wrienne

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 15: Gunshot

Months passed. Or well, that��s what it felt like. You lost all sense of time as well as the day and night cycle in the blackness. At times, you even lost your ability to sense space. Some days, the room could be small and cramped, like you were stuck in a tiny box at the bottom of the ocean. Yet other days, it felt like you had been locked inside a gigantic warehouse by the docks or a shopping mall with no inner walls or floors.

Of course, you inspected the room the best you could, swiping your hands and feet all over the walls and the floor for some kind of tool or opening to exploit. The tiniest nail, glass splinter, wire; any kind of crack, depression or hole - really anything that might be useful.

But there was nothing.

The frustration made you want to scream, and you probably would have without Jung-Hyun there with you. With him, the coldness was never unbearable and his stiff, somber voice soothed your restless mind. It wasn’t as if though you two were conversing; no, you rarely exchanged more than a few words every so often. But Jung-Hyun kept quietly counting to himself at regular intervals. It took you a while to figure out what he was doing, and when you did, you couldn’t hide your surprise.

“Jung-Hyun?”

It could have been days after the two of you had last seen sunlight, or even weeks. You were tired, as you so often were in that dark, cold room, and leaned against the side of his body, which, at least to you, seemed to grow hotter with each unknown hour that passed. Though that might just be because you were getting a cold. Your throat had started to become scratchy, and you had caught yourself before you could sneeze more than once.

The answer didn’t come until after he had finished counting. “Yes?”

“Are you maybe counting the thuds from upstairs?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Some of them are footsteps.”

“And?”

“I want to know how many there are.”

“Why would you want to know that?”

He didn’t respond. You felt a chill crawl down your back and curled up into a ball. Your stomach growled, but that wasn’t the biggest concern you had at that moment. You needed to go to the bathroom.

Over the course of your stay, a woman you presumed to be Yoo-Jin, the “boss’ girlfriend” and apparently the person who chose the building you and Jung-Hyun had been brought to, visited regularly. You only knew she was a woman thanks to her physique, since she, too, wore a balaclava to disguise her facial features. And though she never spoke to you, you were always grateful to see her.

It was only thanks to Yoo-Jin’s visits that the two of you received food, albeit nothing but a few spoonfuls of rice and half a bottle of water that you needed to share, and the chance to relieve yourselves. She also helped you cling to a semblance of an awake and sleep rhythm, since she came two times over a stretch of time before being gone for what felt like a much longer duration.

Occasionally, you thought you caught a flash of regret in Yoo-Jin’s light brown eyes whenever your gazes accidentally met. Her body motions and unavoidable mannerisms also quite obviously belonged to a timid person. You didn’t think she was fully on board with the criminal activity conducted by her supposed boyfriend - or girlfriend - and his - or her - underlings.

But she didn’t stop them either.  

Yoo-Jin’s visits might have been a good chance for you and Jung-Hyun to escape. However, the woman was always accompanied by at least three armed men. Their eyes never strayed far away from Jung-Hyun, who barely moved whenever they showed up.

That was another concerning element. It was only during Yoo-Jin’s brief stays that you were able to gauge Jung-Hyun’s physical state for more than a few seconds, and each time, your heart sank.

Bruises and scrapes aside, Jung-Hyun looked as if though he had been tied up and beaten like a dog. And you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what happened to him. Because whenever the door opened and Yoo-Jin wasn’t there, you knew that Jung-Hyun would be dragged out of the room. The first times a handful of men had barged in to get Jung-Hyun, you tried to fight them, but all that earned you was a slap hard enough to send you whirling to the ground. Jung-Hyun had said nothing, but there had been a silent pleading in his brown eyes for you to stay still.

And so, you obeyed. You did not cry; you did not scream. Even if it felt like an eternity passed before he returned. Even if he sometimes returned drenched. Even if he always returned with fresh bruises.

Even if you were absolutely terrified at the prospect of being left alone in the dark.

“Do you think Yoo-Jin will be here soon?” you asked.

“Yes. I can hear her footsteps.”

You frowned, and even though you could not see, you found yourself staring skyward. “How can you make out hers from everyone else’s? How do you even know which thuds are footsteps and which are just random sounds?”

“I guess, mostly. But hers are easy to identify - she’s the only one who doesn’t walk like they teach you to do in the military.”

You swallowed. At the mention of the military, you couldn’t help but be reminded of Jong-Yeol, who still couldn’t get rid of his old habits while being in service. And that hurt.

Because as soon as you thought about Jong-Yeol, your thoughts inadvertently always veered further. Toward your mother, who probably was busy hiring a whole army of detectives, if not even mercenaries, to find you. Toward your father, who most likely had buried himself in work to forget about his worries at least temporarily - and whose weak health gnawed constantly on your mind. Toward Se-Eun, who you hoped would be able to concentrate on her life even with the heavy cloud of concern that surely hung over her regarding your disappearance.

Toward Jungkook, whose career you prayed your disappearance wasn’t disturbing.

Even though you still could not remember the last time you and he had met, you knew that there was something you needed to tell him. Or was it the other way around? Your head felt like it would burst whenever you started thinking about the strange pain in your heart that surfaced whenever Jungkook’s name appeared in your mind.

And so, once more, you pushed all your thoughts of the outside world aside and focused on the present.

“Oh,” you uttered weakly. “That’s a good point. But how many do you think they are?”

“Anywhere from nine to fifteen.”

“Oh. Is that a lot?”

“Yes.”

The conversation fizzled out just like that. You didn’t know what it was, but Jung-Hyun’s silent disposition seemed to grow more and more dominant the longer you remained in that room. He didn’t stay close to you either, not unless you asked him first. And when he did wrap his arm around you, it felt reluctant, but not in the way reluctance might normally feel like. It didn’t feel like he was avoiding you on purpose.

Rather, that he avoided you because he needed to.

Sometimes, when the cold wasn’t so horrible, you fell asleep alone. If you had to be honest, you didn’t really want to since Jung-Hyun was so irresistibly warm and just… large. It was stupid, but when you fell asleep next to him, it felt like you were protected.

Like things weren’t so bad, after all.

Anyway, one day, or night - or really, anything - you woke to the sound of him huffing and panting strenuously. Your first thought was to ask him what was going on, but you refrained in the last second. While pretending that you were still asleep, you kept your breathing calm and somewhat noisy, and continued to listen. Soon, there were quiet clapping strewn in between the heavy breaths.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Jung-Hyun? What are you doing?”

It went deathly quiet. You almost thought you were stuck in a dream - or rather, a nightmare - when Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber and slightly out of breath voice broke the silence.

“I’m exercising.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Are you out of your mind?”

“I need to keep my body strong if I want to get out of here.”

“But you’re hurt!” You scrambled in the direction of his voice and bumped into his back. “You need to rest,” you said and grabbed his shoulders. They were hot to your touch.

“When I get out of here, I will. Until then, I cannot afford to.”

“You’re acting crazy,” you said, your heart squirming with fear at the thought of Jung-Hyun having lost his mind.

“Maybe. But my thoughts are still mine.”

“You’re hurt,” you said again. “What have they been doing to you?”

No reply.

“Jung-Hyun,” you said firmly, no longer patient enough for a future explanation. “Answer me.”

“They want to know the secrets of my late boss.”

“And?”

“...I don’t understand.”

“What have you told them?”

“Nothing.”

“Is that all they want from you?” you wondered, your concern morphing into anger, a much more easily manageable emotion.

“It seems that way.”

“Then just tell them!”

“I can’t. I don’t know who their boss is but it’s clear he or she isn’t loyal to the Hwan Song Sung Pa.”

Your grip around Jung-Hyun’s shoulders tightened. “You’re not a part of this scene anymore,” you told him. “Why not just tell them what they want to know and get out of here?”

“Do you think they’ll just let me go after that?”

A flicker of irritation had entered Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber and usually emotionless voice for once. You pursed your lips and loosened your hold of his shoulders. “I guess not,” you said dejectedly.

There was a long pause. You were just about to withdraw to the corner you had been sleeping in when a hand came to rest on top of yours.

“Thank you.”

His gesture and words startled you. “For what?”

“For worrying about me,” said Jung-Hyun in a calm tone. “But you really shouldn’t. Think about yourself first, (Y/N).”

“It sounds like you’re going to leave me.”

“I’m not. But you’ll leave this place before me.”

“We’ve already discussed this,” you said with a frown. “We’re walking out together.”

“That’s not possible.”

You backed away from him with a sigh, too frustrated to be near him, even less touch him. But your rising levels of frustration weren’t caused solely because of him.

Because you, too, knew, deep down, that the chances for Jung-Hyun to leave that basement as a free man were slim to none.

More time passed. Again, it was impossible to say whether days or months or just a few hours had passed. You and Jung-Hyun exchanged even fewer words than ever before, but your roles had reversed after the last argument. It was you who shied away from physical contact and communication, and it wasn’t until Jung-Hyun offered his warmth that you even considered touching him. Your stubbornness would come to bite you in the backside, however, for within a handful of visits from Yoo-Jin, you started coughing.

Strangely, this elicited a new development in Yoo-Jin’s visits. Both your and Jung-Hyun’s bowls were filled with more rice, and she even came with what looked like leftover soup. There weren’t many ingredients remaining within it, but it was still hot enough to burn your tongue and therefore more than you would have ever dared to ask for. One time, Yoo-Jin even brought you a thick, knitted cardigan you could wear.

“Thank you for everything.”

You were inside the bathroom combined washroom that was situated next to the stairs leading up to the ground level. Yoo-Jin was inside as well, probably to keep an eye on you, but she stood with her back toward you as you finished your business.

Now, you weren’t going to lie, you had imagined sneaking up behind her and knocking her out numerous times. But you knew that would benefit neither you nor Jung-Hyun. The men were still waiting on the other side of the door and the window was barred from the outside. Also, to be honest, you didn’t want to harm her. Sure, she hadn’t done anything to help you, but you doubted she had much choice in the matter, considering her relationship with the men’s boss.

“What?”

Yoo-Jin’s voice was sharp, but not even nearly as piercing as your mother’s, and you shrugged it off easily.

“For the food and the cardigan,” you replied as you washed your hands in the dilapidating sink. The fact that clean water somehow could run through the rusted faucet shocked you every time you touched the sluggish handles.

“Can’t have you getting pneumonia or something serious like that. Not with all the money you have on your head.”

“Ah,” you said, hesitating before you spoke again. “How… how much time has passed since I was brought here?”

Yoo-Jin turned around. “Are you done?” she asked harshly instead of responding.

“Yes,” you replied immediately.

“Then get moving.”

You scratched your arm and continued to do that even after you had been locked inside the dark room again. It had been dark outside as well, you had seen that through the frosted window. But you still had no idea where you might be. Or well, judging by the occasional car rumbling past over the seemingly countless of times you had been to the nearly disintegrating bathroom, you had to be somewhat near civilization. And the orange light you had seen belonged to a street lamp most likely.

Jung-Hyun had said that the men - and Yoo-Jin - were the Hwan Song Sung Pa’s Seoul subunit. But Seoul was huge. You knew its inner parts very well, and could probably find your way home so long as you could see the Han River. But without any point of interest in sight, you would have no way of knowing where to go once you and Jung-Hyun escaped.

Because, yes. You were still fixed on the idea of getting out of that room together with him. Partly because you just straight up refused the notion of leaving him there, all alone and with nobody to lean on. And partly because you found it eerie that you hadn’t been bought out by your parents already. If you now were a hostage, why hadn’t you been extracted? What was taking your parents so long? Money, your only way of escaping, couldn’t be the issue.

Right?

Even more time elapsed. Your restlessness fueled your frustration over your and Jung-Hyun’s predicament, until it reached a point where pure hopelessness clutched your senses. You were colder than ever and started feeling more apathetic despite the increasing portion sizes of your daily food intake. Perhaps Yoo-Jin noticed, because you suddenly found pieces of grilled meat and kimchi hidden underneath your rice. Although you were thankful and your body truly relished the taste of something other than the same dry rice and hot but runny soup, her efforts did nothing to stop the growing hole inside your chest.

Jung-Hyun also seemed to have noticed the shift in your attitude. He talked more, which would have made you glad ordinarily, but this wasn’t your normal world. This was a nightmare with no ending or beginning, a constant circle of the same things coming and going.

Were you going to be stuck down there forever?

Click .

You had barely registered the sound of the door unlocking before two sets of hands pulled you off the floor. Your eyelids flew open, and you found yourself propped up on your feet by a masked man on one side of you each. The silhouette of a third man towered above you in the doorway.

“Now, now, no need to stand up.”

The man in the doorway’s words had been aimed to your right, where Jung-Hyun was slowly getting to his feet. Your heart threatened to break as you took in his appearance. He was more bruised than ever, with scrapes covering practically every inch of skin that wasn’t hidden underneath his now dirty, bloody t-shirt and sweatpants, and he pressed a hand against the side of his stomach where you remembered that he had been cut. He couldn’t even stand straight and had to lean with his whole body against the bare wall.

“Her ransom has been paid,” said the man. “I’m only here to escort her to the exchange point.”

Immediately, Jung-Hyun deflated. Relief smoothed the tight expression he until then had been wearing, and he slowly sat down again. You, on the other hand, wasn’t so glad.

“I’m not going without him,” you said. Although you had hoped to sound demanding, your voice was weak and even broke toward the end of the sentence.

“Don’t be difficult, little heiress. We’re taking you to freedom.”

This caused the man on your left to snicker, and you tensed. “No. Either Jung-Hyun’s coming with me, or I’m staying.”

“Don’t listen to her.”

You stared at Jung-Hyun in disbelief. He wouldn’t look at you, however, and kept his eyes firmly planted onto the man in the door opening. “Just take her with you, Jun-Ho.”

The man in the door opening, or Jun-Ho, glared back. “Don’t say my name, you dog. Boss isn’t here to stop me from giving you exactly what you deserve, so you better fucking show some respect, traitor.”

Traitor? You sent Jung-Hyun an inquisitive glance, which he ignored.

“What’s wrong with me saying your name, Jun-Ho?” he asked in the most playfully taunting tone you had ever heard from him. It wasn’t much, but it was such a stark difference to his usual voice level that your jaw fell open.

“Get her out of here,” said Jun-Ho without breaking eye contact with Jung-Hyun.

“Really?” asked the man left to you.

The one to the right of you also spoke. “But I thought you were desperate to--”

“Shut the fuck up and go. I’ll join you and the others soon.” Jun-Ho dropped some familiar-looking fabric and plastic ropes in the hallway and cracked his knuckles as he stepped into the room. “I just need to show this dog his place.”

“Are you sure we should leave?”

“Look at him!” exclaimed Jun-Ho as he gestured in Jung-Hyun’s direction. “This piece of dog shit can’t even stand up straight!”

“But still, he’s--”

“I know who he is,” said Jun-Ho sharply and produced a pair of matching brass knuckles from the back of his jeans. “But not even the Black Dog can bite after all the beating he’s been fed. Can you even feel your face, Jung-Hyun?”

“Jung-Hyun!” you called out, desperately digging your naked heels into the concrete floor as you tried to tear yourself out of the men’s grip. “I’m not leaving without you!”

“Just go.”

His voice was gentle, almost painfully so. You nearly wrung every muscle in your neck in your attempt to look back at him as the two men forcefully pulled you into the hallway, but caught nothing but a reassuring nod from Jung-Hyun before a blindfold covered your vision. You punched and kicked and struggled, causing both of the men to swear profusely, but managed in the end nothing. You were bound, gagged and carried away and upward with tears soaking through the thick strip of fabric wound around your head.

“(Y/N) bit someone - mind telling me who it was?”

That was the last you heard of Jung-Hyun before a door closed behind you, and his familiar voice - and presence - was no longer.

Your fighting spirit withered. What could you do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for sending a prayer to the universe that Jung-Hyun would be alright. That he wouldn’t die or have to suffer before you would come back to him.

Because once you got out, you were going to invest every won Phoenix Inc. had in order to find and save him.

The loud, cheerful sounds from the TV were so alien to you, you suddenly fell in a daze. Because it felt like you were hallucinating. Perhaps you really had lost your mind in the blackness and were nothing but dreaming at the moment. Perhaps the sharp smell of cigarette smoke and the heavy sweetness of soju and beer and something else was just a figment of your imagination.

Perhaps the feeling of being carried up another set of stairs was just your delusional mind playing a trick on you.

Wake up, you told yourself. Wake up, you crazy woman. Wake up!

But you didn’t. No matter how hard you tried, the whole world remained dark. No matter how hard you tried to envision yourself back in the pitch black room that had been your prison for who knows how long, you couldn’t regain consciousness.

That’s when the horrific realization dawned upon you - you weren’t dreaming. You were in reality.

And the two men weren’t taking you outside.

With a terror you could have never imagined even in your worst nightmares, you wriggled and struggled against the men, who were holding you like you were a heavy package. The man holding you by your legs dropped you as you managed to get in a nice kick with both of your feet and all the strength you managed to muster. You yelled into the gag as your heels collided against the hard edge of a step on the staircase, but the pain was still overshadowed by your fear. It felt like there was a tiny crawling creature growing rapidly inside your stomach, like those monsters from the Alien movies, and it was doing its best to eat its way out of your chest. You would have actually almost preferred that, because at least the fear would have escaped your body and would no longer be your problem.

But now, it simply stayed in your system, suffocating you, consuming you up from the inside.

“Fuck! Stay still, you bitch!”

A punch in your stomach nearly made you throw up. Your throat stung as the taste of bile filled your mouth, and you knew you would have puked if you had more food in your stomach.

“Mmm!”

Despite your breathlessness, you managed to muster a scream as a pair of hands returned to your legs. You screamed again, until it felt like your lungs would collapse, yet you still couldn’t even drown out the sounds coming from the TV below.

Or the growing sounds of people - men - conversing.

“We’ve brought her!”

You groaned as you were thrown onto what felt like a rugged carpet. Your cheek and knees burned against the scratchy material, and the smell of something sour penetrated your nostrils. Although you tried your best to situate yourself upright, you couldn’t do more than just lay there on your stomach. An unnatural silence fell around you and even the TV sounded like it was several miles away.

Because you knew you were far from alone.

Your heart slammed harder against the inner side of your ribcage than ever, and you could hear your blood rushing through your ears as the silence continued. You felt several pairs of eyes on you, and the sensation made your skin crawl with unease.

Please, just be a dream.

But it still wasn’t.

You felt like a prey that had wandered straight into a group of predators. An immobilized, defenseless prey in a den of hungry, greedy predators with no sense of human morals and ethics. You couldn’t even see. You couldn’t even talk.

You could only hear and feel their hands.

Of course, you tried everything. You tried to roll out of range even though it felt like your shoulders were going to dislocate. You tried to get the gag out of your mouth in order to bite whoever and whatever came near. You tried to kick and squirm and pose as much of a threat as you could.

However, all that your struggles rewarded you with was a continued series of laughter. Raw, cold laughter that couldn’t possibly belong to another human.

“Should we take off the gag?”

“Gag stays,” said a second voice. “The fuck are you looking at me like that for? Didn’t Gyoung-Su show you his wound? He nearly lost his finger! You want her to bite off your dick?”

A third voice laughed. “I don’t think Dae-Chul would mind. He always has the craziest girlfriends.”

More laughter. Too many for you to actually place.

“Untie her and hold her down, for fuck’s sake. I can’t get it up when she’s rolling around like a crazy bitch.”

You stopped breathing. You recognized that grouchy voice. It was the man who had carried you down to the basement in the first place.

“Oh? She went still.”

“I think she recognizes your voice, Gyoung-Su! Isn’t that cute?”

There was more laughter, but you barely registered it. A cigarette-heavy breath rolled off your cheek, causing every hair on your body to stand on edge, and a pair of lips brushed against your ear.

“We’ve got a score to settle, you heavy bitch. Or well, I guess I shouldn’t call you that since you don’t look so heavy anymore. I think I actually like how you look now.”

