach of Kim Jennie's influence. First year nobles wishing to gain favor from her were everywhere.

For example, during Magical Theory two boys had murmured spells under their breath, making the pages of your textbook stick together. You were certain the professor caught it and chose to ignore it.

Or when you walked into Principles of Evocation and found a note on your seat reading: "Back to the graveyard, slum rat."

You told yourself you didn't care. You've dealt with worse.

But deep down, you were not so sure anymore.

Luckily, your friends would often be there to intercept the worst of it, biting back sarcastic comments or step in between you and whichever spoiled noble thought you would be an easy target.

One girl had "accidentally" knocked your parchment into the fountain basin, drenching hours worth of notes. When Soyeon found out and had insisted you told her who did it, she had conjured a watersphere and "accidentally" thrown it against the exact same girl during dinner.

You were thankful for them, even if you wished to fight your own battles. You just prayed their interference wouldn't make things worse.

Now, Thursday evening has arrived with a deep violet painting the skies outside. The corridors of the Academy have turned quiet. Most students have already retreated to the warm hearths in their dormitories.

You, however, have other plans.

The library looks the same as it did then. Multiple floors of floating staircases, books flying from shelf to shelf, all stacked with rows upon rows of books, grimoires and scrolls bound in leather. The smell of old parchment within is intoxicating.

At the heart of the library stands the Arcanaeum, a living archive of histories, secrets and spells. Within, white smokes twines together.

“It holds knowledge collected over centuries.. Some say it has a mind of its own.” You recount Yuqi's words from back then.

The whispers that drift from it are so soft, you are unable to make out their words. You decide to stay away from the glass orb. Something about the way it seems to know everything about you, unsettles you deeply.

Instead, you turn around and wind your way through the first floor, walking through candlelit aisles until you find the section labeled: Evocation: Foundations & Theory.

You grab a worn book from the shelf—“The Art of Harnessing Flame: An Introduction to Evocation Stability”— and hold it firmly against your chest as you carry it to an empty table near the windows.

The chair creaks softly against the wooden floorboards when you pull it out and take a seat, parchment and ink set neatly beside you.

"To command fire is not to conquer it—but to convince it to burn for you, and you alone."

By the time the skies have changed into a deep navy blue with stars scattered across it, the silence in the library is only filled with the scratching sound of your quill against paper. Somewhere in the distance, the librarian extinguishes a lantern with a quiet hiss and the sound echoes in the emptying halls.

Glancing around, you notice most tables are abandoned now. A few upper years gather their scrolls before walking off and a girl with dark hair tied in a messy ponytail yawns, notes held in her folded arms, as she vanishes down the entrance.

You stretch your sore neck and close your book with a thud.

Maybe it's time to call it a night.

It happens after you have gathered your belongings, ready to return the book; a chill runs down your spine and the hair on your arms suddenly stand on end. The feeling is familiar to you.

Something is watching you.

When you slowly turn your head over your shoulder, you are met with an empty aisle of bookshelves and the faint flicker of candlelight. Yet even if it is silent, you know something is off. It is not the first time you have felt this way.

That's when they appear. A pair of flaming red eyes. Two dots caught in the light of a glowing candle at the far end of the corridor. They stand too high to belong to an animal, but are too big to be humane.

Okay. Not creepy at all.

Around that same area, a soft creak of wood echoes, just before the eyes disappear into thin air.

Great. A haunted library is just what your week was missing.

You should leave. You know you should leave, but your body ignores your instinct and your feet carry you forward. Just a few slow steps toward the place where the eyes vanished.

And just as you round the next shelf, you slam straight into a solid wall of something firm and very much alive. Instinctively, you stumble back and the book in your hands slips from your grasp, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

Steadying yourself, you look up... and meet the cold gaze of Jeon Jungkook. Of-freaking-course.

Tonight, his eyes are more emotionless than usual. There is no anger in them. No fear either.

He glances over his shoulder, then back toward the end of the corridor where the candle still flickers oddly, where something stood just moments ago. He looks almost.. tense. You wonder if he had seen it too. If he did, he doesn't mention it.

Besides, it seems like Jungkook hasn't even noticed you yet.

Your thoughts are confirmed the moment he stares down at you. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he swiftly regains himself. “You.” His voice is low and he utters the word as if it offends him to speak to you in the first place.

You bend to retrieve the book from the floor and you don't meet his eyes again, until you have dusted it off and tucked it beneath your arm. Blinking up at him, you feel your pulse quickening in your throat. “Good evening to you too.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice firm.

“This floor is restricted after dark,” Jungkook chides in a cold voice. His eyes sweep over you— your robes, the ink stain on your collar. “Then again, I doubt reading signs was part of your education.”

Though the words sting, you refuse to show him it affects you. “Don't worry, I was just leaving.”

Jungkook watches you like he is trying to burn a hole through your skull. He doesn't move. He doesn't even blink. “Why are you snooping around the restricted section?”

You furrow your brows confusedly, then glance at the faint red glow of a barely visible sign behind him — 'Forbidden Without Permission'. You could've sworn it wasn't there before.

Clearing your throat, you turn back to him. “I just came here to return this book.”

“Don't play dumb with me,” He retorts, clearly not believing your attempt at an excuse. “I saw you around here before.”

“I'm.. not sure what you're talking about,” You answer truthfully and, for the briefest second, something changes in his expression. Something akin to doubt, or confusion. He clenches his jaw, but he doesn't press.

Instead, he exhales and narrows his lids in suspicion: “Hmph, either you are a better liar than you look or you're just making a habit of being in places you don't belong,” And, with the same cold detachment, he adds: “But sure, let's pretend you were here for some light reading.”

You tilt your head lightly. “Since when do you pay attention to anyone beneath your altitude anyway?”

“Don't mistake my notice for interest,” Jungkook says. “I keep an eye on accidents waiting to happen. It's basic self-preservation.”

Your lips turn into a polite smile. You have dealt with men like him before; men born into power who think it makes them untouchable. But.. this isn't the slums and you cannot snap back like you want to. At least, not to him.

Jeon Jungkook is not just any noble.

He is top of the class. An heir to a dynasty. And, worst of all, he is the youngest son of the Archmage. That meant that you had to do anything in your power not to get on his bad side.

So, you adjust the grip on your book and, in the sweetest voice you can muster, you say: “I see. So you're just deeply concerned about the welfare of the Academy? That's sweet.”

Jungkook, however, seems determined to get under your skin. “Sweet isn't the word I would use,” He says with a thin smile. “More like strategic. You will bring chaos that will end up creating paperwork for the council.”

Your voice softens just a touch, falsely gracious. “Then I should thank you for your vigilance. It's comforting to know Astrelia has someone so... devoted to keeping the halls clean.”

His lips curls slightly, and you are unsure whether it's in distaste or amusement. He steps forward, just enough to invade the edge of your personal space. “Look, the sooner you understand that this place was not made for people like you, the better it will be for you.”

“And by ‘people like me’ you mean?” You keep your tone light, inviting him to say it.

“Slum-born, barely educated and fueled by blind instinct with no control over her powers.” He replies without flinching.

His face is inches from yours, but you do not move. “Last I checked, I passed the trials,” You retaliate. “And with the same ranking as you.”

“Do you think you belong here, just because your rank was the same as mine?” He doesn't laugh, just snorts.

“No,” you reply calmly, already aware you failed your mission not to provoke him. “I think I belong here because they gave me a seat. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with the Headmistress. I hear she's a fan.”

Jungkook's smile fades instantly. He shifts his stance, but the tone in his voice doesn't change. “I hear she's not the only one.”

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Taehyung,” He simply says. “He has a habit of collecting strays. Easier to toss away once he gets tired of them.”

You let out a soft, amused breath. “If that's supposed to offend me, you'll have to try harder. Though I can't blame you for the concern. Must be exhausting keeping your friend's attention off the commoners.” He doesn't react, only watches you as you step around him. “Thank you for the warning, though. Very gracious of you.” Then, you add lightly over your shoulder: “Enjoy the view from the top, Your Highness. Must be lonely up there.”

You don’t look back, but you know he doesn’t get the insult until you've disappeared around the corner.

And, deep down, you wonder who or what he had seen creeping around the restricted section..