You felt the fabric grow wet against your eyes again, even more so than earlier, and your body started shaking uncontrollably in terror. You couldn’t even flinch away from him as you felt a hand ghost down your back and squeeze your backside.

“Aw, fuck, Gyoung-Su! How can you be that close to her? She stinks all the way from here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could fuck her even if I got paid.”

“Don’t be pussies,” said the grouchy-voiced man whose name you now knew was Gyoung-Su. “I know you’re afraid of what the boss will say, but if we all keep out mouths shut about it, he won’t know. And to ensure that you pussies keep your word, you need to stick your dick in her. Now untie her!”

“But isn’t she still a hostage?” It was the younger man’s voice, the guy who had untied you and taken away the blindfold and gag when you first were brought to the basement. “And what about Yoo-Jin?”

“Boss’ bitch is sleeping with earphones on as usual. She won’t hear anything.”

“Haven’t you watched the news lately, kid? Her company is on the border of ruins! Her family will never be able to pay the ransom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Phoenix Inc. in ruins? How could that have happened? Was it because you had been kidnapped? But no, your parents could have just stepped in again, even if it risked your father’s health. It couldn’t be something like that.

“Yeah, and even if they will, it won’t be soon. We’d all have to work our fucking asses off for the rest of our lives to pay that stupid amount.”

“Doesn’t that make you mad, though? This rich bitch probably spent that amount every week. Enough money for a whole family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Don’t you think she should pay for her greed?”

“Well,” said the younger man’s voice. “I guess you can put it that way…”

“That’s more like it. Now shut your mouth unless you want your hyungs to do it for you.”

You didn’t know how many pairs of hands struggled with your plastic ropes, but you were determined, despite your crippling fear, to not just give in. You couldn’t lose this battle without a proper fight. In fact, if you just managed to kick or punch someone, you would allow yourself the win.

You would allow yourself to forget what was surely going to happen to you.

You weren’t able to do either of those things, however. For just before the ropes came loose, which was the moment you had waited to pounce, a cold, metal piece pressed against your left shoulder blade.

“I know what you’re thinking, bitch,” said Gyoung-Su. “But you’re not going to do anything unless you want a bullet through your spine. Or--” the cold sensation moved upward, toward your head, and stopped on your bottom. “--here. Understood?”

You nodded so frantically the tip of your nose scratched against the mat, completely choked up with fear to even utter a yelp.

“Good. Now, who wants--”

Gyoung-Su wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Because as soon as the pressure from the pistol disappeared, you counted to two and punched in the direction of his voice, which had still been close to your ear. Even though your strike had been in an awkward, backswing angle, you still felt something relatively soft bend underneath your knuckles. Something warm sprayed across your knuckles, and although you had begun scrambling to your knees in order to further hit Gyoung-Su in a blind but desperate rage, a pair of hands managed to catch fistfuls of your hair. Another pair grabbed your wildly swinging arms and held them over your head.

You yelled into the fabric inside your mouth as you were dragged away from a howling Gyoung-Su, but it was more out of disappointment than pain. You wanted to hurt him so much more. Until the point he couldn’t even open his mouth anymore. Until you could get rid of the disgusting feeling coating every cell that he had touched.

“Fuck, is she really a conglomerate heiress? She’s fucking insane!”

“Yeah, I’m not touching her.”

A tiny ray of hope illuminated your fear-clouded heart. This was good. If they thought you were too disgusting and crazy to touch, then you would be safe. You would probably still not be able to get out of there since you were still blind. But at least they would take you down to the basement, back to Jung-Hyun, where you could together plan an escape. You were going to survive this.

However, even that tiny ray was extinguished as a third voice spoke.

“Are you kidding? These are the fun ones!”

To your horror, someone started forcing up your skirt while the two men who had grabbed your hands and hair respectively grabbed you with renewed strength. You attempted to worm out of their clutches, but they weren’t underestimating your strength anymore and held you so hard you lost feeling in your scalp and hands. Tears gathered anew in the corners of your eye as a sickly sweet soju breath washed over your nose, and it was only barely you managed to dodge away from the mouth that accompanied that breath. The man didn’t seem to mind, however. He started licking your cheek, his stubble scratching your skin like microscopic razor blades, while he forced his body between your legs. Your muffled screams turned into pitiful sobs as the sound of an unbuckling belt reached your ears, and the already bottomless dread inside your chest tripled as he merely snickered in response.

“This is going to hurt, little heiress. But don’t hold back - I like hearing your voice.”

You wished you could have just passed out due to all the panic accumulating within you. You wished there was some kind of mental technique that you could use to just turn off all your senses. You wished you could die on command, and as the man’s fingers reached the waistband of your underwear, you screamed at your heart to stop beating.

And suddenly, you felt nothing.

For a moment, you really thought you had died. You had heard stories about ancient warriors and devoted servants who were able to kill themselves using nothing but mental strength, but you had thought those were nothing but legends. Had you perhaps been stupid for thinking that?

No. Reality soon settled when you realized the faint pounding sound in the back of your head was the rhythm of your heart. However, nobody was holding you down and you were able to squeeze your legs together again. There was another distant sound, a wet, repeating sound that crystallized the more you focused on it. Still, you couldn’t fully put your finger on what it was.

Not until you reached up for your blindfold and untied it.

The room you found yourself in was in utter chaos. Rotting furniture, dirty clothes, soju bottles, beer cans, empty takeaway boxes lay scattered everywhere. Moonlight poured in through the barred windows, drenching everything in a pallid light, and the sour smell of old sweat and spilled alcohol, mixed with something darker, something heavier, something metallic made you wrinkle your nose. And it wasn’t difficult to understand why.

For spread throughout the room, just like the rotting furniture, dirty clothes, soju bottles, beer cans and empty takeaway boxes, were the bodies of fourteen men.

Their balaclavas had all been torn off. Some wore guises of shock, others of fear while one or two looked like they had expected to die. Among the lattermost was the owner of the younger male’s voice, whose eyes you recognized. Nobody moved.

All except for one.

You didn’t know who it was. If it was Gyoung-Su, or the man who had pulled up your skirt. It did not matter, though.

Because nobody, not even the two of them, deserved the ruthless, methodical beating Jung-Hyun inflicted on them.

“Jung-Hyun?”

Even though the tape had made a loud tearing sound in the deathly silent that dominated the whole house, which you realized it was, he didn’t react. It wasn’t until you spoke his name that he froze, mid-punch.

“Jung-Hyun?” you whispered again.

“I saved him for last. The man who was on top of you.”

You shivered, but not because you were cold. Because although you understood mentally that it was Jung-Hyun who had replied, it didn’t feel like him. It felt like another person, a stranger, had replaced him. It felt as if though he was possessed.

“Okay,” you said as you shakily pulled down your skirt and got to your feet. “But don’t you think you’ve done enough? He’s barely breathing.”

“Yes. I wanted to drag this out for as long as I could.”

“Please,” you pleaded and took a tentative step toward him. “It’s enough, Jung-Hyun. Please stop.”

“I will. But not yet.”

And with that, he slammed the man’s head into the edge of a table. First once, then twice. Then again when a piece of the table broke. Then again when that piece broke. Then against the floor.

Jung-Hyun kept going until there no longer was a head you could distinguish.

When his grip of the man’s neck finally loosened, it almost felt reluctant. His face was shadowed by his own silhouette, but you saw that he kept looking at the bloody and beaten body. Like he was waiting for it to just rise again. Or perhaps secretly wishing it would.

Just so that he could break him again.

However, when Jung-Hyun finally turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes. Tears of relief, sadness, shock - perhaps all of them combined.

He reached out for you with a blood-soaked hand. “(Y/N)--”

The next word never reached your ears. Because in that instant, your whole world was torn asunder by a sound so loud your hearing went missing temporarily.  

A gunshot.

And as Jung-Hyun crumbled to the ground, his face locked in pain, he revealed the shooter standing behind him.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 14: Awake

Darkness. It was the first thing you experienced as you slowly came to. The second thing you sensed was a pounding headache assaulting your mind from every angle. The pain was rivaled only by the severe nausea in your gut - a nausea that threatened to overwhelm you as the ground beneath you suddenly fell away. You could feel that someone had lifted you in their arms, but your brain was clogged with broken notions, dulled emotions and haphazard images that could have been both dream and reality, making it hard--no, impossible to form a coherent thought.

However, it didn’t take many seconds for you to realize that you had been blindfolded, muffled and tied both to your hands and feet.

The discovery made your panic levels skyrocket. Your whole body tensed, and low murmurs instantly shot past you. You were too dizzy to distinguish their words, but the few voices - you couldn’t tell how many - you heard were definitely male - and unfamiliar.

Your heart started racing. You tried your best to struggle against the arms that had lifted you, but their grip around you tightened to the point that it hurt. Despite the unknown fabric in your mouth, you attempted to scream, but a blinding pain shot through your jaw as you tried moving it and nothing but a weak yelp came out.

In any other situation, you might have actually had a decent chance of wriggling away, but your body felt just as sluggish and difficult to control as your mind. Your current condition and sense of powerlessness reminded you of the heavy haze that came with drinking - only ten times worse.

It felt like someone stabbed you in the back of your head as you tried to recall your latest memory. You knew you were forgetting something, something absolutely vital. Yet every time your thoughts solidified somewhat, they dispersed among the dozens upon dozens of questions swirling inside your head. What happened? Where were you? Who had taken you? Why did your shoulders ache? How long had you been bound? Was this some kind of morbid surprise that your mother had manufactured?

Initially, you had been able to smell water and wet asphalt, which probably meant you were being carried outside. However, shortly after the unintelligible mumbling died down, the cool, manufactured breeze of an air-conditioned room brushed past your legs and the characteristic jingle from a popular TV show filled your ears. What little hope you harbored came crumbling down, and cold sweat dampened your back as you heard the door lock not too long afterward.

“Mmm!”

Despite the mind-numbing pain shooting through your jaw, you tried to scream, but the fabric inside your mouth absorbed practically everything. You tried to push it out using your tongue, but all you felt was a slight, stinging pressure against both of your cheeks. Understanding that your mouth had been taped over, you shifted your energy elsewhere.

“Stop squirming or I’ll drop you down the stairs.”

You froze. The threat in the man’s grouchy, low voice was so palpable, you almost wished you wouldn’t have been able to understand him.

Breaking a couple of bones would have been preferable to the paralyzing fear taking hold of your body.

There was a grunt and then the man started moving again. When he had mentioned stairs, you automatically thought of a second-story building. However, as the temperature gradually dropped and the musty smell of dirt and dust entered your nostrils, you realized to your great horror that the man was walking you into a basement.

You didn’t struggle, though. Most of your energy had already been expended, and that in itself terrified you further. Why were you so tired? Why couldn’t you remember anything?

What was going on?

“Ah, hyung!”

It was a lighter voice; a younger man’s voice. The man holding you stopped in his tracks. “Where should I put her?” he grumbled.

“In here.”

“We really keeping them together?”

“The other rooms have windows.”

There was a snort. “Could Yoo-Jin be more fucking useless? She had one job.”

“Hyung, you shouldn’t talk about the boss’ girlfriend like that…”

“You gonna snitch on me, or what?”

“Of course not! It’s just--”

“Then shut your mouth. What about��him ? Is he in there?”

“Yeah, they dragged him back half an hour or so ago. He’s out of it, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

The grip around your shoulder and knees tightened abruptly. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t take on Jung-Hyun?”

It felt like someone punched you in the chest. Fragments of your thoughts crystallized into real memories, and you remembered vaguely stepping into a taxi together with Jung-Hyun. Although you didn’t remember what you had spoken about, you recalled feeling utterly distraught - before everything slowly faded away in an unnatural sleep.

What had really happened to you and Jung-Hyun?

“No.” The younger male sounded a bit frightened, but you thought you discerned a hint of admiration in his tone, too. “He’s never lost in the Ring.”

The man holding you snorted. “What was his record? Two times two? Two times three?”

“Twelve times twelve, with no rules restrictions.”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“It’s true, hyung!” blurted the younger male voice. “I was there myself when it happened. That guy is not human.”

“Enough.” Though the level of grouchiness in his voice remained the same, you could physically feel that the heartbeats of the man holding you had increased in speed. “Open the door for me. Bitch is heavier than she looks and I’ve got a beer waiting for me.”

Even though you tried once more to slip out of the man’s arms, all that your struggles rewarded you with was a squeeze hard enough to make tears form in the corners of your eyes. Despite this, you didn’t give up. The man holding you swore several times but didn’t completely drop you. Instead, he managed to lower you, albeit brusquely, onto cold, hard concrete floor. Pain coursed through your legs and backside as you collided with the floor, but you were still surprised by the man’s carefulness as he leaned you against what felt like a wall.

“Hyung, should we just leave her here like this?”

The younger man’s voice was filled with concern and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. Although you were sitting in a position that was nowhere near comfortable, it was probably still the most comfortable way you could be since your arms were bound tightly behind your back and your knees and ankles were tied.

His hyung’s voice wasn’t very worried as he responded, however, and was already fading away from hearing range. “That bitch bit me earlier.”

“Really?”

“I had to punch her twice in the face before she let go. So if you want an excuse to hit the richest heiress in the country, then sure go ahead. But I wouldn’t harm her more than necessary.”

So that’s why your jaw hurt like no other. Though it made you glad to hear that you had posed somewhat of a fight, that happiness was overshadowed by the fear you felt.

For you did not remember anything after the taxi ride.

You heard the sound of a door open, and then more of the happy, high-energy atmosphere from the variety show before the same door shut again. A long period of silence fell, but you couldn’t relax. Partly because of the situation in itself, and partly because you still felt like someone was looking at you.

Your suspicions were confirmed when nearly soundless footsteps drew nearer. You wanted to get away, but since you could neither speak nor see nor even squirm, you merely stiffened. Panic threatened to make your airways constrict, and you could hear yourself breathing rapidly through your nose.

“I’m not going to hit you.”

Suddenly, the muddy silhouette of a head entered your vision. You blinked numerous times and found yourself in a small, dark room, the only available light spilling in from the hallway outside. A balaclava-covered face came into focus and you flinched, knocking the back of your head painfully against the wall directly behind you.

The man sat crouched before you, covered from head to toe in clothes that cloaked any possible identifying marks. He held up a strip of fabric that you guessed had been the blindfold and spoke in the younger male’s voice. “I’m going to pull off the tape and untie you if you promise to be good.”

No way. You didn’t care if you had to go for cheap things like his eyes or crotch, you were going to attack him the very second you were free.

“It’s not going to work.”

Perhaps reading the defiance in your eyes and catching you glancing at the open door to your right, the man shook his head. “The guys upstairs will stop you before you can go anywhere.”

You hadn’t planned on going upstairs. There were windows in the basement, right? So long as you could find one, you would squeeze through one. You didn’t care if you would have to break bones in order to fit.

“And well, I might be a bit soft-hearted but I still have this.”

Your heart stopped and your whole body froze as the man pulled out a pistol. Since there was a hard ban on guns and similar armed weapons in South Korea, you understood immediately that he and his companions had to have quite a bit of influence for him to possess a pistol. It wasn’t just random guys or street thugs that had brought you into that basement.

With the pistol never straying far away from your chest, the man freed you from both the gag and the hard plastic ropes around your wrists, knees and ankles. Relief flowed through your legs, but your shoulders ached as they were finally allowed returned to their normal position. Tears flooded your eyes, but you forced them all down. You weren’t going to cry in front of this man or anyone of his accomplices. You refused to break.

At least, that’s what you told yourself until the man rose. For through his legs, you saw another figure sitting slumped against the wall, completely motionless. With his head and torso bowed forward, you couldn’t discern his face in the gloom, but you didn’t have to see his face to know that it was Jung-Hyun.

Which is why all the blood on his clothes made you cry.

Although you were too frightened to do or say anything while the gun was still aimed at you, you immediately scrambled toward him after the unknown man left. If there was a light in the room, you did not know, but the man didn’t leave one on before he disappeared. You therefore crawled in the direction where you remembered seeing Jung-Hyun. Yes, crawled. You didn’t know how long you had been tied up and left unmoving, but your muscles screamed at the tiny effort it took you to merely walk on your fours. The urge to lie down and allow your limbs to stretch out and rest nearly brought you to tears in itself.

Not that more tears would really make a difference, considering the heavy taste of saltwater in your mouth.

Even though you knew you should have expected it, you jumped as your hands came in contact with the rubbery material of sneakers. Tentatively, you moved your hand upward until you felt the soft material that sweatpants are made of, and squeezed gently.

“Jung-Hyun?”

There was no reply. The worst case scenario struck your mind, and you were almost rendered breathless from the pain that your pounding heart caused you. Carefully, you shuffled closer until you touched skin.

“Hey, Jung-Hyun?” you tried while trying your best not to let desperation permeate your hoarse voice. “Wake up.”

Silence. You bit down on your lip in order not to let out the terrified sound awaiting in the back of your throat and inched closer. Grasping his shoulders, you shook him weakly.

“Jung-Hyun,” you whispered. “Wake up, please .”

A few seconds passed. Then, there was finally a response.

“...(Y/F/N)?”

If you hadn’t been locked inside a dark room in the basement who knows where, you would have laughed in relief. However, seeing how things were, you merely smiled and threw your arms around his neck and shoulders.

“You’re alive!” you mumbled between sniffles.

Almost hesitantly, a hand came to rest on your back. “Am… am I dreaming?”

Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice was hoarser than yours but also uncharacteristically gentle. You wished there would have been some kind of light, even from a candle, so that you could inspect him closer. There was an unnerving amount of iron in the air, and the sharp scent had only grown stronger when you embraced him.

“I’m real,” you told him. Again, you would have probably laughed at the exchange in any other scenario, but you couldn’t just then. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to laugh again.

“But why? Why are you here?”

For the first time since meeting Jung-Hyun, something akin to fearful desperation clutched his voice. You disentangled yourself and vainly searched the blackness for his eyes.

“I think you know that better than me,” you said after a hesitant beat. “You know them, right? The people that brought us here.”

An even longer pause followed before the reply came. “Yes. They’re the Hwan Song Sung Pa’s Seoul sub unit. I’ve met almost all of them before except their leader.”

Cold fingers coiled around your throat, but even though your head still pounded the answer was expected. Still, you tried to bring the mood up. “So, is this the way you greet old colleagues in the gangster world? By… kidnapping?”

“No. This is a treatment they save only for special occasions.”

“Ah, so it’s the gangster way of celebrating birthdays and weddings?”

“More like funerals.”

Despite the dark message, a hint of humor shone through the somberness of Jung-Hyun’s voice. And so, even though your tears had yet to dry, you found yourself chuckling.

Soon, a second hand brushed awkwardly against your mouth. Despite the predicament you were in, a warmth spread across your face as Jung-Hyun’s fingers slowly, methodically moved across your face. You found yourself mimicking his motion, gingerly touching every angle and hard line of his countenance. More than once, your fingertips swept over an unnatural bulge, but it took you several seconds before you realized what they were. However, before you could ask him about his swollen skin and what were surely bruises, you whimpered.

Jung-Hyun’s fingers had done no more than follow the right side of your jaw, yet the blinding pain returned. Your jaw had smarted while you spoke, but it was more of a faint, budding ache. As soon as he had reached a certain point, however, new tears streamed down your eyes and you withdrew.

“You’re injured.”

“It was the guy who brought me in just now,” you replied as you quickly wiped your eyes. “Apparently, I bit him and wouldn’t let go. Not that I remember when or where that happened.”

“Who?”

You frowned. “Does it really matter? It’s not like we can do anything right now.”

You had to stop yourself from adding “Or ever” to the sentence. As much as it scared you, you frankly had little hope of getting away now that you had seen the unknown man’s gun. Nobody could run from a bullet.

“We are not going to remain here forever. So tell me: who hit you?”

You swallowed. Jung-Hyun’s words did little to encourage you, but there was a never before heard element in his voice suddenly.

An emotionless threat.

Even though you felt that it wasn’t aimed at you, it still made the hairs on your neck stand on their ends. “I was blindfolded all the way here,” you said. “Another guy took it off, but he was still wearing one of those ski masks, you know? The black masks all robbers wear in the movies.”

“Would you recognize his voice?”

“Maybe,” you lied. Of course, you’d recognize his voice.

“That’s all we need.”

“Jung-Hyun,” you started, then stopped yourself. Why were you calling him by only his name? As far back as you could remember, you had always addressed him as “oppa”. Why did that word suddenly sound wrong?

“Yes?”

Probably having taken your abrupt silence as a pause for him to speak, Jung-Hyun’s tone was expectant. Or well, as expectant as his stiff, somber voice could be. You couldn’t believe how normal he sounded while you barely could keep your fear out of your voice.

“What happened before this?” you wondered.

“Can you not remember?”

“No.” You grabbed your head. “I think… I think we were riding a taxi before this, but I can’t recall why or when. I don’t even remember what happened before that taxi ride. Where were we going? Where are we right now? How much time has passed? When did you get here?”

“I don’t know where we are or why we were separated. And although I can’t say for certain, I would say that we stepped into that taxi at least twenty-four hours ago. As for where we were going and what happened before that… do you really not remember?”

You furrowed your brows at the sudden strain in his tone. “No,” you said.

“...I see.”

“Well?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

The weight of Jung-Hyun’s hand disappeared from your back and you heard him shift away from you. Invisible claws raked across your chest, and the feeling that you were forgetting something vital threatened to suffocate you. But before you could say anything, however, Jung-Hyun spoke again.

“You’re a hostage now, (Y/N).” His stiff, somber voice was carefully composed as he spoke, with neither humor nor anger coloring it. “They’re going to use you to make money, and lots of it. I want you to listen to what they tell you and obey without making a fuss about it. If you do, they’re not going to harm you.”

“What about you?” you asked, not missing the fact that he had mentioned only you.

He didn’t reply.

“Jung-Hyun…”

You crawled closer and reached out for him, but when you touched him this time, Jung-Hyun flinched. You heard the shuffling of him moving even further out of range, and swallowed down the lump in your throat. Why was he rejecting you when he, just a minute ago, had been caressing your face? Why wouldn’t he tell you where you had been taking the taxi?

And why did it feel like you had hurt him more than you would ever be able to understand?

“I’m not a hostage,” said Jung-Hyun finally.

“How injured are you?” you asked with a concerned frown. “I remember that we were attacked in the alley and that you were… wounded. That cannot have healed already.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Just tell me,” you insisted. “One of the men who brought me told his friend that you were unconscious when they dragged you here, like you had been knocked unconscious earlier. He also mentioned something about ‘the Ring’.”

You didn’t have to see to know that Jung-Hyun had stiffened. You could sense it in how the atmosphere abruptly changed.

“What did you hear about the Ring?”

“It sounded like some competition you had been part of, once,” you said. “And that your record was ‘twelve times twelve, with no rules restrictions’. What does that mean?” you added when he wouldn’t say anything. “What is the Ring?”

“It’s an underground fighting area. I fought there for two years to earn money quickly when I was younger.”

“‘Younger’, meaning?”

“Seventeen.”

That was eleven years ago. You had been nine years old then, and probably been busy studying and eating fruits that your grandmother had peeled for you.

Oh, how people’s lives could be different.

“But how did you make money?” you wondered. “I mean, since it’s illegal, I’m guessing not that many people would know about it.”

You felt Jung-Hyun’s eyes on you. “By bets, mostly. And you’d be surprised by the amount of ‘average’ people who knows about it.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “What about your record? Both of the men seemed incredibly impressed.”

“There’s an annual event where the organizers choose fighters who have performed particularly well over the past year to challenge multiple opponents at once. The fighters then have to announce the number of opponents you want to meet times the number of rounds you want to fight that same amount.”

“Are there any rules?”

“No sharp weapons or projectiles. Fighting stops after the fighter, or challenger as they are called during this event, either wins or loses consciousness. A judge will step in and determine once the latter occurs.”

“Why would you ever participate in something like that?”

“Money. The more people you fight, the more money you get. But then, if you lose, you’ll lose the same amount of money that you would win.”

“It’s a scam,” you said as realization dawned upon you.

“Yes.”

“But that didn’t stop you. Twelve by twelve… does that mean you fought twelve people at once? And that, twelve times in a row? Without any rules?”

“Yes.”

You dropped your jaw. “Impossible.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t answer.

“How?” you asked, reflecting the same disbelief the man who had carried you had portrayed. “That sounds like the plot of some bad action movie.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“I was a different person then,” he said in a neutral tone. “A person I would never have wanted you to meet.”

“But I want to know more about you,” you said truthfully, your thoughts suddenly veering in Jungkook’s direction. Strangely, at the thought of him, a faint ache spread across your chest, starting from your heart, and grew stronger and stronger. You clutched your blouse, happy for the pitch black room for once, and tried not to make yourself heard as you breathed through your nose.

“(Y/N), did something happen?”

So much for discretion. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m just getting frustrated since I can’t remember much.”

Was this how Jungkook had felt during the amnesia? Like your memories were shattered and you were busy piecing together the pieces? Or well, it wasn’t as if though all of your memories were gone, but that in itself made it even scarier.

You didn’t know how much you could not remember.

The conversation ended there. Even though you wanted to pursue the topic of Jung-Hyun’s career - if one could call it that - in the Ring in order to further understand him and thus the strained, occasionally even hostile dynamic between him and Jungkook, you didn’t. It had eased some of your stress to talk to him, despite the pain in your jaw, but as the gravity of the situation once more settled in, accompanied by Jung-Hyun’s sudden withdrawn disposition, you felt your heart sink.

Honestly, you were terrified.

The lack of illumination actually felt nice. The cold, on the other hand, didn’t.

It seeped through the floor into your bottom and naked feet. The first few minutes, it wasn’t so unpleasant, since you had been sweating ever since you woke up. But since you had no choice but to sit against the wall due to your exhaustion, the cold concrete assaulted your skin from two angles. Your fine blouse did nothing to warm you, and your skirt only reached to your knees, leaving your calves brushing against the dirty floor. Perhaps if you would have had your blazer, you wouldn’t have been shivering the way you were, but it was gone.

“(Y/N)?”

You had almost fallen asleep. “Yeah?” you said, blinking even though there was nothing to look at.

“Your teeth are clattering.”

“Sorry,” you said quickly and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

“You’re freezing.”

Seeing no point in lying, you nodded. “Unfortunately.”

A pause. You were on the border of nodding off again when Jung-Hyun replied.

“Would you like me to warm you?”

Coming from anyone but him it would have sounded like a cheesy pick-up line or a joke. However, Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice was serious - and genuine.

And so, you said yes.

Guiding yourself using the length of the wall, you carefully approached Jung-Hyun. You weren’t very quick, but it still took longer than you had expected to feel the softness of his - or rather, your father’s old - sweatpants. The realization that he purposefully had separated himself so far from you pained you, but you shoved the issue aside. You couldn’t afford the luxury to be a bit petty about that right then and there.

You positioned yourself so that you sat next to Jung-Hyun. You knew he was wearing only a t-shirt, but it still felt as if though you were leaning against a radiator as your arm touched his. Perhaps surprised by your cold skin, you felt him tense for a second. But then, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around you.

Thankful, you opened your mouth to say something. Jung-Hyun, who had remained quiet during your slow progression, cut in, however.

“I apologize.”

You furrowed your brows slightly. “About what?”

“If only you had never met me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t think like that,” you said quickly.

“But it’s true.”

“No, it’s not,” you said firmly. “And no, don’t you try,” you added when you felt him take a breath. “Not unless you want to earn a punch.”

“Understood.”

You two were quiet after that. You wanted to ask Jung-Hyun about his injuries again, seeing as how he deftly avoided that subject earlier. You wanted to ask him what was going to happen, if you were going to get fed and access to a bathroom or if this room - and starvation - was all that you could expect in the near future.

You scratched your arm. Near future. How long was that? What did it mean? You couldn’t see the sun from where you were confined, and you doubted your captors would provide you with a clock. Had one day passed since you were free, just like Jung-Hyun had said? Or had more days elapsed?

And were you stuck down here in this cold, empty darkness forever?

“You’ll get out of here one way or another. I swear it.”

Startled, you stared in the direction of Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice. “How did you…?”

“I’m thinking the same thing.”

“You’re getting out of here, too, then.”

Jung-Hyun paused. “If you say so.”

The doubt in his tone was obvious. You grasped his arm gently and, after a moment of hasty contemplation, placed your hands in his.

“I promise,” you whispered as you gripped his hand. “We’re both getting out of here. Together. I’m not leaving without you, alright?”

“(Y/N)...”

“Alright?” you repeated.

It took a while, but Jung-Hyun eventually returned your grip. “Alright,” he echoed.

You couldn’t tell whether he was being honest with you or not, and the lack of visual cues didn’t help. But your exhaustion was turning into fatigue, and Jung-Hyun’s body warmth lulled you into sleep within seconds. Without really able to control it, you clung to that warmth, weariness peeling away all sense of manners or propriety, and rapidly slipped away into unconsciousness.

All the while you heard Jung-Hyun counting numbers quietly to himself.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 13: The Plan

I barely slept that night. Partly because the stuffy summer weather had a tendency to crawl into my room and partly because I was so concerned I hadn’t been able to get food down my throat. My stomach was growling furiously where I lay in my bed, upset not only over my skipped breakfast and lunch but also dinner, yet simultaneously, the mere thought of food sickened me.

After all, how could I even think about eating when (Y/N) was missing?

When the 8 am alarm woke me the next day, I doubted I had gotten more than two or three hours of actual sleep. And it felt. My eyes stung like I had thrown acid in them as I washed and got ready for the day - for the meeting - and a pressure underneath my forehead was building steadily up.

Determined to get at least some cereal into my body, I went to the kitchen. Jimin, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin were up and about, but they sent me nothing but hasty smiles as I entered their view. I considered asking Seokjin if Yoongi had returned to their room, but refrained in the end. Even if he wasn’t back, he wouldn’t miss dance practice that day, which meant he wouldn’t miss me.

I think I’ve fallen for (Y/F/N).

My grip around my bowl and spoon tightened as I recalled the events from the day before. Because frankly, (Y/N)’s status hadn’t been the only thing keeping me up all night. I could still not wrap my head around the scenes that had unfolded in the kitchen or in Yoongi’s studio. What the fuck had he be trying to do? I mean, he must have known it would provoke me hearing something like that. It would have provoked anyone.

Despite my anger, however, I couldn’t deny the shame I felt for having punched Yoongi in the face. It ruined the taste of my breakfast. Yet, I was too stubborn to acknowledge it. And so, I forced down the contents of my bowl before my stomach could find the time to protest, then headed out - and toward our dance studio.

Although I would normally have taken a van together with my hyungs, none of them said anything as I unlocked the door and headed out. It was fortunate since I doubted I would have an adequate response, but I was still a bit disappointed that not even Jimin or Taehyung asked me to stay.

During the taxi ride, I browsed the news on my phone. More details surrounding the ongoing investigation regarding Phoenix Inc.’s involvement with the former president had surfaced, and I was disgusted to discover several articles plastered with pictures of (Y/N)’s parents getting off the plane. (Y/N)’s father, who usually portrayed a positive image, bore an uncharacteristically cold guise, while her mother, who seemed to always have her shit very closely and carefully kept together, looked more distraught than I had ever expected to see her. Sympathy rose in my chest; if I was having a difficult time with (Y/N)’s disappearance, they, as parents, had to be on the border of losing it. Plus, with all the uproar rising from the scandal with Phoenix Inc, I couldn’t even imagine being in their shoes.

The dance studio was empty when I arrived. After turning on only the minimum amount of lights, I let out a breath of relief as I got out of my sweatshirt, which was wet from the pouring rain outside, and went to turn on the computer as well as the speakers. When I was done, I connected my phone to the right cable and turned on an old R&B song I felt I could always lean on even when my body wasn’t feeling good.

As the beat began, I felt every muscle in my body relax. I stretched and performed some swift exercises to get my heartbeat and circulation going for a few songs before I went back to the first song and began dancing in earnest. Within seconds, I was gone in my own world, and the experience was so liberating I lost all track of time. It felt like only a few minutes had passed when the door opened and all the lights came on.

My hyungs poured into the dance studio, one by one, and though we greeted each other like any ordinary day, things had definitely changed. The fact that Yoongi and I pretended like we hadn’t seen each other didn’t exactly help. The atmosphere was a lot tenser than normal, and the choreographer must have noticed, for he kept telling us to raise our energy levels. I tried to keep up a good facade, but I was getting so annoyed that I was frankly glad when I told the choreographer I had to leave for a meeting. I felt my hyungs’ eyes on me as I grabbed my water bottle and sweatshirt, particularly Namjoon’s, but did my best to ignore it as I left.

By the time I reached the boardroom, I could overhear small conversations from within the boardroom even though it was still a few minutes left. My heart sank to my feet when I heard Yi-Jae’s bright laughter flutter through the air, and I froze outside the doors, which were slightly ajar.

This was it. I had to do it; I had to speak up for myself.

Inhaling deeply, I gathered myself and slid through the doors. A long table stood in the center of the board room, allowing room for up to sixteen people. Around the end of the table that was furthest away from the door sat three people: Bang Si-Hyuk, Yi-Jae and her head manager, Jung Joo-Sung.

I had never liked Yi-Jae’s head manager. He was needlessly strict about things and had been rude on more than one occasion, both toward me and other people around Yi-Jae. I couldn’t even say anything in response to his behavior either since he was the younger brother of the CEO of ESStar’s company, INU Entertertainment.

All small talk was strangled as their eyes immediately turned my direction. Fighting back a wave of awkwardness, I bowed before I spoke. “Hello.”

“Ah, shut the door after you, Jungkook.” Bang Si-Hyuk gestured toward the chair next to him and opposite Yi-Jae and her manager. “You can sit here.”

Obeying, I hurried over and bowed again before Jung Joo-Sung, who regarded me critically over his frameless glasses, before I sank down. Although I rarely felt cold even when I dressed lightly, a chill crept over my frame, forcing me to put on my sweatshirt.

I felt the weight of Bang Si-Hyuk’s eyes on me. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, resisting the urge to take my hand through my hair.

It was quiet for a beat before he continued. “We discussed a bit before you arrived.” He clasped his hands together on the table surface. “And we’ve decided that your--” he looked from Yi-Jae then back at me, “--engagement is going to be officially confirmed.”

Before I could say anything, Jung Joo-Sung interjected.

“Indeed,” he said in a sharp tone I had gotten adjusted to during the previous few times we met. “There’s been plenty of rumors about you two being engaged already. It won’t stir up any trouble if we announce it.”

“I can’t get engaged to her,” I blurted, horrified at the mere thought of it.

A flash of hurt crossed Yi-Jae’s eyes. Nearly drowning in an oversized gray hoodie, Yi-Jae looked thinner than usual. In fact, I could clearly see a difference in her physique compared to last time we met, which was when she’d dropped the pregnancy bomb on me. Her chin and cheekbones were more pronounced than half a year ago, and no amount of makeup in the whole world could hide the dark circles underneath her eyes. On first glance, I would have never been able to tell that she was six months pregnant.

“I don’t know if it’s my child,” I added when Bang Si-Hyuk’s gaze turned inquisitive.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Jung Joo-Sung with a low snort. “Of course it is.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the chair. “I spoke to Kang Shin-Ho yesterday. He confirmed that Yi-Jae cheated on me from the time they were filming the drama to March this year.”

Jung Joo-Sung furrowed his brows and glanced to his side, where Yi-Jae sat. She stared back, completely stunned for what had to be seconds before she reacted.

“He’s lying!” she insisted. “I’ve never done more than speak with him and that was only during filming.”

“He showed me their texts from January,” I said and pulled up my phone. “He even sent me some screenshots of when they agreed to hang out.”

“This is serious,” said Bang Si-Hyuk solemnly and his eyes settled on Yi-Jae. “Is this true?”

Yi-Jae looked desperately up at her manager, but he didn’t budge. Finally, she let out a long sigh and stared down into her lap.

“Alright,” she murmured, her throat thick with emotion. “But that was only because things were going bad between Jungkook and me. I… I would have never reached out to Shin-Ho-oppa otherwise.”

I knew I should have felt bad, especially when she looked at me with tears in her eyes, but I felt nothing. I wasn’t mad at her for cheating on me; I wasn’t relieved that she finally admitted that transgression. I wasn’t disappointed that she’d lied to me; I wasn’t sad that she’d resorted to being with another guy because our relationship wasn’t working out.

In that moment, I just felt empty.

“So, the child…” started Bang Si-Hyuk.

“It’s Jungkook’s,” blurted Yi-Jae with a blush. “I’m a hundred percent certain. I’ve never been with another man.” Her blush deepened.

“But what if it isn’t?” I asked.

Yi-Jae stared at me in disbelief. “Don’t you trust me?”

I shook my head.

“Well,” began Jung Joo-Sung and turned toward Bang Si-Hyuk, “even if it isn’t his child announcing their engagement before the child is born or the rumors get any worse will be the best option for both of our companies. Just imagine the outcry if the child is born and it really is Jungkook’s.”

I wanted to butt in and tell him that it was 2018, but I couldn’t. Not with Bang Shi-Hyuk nodding as solemnly as he did.

“I see your point,” he said. “But what if you’re wrong? If the child isn’t Jungkook’s, your image will crumble. What does your CEO have to say about this?”

“My brother trusts me on this matter,” said Jung Joo-Sung before patting Yi-Jae gently on the shoulder. “And I trust Yi-Jae. She wouldn’t lie to me about something like this.”

“She lied to you about Kang Shin-Ho, didn’t she?” I couldn’t help but say.

Jung Joo-Sung’s eyes narrowed as they found mine, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to either. Bang Si-Hyuk didn’t seem very convinced by my words, and I could see that he was leaning more in the same direction as Yi-Jae’s head manager.

That’s when I decided to finally say it.

“There’s another reason why I can’t get engaged to Yi-Jae.”

Yi-Jae’s focus lifted from her lap, and though her eyes were initially bemused, it didn’t take many seconds for her to realize what I was about to say. Meanwhile, the two men merely seemed confused.

“Go on.”

I cleared my throat and suddenly felt very warm again. “I’m… I…”

“He’s in love with that rich family friend of his. The girl that’s gone missing.”

“ What ?”

I glared at Yi-Jae, but she huffed and looked away. I would have snapped at her, furious over the lack of sympathy in her voice, but was cut off before I could even start.

“So you were cheating on Yi-Jae, too?” asked Jung Joo-Sung, his eyebrows climbing high over his forehead.

“No, actually--”

“Worse,” interrupted Yi-Jae, and though she tried her best to hide it, I very clearly discerned the hurt in her voice. “He used me as some kind of morbid way of making her jealous.”

“Jungkook,” said Bang Si-Hyuk firmly when I paused to calm myself. “You’d better explain yourself now.”

And so I did. Without mentioning my father or other dark details surrounding my childhood, I told them everything about my arranged marriage with (Y/N) but that my feelings long predated the exchanging of rings. Though, I had to admit that it wasn’t with my head held high. Because although Yi-Jae’s words had been sharp, they hadn’t been untrue. They pierced into my heart like tiny needles, harming not only my pride as a guy and person, but also my self-image.

I knew I wasn’t the best there was out there - not even close - but I liked to at least see myself as a good guy. I did what I was told by managers, I practiced as hard as I could both to develop myself as an artist but also an entertainer, and I would always think of my fans. I knew I could be a little immature and selfish and bullheaded at times, but what twenty-year-old - soon-to-be twenty-one-year - wasn’t?