The morning air is crisp, laced with the faint scent of wet earth and grass, and the skies overhead are a dull grey, perfectly in tone with how you are feeling this day — restless, tired and plagued by the memory of crimson red eyes that didn't belong to the living.

During breakfast, Yuqi talks your ear off about how her Divination class had been 'spiritually traumatizing', Shuhua complains about the cafeteria's 'assault on flavor' and how an elite academy should hire better chefs, and Soyeon nearly picks a fight with a noble boy who tries to cut the line for dessert.

Afterward, the four of you make your way across the Academy's grounds to head to the first class of Friday morning.

Beyond the towering hedges and green training fields, lies the Coliseum. The usual combat grounds were used by the first years this morning, hence the arena would be the location for your first combat class today.

Memories of your near-death experience flood your mind and you can feel the twist inside your stomach as you near the field.

Yuqi notices your unease. “Are you alright?” She asks from beside you. Her voice sounds neutral, but her eyes are filled with genuine concern.

“I'm fine,” You lie. “I was just remembering my thrilling duel with the Hellhound, Golem and Wraith.”

“Right,” Shuhua hums. “You and your trauma. So dramatic.”

“You nearly cried when you saw a floating soufflé.”

“Because it levitated. Food should not levitate.”

Soyeon sighs. “I should've stayed in bed.”

The Coliseum is still mostly empty, apart from the handful of students gathered on the lower benches. Along the edge of the combat floor, magical barriers gleam faintly—by the look of them, wards to contain spells. And standing near the center, with his arms crossed, is the teacher.

Professor Jung Jihoon looks barely older than some upperclassmen, yet something about him silences the entire crowd of students. He is tall, lean and built like somebody who spent their lives surviving combat magic. His black leather uniform clings to his toned body, his fingerless gloves revealing faint scars along his knuckles.

The moment your friends and you sit down, Yuqi speaks softly. “That's Professor Jung Jihoon. A former Arcblade.”

“What's an Arcblade?” You ask, unfamiliar with the word.

“Arcblades are spell-swordsmen trained in both physical combat and offensive magic,” She explains. “The Kingdom uses them during wars, in defense of royal or council interests. They say professor Jung fought in the Rebellion when he was barely twenty and survived seven days behind enemy lines. Alone,” Your eyebrows lift and she merely nods. “He turned down a seat on the Grand Council. Said politics were boring. So he came here instead—to teach.”

You were aware that the school had world-class instructors, but somebody who fought in the Rebellion? That was impressive.

Once the seats are filled, the professor raises a hand.

“Good morning,” His voice cuts through the crowd. “Welcome to Practical Combat. I am Professor Jung, your instructor for Practical Combat,” He continues as he paces slowly before the gathered students. “That means magic in motion. Power under pressure. Control under chaos,” His eyes scan the seated crowd thoroughly. “In my class, you will train to fight. That means you will get injured, you will bleed.. but, if you are smart, you will learn faster than your opponent.”

Shuhua leans in and whispers, “He's kind of hot in a terrifying, ‘I could ruin your entire self-worth’ kind of way.”

You chuckle softly.

Professor Jung's gaze lands in your direction and Shuhua instantly sits straighter.

He stops in the center of the combat floor.

“For today's lesson, we will start easy. With pairings,” He announces. “I need to see what each of you is capable of. So, I will call one name. The rest of you will decide whether you are brave enough to challenge them. If no one steps forward, I will choose. And, might I add, I do not pick gently.”

The students laugh nervously, but professor Jung's eyes show no emotion as he continues. “Pairings will fight at the end of roll call. Observe each other. Watch your opponent and learn before you strike.”

When he taps the air once, a glowing scrolls unfolds midair and the first name begins to form. “Jang Wonyoung, please step forward.” A tall, third-year student with a braid down her back, steps into the circle. Her eyes dart around, daring anyone to stand up. After a short silence, a boy with auburn hair and a cocky grin steps out.

“Park Sunghoon, fourth-year.” The student says, stretching his arms with a smirk.

They are followed by a fourth-year Enchanter named Hwang Hyunjin pairing up with a transmutation specialist and fifth year, Lee Mark. Professor Jung nods curtly, before matching up the remaining students and soon enough, it's your friends' turn.