Oh yeah, (Y/N) wasn’t.

Sure, she had a temper and a bit of a violent streak, but she always thought of her parents first, her company second and herself third. And while I had been amnesic, she had put me and my well-being far, far above her own health and opinions. I had hurt her deeply by cheating on her with Yi-Jae, yet still, she had come for me at the hospital in the middle of the night. Yet still, she helped me back on my feet, both figuratively and literally, and returned me onto a path I had dreamed of ever since I was a kid. Looking back, I couldn’t believe how difficult it had to have been for her to handle me in addition to all her other duties.

When I was done, silence befell the boardroom. Yi-Jae’s jaw had dropped sometime during my explanation, but as our eyes locked, she hurriedly closed her mouth and looked elsewhere. She couldn’t hide all of her emotions, however, and I wasn’t surprised to distinguish both shock and confusion and hurt in her eyes. After all, I had never told her the extent of my relationship with (Y/N).

“So,” said Bang Si-Hyuk, eyes wide, “to summarize, you’re currently engaged to Miss (Y/F/N), daughter to the CEO of Phoenix Incorporate?”

“I think she’s already stepped up to the position,” I said. My heart ached at the mention of her name and had ached even while I spoke of her, but I forced the words out anyway. Although (Y/N) was missing, I had to be strong. “And no, we’re not engaged at the moment. But we’re going to.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I slanted a sharp look at Jung Joo-Sung. “With all due respect,” I said as politely as I could, “I think you’re a bit out of line saying something like that. I’m not even a part of your company.”

Jung Joo-Sung took off his frameless glasses to polish them but his eyes never strayed from mine. “I’m thinking about your career,” he said in a tone that would have, in any other circumstance, resembled gentleness and perhaps even sympathy. However, all I heard was the distaste lacing every syllable as he continued. “And of course, the image of your company.” He nodded toward Bang Si-Hyuk.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not bothering to cloak the ice in my voice.

“Haven’t you seen the news lately?”

“I have, actually.”

“Then you should know that Phoenix Incorporate is in a catastrophic situation right now,” said Jung Joo-Sung, aiming his words perhaps more at Bang Si-Hyuk than me. “Not only are their stocks dropping like dog feces, affiliating with them will make everything too politically charged. And although I can understand that you would like to live an easy life and marry the currently richest heiress in South Korea, she’s going to lose all of her company’s holdings and money if the investigation continues to uncover more dirt about their illegal trading business and bribery.”

I swallowed my initial retort, which involved an insult - or ten - and had to pause to breathe before replying. “It’s not about the money or influence,” I said through gritted teeth, then looked at both Yi-Jae and Bang Si-Hyuk, not understanding how they could listen to Jung Joo-Sung talking without reacting. I could see that Bang Si-Hyuk was calculating something in silence as he regarded Yi-Jae’s manager, but Yi-Jae wore an almost insultingly innocent look. As if she didn’t understand - or didn’t want to understand - just how weird the conversation suddenly had become.

“Then what?”

“As Yi-Jae just said,” I said venomously, “it’s about love. I love (Y/F/N), and I’m not going to let her go. Especially not when she’s gone missing.”

“Listen to him,” said Jung Joo-Sung and gave Bang Si-Hyuk an apologetic look. “Young people these days…” When the latter wouldn’t respond, he merely sighed and shifted his attention back toward me. “Look, Jungkook, don’t you understand what I’m trying to do? I’m just trying to help you keep your and your company’s image clean, as well as Yi-Jae’s and ESStar’s and INU Entertainment, alright? I want to help you. And come on, just like you wouldn’t want to board a sinking ship, you shouldn’t want to get near anything even remotely close to Phoenix Inc. and Miss (Y/F/N) and her parents - her father in particular.”

I was standing before I knew it and slammed my palms against the table surface. “Did you seriously just compare (Y/N) and her parents to a sinking ship?” I demanded, anger rushing through my veins like fiery alcohol. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Taken aback by my sudden outburst, Jung Joo-Sung sat glued to his chair, as far away from me as he could get. The fact that he was obviously frightened almost triggered me further. How could he be scared after the bullshit he had just told me? I was a hair’s width away from stepping around the table in order to punch the man but was interrupted - fortunately, or unfortunately - by Bang Si-Hyuk.

“Enough!”

He, too, stood and held out his arm toward me. His face was hard, but underneath his fury, I saw that he was just as startled as Jung Joo-Sung - and even Yi-Jae. She hadn’t uttered a single noise for a while now, and now stared up at me with her eyes wide open.

Before I could say or do something that I would maybe regret, I stalked out of the boardroom. Behind me, I heard Bang Si-Hyuk call for me, but I ignored him and stormed down the hallway, desperate to get away from Jung Jo-Sung - and the horrible, horrible feeling his words had incited within me.

For there was a part of me that couldn’t help but agree.

“Jungkook!”

I didn’t get very far before Yi-Jae caught up to me. She managed to grab my wrist, but I tore myself free without an issue. Refusing to look back despite her pleading, I continued toward the elevators, needing fresh air as soon as possible. Before I went back to the boardroom and did something I would definitely regret.

Unfortunately, what with elevators being what they were, I couldn’t get away from Yi-Jae in time. She slipped inside the car just before the doors closed, wincing slightly when her hoodie momentarily came in contact with the metal. Breathless, she leaned over on her knees as she looked up at me.

“You didn’t have to get so upset,” she said, her fine brows knitting together above her defined nose bridge. “I know he can sound a bit nonchalant, but Joo-Sung-manager was only trying to be honest. And he wouldn’t try that if he didn’t care about you.”

“He cares about you ,” I snarled, unable to stop myself from answering even though I inwardly had promised to stay quiet.

“Yeah, but he knows I care about you so that makes you his priority as well.”

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s some bullshit.”

“Jungkook--”

“Just leave me be. I need air; I don’t need you.”

Yi-Jae opened her mouth but then quickly closed it. She tucked her hair, which she had colored black at the beginning of summer, behind her ears and glanced at the elevator buttons.

Then, without warning, she slammed the emergency STOP button with the flat of her hand.

As the elevator came to a rough halt, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. “What the hell are you doing?” I exclaimed, admittedly with more fear in my voice than I had hoped.

“You and I need to talk.”

I stared at her. “Did you really have to lock me into an elevator to do that?” I wondered, completely incredulous. “What if you destroyed the settings? What if we can’t get out of here?”

Yi-Jae frowned. “Well, if you wouldn’t always try to avoid my texts and calls, this wouldn’t have happened! Damn it, Jungkook, last time I saw you was when I told you about my pregnancy!”

Without answering, I started toward the elevator buttons but she stepped in between. “I’m not letting you touch those buttons until we’ve talked,” she said sternly.

I considered darting past her, but since I didn’t want to risk hurting her, I stayed back. “Are all pregnant women this crazy?” I asked instead.

Her eyes narrowed. “Only when they have a childish and selfish boyfriend.”

There it was again: childish. And a majority of me pushed it out of mind. It was nothing more than a mere coincidence that Yoongi and Yi-Jae both had used that word to describe me.

Yet, there was still a part of me that couldn’t help but wonder if they might actually be right.

“Fine.” I backed away until I hit the wall furthest away from Yi-Jae. “Let’s just get this over with. What do you want?”

“Do you have to talk to me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me,” she said quietly.

Guilt pierced my heart. “I don’t hate you,” I said truthfully and in a lot gentler voice. “It’s just…”

Yi-Jae’s gaze dropped to the elevator floor and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah, right,” she said as she chuckled joylessly. “You… let’s say dislike me because it seems like I’m constantly getting in the way of you and (Y/N).”

It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t a conjecture; it was a simple statement. And a true one.

“Yeah,” I admitted after a pause. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

One of Yi-Jae’s hands flew up to her face and she whirled away from me. A stifled whimper still managed to escape the confines of her fingers, however, and I instantly felt worse for confessing what I had struggled to keep inside ever since I first met her.

“I…” Unsure of whether to approach her or not, I simply stood still. “I’m sorry.”

There was a snort but Yi-Jae wouldn’t turn around yet. “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked with a sniffle. “You’ve played with my heart and my body for more than two years, and this is the apology I get? The apology you think I deserve?”

I pursed my lips. “I really am sorry. What else am I supposed to say?”

Yi-Jae wiped her face but her eyes were still glittering with dampness as she peered over her shoulder. “That you feel something for me. That I mean something to you.”

I swallowed. “But I really don’t feel anything for you. I never have.”

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told her dismissively. “I… I love (Y/N). I always have. That’s all there is to it.”

Yi-Jae flinched but she didn’t back down. Instead, she turned around fully and took a tentative step toward me.

“I’m not saying that you aren’t in love with her.” She couldn’t hide the pain that her sentence inflicted on her but that didn’t stop her from steadily eliminating more and more space between us. “I’m just saying that that doesn’t mean you feel nothing for me.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She suddenly blushed and averted her gaze, stopping half an arm’s length away from me. “I think you’re lying when you say that you’ve never loved me. I think you’re lying when you say that you still don’t feel anything for me.”

For some reason, my heart started beating faster at this. “I’m not,” I said, however.

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine. She regarded me closely for a few seconds, then shook her head. “You’re a really bad liar. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

I stiffened. “No,” I lied.

Despite her teary eyes, a giggle still escaped her lips. “Wow, you’re really bad at it. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Stop this,” I said, more out of fear of my own involuntary reaction than anything else. My heart was probably just acting up because I was exhausted from the inside out. Not because of what Yi-Jae said. Because I couldn’t, I just fucking couldn’t feel anything for her.

Right?

“Jungkook, can you really look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing, absolutely nothing, for me?”

“Of course.”

“Then do it,” she challenged. “Prove that you feel nothing for me.”

“How?”

A small smile spread across her lips. “Kiss me.”

“Very funny.”

Before I slip away and gain some distance, Yi-Jae spoke. “If you kiss me and can tell me honestly that you feel nothing for me, I’ll end all of this. There will be absolutely no talk of engagement from my side and I’ll tell Joo-Sung-manager to try his best and convince Bang Si-Hyuk-huijang-nim.”

I frowned. “But you’ll still force me to be in a relationship with you, right?”

“It’s your son,” answered Yi-Jae instantly, seemingly repelled by my response. “How can you not want to take care of your own child?”

I clenched my jaws. Yi-Jae was offering a gift from the heavens, really. So long as I kissed her one final time and told her I felt nothing for her, I could avoid an engagement with her. And she was right about the child. I was nowhere near mature enough to even consider having a child - to be completely honest, I would have preferred a life completely childless. Comfortability aside, there was this horrible weight on my shoulder as soon as I thought of a baby or kid. The kind of weight no exercise or sleep or fun in the whole world could disintegrate.

Fortunately, there was a smart and easy solution to the child issue.

“I want a paternity test done,” I said. “And I want it done as soon and quickly as possible.”

“Deal.”

For a millisecond, Yi-Jae had hesitated before answering. But the pause went by so quickly, it could have just been my imagination.

“Also,” I said, “I want you to know that our relationship will end the very second I find out the child isn’t mine.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Yi-Jae smiled as she gazed down at her stomach, which was barely noticeable underneath her thick gray hoodie. It wasn’t until when she caressed her midsection that I discerned the slight bump. “He’s yours, I’m a hundred percent sure.”

“I mean it,” I said coolly. Any other guy would have probably felt something more toward the heartwarming side at the thought of their firstborn. And though I wasn’t exactly disgusted, the thought of a child frankly horrified me. “No matter what happens here and now, you and I will be history if someone else is the father.”

Yi-Jae’s eyes were round when they found mine again. “Wait, did you just admit that something might happen right now?”

I swore inwardly. “I was just trying to be as clear as possible,” I lied.

Yi-Jae’s smile widened. “You’re lying again.”

“All I need to do is kiss you, right?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“Kiss me and tell me you don’t have any feelings for me,” she murmured. “Kiss me and tell me the truth.”

I didn’t respond. I was too scared of what my voice would relief if I did. For as soon as I began bending down, I almost jolted in shock. The movement was so natural, so… obvious . It was like I didn’t even have to think about it.

I didn’t even have to think about kissing Yi-Jae.

And despite the fact that I had only gotten involved with Yi-Jae in an attempt to flee from my growing feelings for (Y/N), that wasn’t the case. Not right then. And though our lips touched only momentarily, forming nothing more than a gentle kiss, that in itself said so much more. If I were inexperienced, it would have been awkward and perhaps longer than necessary. If I were appalled by Yi-Jae, it would have been no more than a peck, something even children could exchange.

If I were indifferent to her, I wouldn’t have had a tiny spark ignite within me as soon as our lips locked.

I almost laughed out loud. Was I intentionally trying to fuck myself? Why couldn’t I ever be consistent with what I said and did and felt?

Why couldn’t I be faithful even now when (Y/N) was who the fuck knows where?

When I withdrew, I was on the border of crying. Not because I was sad or upset - I was frustrated. Beyond frustrated. Because how could I tell Yi-Jae I felt nothing? How could I feel something for her when I loved (Y/N)?

How could I lie?

Yi-Jae’s face was flushed and a triumphant light shone in her eyes. She must have probably gauged the answer on my face, however, she said nothing as I turned away from her. If it was out of shock or happiness, I did not know. Either way, I was glad for her silent patience since it allowed me enough time and space to get my mind sorted. I didn’t speak until I was completely sure of what I wanted to have said.

Until I had a plan.

I knew I had to make some kind of public announcement regarding Yi-Jae’s pregnancy, especially since we were “together”. But I couldn’t tell people the truth, which was that I honestly did not know whether the child was mine or not. It would harm the reputation of everyone that was involved - but mostly Yi-Jae. In fact, I was pretty sure it would ruin her career if people found out she had cheated on me as well as gotten a child out of that affair, and that was the last thing I wanted. Because even though that was an archaic way of thinking, I couldn’t deny that it was still very much the main opinion in South Korea yet.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to lie - okay, it might not be a complete lie, but I wouldn’t be telling the public the truth either - and straight out say that the child was mine. Announcing that I was having a child would hurt my image and fans, and I didn’t need news sites reporting on all the details of the child instead of our upcoming album and promotions. However, these were still the least of my problems.

What would (Y/N) think about Yi-Jae’s pregnancy?

And yet, despite all of the above, I couldn’t exactly deny the existence of the child. That would be the worst thing I could do. It would seem like I shied away from responsibility - especially if the child actually proved to be mine.

That would ruin my career.

“Fine,” I said finally and rubbed my nose bridge. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but let’s get engaged.”

“ Really ?” Yi-Jae sounded skeptical, stunned and overjoyed, all at the same time.

I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it all. Get out on talk shows, do interviews - everything. But only on one condition.”

“Anything.”

And so I told her that condition. Even though Yi-Jae tried to protest at first, I refused to back down. I even made a voice recording and told her I would get a lawyer involved unless she followed through on her part. When we finally came to an agreement, she wrapped her arms around me - and I let her.

It was a bit tricky to get the elevator going again, but Yi-Jae managed to get it going before my worry could turn into anxiousness. We returned to the boardroom where I announced the engagement to both Jung Joo-Sung and Bang Si-Hyuk, who both seemed pleasantly surprised over the quick development. Yi-Jae was beaming, and judging by the startled looks I received from all of my hyungs - except for Yoongi - when I returned to the dance studio, so was I.

But inwardly, I was terrified. I had regretted my decision as soon as I opened my mouth in the elevator. As soon as I announced the engagement in the boardroom before both Jung Joo-Sung and Bang Si-Hyuk. As soon as I saw Yoongi’s unreadable guise.

And although I wasn’t the religious type, I sent a prayer that night to whoever might hear that (Y/N) would understand and forgive me - and that my plan would be successful.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 12: Truth

I don’t really know what happened after that. One second, I simply stared, slack-jawed. Nothing but silence reigned around the table, and I practically heard my hyungs’ heartbeats cease in tandem with mine.

But then, I found myself being dragged away from the kitchen by Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok - with warm blood fresh on my knuckles.

Judging by their wide eyes and pale faces, I knew they were beyond shocked by my behavior. Judging by the high-pitched alarm in their voices that they could not conceal, I knew that I was worrying--no, frightening them. Judging by the grim expressions of both Namjoon and Seokjin, who both remained at the table, I knew I was going to have to deal with the chairman very soon.

But I didn’t care.

Because Namjoon was helping Yoongi up - who was wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand.

His eyes were tear-filled, yet just as cold as the rest of his features as he watched me get dragged away. It provoked me anew, and even though reason told me to calm the fuck down, I couldn’t. Without Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok there to hold me back, I don’t think I would have been able to restrain myself.

I would have gladly punched him again if only to get that look out of his eyes.

If only to make him stop regarding me with so much disappointment.

I tried resisting, but I ended up in my room eventually. A part of me was relieved that Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok had managed to rein me in from doing something even more drastic - something truly inexcusable - but a part of me was still beyond pissed and wanted nothing to do with their calming motions and low voices. And they seemed to realize that very soon, for it didn’t take many seconds for them to leave me - but not before they left me with a warning.

“Don’t leave your room.”

I glared at Hoseok from where I stood by my desk, completely stiff from head to toe. He held my gaze briefly, and although I could see that he was trying to hide it, a trickle of fear still managed to dampen his voice.

“Take a few minutes and calm down, Jungkook,” he said, speaking firmer this time despite the uneasiness in his tone.

“Yeah, Jungkook. You’re not yourself right now.”

Jimin peered at me from the hallway, where he and Taehyung already stood. A pinch of shame pained my chest as I spotted Taehyung’s expressionless features; he wouldn’t even look at me.

I wanted to apologize, not only for scaring him - all of them - and I wanted to explain everything. I wanted to tell them how much (Y/N) meant to me, how much she would always mean to me and how horrifying the mere thought at losing her was - especially to my brother or worse, Yoongi. I wanted to tell them my point of view so that they could, if not condone, then at least understand where I was coming from when I had lunged at Yoongi.

But it took every ounce of willpower for me to not just charge back to the kitchen and continue where I had been interrupted.

Hoseok opened his mouth to say something else, or rather ask me something. I could see the inquiry in his eyes and that there were questions he would like nothing more than to just blurt, but he refrained in the end.

Even after the door shut behind him, Jimin and Taehyung, I didn’t move. Or at least not initially. I was still fighting with the icy shadow in my stomach that wanted nothing more than to get back out there and confront Yoongi. I don’t know how long it took for me to regain full control over my senses, but when I did, the voices in the kitchen had lowered into mere murmurs. I couldn’t discern any words even as I pressed my ear to my door, but since I didn’t dare open the door while I was still boiling inside, I resigned myself to my computer.

Waves of shame continuously washed upon the shore that was my consciousness, so in an attempt to bring my mind elsewhere, away from what the hell Yoongi had just confessed to in the kitchen, away from my embarrassingly short fuse and inability to use my mouth instead of my fists, I tuned in to the news. I wasn’t expecting to find much since it hadn’t been more than a handful of hours since I was at the station, and even less time since I had been on KBS News website, constantly refreshing the page while waiting for my hyungs to arrive.

However, as I returned to check on my tabs, my jaw fell open. Again.

Latest News

Early investigations into the scandal surrounding Phoenix Inc. regarding its potentially illegal liaisons with the former president, Park Geun-Hye, have proven very successful and much more revealing than expected, according to a verified source.

Last year, Phoenix Incorporated was ranked as South Korea’s second-largest company after Samsung and scored among the top 20 highest earning firms globally. But after the imprisonment of Lee Jae-Yong, Samsung’s CEO, the rivalry company shot to rank one within two months. But clearly, it seems as if though no success comes without its share of costs.

Our source confirms that Phoenix Inc. has secretly bought and traded at least 150 billion wons worth of governmental assets for the ex-president during her term. In addition, another source says that there are documents confirming the former CEO of Phoenix Inc.’s involvement with funding various covert military pursuits in exchange for more profitable trading conditions starting from the sixties and forward. That would make this the biggest and longest bribery and cronyism scandal in modern South Korean history.

In light of (Y/F/N), the heiress of Phoenix Inc., and her sudden disappearance, the rumored declining health of her father, the current CEO of Phoenix Inc., these new developments are already causing investors and independent daughter companies to withdraw from the public. We have tried to get in contact with all involved parties, but for now, nobody has responded. Be sure to tune in at 9 pm tonight for a full recap with expert commentators, live on TV.

It wasn’t a lot of text, but it still took a painstaking amount of time for me to get through it. I kept questioning my vision--no, I kept questioning everything. It felt as if though everything that had happened since I woke up that morning was fake. A dream.

A nightmare.

I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. When had things turned out like this? When had my biggest concerns changed from being mostly about my Overwatch rank, my acne and whether my eyes looked better single or double-lidded? When had my life become filled with worries of a potential child, (Y/N) missing, her family and company failing and Yoongi, of all people, confessing his feelings for her?

Of course, the hectic schedule and life I’ve had as an idol was also a source of some distress, but it had honestly declined drastically over the years. Compared to how I felt about it years ago, when I first started, all my stress and anxiety and worries had shrunk into a manageable bundle of nerves in my gut. It no longer gave me a sense of weariness whenever it reminded itself. Instead, it had morphed into a source of strength that I could draw upon whenever I got on stage or in front of the camera.

When did everything fuck up?

My pocket started vibrating. Initially, I hesitated. I didn’t know who it could be calling, but I didn’t want to check out of fear that it was my parents. I hadn’t even texted my mom yet, despite having been bombarded that morning with her calls. And there was a good reason why.

I didn’t want her to confirm this nightmare of mine.

But since it could also be the company and the chairman calling, I soon relented. Just as I put my hand in my pocket, however, someone knocked on my door.

“Jungkook?”

It was Namjoon’s voice. I knew the screen of my phone well enough to swipe the call into ignore and did just so before I spun around to face him.

Namjoon’s features were carefully neutral, as if he were making an effort to seem calm and indifferent from where he stood in the door opening. But as his eyes flitted over to my computer screen, a flash of sympathy lighted them and a bit of his guise fell apart.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” he asked gently.

“Sure,” I said, and was overwhelmed with relief when I heard how calm my voice was. I had expected it to be a lot more poisonous, especially since Namjoon had stayed with Yoongi and, judging by the murmurs I had tried hard to ignore, listened to him first.

He slipped inside and shut the door after him. There wasn’t really a place for him to sit in my cluttered room, or really much place to exist whatsoever, so he ended up next to the metal ladder leading up to my bed.

“How’s your hand?”

I glanced at it. I had cleaned away the blood using some makeup remover wipes that Seokjin had “borrowed” from one of the stylists of our latest photoshoot. “It’s fine.”

“Didn’t it hurt?”

“What?” I raised my eyebrows. “You mean punching Yoongi-hyung?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon scratched his cheek with one finger. “I know it doesn’t hurt in movies and all that, but I’ve read that it hurts a lot in real life.”

“Oh.” I clenched and unclenched my fist. “No, I don’t feel anything really. I must not have hit hard enough.”

“Ah, well. That’s good.”

There was a pause. I could tell that he wanted to continue but was hesitating for some reason. When the silence stretched from one to several minutes, I cleared my throat.

“Well, what do you want, hyung?” I asked. “I’m guessing you didn’t come in here just to ask how my hand is doing.”

Namjoon gave me a sheepish smile. “No, I didn’t. I just… I guess I’m in a bit of a shock. We all are. We never thought we would see you hit someone.”

I averted my gaze. “Me neither.”

“Mind explaining why?” he wondered tentatively.

I opened my mouth, but then closed it just as quickly. This was my chance to come clean to first Namjoon, then the rest of my group members about my relationship with (Y/N). Yet, I still felt stopped by something. It hurt my pride to admit it, but I couldn’t evade the truth of my emotions.

I really was ashamed of myself.

“It’s… hard,” I managed eventually, raking a hand through my hair.

“I can see that. But since Yoongi refused to say anything, even to Jimin, we don’t know anything about what’s going on between you two. He didn’t even seem angry or sad, which I know I would have been if I were him. And he left as soon as his nose stopped bleeding.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

This surprised me. I had been a hundred percent certain that Yoongi would spill everything about me and (Y/N) and our earlier encounter in his recording room. I had been a hundred percent certain that I would be met by judgemental eyes and hard faces as soon as I stepped out of my door. I had been a hundred percent certain… just as I had been when I thought Yoongi would reveal my feelings for (Y/N) earlier, before I punched him.

I had been a hundred percent certain - so why was I proven wrong again?

“Is (Y/N) like a sister to you maybe?” tried Namjoon carefully. “Is that why you got pissed when Yoongi said that he likes her? It would make me angry, too, if that’s the case. Though probably not to the point that I would give him a nosebleed but that’s just me.”

I could hear that he was trying to be lighthearted, most likely in an attempt to loosen the tense atmosphere in the room. I appreciated his effort, and although it didn’t frankly yield much of an effect on me emotionally, it did make me try harder, push harder, against the suffocating pressure of shame around my throat.

“No,” I said stiffly. “She’s not like a sister to me. She’s… she means a lot more.”

Namjoon didn’t answer. The silence unnerved me, and I gulped as I gathered enough courage to finally raise my gaze from the floor, expecting anything from shock and confusion to plain scrutiny and skepticism.

However, not a shred of surprise nor uncertainty filled Namjoon’s eyes. Instead, I was met with expectation - and a whole lot of it.

“Hyung, you knew it already,” I stated numbly.

Namjoon grimaced. “We all kinda guessed it a while ago. Taehyung suspected it for the longest time but it wasn’t until you lost your memories that all of us really saw how important she must be to you.”

I nearly dropped my jaw. “Wait, what? How did you know? I’ve never spoken about her to you.”

“Not really, but you have a habit of talking about her when we’re comparing stuff. Although you never spoke well of her per se, it grew obvious with time that she was more than an annoying family friend.”

I blinked, still unable to comprehend the fact that my hyungs seemed to have known all along about my feelings for (Y/N), something I thought I was doing a great job hiding. But then, I took a deep breath and asked the more dreaded question.

The question that would make me look like an asshole.

“Did you know before or after I got together with Yi-Jae?”

Namjoon pursed his lips and averted his eyes hastily. Clearly reluctant to respond, I knew I didn’t need to hear it to know the answer.

Yes, they had known before. That meant, they had always known what an asshole I was.

Yet still, they had been on my side.

I covered my face. It wasn’t like I was close to crying or anything, but the realization filled me with emotions. Emotions I hated to feel. I didn’t want Namjoon to see how they affected me. I didn’t want anybody in the whole world to see how they affected me. How they made me feel so vulnerable and open and ripe for anyone to tear apart and destroy.

Anyone except for (Y/N). With her, I wanted to share everything. My thoughts, my desires, my dreams - anything and everything and all that was in between. But perhaps I had been wrong to seclude myself to only her, to think that only she could help me face myself.

Perhaps my hyungs were an even better influence in my life than I had thought.

“I…”

Namjoon perked up as I spoke. I soaked my lips before I went on, encouraged by the reassurance in his calm expression.

“I have a lot to confess, hyung,” I said finally. “I don’t know if you want to hear everything, but--”

“Of course I do. We all do.”

I soaked my lips again. “I don’t know if I can, though. It’s just… it’s just so much.”

“It’s alright,” he said and straightened up. “We won’t judge you, Jungkook. I think I speak for everyone in the group when I say that we each see you as our actual younger brother.”

“Even Yoongi?” I couldn’t help but ask with a snort.

“Of course.”

I wanted to say “I doubt it”, but I didn’t. There was no point in it, except for making things even more difficult in the group. I didn’t want to build some kind of alliances among us, where some were on my side and others were on Yoongi’s. Not only was it childish, it would ruin our group dynamics, which could prove catastrophic considering our new album and its following promotions were coming up. And our fans deserved nothing short of perfection in return for their efforts, which brought us so much success even globally.

“The others are still around,” said Namjoon when I didn’t speak. “If you want to talk to all of us, now would be the best chance.”

My heart sank to my feet. Was I really doing this? Was I really telling my hyungs about me and (Y/N)? About why I had ended up in my current situation?

How had I gotten to this point?

“Alright.”

I regretted the word the very instant I said it, but as I saw the content on Namjoon’s face, I couldn’t take it back. Nor did I no longer want to. His wordless encouragement, combined with the conversation we had just had, gave me just the nudge I needed to come to decision. I had avoided the subject long enough. I had pretended like there was nothing going on for long enough, especially since I now knew that my hyungs all seemed to have at least suspected my feelings for (Y/N).

I needed to be honest, if not to myself than at least my hyungs.

And so, I rose and followed Namjoon back out into the kitchen. My heart was pounding as I waited for him to gather the others, and I could barely sit still when all five of them returned to the table. Frankly, I kept questioning my decision and whether or not I could back out of it or not, but I was more determined than ever to speak the truth when I saw Taehyung.

Because for the first time since getting to know him, he regarded me with eyes that no longer knew me. And that hurt.

Within seconds, I was talking. I started from my childhood, not hesitating from mentioning both my father and his abuse and how betrayed I felt by Jung-Hyun, who left me all by myself to get away from our father. Even though I had meant to be as concise and brief that I could, revealing the circumstances of my childhood took a lot more time than I thought. It felt as if though broken glass was spilling from my lips instead of plain words. Each syllable describing what I went through was excruciating, not only to speak but also to formulate, because it was like I was reliving everything meanwhile. The bruises on my body, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol reeking from my father after a late night out and the endless emptiness that had burrowed a permanent hole somewhere between my lungs.

I clutched at my chest, trying vainly, frantically to keep myself together, but with each sentence that slipped out of my mouth, each secret that I exposed, I felt myself coming unraveled. My tears felt like acid burning through my eyeballs and cheeks, and the hole in my chest seemed to widen and widen until it had hollowed me out completely. It was beyond painful allowing myself to lose control over my emotions.

But it was also beyond liberating.

For when I was done explaining my childhood I could finally tell them how I felt about (Y/N). I could finally tell them who she was to me, and how important she would always be.

I could tell them how much I love her.

When I was done, my tears had since long dried. I wasn’t happy since I was continuously reminded by (Y/N)’s plight while talking about her, but it felt like a weight I hadn’t even noticed was there had lifted from my chest. I could sit straight and look at each of my hyungs in the eye without dodging even one of them.

And as I did, I was met with nothing but utmost understanding.

Jimin was openly wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his cardigan. I thought I spotted tears in Hoseok’s eyes as well, but he shifted his attention elsewhere before I could confirm it. Namjoon’s expression was solemn, more solemn than I had ever seen before, and Seokjin stared at his interwoven fingers like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

Taehyung no longer looked at me with the eyes of a stranger.

“Jungkook…” he started, a painful frown tugging at his features.

“Don’t,” I said quickly with a half-hearted smile. “Don’t you cry, too.”

“I’m not going to, I promise.”

“I’m not crying,” said Hoseok firmly, though the brittleness of his tone betrayed him.

Jimin didn’t even try to protest, sniffling into his cardigan.

“I… I’m speechless,” said Seokjin as he blinked.

“So am I,” said Namjoon as he aimed his focus at me. “I… it must have been so hard for you.”

I thought I had managed to swallow the lump in my throat, but it rebounded, lodging itself hard in my throat. “Yeah…” I said merely, unable to figure out a more eloquent response.

“But Jungkook,” began Jimin slowly after a pause, drawing everybody’s gazes. “What about Yi-Jae?”

I stiffened. It was the question I had dreaded to answer the most, save for perhaps anything about my brother. “What about her?” I asked, hoping I didn’t look half as stupid as I felt.

Jimin pursed his lips slightly. “You know what I mean,” he said gently. “It… it isn’t right what you’re doing to her.”

“I didn’t want to say it first,” said Hoseok in agreement after having wiped the corners of his eyes for the fifteenth time or so. “But Jimin’s right. It isn’t right to her, and it isn’t right to (Y/N) - or even yourself.”

It suddenly grew hard to breathe as I watched both Namjoon and Seokjin nodding. I tried to find some kind of ledge to stand on in Taehyung, but his eyes, albeit reluctantly, reflected the same kind of opinion as Hoseok.

“I’ll fix it,” I said quickly, eager to defend myself. Then, I told them what I had told Yoongi: I told them the kid couldn’t be mine.

But of course, secretly, inwardly, I knew better.

I had hoped that the revelation of Yi-Jae’s infidelity would brighten the mood in the kitchen, but none of my hyungs seemed particularly excited. Their faces still wore a tremendous amount of sympathy, but I would be a liar if I said I didn’t notice how they avoided meeting my eyes for too long.

My heart sank to my stomach. This was the reaction I had feared from start. The kind of dodginess that made it clear what they really thought of me. The kind of passiveness that practically screamed how much I had disappointed them.

And though they now knew me better than ever, I couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or not.

I was just about to add something, to explain myself further, to do anything I could to return to how things had been before I opened my mouth. However, I was interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. Desperate to get some time and space for myself, I excused myself from the table perhaps a bit more eager than I should have. Because as soon as I shut myself in my room, whispers and mutterings brushed against the wood. I unpocketed my phone before I could get too riled up by it.

It was Yi-Jae.

I clenched my jaw. I didn’t want to talk to her, but I knew I had avoided her long enough. I also knew I should call my mom and be done with it, but after recalling everything that had happened to me, I felt nauseous at the mere thought of hearing her voice.

Of hearing my dad’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Finally! I’ve been trying to call you all day! How are you doing?”

What the hell do you think? “Okay,” I said and muted briefly in order to clear my throat and blink away whatever remnants of my tears there might be left.

“…the news and everything! I can’t believe it!”

“Neither can I,” I said stiffly, not caring that I had missed a chunk of what she had been saying.

“Jungkook…”

Yi-Jae’s voice was suddenly laden heavy with concern. I didn’t want to be affected by it, but the sweet lightness of her tone was something I had grown to admire and like even before I got to know her personally. It was very soothing, and I found myself relaxing slightly where I stood leaning against the door. “I know things are complicated right now between us, but--”

“‘Complicated’?” I echoed incredulously, anger flaring within my chest. “You’ve put me in this situation. I never planned on having a child, least of all with you!”

It was difficult to keep both my temper and voice down. Talking to Yi-Jae, finding and targeting an exposed part of the conversation where I could take out my frustration and fear over having potentially ruined all my relationships with my hyungs was simply just too tempting. I was normally very good at keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself, but after hearing about (Y/N)’s disappearance, everything in me just seemed to crumble.

“You can’t just blame this on me,” she replied, a sharpness entering her tone. “You started this. You flirted with me for the longest time even when I told you we were better working as professionals. You made me fall for you - and more.”

My mind knew that Yi-Jae was right, but my heart didn’t care. And so I took it beyond a line I had promised myself never to cross with her.

“You didn’t have to keep it,” I said simply.

It was quiet for a long while. I couldn’t hear anything except for the slow, heavy pounding of my heart. Part of me wanted to take back what I had said, to say that I knew very well why she couldn’t bring herself to go through an abortion, but the rest of me was just too emotionally exhausted to care about anyone except for myself. And so, I merely waited.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” said Yi-Jae finally, her voice more fragile than a paper plane. “After what I told you about me and my mom… I… I can’t believe it.”

I didn’t respond; I couldn’t. My tongue was too burdened by the weight of my shame to possibly move.

There a pause before she continued. “Well, if you don’t have anything to say, I might as well--”

“Wait,” I managed.

I couldn’t discern any emotions in her voice as she responded. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I then said, really meaning it. “I didn’t mean to say it. But today’s been crazy.”

“And I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day to ask you how you’re doing. I’m not a monster, you know? I care about you. I--”

“I know,” I said immediately, not wanting - or needing - to hear the rest. “But I don’t know if I can trust that you’re being honest about the child.”

I heard a sigh. “Haven’t we been over this? There can’t be anyone else.”

“Kang Shin-Ho,” I replied, doing my best not to sound triumphant. “I met him yesterday and he told me you were still together back in February.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “No! I’ve never been with him, period!”

She sounded genuinely upset, but I didn’t believe it. Not because my instinct or intuition was telling me not to.

But simply because if she was being truthful, that meant she really was the mother of my first child.

“I want to do a test,” I said firmly, praying I was concealing my fear good enough. “What are those called now again?”

“A paternity test?” she wondered incredulously.

“Oh, yeah,” I said while nodding. “I want it done or I’m going public that we’re done with each other.”

“You can’t be serious, Jungkook.” Yi-Jae sounded deeply insulted as she went on. “Who do you think I am? Do you think I just sleep with anyone that I’m working with?”

I frowned. “No, but--”

“I can’t do this right now,” she said suddenly. “Do you know how bad stress is for both mother and child? Don’t you care that you might be harming your own son?”

I froze. Although I had found about the gender of the child at the same time Yi-Jae had told me about the pregnancy, I still couldn’t bear to acknowledge it. It was better if I just regarded the child as “it”. It had made it easier to detach myself from the reality of the situation.

It had made it easier to meet (Y/N)'s eyes every time we met.

“Please,” pleaded Yi-Jae. “Can I see you? I don’t feel good discussing things like this over the phone.”

“Not today,” I said, knowing my eyes probably looked puffy from crying earlier. Besides, I needed at least some time to recuperate.

“Tomorrow?”

I browsed my schedule briefly. “We have dance practice all day. I’ll text you if I have enough energy afterward.”

“Alright,” she said quietly.

In lack of a better reply or any will of continuing the conversation, I told her bye and hung up. Resisting the urge to sling my phone across the room, I dropped it onto my desk, as not to be tempted. There were so many thoughts going through my head, I was surprised it hadn’t burst already.

How was I going to fix everything?

“Jungkook?”

Knocks followed Namjoon’s voice, which sounded muffled through the door.

I sank down onto my gaming chair. “Come in, hyung.”

Namjoon’s features were tense as his head poked through the door opening, and he held out his phone. “It’s the chairman.”

My heart started racing. “Is it muted?” I mouthed.

“Yeah.”

“You told him what happened with Yoongi-hyung?”

Namjoon shook his head. “No, none of us did. So unless hyung told the chairman himself, I can’t see how he would know.”

That didn’t bode well. I couldn’t see a scenario where Yoongi didn’t tell the chairman or one of the managers that I had hit him. I knew I would.

“Huijang-nim?” I said tentatively.

“Ah, Jungkook.”

Bang Si-Hyuk’s familiar voice filled my ear. He didn’t sound angry, but then, he didn’t sound very happy either.

“I couldn’t reach you on your phone so I had to call Namjoon.”

“Oh.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I was… talking to my parents.”

“Right. The current situation must be very taxing on all of you.”

“Yes, huijang-nim,” I said with perhaps more emphasis than I had intended. After all, the current situation for me was a lot more troublesome than he thought.

“As much as I would like to talk to you about it, I have my hands full at the moment. I just called to tell you I want you for a meeting tomorrow. Ten am.”

My skin prickled in nervousness. “Of course. But, err, what’s it about?”

“Yi-Jae and her managers are coming over to discuss the PR campaign for your relationship - and how we’re going to announce the details of your engagement.”

I nearly dropped Namjoon’s phone. “ What ? I can’t get engaged to her!”

“Jungkook.”

Bang Si-Hyuk’s voice was suddenly very solemn. “I don’t have the time to explain, but neither do I feel like I should have to clarify this. It’s a shock to hear it like this, I get it. But we’ve got to make this look good for the public and the fans of both ESStar and Bangtan.”

“You can’t just marry me away to someone,” I protested and met Namjoon’s round eyes.

“Do you think I want to play matchmaker? No, but I need to think about what’s best for this company. If the cost of saving face is to announce your engagement with Yi-Jae, I will pay it.”