“Next, Song Yuqi.”

Yuqi rises from her seat excitedly. She rolls her shoulders and smirks. “About damn time.”

Before anyone else can move, a tall, slim girl with fire-red hair gets up from the opposite side. Shin Ryujin.

The moment their names are sealed, Shuhua turns to Yuqi with widened eyes. “That girl breathes lightning.”

Yuqi cracks her neck. “Great. I'll use that against her.”

Afterwards, the name of Jennie's friend, Lalisa, appears on the scroll. Soyeon smiles and pushes herself up. “I'm gonna show her not to mess with us again.”

Shuhua cheers loudly, but quiets down when her name pops up next. She sighs theatrically and flips her hair. “I swear, if I have to fight another healer, I'm leaving.”

One of the Elite stands up, causing soft whispering among the students. Even Shuhua cocks her head, watching Park Jimin make his way toward her side.

The scroll, however, does not pause. It pulses and another name follows after. “Jeon Jungkook.”

As if on cue, the entire arena goes silent.

Jungkook walks to the center of the arena calmly, unimpressed. His black uniform fits him perfectly and, for once, there is no arrogance in his stride. No humility either.

Nobody moves. Nobody dares move.

Professor Jung's voice interrupts the silence. “No one?”

You are reminded of the night before— how he had told you that 'people like you' did not belong in the Academy. Before your brain can catch up, your body reacts.

The crowd erupts in shocked murmurs.

Even Yuqi, already standing in the arena, whips her head toward you and mouths. “Are you out of your mind?”

Soyeon's eyes widen in shock and she shakes her head furiously. “Don't.”

Shuhua is staring with her mouth wide open, frozen between awe and horror.

From the upper bench, Jennie scoffs. And seated lazily near the edge of the Elite section, Taehyung straightens as the usual smirk vanishes from his face.

You can feel his eyes lock on you.

He doesn't say anything.

But his fingers curl tight around the edge of the stone seat.

Jungkook turns to face you, his head tilting slightly. His lips curve into a cruel smirk. As if he knows victory belongs to him.

Standing in the center of the arena, with Jungkook confidently across from you, the weight of what you had volunteered for is palpable. And you are not the only one to feel it.

A hush of whispers spreads to the stands: “She's actually going through with it?” “She's dead. She's so dead.” “Good riddance.”

Your friends are frozen to the spot. Yuqi has a hand pressed over her mouth, Shuhua looks pale and uncertain and Soyeon throws you an encouraging look whilst glaring daggers at Jungkook like she could set him ablaze with sheer willpower. Professor Jung stands at the edge of the ring, surveying the two of you without a flicker of concern.

“Begin.”

Jungkook's first spell, a bolt of lightning-blue, slices across the Coliseum in an instant. You manage to dodge it in time, but it singes a strand of your hair as the arc explodes against the far wall.

He is not testing you. He is not even observing you. It's clear he has decided to win, and fast.

His second attack strikes a split second after you summon a barrier dome to surround you. The blast of kinetic energy clashes with the shield and you feel the backlash instantly. The shield holds only barely, your arms trembling under the immense pressure of his power.

Jungkook does not hesitate, he moves quickly and conjures blades that circle around him. As they dart toward you, his cold voice cuts through: “You're slower than I thought.”

Ducking the first blade and batting away the second with a burst of flame, you mutter: “Sorry, next time I'll warm up first.”

With a flick of his wrist, the remaining knives curve mid-air and slash down again. You raise a mirrored shield just in time; the surface deflecting his conjurations while you dive sideways and aim a blast of fire at his feet. Jungkook moves fluidly. Without stumbling, but his detached eyes remain locked on you. Then, his hand lifts again.

The floor tilts beneath your feet, the torches along the Coliseum walls pull in and it feels like you are falling inside your own skin.

You clench your fists and drop to one knee. Slamming your palm against the stone, your abjuration spell shatters the illusion, yet the aftermath of his enchantment spell has you gasping for breath.

Jungkook watches with a cocked brow as he dusts imaginary dirt from his sleeve. “I see you've had scraps of training. Must be nice when dumb luck masquerades as skill.”