“You’re not the one paying! I’m the one being directly affected!”

There was a long sigh. “Jungkook, you put yourself, your group members and this whole company in this predicament. The least you can do is to man up and accept the consequences of your decisions.”

“I can’t marry Yi-Jae,” I said. “I won’t.”

“I had a feeling you would say that,” said Bang Si-Hyuk wearily. “For now, let’s stop. This isn’t helping anyone. We’ll continue tomorrow when all parties involved are present.”

It took all that remained of my strength to not launch back into an argument. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Get some rest, Jungkook.”

And with that, he ended the call. I didn’t move, not even to return Namjoon, who still remained in my room, his phone. The shock was written all over his face but when I had managed to regather enough of my bearings, I sent him out with his phone - but without answers.

I didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want to acknowledge the very real and very terrifying prospect of being married to Yi-Jae. Because what about (Y/N)? (Y/N), who needed me more than ever. (Y/N), who could be anywhere right then.

(Y/N), who would always possess my heart, always and forever.

But after all that I had done, did I really deserve her?

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 11: Unveiling

“How did you get in here?”

I couldn’t discern whether the slight tremble in Yoongi’s voice was due to anger or fear. His expression was stony, and his tone had been hard to gauge. It didn’t really matter, though.

What the fuck had that look in his eyes been just now?

“The door was open,” I began icily, unable to keep the fury out of my voice. “I thought I would come and tell you about what happened at the station, you know? Since my girlfriend is missing?”

The last sentence slipped out before I could stop it. I hadn’t meant to sound so passive-aggressive, but the dark, heavy tendrils in my stomach had grown exponentially since I read the torn out piece from his notebook. Although I tried to fight it, although I tried to resist, I couldn’t stop myself from being swept along by the frighteningly powerful wave of jealousy and greed that I had fought to stifle ever since I recovered my memory.

Ever since I realized how much (Y/N) meant to me.

“Did something happen to Yi-Jae as well?”

I gritted my teeth, my irritation renewed. “You know who I’m talking about, hyung.”

“I thought you said your girlfriend.” Yoongi didn’t bat an eye as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door. “Last time I checked, you two were still a couple. Or have you broken up finally?”

“It’s not as easy as you think,” I replied, not bothering with the usual “hyung”.

“No, I guess not. You two screwed up, literally, and she ended up pregnant.”

I opened my mouth to snarl a retort - then shut it just as quickly. If everything went as planned, I would have no problem solving my situation with Yi-Jae. And though that was something I should and would have liked to talk to my hyungs about, I no longer wanted to share that with Yoongi. I didn’t want to share anything with him.

Least of all (Y/N).

“What is this?” I asked instead as I lifted the note in his eye height.

Surprise surfaced in his eyes for a moment before it faded underneath a guise of indifference. “Lyrics,” he said quickly.

Too quickly.

Even though I wasn’t as close to Yoongi as I was Taehyung, who was the hyung I probably got along best with, and he was good at holding a pretty straight face, I knew him well enough by now to read the subtle changes in his expression. And his whole face was practically screaming at me that he was lying.

“I don’t believe you,” I said stiffly.

“What, can’t I write whatever kind of lyrics that I want to?”

I pointed at his screen. “I browsed your tabs. You have like a thousand articles on (Y/N) up right now.”

“So what?” asked Yoongi noncommittally. “Am I not allowed to check up on news surrounding a friend’s sudden disappearance?”

“A ‘friend’?”

A burst of regret and realization filled his eyes, and I knew I had been right to question him. “Since when were you two close enough for you to call her a friend?” I continued. “And is that all that you are? Friends?”

Yoongi’s jaws clenched, and he didn’t respond immediately. My heart was beating faster and faster, as if I were on the treadmill, but instead of feeling enjoyment over all the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, a creeping dread enveloped me slowly from head to toe.

A creeping dread that threatened to consume me when he finally replied.

“We’re friends,” said Yoongi, his tone neutral, his eyes hard. “But I like her more than I would like an ordinary friend. I like her a lot.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Yoongi also seemed a bit in disbelief over what he had said, for he quickly averted his gaze from mine as he went on.

“I don’t know when or how my feelings for her began, but I’m not going to be a childish coward about it. I’ll tell her when she gets back and let her do whatever she wants with that information.”

The words poured out of him without restraint. It was suddenly obvious to me that there had been something between Yoongi and (Y/N). When had it began? Was it that time when we all went to eat together to celebrate the fact that I could perform all our dance routines? Or was it earlier, when we watched that scary movie at (Y/N)’s parents’ apartment? Or was it even earlier, perhaps when I had first gotten amnesia? Had they met in private? How deep was their friendship?

And most importantly - what did (Y/N) think about Yoongi?

Dozens upon dozens of possibilities swirled inside my head, threatening to make it explode due to all the building pressure. I wanted to blurt it out, demand every detail, every possible encounter Yoongi could have had with (Y/N), but I swallowed it all back down. For there was one thing he had said that truly caught my attention.

“What do you mean by ‘childish coward’?” I wondered, doing my best to control my voice. “Are you talking about me?”

Yoongi’s eyes darted back to mine. “Who else?”

“I’m neither of those things. (Y/N) knows exactly how I feel about her.”

“Is that why she lets you hang around with Yi-Jae all the time?”

Although I tried, I couldn’t hide the surprise his question evoked within me. After observing my face, Yoongi shook his head with a snort.

“You’re such a child, Jungkook. (Y/N) doesn’t even know that you’re still with Yi-Jae, right? She doesn’t know about the child, does she?”

I crumpled up the note in my hand before tossing it aside. “What the hell are you trying to do?” I demanded angrily, wanting to change the topic of conversation since Yoongi had breached a subject I wasn’t comfortable talking to anyone with, least of all him. “Are you seriously doing this? Are you seriously going after my girlfriend?”

“I’m not interested in Yi-Jae, so no, thank you.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “Stop bringing her into the conversation,” I groaned in frustration.

“Why should I?” Yoongi checked his phone almost nonchalantly before he glanced back at me. “Nobody in the group or company knows your feelings toward (Y/N). Everyone thinks you’re happy with Yi-Jae and gladly expecting your first kid.”

I clenched my jaws, silencing the response that had threatened to rocket out of me. I wanted to tell Yoongi that a child whatsoever, even less a child with Yi-Jae, had been the last on my to-do list. I wanted to tell him that I hadn’t found out about her pregnancy until a month ago, when Yi-Jae dropped the news on me after one of the happiest days of my life.

The day I had gotten (Y/N) back and truly felt how it feels like holding her hand.

But I couldn’t. Partly because I didn’t want anybody to know just how terrified and horrified I was at the thought of becoming a father. And partly because I didn’t feel like I had the permission to speak about Yi-Jae’s decision to keep the child and the reasoning behind that. I didn’t have the permission to tell her no. Not after what she had told me about her background.

Even if it meant I may hurt (Y/N).

“But you do,” I began instead. “You know how I feel for (Y/N) so how can you be such a… such a dick about it?”

If Yoongi was insulted by my words, he did not show it in the least. He didn’t even blink as he replied. “They’re obviously not strong enough if you can’t tell her the truth.”

Rage flared up within me, and it took all my self-control to not approach Yoongi and grab him. I took a deep breath, then let out an incredulous laughter as I ran my hand through my tresses again.

“I can’t believe we’re having a conversation like this,” I said, more to myself than to him. “I can’t believe someone like you, hyung, is doing this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” said Yoongi, furrowing his brows slightly. “I’m telling you facts. Have you ever stopped to think about what’s going to happen when Yi-Jae has her kid and our companies can’t deny the rumours?”

It kind of hurt my pride to admit it, but I had to agree with Yoongi. I was lucky to not have had my contract immediately terminated that evening when I met with the director and told him about Yi-Jae’s pregnancy. He was actually the only one I had been able to talk to regarding Yi-Jae’s decision to keep the kid.

“And the others might be doing a good job at putting up a facade,” continued Yoongi, a trickle of genuine concern entering his tone, “but I’ve spoken to all of them and we’re all worried. What’s going to happen once fans to both ESStar and us find out all the rumours are real? What’s going to happen to our group?”

I swallowed. Regarding my group members, I hadn’t actually told them face-to-face about the pregnancy. It was something the director had dealt with, and nobody, not even Taehyung, had ever brought it up. There were times in private, when we were chilling at home or practicing, that we had mentioned Yi-Jae’s pregnancy, but it was always in passing and people had been quick to change subject. All in all, however, I had thought things were good between me and the other members. I had actually thought things were going really smooth and my hyungs were all just fine with it.

But things were obviously not as they seemed.

“I’m going to tell the rest about (Y/N),” I said as I started toward the door. I could tell that Yoongi was trying to steer the flow of conversation into a certain direction, but since I didn’t know where that might lead, I didn’t want to let him succeed. There was also a part of me that needed air. I needed to get out and do something, anything, to forget what Yoongi had just told me.

To forget that he had just admitted to liking (Y/N).

“Wait.”

Yoongi grabbed my arm just as I reached for the door handle, and although he was a lot shorter and thinner than me, there was a surprising amount of strength in his grip.

“What?” I snapped as I tore myself away from him, hating every second I had to stand in that room with him. I felt betrayed in more ways than one. I felt betrayed by Yoongi, but also by (Y/N). Yoongi wasn’t the type to fall in love with someone at first glance, and even if he were, (Y/N) wasn’t the kind of girl someone could just mysteriously fall in love with. Of course, she had and would probably always remain beautiful in my eyes, but that was more because of her indomitable personality, not her appearance. For Yoongi to develop enough feelings to say them outloud - and to me, of all people - he must have met her more than once.

And that meant (Y/N) had been keeping their meetings a secret from me, too.

I didn’t want to be angry with her, especially not now when she could be anywhere, and I despised the fact that I couldn’t seem to handle my jealousy regarding her. But my pride was all too wounded, as was my trust. I needed a moment for myself to just sort my thoughts out and get my shit together.

“You never answered my question this morning,” said Yoongi quietly. “When was the last time you heard from (Y/N)?”

I considered not telling him the truth, that I hadn’t in fact missed her calls around noon and that it probably wasn’t me she had last called before Jong-Yeol filed his report early morning. But I just couldn’t. It wasn’t right to (Y/N).

“She called me a bunch sometime after lunch yesterday,” I said slowly. “But I wasn’t able to answer any of her calls, and forgot about them afterwards. I didn’t think much of it, but I realize now that I should have.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened for a second, or so I thought. When I blinked, however, they were hard again.

“What were you doing that was so important that you couldn’t answer her calls?” he wondered.

I hesitated. There was no real reason for me to hide what I had been doing the day before, especially not to my group members or the company, but something held me back. If it was stubbornness and my wounded pride, or just my hurt, I did not know, but I couldn’t bear to tell Yoongi in that moment. I blamed myself enough already that I hadn’t been able to answer - I didn’t need him to do that as well.

But then also, it might be the solution to all my problems.

“I met Kang Shin-Ho.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. It was clear that hadn’t been the answer he had expected.

“He was the male protagonist of that drama Yi-Jae starred in, right? Weren’t those two also said to have had a fling during filming?”

I nodded, and I couldn’t hide the excitement from my voice as I went on. “He called me up a week ago, when the rumours about Yi-Jae’s pregnancy first started.”

Realization struck Yoongi’s face and his eyes widened further. “Don’t tell me…”

I shrugged, but I felt the corners of my mouth drag into a smile. “Yep. He didn’t know about me and started dating her. He told me the kid was his.”

“But wait, how pregnant is Yi-Jae?”

“About six months.”

“Doesn’t that mean--”

“Yes,” I said, my smile broadening. “That means she was cheating on me with him.”

It was probably the first time in history that someone had been happy to hear that he or she had been cheated on, but I didn’t care. I was overjoyed. Thanks to the meeting I had had with Shin-Ho, who, despite being eight years older than me, actually had been a really nice guy about it all, a majority of my admittedly growing amount of anxiety had started disappearing.

Because I couldn’t imagine ever being a father. I couldn’t imagine ever having children.

I didn’t want to be like my dad.

“What are you smiling about, you idiot?”

For a second, I almost thought it was (Y/N) who had spoken. I could practically hear her voice and see her face just as she said those words. But then, I was brought back to reality and the tiny space within Yoongi’s private recording studio as he continued.

“Just because some other guy also slept with her doesn’t mean it’s his kid,” said Yoongi sharply. “How moronic do you have to be to think like that?”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Did you still have sex with Yi-Jae…” He squinted as he counted the months backward. “...in February?”

“Why do I have to tell you that?” I wondered, hoping he couldn’t see the warmth taking over my features.

“So you did.”

“No,” I said, scowling at the assumption. “We… things weren’t going well between us.”

“I knew it.”

As I regarded Yoongi, I saw that it wasn’t just something he had said to be spiteful. There was nothing in his voice or features that indicated that he was accusing me of anything, or was judging or distrusting me. Fleetingly, I wondered just how much I thought I was hiding from my hyungs - and how much they really saw and heard and knew but just pretended to not have in order to make me glad.

And as I realized that, I regretted the fact that I had lied and said no.

“Can I leave now?” I asked, perhaps unnecessarily harshly.

Yoongi said nothing and simply gestured at the door.

I was out of his studio and the building within seconds, running straight out into another pouring rainfall. For once, I was happy with the dreary summer monsoon, however.

Because nobody, not even I, could see the tears that fell from my eyes.

I didn’t even feel them as I stared up into the thick gray clouds, ignoring the few cars that drove by even though I knew I must look like a maniac standing out in the rain. It was a relief to release the lid I had on my emotions, if only for a few seconds and at the cost of my clothes. A soaked hoodie and jeans were the least of my problems.

“He likes her,” I murmured to myself, having to hear it outloud to believe it. “Yoongi-hyung likes (Y/N) and wants to tell her that.”

Again, I was reminded of my feelings of betrayal and the more I thought about it, the more it hurt. I clutched at my hoodie, and although I had put it back on on my way out, I had to tear it off from me again, hoping that it would remove the tight feeling I had around my throat.

The conversation with Yoongi had made me furious at numerous times, but it had also given me a lot of insight I hadn’t even understood I was missing. I had never thought about what my hyungs’ opinions were about the whole ordeal with Yi-Jae and the pregnancy, and I had never told them about (Y/N)’s role in my life. And as I stood there, allowing the rain to practically swallow me, I realized that I had been naive--no, stupid to think that their silence was due to a lack of curiosity.

It wasn’t. Because who wouldn’t be curious? Who wouldn’t be concerned? I knew I would have. But the truth was that I couldn’t just call myself stupid. Because, as much as it pained me to confess, I hadn’t been too naive or too stupid to just see the truth.

No, I had just ignored it, thinking and hoping for the best. My best.

However, I would be a liar if I said my tears were due to any of this. Sure, I was frustrated with my ignorance regarding my hyungs and sure, the Yoongi’s admission frightened me and made me jealous to end, especially since I also had Jung-Hyun to think about. But neither of those were the reason behind my crying. Not even the nauseating mixture of worry and fear over (Y/N)’s absence was the culprit. It was honestly because Yoongi had told me something I hadn’t even thought of.

And that was the fact that Yi-Jae’s child might still be mine.

My heart started beating faster and faster, tiny black spots appeared before my eyes and what felt like needles were piercing into my skin. Recognizing the symptoms, I tried to inhale and exhale deeply while counting to ten, but when the technique I had carried with me for a decade didn’t work, I started actually panicking. Just before I totally lost grip of myself, however, I took out my phone and, with shaking fingers, found (Y/N)’s contact list name.

Count Godzilla.

After swiping right, I lifted the phone to my ear and closed my eyes.

“Hello, you’ve reached (Y/F/N). Unfortunately, I can’t take your call right now, but…”

My whole body relaxed, and gradually, even my heart calmed down. I knew it was merely a recorded response, and something she had probably done in seconds with nothing special in mind, but hearing her voice, so normal and so… safe, made me immensely happy. And so, despite standing in the rain, soaked to the bones, I did not shiver at all. Actually, after listening to (Y/N)’s voice mail one more time, I was actually filled with determination and belief.

I was going to believe in Shin-Ho. Although I wasn’t that religious, I couldn’t believe there would be a god that wouldn’t see the perfect opportunity here to road up both his destiny and mine. Shin-Ho had seemed overjoyed at the idea of a child, a possibility I saw as the most terrifying thing in the world. And he had admitted to still liking Yi-Jae.

It simply had to be his child. I truly hoped it was, both for him and myself. Everything would be solved then.

Everything would be right and I would tell (Y/N) everything then.

Bzz. Bzz.

[12.00 - RM-hyung]: Omw. You still there?

[12.00 - Me]: Yeah, but I’ve changed my mind. I want to talk to everyone. Do you know where the others are?

[12.05 - RM-hyung]: Seokjin-hyung is at home, I think, and Yoongi-hyung is at the company. Hoseok says Taehyung was gaming last time he saw him, but we don’t know where Jimin is.

[12.04 - Me]: Can you call him and Yoongi and tell them to meet us back at the dorm? It’s really important that I have you all there.

[12.06 - RM-hyung]: Ok. See you when?

[12.08 - Me]: Let’s make it ASAP.

[12.11 - RM-hyung]: Alright, we’ll see you soon.

I was glad that he hadn’t asked me why I couldn’t call Jimin myself or what the important thing was, but then again, that was so very typical Namjoon. He was always very conscious of every group member’s feelings, one of many abilities that I admired about him. If it had been anyone else, save for perhaps Yoongi, I would have been called up immediately.

And I couldn’t talk to anyone as long as I was crying.

When I returned to the dorms, I was dripping wet. The taxi driver had been really unwilling to let me inside his car once he saw the true state of my clothes, but I had managed to get inside before he could come up with an excuse. And it was fortunate that I got home when I did, for I was really starting to feel the chill.

I heard the characteristic clicking sound of a computer keyboard and mouse coming from Taehyung and Namjoon’s room, and Seokjin talking to his sugar gliders, but nobody reacted when I headed to the bathroom and then my room. I didn’t leave my desk where I had been frantically updating every news site in South Korea, constantly hoping for an update on (Y/N)’s disappearance to no avail. It wasn’t until the front door opened and shut four more times and murmurs filled the apartment that I shut the computer and finally ventured outside.

It was a repeat of the morning. My hyungs were all gathered in the kitchen, but now all six of them sat down around the dining table, Yoongi included. I had almost expected him to not show up, having heard practically everything I had to say already, and a stab of concern struck my stomach. To be honest, I hadn’t wanted him to come. Was he going to say something bad? Was he going to argue with me?

Or even worse - was he going to tell everyone just how clueless I had been until then?

Wearing an inscrutable mask, Yoongi sat at the far end of the table while browsing on his phone, not even bothering to look up as I sank down onto the chair directly opposite to him. What small talk and low murmurs there had been before that were instantly snuffed out and I swallowed as six pairs of familiar eyes focused on me.

Taehyung and Jimin’s concern were written on their faces, while Seokjin, Hoseok and Namjoon held serious expressions. I was suddenly overcome with joy that I had them all to rely on, and a lump formed momentarily in my throat.

“How are you holding up?”

I rubbed the nape of my neck as my gaze paused on Namjoon. “Not very well, hyung,” I admitted weakly and grimaced. “The detective I spoke to refused to reveal anything.”

Namjoon nodded once, a sympathetic frown tugging at his features, but he said nothing else. The air was wavering with anticipation, and I could tell that he or Hoseok had told everyone else that there was something important I had to share because nobody else dared speaking. And if the knot in my stomach was any indication, the nervousness I felt was also most likely plastered straight onto my face, obvious to anyone that was looking.

I took a deep breath. And then…

“You all know Kang Shin-Ho, right?”

“Who?” asked Hoseok.