You don't retort. Instead, you hurl another firebolt at his feet to force him to sidestep. The flames curl around his barrier harmlessly, but his eyes are narrowed.

Taking a step forward, your balance suddenly vanishes. Something grips at your ankles, dragging you down and, before you can even fathom what happens, you hit the ground. Hard. The breath is knocked from your lungs, pain flares in your shoulders and ribs. Dezed, you look up and see a phantom risen from the floor behind you. Its body is composed of smoke, now retreating back into the stone. It had pulled you along with it.

Jungkook is walking toward you even before the echo of the impact has disappeared. “I told you you don't belong here,” He mutters. “You should have stayed in the slums. This place is wasted on people like you.”

“I'd hate to disappoint,” You grit out, while planting your palms on the floor. Runes flare beneath you, laced with defensive magic. A shockwave blasts outward and the phantom's hold snaps. Jungkook staggers, barely affected, but you are already scrambling to your feet.

Your magic may have been raw, whereas his was refined. But yours was hungry. Beneath the adrenaline, something else pulled at you.

It wasn't just magic that you had fought with in the alleys of Lunareth. Before it had even awakened, you had to rely on fists, blades and desperation. Not that you could fight or were particularly strong physically, but you remember clutching a rusted knife in the dark, crouched behind broken crates as shadows passed. You had learned to read your opponents by the way their weight shifted or the way their fingers twitched. You knew when to fake weakness, when to strike and when to make them underestimate you.

Now, you are watching Jungkook more carefully. Every move he makes, every stance. He favors his right side, using it to cast most of his spells while shifting his weight first. It's not a weakness, exactly. It's a pattern. But patterns can be learned from if observed correctly.

You shift to the left and stumble deliberately. Jungkook, seeing it as an opportunity, advances. In reaction, you trigger your spell—a shock armor. You feel the edge of his summoned blade against your shoulder, but the energy flares, throwing him backward across the floor. He steadies himself mid-fall, sliding to a halt.

For the briefest second, his eyes are filled with something else. It isn't admiration, nor kindness, but you could swear there is a hint of curiosity, before they return to their usual coldness.

“You're going to get someone killed,” Jungkook mutters, his tone more annoyed than angry. “Probably yourself, if we're lucky.”

You tilt your head. “Aw, I didn't realize you cared that much. I'll make sure to die somewhere scenic, just for you.”

His jaw tenses just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to see, but enough to notice if you were looking closely. And frankly, you were.

Jungkook's eyes darkens, but he doesn't take the bait. Instead, he scoffs under his breath and steps closer. “Make it quick then. I've got better things to watch.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tasting something metallic. Still, you hold your ground.

This isn't about winning. It's about proving you belonged. Within this school, you are seen as the slum girl. And, yet, here you stood in front of Jeon Jungkook, forcing him to take you seriously. Even if he would never say it out loud.

His fingers move again and this time there is no restraint as he unleashes a chaos of flames and concussive force. You layer two barriers, something you had learned in theoretical class. One to protect you from the kinetic blast and one for the heat. The sheer impact sends both of you scraping across the floor. You let out a gasp.

Jungkook pushes himself up. He approaches you slowly, his white blouse now dirtied. “This is what I meant,” He says. “You do not belong here.”

You force yourself up to your knees.

His next spell forms quickly; a sphere of condensed light and flame, hot enough to boil air.

And in reaction, something familiar within you awakens.

No, not right now.

Against your will, black, liquid chains burst from the floor. They wrap around his wrists and ankles, forcing him still. He attempts to strike them with fire, ice, lightning, kinetic force to no avail. Each magic he releases, is being swallowed in turn. He blinks, eyes wide with disbelief.

Your body moves on its own accord. When you lift your hand, you feel a pull between him and you. Even if you hadn't casted it yourself, his magic now flows toward you.

Life-force. Power.

You stumble back, eyes widened, yet you are unable to control it. “No..”

As his energy drains, his body responses. The flames he had been preparing to cast warp under pressure, growing unstable and shifting into untamed magic. Your chains meets his resistance and a burst of raw energy tears between you.

Jungkook's aura flares as he fights to reclaim control, but the shadows tighten around his limbs and feed on the chaotic surge of magic.