“Hyung, it’s that male actor from ‘Of Smoke and Mirrors’,” said Taehyung as his eyes traveled to Hoseok. “You know that superpopular drama from January this year.”

“He starred in that show together with Yi-Jae,” added Seokjin. “He’s been in like a dozen CFs since.”

“Yeah,” said Jimin with a growing smile. “You always used to try and replicate his soda commercial.”

“Oh, yeah!” said Hoseok and snapped his fingers together. “Him! I know him!”

“Great,” I said with a quick smile. “So, Shin-Ho called me some time ago and asked to meet up.”

Namjoon frowned. “How did he get your number?”

I explained a bit impatiently how Shin-Ho had asked his manager, who in turn had asked one of ours. Frankly, I had expected my hyungs to be quiet as I told them everything about Yi-Jae and Shin-Ho and the pregnancy. The interruptions were not only annoying, but they kept increasing the suspense that still hovered about the table, making it difficult for me to breathe again.

I just wanted it over with.

“Anyway,” I said and cleared my throat, “the reason he called me was that he wanted to meet up. Our schedules didn’t exactly align at the time, so we had to wait until yesterday to finally see each other.”

“What did he want?” wondered Jimin bemusedly.

“Yeah, isn’t he like a decade older than you?” asked Seokjin.

“He…”

I paused and immediately, the atmosphere turned heavier. I was forced to lower my gaze to the table, and gripped my phone hard.

“He said Yi-Jae’s child is his,” I said after what felt like an eternity. “She… she cheated on me back in January, February, so the time matches up with how far she’s gone.”

It was quiet for a long while. I didn’t know why it was so hard to lift my gaze or why there had been genuine sadness in my voice as I spoke. Hadn’t I just been happy over the fact that Yi-Jae’s child wasn’t mine? Hadn’t I just wanted the kid to be Shin-Ho’s?

Hadn’t I been glad to hear that Yi-Jae cheated on me?

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook.”

There were several agreements following Namjoon’s words, and I looked up to find Hoseok and Jimin, who were sitting on each side of me, patting me on one shoulder each. Reading their faces, my hyungs’ - minus Yoongi, who had returned to staring at his phone - emotions ranged from anywhere to disappointed and angry to sympathetic and sorrowful. With a morbid curiosity that I did my best to suppress, I couldn’t help but wonder how their expressions would have been read should they know what I did to (Y/N).

Something I was just about to confess.

“It’s fine,” I said, causing everyone, even Yoongi, to perk up and frown. “Things weren’t going well for us for a while.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Taehyung quickly, his frown deepening.

“It’s not your fault,” said Seokjin as he nodded in agreement.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.”

I cleared my throat for what felt like the hundredth time as my hyungs’ inquisitive gazes all returned to me, ready to finally tell them how i truly felt about (Y/N). However, even as I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Embarrassed, I soaked my lips and tried again, but I just couldn’t speak and I wanted to crush my phone when I identified the dark, heavy feeling in my stomach.

I was too ashamed to voice how much (Y/N) meant to me.

Not because I was shy about liking her or was afraid of their opinion. No, it was nothing as foolish and innocent like that. Having spoken to Yoongi, my own actions had finally caught up to my brain and I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been and still was. Pregnancy aside, I doubted I could coherently explain to them why I had been with Yi-Jae in the first place when my feelings for (Y/N) had always been there. I just didn’t think I could. It had been easy to tell (Y/N), but that was only because it was her.

With her, I was never afraid to let go and be myself.

But with my hyungs, it was a completely different issue. (Y/N) knew all about me - she knew my past, she knew my present and she had known what I had in mind for my future while I was amnesic. As much as I cared for my hyungs and as much as they cared for me, I couldn’t tell them what I’ve experienced growing up. I couldn’t tell them about my family. I couldn’t tell them how frustrating it has always been for me to deal with my emotions, how much they’ve always been in my way and how much I’ve always hated them.

I couldn’t tell them how important (Y/N)’s presence in my life had been. For that would mean that I would have to tell them everything else, too.

About how it felt to be abandoned not only by your parents, but your only brother.

“Jungkook?”

It was Taehyung who said my name so very gently. I pulled myself together and shook my head, doing whatever I could to blink away the burning feeling in my eyes.

“You doing alright?” asked Namjoon.

“Yeah.” I inhaled discreetly and gathered my features in what I hoped was a neutral guise before I raised my gaze. “Yeah, I… I’m just exhausted, hyung.”

“Was there something else you wanted to say?” wondered Jimin carefully from where he sat to my right.

“No,” I lied and shook my head while inwardly cursing myself. “There wasn’t.”

“But I have something to say.”

My eyes widened as I stared at Yoongi, who had been suspiciously quiet ever since I entered the kitchen. Our eyes locked, and I stiffened as I understood what he was just about to say. He was going to reveal my feelings for (Y/N) and force me to explain everything while simultaneously making me look stupid and cowardly for not having told everyone on my own. That, or he was going to tell everyone that I had missed out on what might be (Y/N)’s final calls because I had met up with Shin-Ho.

Either way, I couldn’t let him be first. I couldn't let him make me look even worse than both things would make me sound like.

“I’ll say it instead,” I said hurriedly, my heart climbing rapidly in speed.

Yoongi furrowed his brows, and his eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not.”

I ignored him, but just before I, or really anyone else, could say anything, time seemed to freeze. For just as I took a quick breath in order to speak, in order to tell them about my shame, my long past and (Y/N)’s role in my life, Yoongi said something I never expected.

He said something that made me hate him with every single fibre of my being.

“I think I’ve fallen for (Y/F/N).”

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 10: In Another Life

The very moment I opened my eyes, I knew I should have gone to sleep earlier the night before. My already poor vision was even worse than usual, and a creeping headache was lurking just around the corner. There were few things I enjoyed more than playing in the night when the best gamers were online, but I was gradually coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth this feeling. I felt like shit.

Or well, I felt like shit until I remembered I could sleep in for once. There were no rehearsals today, or at least not for me. I was definitely going to exercise, but I could go to gym later in the day. First, I would sleep some more.

I had kicked away the blanket sometime in the night and draped it back over me. My eyelids felt a thousand times heavier than normal, and the comfort of rest was slowly swallowing me again, however, I still couldn’t fall asleep. Sunlight splashed against the blinds, there were loud voices coming from the living area and kitchen and… was that buzzing sound coming from my phone?

I tried to block out everything by burying my head underneath both my blanket and pillow. It worked, but only temporarily.

“Jungkook!”

I pretended to not have heard Yoongi’s angry voice but I couldn’t pretend being asleep when he stomped into my room and clambered onto the metal ladder leading up to where I was sleeping.

“What the hell, hyung?” I rubbed my eyes and yawned widely in order to look even more tired, as to appeal to his more caring nature. I didn’t know if it had been my turn to go out with the trash yesterday or something, but I really didn’t want to get up in that moment. Perhaps, if I looked exhausted enough, he would let me be and let someone else do the work.

However, when my vision cleared, I realized that the reason for Yoongi’s anger went far beyond something as mundane as household tasks. His tiny eyes were narrowed into mere slits, and his mouth was parted slightly, as if he were panting. I didn’t think I had ever seen him that furious - or frightened.

“When was the last time you heard from (Y/N)?”

I frowned. “What?” I asked, having heard but not really understood what exactly he had said.

Before Yoongi could speak, Jimin entered my room, followed by Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin and Namjoon. Jimin wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and everyone else - even Seokjin and Hoseok - wore dead-serious expressions as they squeezed into the small floor space below me. The atmosphere turned tense within a heartbeat, and I felt my body temperature drop several degrees despite the summer warmth pressing against my window.

“What’s going on?” I wondered, both genuinely concerned and just confused. I was just waiting for them to break out in stupid smiles and reveal a camera team to brag to the viewers that they managed to scare me. That was actually my first thought, that I was part of the start of some planned prank, but then I realized that our company would never publish anything even remotely connected to (Y/N).

Yoongi peered over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing further when he saw the rest. Then, he let out a small exhale, as if were annoyed by their presence, and climbed down the metal rungs.

“Cover yourself,” he said as he tossed me the t-shirt I had draped over the back of my gaming chair.

“What’s going on, hyung?” I repeated while I obeyed. “Why are you asking about (Y/N)?”

Yoongi opened his mouth to answer, a flare of anger lighting his small eyes, but Namjoon cut in before he could speak.

“Let’s speak in the kitchen, Jungkook,” he said, his voice unusually gentle, almost careful.

“Alright,” I said, still bemused. “Let me grab my phone first, though.”

“It’s really important,” said Namjoon apologetically.

“But it’s been vibrating all morning,” I said. “It might be--”

“It can wait,” snapped Yoongi, causing everyone’s eyes, even Jimin’s, to turn his direction. All the attention made him mutter something underneath his breath before he pushed himself out of the tiny crowd that the rest of my hyungs formed and exited out into the hallway.

“It can wait,” repeated Namjoon in a soft tone. “Please, come.”

I had been following Yoongi with my gaze until he was out of sight, startled by his strangely foul mood, and turned back toward Namjoon and the rest. “Let me go the bathroom first, and I’ll be there.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon left the room and the rest trailed behind, except for Taehyung. He paused in the doorway and when he glanced at me over his shoulder, I saw that there was something he wanted to say. Something bad. However, Hoseok and Jimin managed to get him to follow before he could say anything.

I was burning with curiosity, but I couldn’t get rid of the chill that had enveloped my limbs. I was rarely cold, especially in the summer, but I needed to put on both sweatpants and a hoodie before I felt comfortable stepping out into the hallway. The whole apartment felt eerily chilly, as if the AC was blasting in every room on the highest setting, but when I checked the temperature, I realized that everything was the same. Something was different with me.

But it wasn’t until I stepped into the kitchen that I found out why.

A bowl of cereal was waiting on the table, and Jimin was taking out the milk from the refrigerator when I entered the kitchen. Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok were all conversing quietly around the table while Taehyung fiddled with his phone nervously. Yoongi was standing by the sink with his arms crossed over his chest, yet even though his hands were somewhat hidden, I could see the tension with which he held them in fists.

“Seriously,” I began when Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok immediately fell silent upon my arrival. “What the hell is going on?”

I didn’t hesitate from cursing, partly because I frankly did not have the patience to bother and partly because I wanted to see everyone’s reactions. If this was being broadcasted or filmed by hidden cameras, since there was still the possibility that I was being subjected to some kind of prank, I knew they wouldn’t be able to hide the fact if I said something expletive that would, without a doubt, be censored. I even felt a flicker of hope as I spoke, thinking that everyone might burst out in embarrassed laughters and finally release the awful fucking tension that had built up even more in the air.

But as the final words left my mouth, nobody reacted.

The chill that shrouded my body suddenly seeped deeper, through both skin and muscle, until it pierced my bone. I wanted to shout at them, my frustration over their united silence growing larger with each passing second, but I found that I couldn’t. I felt as numb as I did after a long day of filming outdoors in the winter, and stiffly went to sit in front of the bowl of cereal that I presumed Jimin had prepared for me.

“Eat,” said Jimin gently as he came by and poured milk into the bowl. “You must be hungry after the night.”

“I’m not,” I said truthfully.

Jimin pursed his lips and returned the milk to the refrigerator before he, too, sat down. I felt that everyone was waiting, but I didn’t know for what. It was suddenly so quiet in the kitchen that I could hear my phone vibrating from inside my room again, and although my instinct was to rise and get it, I couldn’t do it.

Not after what Namjoon said next.

“(Y/F/N) has been reported missing as of early morning today.”

“She…” I couldn’t even speak due to the overwhelming amount of shock that had paralyzed my senses. “She’s been what?”

“She’s been reported missing,” said Namjoon patiently, his eyes filled with solemn sympathy. “It was broadcasted in the news this morning. Your brother’s missing, too, though that hasn’t been officially announced. The police has been in contact with our company, but I don’t know anything yet and neither do the managers. Or well, if they do, they haven’t told any of us. The director called earlier and said you’re supposed to head down to Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency as soon as you can.”

I stared at him in disbelief, still waiting - vainly, I realize in hindsight - for them to reveal that this was all just a prank. That my evident horror was the punchline of the joke. But when nobody said anything and Namjoon and Seokjin and Hoseok and Taehyung and Jimin either averted their eyes or met mine with so much sympathy that I threatened to break, I finally came to the understanding that this was real. The chill sensation parasitizing on my body wasn’t just any ordinary cold - it was fear. It was endless, cavernous fear.

And as my eyes found Yoongi, a shred of that same fear reflected in his eyes.

Even though it struck me as weird--no, inappropriate even, I didn’t stick around to see whether my observation was really true or not. I heard some of my hyungs call out my name as I rushed back to my room, but a dominant voice I only faintly registered as Namjoon calmed them down and stopped them from following me, which was good. I didn’t want them to see my face in that moment.

I didn’t want them to see just how close I was to breaking.

After swiping my phone from the desk with enough force to pull out the charger, I checked my notifications while I shut the door behind me. There were over twenty calls from mom and a few numbers I recognized belonged to the company were on the list of missed calls as well. There was also some calls I had missed from Yi-Jae and texts that indicated that my voicemail probably was filled to the brim, but I didn’t care about any of it.

For the last contact I had on my row of missed calls was (Y/N).

“Fuck,” I breathed as I checked the time. The seven calls had been made around lunch when I had been busy doing… something else. Something I had been overjoyed to do. Something I thought had been the most important thing in the world.

Something that would save my relationship with (Y/N) from the devastation that would otherwise be Yi-Jae’s pregnancy.

It was a subject I hadn’t been able to bring up no matter how many times I tried. Pregnancy was such a scary topic in general - how was I supposed to tell (Y/N) of all people that I had screwed up and made Yi-Jae pregnant? There had never a good time to tell her that, even less approach the fact that I had had sex with Yi-Jae on multiple occasions without protection but while she was on the pill. (Y/N) always appeared so poised and sheltered, and… almost conservative. Not exactly judgemental, but with her background, how could she not judge me? How could she not despise me if she found out the truth?

How the fuck was I supposed to live in a world where (Y/N) hated me? The girl whose eyes seemed able to see right through me, whose presence had always filled me with this incredible sense of reassurance and familiarity. The girl who was like an anchor keeping me grounded against the waves of life.

The only girl--no, woman who I knew without doubt that I would love until I couldn’t love anymore.

The sound of shuffling footsteps and low murmurs came from beyond my door, but I ignored the obvious whereabouts of my hyungs as I sank, or rather, fell down into my gaming chair. My legs were suddenly too weak to carry my weight, and the hungering, harrowing feeling of powerlessness further consumed me as I placed my phone to my ear.

“Hello, you’ve reached (Y/F/N). Unfortunately, I can’t take your call right now, but--”

Instinctively, I tore my phone away from my face and lifted it in order to throw it as hard as I could into the wall. Fortunately, reason broke through the wave of fury that had temporarily ridden me of my senses. I couldn’t lose my phone. Not only because practically half of my life was either stored or managed through it but because I needed people to be able to contact me.

I needed (Y/N) to be able to call me from wherever she was.

After getting into some jeans and another hoodie, I finally opened the door to my room. All of my hyungs except for Yoongi stood outside, and judging by their expression as they eyed my features, I knew that I looked bad. I couldn’t have cared less, though. Ignoring them and the fact that my appearance strangled their quiet conversations, I headed to the entryway where I shoved my feet into the first pairs of sneakers I could get my hands on.

“I’m going to the police station,” I heard myself say.

“I’ll come with you,” said Namjoon and Taehyung instantly.

They had all followed me to the entryway, and Namjoon and Taehyung were already starting to put on outerwear.

“I’ll just grab my phone,” said Hoseok before he disappeared down the hallway.

“We’ll all go.” Seokjin reached for a cap and put on one of the mouth mask gathered within it. “Namjoon, where did Yoongi go?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think he left the dorm after Jungkook stormed off,” said Jimin, his voice a bit strained from him bending over and tying his shoelaces.

Namjoon furrowed his brows. “Where did he go?”

Jimin stood and shrugged.

“You’re not coming with me.”

I couldn’t believe how steady my voice was considering the fact that it felt as if though my insides were disintegrating from within. The arm I had wrapped around myself wasn’t just there for the sake of it. It felt as if though I were five or four or three and perhaps earlier. It felt as if though I was all alone again, with no fame, no name, no fans and none of my hyungs.

It felt as if though time had rewinded and I was back in my old parents’ apartment in Busan - a period of time I remembered only as pain and pressure and more pain. A time when (Y/N) hadn’t been around. A time when I had nothing but myself to release my agony and stress on.

A time when nothing, not even my life, had seemed my own in an endless darkness.

“Jungkook--” began Taehyung, his large eyes filled with a sort of worry I had never seen before.

“No,” I snapped, not bothering to hide the frigidness in my voice. “I’m going alone.”

“Jungkook, please,” tried Namjoon as he raised his hands in a calming gesture.

“Please!”

I flinched at the painful crack in my voice and averted my gaze before I could see any of their reactions. “Please, hyung,” I murmured. “I… I need to do this alone. Please let me go.”

An hour seemed to pass before Namjoon responded. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll call the director and tell him you’ve gone.”

“Thanks,” I said lifelessly.

“Before you go, though…”

I had opened the front door when a hand found itself on my shoulder. I peered over my shoulder and found Namjoon meeting my eyes, his features carefully collected.

“Come talk to me later if you want,” he said quietly. “Or really, any of us. Don’t hesitate.”

“Okay,” I whispered and exited the apartment.

The rain smattered against the asphalt as I ran across the street to get in the taxi I had waved down. My face was pretty well-covered by my mouth mask, but I still lifted the hood of my hoodie before I opened the door to the passenger seat and climbed inside.

“Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency,” I said before the driver - an old dude in his late forties who reeked of cigarettes and cologne - could say hi.

“Got it,” he grumbled and put on the taximeter.

I didn’t even glance his direction, hoping my personality would deter him from looking at me too closely. I doubted he would recognize me for who I was, namely BTS’ Jeon Jungkook, especially since I hadn’t even washed my face, but I couldn’t be too careful. The less the public knew about me and (Y/N), the better it would be for everyone involved.

The very thought of her made me want to crush my phone. A sickening concoction of concern, guilt and outright terror stewed deep inside my gut, threatening to make me vomit. How had she disappeared? Had she been kidnapped? But who would want to do that? And how could she have disappeared? Her workplace and home were both clearly heavily secured, and she always had Jong-Yeol to drive her around. Had he perhaps disappeared, too?

I immediately looked through my contacts until I spotted his name. I had gotten his number from (Y/N)’s father a long time ago, and so I had no choice but to hope that he hadn’t switched it since then.

“It’s Kwon Jong-Yeol.”

I had never liked the man or that curt tone of his, but I could have hugged him for answering. “It’s me,” I said, not wanting the taxi driver to know my name.

There was a pause. But then, Jong-Yeol spoke again.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you receive my number?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I said. “How the hell is any of this happening?”

“Are you accusing me of something, Jungkook?”

“Well, where the fuck were you when (Y/N) disappeared?” My anger boiled out of me, and my heart was frankly happy to have found someone to release some of my guilt on. “And why don’t you sound upset that she’s gone?”

There was a joyless chuckle from the other end of the line before Jong-Yeol responded. “Do I not sound upset?” he asked incredulously.

Now that I listened more closely, I did hear a fearful strain in his voice. (Y/N)’s chauffeur was the sort of manly uncle who always spoke about his former glory days serving in the army. For him to break that facade after years of always knowing him as this kind of grumpy, curt man was honestly terrifying.

For if he was scared, things had to be serious.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad for projecting my guilt, my burden, on him. “I… I just… I’m just so angry and…” I blinked away the burning pain in the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand. You must be even more distraught than me since your brother has gone missing too.”

Although I knew I should, I felt nothing at the last sentence. I frankly doubted I would be able to feel anything in regard to my brother’s disappearance even if I tried. “Was it you who reported her missing?” I asked instead of replying.