You can't stop. He can't yield.

Dangerous, raw power writhe between you and for a split second, it seems as if neither of you would.. or could back down.

“ENOUGH!” Professor Jung steps within the circle. A wall of magic appears between you and both of your spells shatter. Jungkook's flame turn to sparks, while your chains dissolve into smoke.

You drop to one knee, dazed. Jungkook sinks down to the other. His face is pale, his breathing heavy.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Professor Jung steps forward, stern gaze sweeping between the two of you. “You were seconds from disaster. Both of you.”

Jungkook doesn't respond. His hands are balled into fists, his eyes never look your way.

But you looked at him. Just once.

And in the split second before he turned away, you could see it.

There is no anger and no contempt.

It is.. amusement?

taglist:

@enfppuff

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Don’t worry! Take all the time you need. I would rather have no update than something made without love

🥹🫶🏼

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Update

Hi everyone! I haven't posted in a bit, because recently something happened in my personal life.. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting! I promise the next chapter is coming and I will try to update it as soon as possible, but please bare with me.

Again, thank you for your patience!

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Is the historical setting like modern times or old ones like with candles as light and ink and feathers to write?

I'd say it leans more to the older times, except for the way they speak.

For example, in the Academy (and the slums) candles and torches are used rather than modern lights, and the students also use ink and parchment rather than pen and paper (like you said). There's also no such things as modern vehicles (cars, planes) like in the beginning where they use carriages!

Buttttt, I guess The Capital and wherever the Nobles/Aristocrats reside would be slightly more on the modern side though. (Which will also be revealed later)

Sorry I ramble too much, hope this answers your question haha.

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Chapter 7 coming a little bit later this time, since I’ll be really busy 😭

I will try to update as soon as possible. (Hopefully next Monday)

Thanks for your patience 🫶🏼

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Yes I‘m German!!!

We’re practically neighbors then (I’m Dutch myself) 😌

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Ok I am starting to make the edit, do you have like a faceclaim that you like? Cause I am honestly a little helpless at that hahaha. If not I‘ll just use a random Korean women because I would think that the oc is Korean

I followed your account (I see you with the HOTD edits). I really like them tbh!!

Hmm, honestly I left it open on purpose (hence the 'x reader' part) so feel free to use whatever you envision for the oc 😌

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hello dear author, I don’t know if you’re aware but there’s a story on Wattpad that sounds very very similar to your story Unbound. It is a new story and there’s only a teaser but after reading the summary I noticed the similarities with your story! I’ll send you the name and author on my next ask after this so in case you answer to this and don’t wanna make the account public but please check it out

Hi dear anon, thank you for informing me about this! It indeed does sound a lot like Unbound, so I’m gonna keep my eye on it and hope that it’s just pure coincidence. Appreciate you 🫶🏼🥺

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I just read the new chapter and I will repeat myself, I love your writing so much🥹🫶🏼

Wowwwwwwwww, seriously I love the way you wrote Tae and their banter. And now I know what you meant by „stop spoiling“ hahahaha. I can’t wait for the next update!!🫶🏼 I am an editor and would love to do a trailer for this story after you publish more chapters!! Every time you upload I just get new Ideas for how it could look but I‘ll have to wait to understand the story more🙂‍↕️. And again, I don’t know if that gives you motivation but you have so much talented I feel honored to have found your blog

Pff, thank you thank you! 🫶🏼 Your comment made me tear up a bit ngl. Seeing people read & enjoy it honestly motivates me a lot to keep writing.

And excuse meeeeee, what is stopping you? 😭 If you do happen to make one, please share it with me! I'd loveeeee to see it.

Again, thank you for your kind message. I appreciate you. 🥹

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Do you know the audio on TikTok that’s like „what do I look like, your girlfriend? No, my late wife“ like the creepy vibe? @gwayneswife made an edit to the sound and I think maybe that could be a cool concept. Like something from the past that reminds the oc of something? Or maybe Tae’s infatuation with her on a deeper level. I‘m sorry if this is random but I thought this could be interesting

I actually have a reason in mind for Tae's infatuation, but care to share the link to this edit? I can't find it. 🤭