“Yes. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning when I drove her to the company headquarters, but I didn’t report it until early this morning when I checked on her parents’ apartment and found it empty.”

“Why not earlier?” I asked, doing my best not to sound accusatory again. “Why didn’t you check yesterday evening?”

“The miss has her own will and rarely listens to me,” answered Jong-Yeol wearily. “She takes taxis now and then even though I’ve tried to make her stop. I thought she rode one home after work yesterday but that was clearly not the case.”

I could sense a similar guilt to mine in Jong-Yeol’s voice, and fleetingly wondered if that were the case with me, too. Clearing my throat, I did my best to sound as composed as Namjoon did when he spoke in English.

“Do her parents know?”

“Of course. Their plane should land in Incheon in less than an hour.”

I opened my mouth to answer when the taxi rolled to a halt. “I’m at the station,” I said as I fumbled with the payment.

“I understand. Stay calm during the questioning and be honest no matter what they ask you, alright?”

“I will,” I lied.

“Good.”

The short conversation with Jong-Yeol had somehow managed to make me feel a bit better. I was no longer falling apart as I headed toward the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency. It was an old building, and as I walked through the double doors, the air inside felt old as well. Not at all like a place where people fought crime and served justice.

I didn’t know what exactly to do since I had never been at a police station save for when I applied for a new passport, so it was with great hesitation that I approached the front desk. However, after speaking to the receptionist and showing my driver’s license in order to confirm my identity, I was led up a few floors by a woman in uniform. It almost felt like I was a criminal myself when she introduced me to a room with nothing but a table and a handful of chairs. A male detective in his thirties rose from one of the latter and extended a hand toward me. He told me his name, but I was too tense, too stunned, too in disbelief to register it. My mood wasn’t necessarily caused by their behaviour, since they were very polite, but more because of the atmosphere. How many criminals had been interrogated in this room, even less that whole building? How many thieves, rapists, murderers, vandalists, gangsters and whatever else there may be had sat in the same chair the detective had offered me?

And how many of them might be involved with (Y/N)’s disappearance?

“First of all, I’d like to say that my daughters are both huge fans.”

I blinked. “What?”

The detective gave me a sheepish smile as he angled his tiny notebook away from my vision. “My daughters love your group,” he said. “If they knew who their father was speaking to right now, they would probably pass out.”

“Oh.” I forced a chuckle out of myself even though I wanted to punch the man for talking nonsense. Did he seriously think I would care about whether his daughters were fans of me and my hyungs right then and there? “I’d thank them for their support if I could.”

He let out a small laughter. I really hoped he didn’t expect me to sign him something and fortunately, he didn’t. His glee faded from his face and he rubbed his stubbled jaw slowly as he rifled through his notes.

“Firstly, I would like to apologize to you for having been forced to come here. I would have liked to take the questioning at your home, but your company contacted me and asked me not to.”

“It would make a scene,” I said simply since I couldn’t remember what his title or even name was.

He nodded. “Most likely. There were a whole bunch of reporters running around outside earlier, but thanks to the rain, they’re gone.”

“It’s been broadcasted in the news already, though.”

The detective grimaced. “I really don’t know how it leaked so quickly. But I cannot deny that a missing CEO of a business conglomerate is a juicy story, especially in combination with the latest news surrounding Phoenix Inc.”

I frowned. “What news?”

“There’s talk that the last CEO of the company paid great bribes to our ex-president in order to ease trade agreements, and a few hours ago, an official investigation into the company was initiated. If the guys upstairs find enough evidence, he’ll at the very least be charged for corruption and spend time in prison just like the CEO of Samsung.”

It couldn’t be true. (Y/N)’s father was probably the nicest man I had ever met. He wouldn’t have bribed someone, even less our practically hare-brained ex-president. And now that his heart was acting out, he really couldn’t go to prison. (Y/N) would be furious if she found out.

I grinded my teeth. If? What the fuck was I thinking? Of course she would find out. It was all a matter of when. When the police had found her. When she was safe again.

Because she wasn’t gone forever. She couldn’t be.

A disdainful sneer overtook the detective’s features. “Rich people think they can do anything,” he went on when I said nothing. “Which makes me wonder: how do you know Miss (Y/F/N)? There’s been a lot of talk about you in the media and among my daughters but I would like to hear it from you personally.”

“Our fathers are really close friends,” I told him truthfully. “(Y/N) and I kind of grew up together because of that.”

“Uh-huh,” he said and jotted something down. “What’s your relationship with her?”

She’s my fucking everything. “We’re not really friends but we know each other pretty well.”

The detective scrutinized me for a few seconds. “Do you know if she had any enemies? Anyone who disliked her?”

I shook my head.

“Anyone who might hold a grudge against her?”

“No.”

“Any angry ex-boyfriends?”

I gulped. “No.”

“What about drugs?” The detective readjusted his seating position. “Does she drink a lot? Use prescription pills? Any sort of medicine?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know if she suffers from any mental illnesses? It doesn’t have to be something serious, but just something like stress or depression or sleep deprivation.”

I shook my head again. There was a growing lump in my throat. Because the more he questioned me, the more I started to realize how little I knew about (Y/N)’s life. I knew about her small quirks and habits, her parents and a little about that friend of hers, but I didn’t know anything about her problems. She always either mocked or comforted me. I couldn’t think of a single occasion where I had supported her through something difficult.

I had just naturally assumed that (Y/N) was just as strong as she always portrayed herself as, and in my eyes, she always had been that kind of person. She had always been her own girl and now woman, with eyes that seemed to see through me no matter how much I tried to hide.

She was, undoubtedly, the strongest person I knew. If there was someone who would stand when everyone else fell, it would be her. If there was someone who would speak in a room of silence, it would be her. If there was someone I could count and rely on, it was her.

But perhaps I had always been wrong to think that.

“Alright. Let’s talk more about you. When did you last hear from Miss (Y/F/N)?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell him that she had been calling me frantically the day before sometime after lunch, but I couldn’t tell him that I had been to see her yesterday in her office building. He probably had gotten the impression that she and I weren’t very close, and that was something I was adamant on retaining for as long as I could since I couldn’t trust anyone with the information that (Y/N) and I were together. I had tried to breach the subject with my managers and the director, but nobody had really wanted to listen to me. And I knew why.

Yi-Jae. After our companies found out about her pregnancy and the fact that she wanted to keep the child, I wasn’t able to get rid of her attachment to me, which is the only reason I haven’t been able to break up with her. My managers told me a thousand times what might happen to the whole group’s image if people found out I had bailed on my own kid. And even if they hadn’t, I couldn’t go against my parents wishes.

I couldn’t go against my father.

Yes, it’s fucking cowardly, but I just can’t . It’s like a natural response rooted deep within me that I cannot ignore no matter how hard I try. It’s like holding my breath underwater. Because even though I know I’m grown and should be able to live my own life, even though I know I live miles away from him and he no longer can touch me, my memories still haunt me in the night.

I’m still scared.

“Jungkook?”

I shook my head clear from thoughts and glanced up at the detective. “I’m just exhausted,” I said apologetically.

“Would you like a break?”

“No.” I soaked my lips and sat straighter in the chair. “Go on, sir.”

The questioning didn’t last very long after that. I decided to reveal that she had called me several times yesterday but that my phone had been off. The detective didn’t even quirk a brow at this, and I didn’t realize until he moved on to another question that I had been holding my breath.

When the topic turned to my brother, I had even less to say. It was evident that the detective was struggling with me since he probably wanted more concrete answers than “yes”, “no” and “I don’t know”, but I couldn’t give him anything else. Jung-Hyun was a brother to me in mere name. I didn’t know anything about that person. Not anymore.

Not after he had abandoned me.

After a dozen or so more questions, the detective ended the conversation and rose to leave. I tried asking him about the investigation, if he could tell me anything about (Y/N) and their findings about her whereabouts, but he said nothing.

“I can disclose nothing at the moment,” he said politely. “But…”

He extended a small card. I grabbed it and finally found out his name and title: Superintendent Mun Sung-Ki.

“Call me if you hear anything from Miss (Y/F/N), please,” said Sung-Ki. “Or if you remember anything that might relate to her case.”

“Okay,” I said and shoved the card into my pocket. “I will, superintendent.”

Sung-Ki smiled. “We’ll find your family friend and brother,” he said reassuringly and patted me on the shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”

“Are their disappearances connected somehow?” I blurted.

His smile turned sheepish and he withdrew. “I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information either.”

I could read the answer in his eyes, however. And though I was dying to find out what exactly had happened after I left (Y/N) the day before, what exactly she and Jung-Hyun might have said or done, I pushed away the thoughts before they could consume me. I wanted to keep the latest memory I had of her in pristine condition, pure and untouched from any of the black tendrils stirring in my gut at the notion of Jung-Hyun and (Y/N) being together.

I wanted to keep our first kiss mine, and mine alone.

I rode another cab to BigHit. Although I honestly didn’t want to, I knew I had to tell my hyungs about my true association with (Y/N). They probably had understood by now that she and I were more than just “family friends” but I doubted they knew how I truly felt about her.

How I truly felt in the mess that was Yi-Jae and her pregnancy.

And so, when I stepped into the section of the building that was specifically reserved for Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok’s studios and a hangout zone for all seven of us, I was sweating with nervousness. I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and chugged it down as I headed down the corridor leading to Namjoon’s workroom. I knocked on the door, but when nobody replied, I sent a text.

[11.10 - Me]: Hyung, I’m outside your studio. Where are you?

[11.16 - RM-hyung]: I’m out eating lunch with Hoseok. Wanna come?

[11.17 - Me]: I’m fine. Do you have time to talk later?

[11.20 - RM-hyung]: We just got here, so it’ll take a while to get back. Is it urgent?

[11.21 - Me]: Nah, I can wait.

[11.20 - RM-hyung]: Ok, see you later.

It would be a lie if I said I was happy to have to wait since I had to wrestle with my thoughts and doubts on my own for however long it took Namjoon to get back. I didn’t want to be alone in that moment. And so, after I had taken off my hoodie, I went back and headed down the corridor leading to Yoongi’s studio.

Away from the camera, Yoongi was the quietest and most withdrawn of my hyungs. Outside promotions and touring - and sometimes even then - he sequestered himself with his computer or tablet. Days could pass before I saw him back at the dorm, and if we hadn’t been in the same group and spent so much time together over all these years, I wouldn’t have liked him. In fact, I was pretty sure he and I would never have talked if we met each other in any other context.

Despite his aloof nature, however, I had learned to find him reliable in a completely different way than the other members. While Namjoon was very mature and had somewhat of a contrasting disposition compared to the rest of us, who were all very light-hearted, Yoongi was always serious in private. Of course, he wasn’t completely different from the person he was in front of cameras just like the rest of us weren’t always as energetic and upbeat as we showed ourselves as, but there was a distinct change between who Yoongi was in front of the fans and who he was in front of nobody. I couldn’t really put my finger on what exactly it was that made him so reliable, if it was only his earnestness or something entirely else, but I was really glad to have him in my life. Just as I was glad to have the rest of the members.

For they had shown me the kind of happiness and light I had always desired from my father and brother.

But that wasn’t the reason I wanted to talk to Yoongi. The more I thought about it, the more I found his anger that morning weird and kind of out of line. He didn’t know (Y/N) even a tenth--no, a hundredth of what I did, yet he had appeared and sounded like she was someone he cared about quite a lot, which was even stranger in itself. Yoongi and (Y/N) had never met outside of her meeting all of his hyungs, had they? And even during that time, when would Yoongi have had the time to develop some sort of attachment to her?

And why had I seen some of my own bottomless terror in his eyes?

As I rounded the corner, I saw to my astonishment that the usually shut and locked door leading into “Genius Lab” was slightly ajar. I padded closer and knocked on the door, but when nobody answered, I bent and peered carefully inside.

It was empty.

“Just my luck,” I muttered and straightened my posture. Just before I turned around and left, however, my eyes caught on something on his computer screen.

Something that had nothing to do with music.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t, curiosity drew me closer. I grasped the mouse and directed the pointer toward Yoongi’s internet tab, which was crammed with so many sites that I couldn’t even see the names on the top. As articles about (Y/N), her disappearance and the rumours of corruption surrounding her company flitted past my vision, I felt my breathing slow down. A mixture of confusement and shock overtook my senses, and I didn’t know what to think as I glanced down at the clutter of torn notebook sheets that was spread across the desk. I hadn’t really thought anything of it at first glance, merely thinking that Yoongi was in the middle of working on lyrics for some new song, but after seeing what had been on his computer, I realized there simply had to be a correlation between the scribbles on the paper and the display.

There simply had to be a correlation between the scribbles and the growing suspicion in my mind.

Not caring if I made a mess after me, I grabbed a few of the torn out sheets and started reading through them. Some were just random sentences and words, and others were half-hearted to-do lists that never seemed to have been finished. My heart was racing, and didn’t calm down even when I had gone through everything that was on the desk.

For that’s when I discovered something in the bin that took my breath away - and not in the good kind of way.

My hand was trembling as I lifted the ripped and somewhat crumpled up notebook sheet to my eyes. A lot of the text was covered by frustrated black lines, but I could still read all of it.

I want to avoid escape,

These wretched tempting suffocating twisted feelings in my chest.

I want to obey,

My rationale’s respectable brain’s healthy, sensible protest

But I can’t,

Because I think I really like her.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

I knew that the piece of paper I was holding in no way actually proved that Yoongi had feelings for (Y/N). I knew that it could very likely be something as innocuous as lyrics to a new song, just like I had assumed when I first peered into his studio. But something about the words only further stoked the fires of suspicion in my heart.

And as I spun around at the sound of the door shutting and locking behind me, I knew that I was right.

For the answer was clear as day in Yoongi’s carefully guarded eyes.

[wrienne]

I'm not good with words but... thank you... from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for sharing your writing. And I really like your writing. I hope you'll continue to write them and share them with us. And I hope you have beautiful days and good rests. Take your time. I'll always wait for you

Thank you for your kindness. I am truly grateful that you appreciate my work, and thank you ever more for acknowledging my time. 💕

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 9: Taken

“(Y/N)? Jungkook?”

All the colour drained from your face. After you stiffly disentangled yourself from Jungkook, who wore a strangely irritated expression, you pushed him aside so that you could have a clear view of the double doors - and the direction of Jung-Hyun’s voice. Although you prayed that you were hallucinating, that you had gone a bit crazy due to Jungkook’s kiss and were merely hearing Jung-Hyun’s voice, you couldn’t deny the truth when it stared right back at you.

For there he was.

Standing in the doorway, you found yourself staring at Jung-Hyun. It was the first time you had seen him in something so casual as sneakers, sweatpants and a hoodie, save for that morning when you had briefly checked on him while he slept. His hair, which was usually so properly kempt was only halfway put together, and his jaw was starting to grow a stubble. Despite his comparably sloppy appearance, however, Jung-Hyun’s eyes carried a cool sternness that could have been interpreted as anger, and also a hint of something as odd as frustrated acknowledgement. As if he hadn’t wanted to witness what he was seeing, but had expected it all along.

But that couldn’t be, right?

You were too stunned to have the dignity to speak up, but Jungkook wasn’t. After he, too, had turned around to meet his brother’s gaze, he merely crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the fact that a few of the upper buttons had come loose, or perhaps not caring.

“We’re together,” said Jungkook triumphantly, dropping it as if though he was mentioning something obvious. “We’ve always been. (Y/N) is mine.”

His last words grated at your nerves, and the lie about you two always being together infuriated you. It felt like he invalidated all the emotional pain and turmoil you had forced yourself to suffer through the past few months while you helped him regain his memories. You couldn’t help but also feel a bit like Jungkook was bragging about the two of you, something you felt he shouldn’t do to anyone, least of all to his brother, who thought you were or at least had been engaged to him.

Before you could say anything to dispute Jungkook’s words, however, Jung-Hyun left. He didn’t say anything, but just turned around and walked out. You started toward the door, aiming to catch up to him and explain a bit more properly, but Jungkook caught your wrist before you could go anywhere.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a frown.

You stared at him incredulously. “Isn’t it obvious? We have to tell Jung-Hyun the whole story. At least I have to.”

“Why?”

“Jungkook,” you started in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. Of course we have to explain everything! I don’t want him to think that you and I tricked him into some sort of twisted game!”

Jungkook’s frown deepened. “But isn’t that what you’ve done?”

Your eyebrows rose sky high. “‘You’?” you echoed.

“You lied to me and said you were going to break your engagement with him a month ago,” replied Jungkook, his familiar brown eyes growing increasingly colder with each passing word. “Then you told me you couldn’t break up the engagement because you wanted to help him.”

“What about that sounds like I was intentionally trying to be malicious?” you demanded, your voice growing louder due to the accumulating irritation within you. “I told you the truth - I wanted to help Jung-Hyun with something that’s really complicated. I still do!”

“What do you mean ‘complicated’?” Jungkook leaned closer, but the total lack of desire in the stony expression he wore removed whatever feelings of intimacy the proximity of his body might have aroused. “And why? Why do you want to help him so badly?”

“He’s your brother!” you exclaimed instantly in a subconscious way to avoid answering his question. Because truthfully, you didn’t know the exact answer. Sure, you could say that you wanted to help Jung-Hyun from a mere humanitarian aspect, and perhaps some months back, that might have been the whole truth. But you didn’t know anymore. Things had developed in your and Jung-Hyun’s relationship, things you hadn’t even expected in the first place, for now you no longer just empatized with him. After the evening before, you no longer wanted to help him merely because he was Jungkook’s brother and you felt like you had some sort of duty.

You liked Jung-Hyun. And that profession in itself terrified you way more than anything else in the world. Because what did it mean that you “liked” him?

What did it mean for you and Jungkook?

“He doesn’t deserve to be called my brother. He doesn’t deserve to be called anyone’s brother.”

The iciness in Jungkook’s voice made all the hairs in your neck stand on their ends. You stared up into his eyes, partly shocked, partly confused. “What do you mean?” you wondered carefully.

Something dark stirred in Jungkook’s familiar brown eyes, but he averted his gaze before you could inspect it any closer. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered and released his grip around your wrist as he turned away from you.

“Please,” you began as you caught his hand before he could fully turn around. “What is going on between you and your brother?”

Jungkook squinted back at you. “Has he said anything?” he asked, seemingly surprised by your inquiry.

“No, but I’m not stupid.” You swallowed. “Why… why do you hate him so much?”

It had been a guess, but judging by Jungkook’s immediate reaction, you knew you had been right to assume the worst. His whole posture stiffened, and his familiar brown eyes were almost vacant as he met your gaze.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbled.

“Don’t give me that clichéd answer!” You couldn’t hold yourself back from shouting anymore. “I am trying my best here for both you and Jung-Hyun as well as my parents!”

“Then tell me!” Jungkook tore himself free from your grasp as anger entered his gaze. “What’s so complicated and hard with Jung-Hyun’s situation? Why do you care so much?”

You opened your mouth to respond truthfully, that Jung-Hyun was involved with the Hwan Song Sung Pa, but then you remembered what he had told you the day before. He didn’t want anyone to know, and although you suspected it was due to more of a personal rather than practical reason, you couldn’t betray his trust and the fact that he had confided in you.

Besides, now that you had first-hand experience of what kind of enemies Jung-Hyun had, you understood why he had been so reluctant to tell you in the first place. He hadn’t wanted you to get involved, and you felt just the same about Jungkook.

“I can’t say,” you said quietly after a pause.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “How am I supposed to be satisfied with that answer?” he demanded. “How can I just let you have secrets with my brother?”

You balled your hands into fists. “What about you?” you retorted, unable to restrain your frustration no matter how much you tried. “You’re keeping secrets from me, too, I know it.”

“I’m not,” he said, though you read the truth in his eyes.

“It’s about Yi-Jae, isn’t it?” When he averted his gaze, you continued, spurred on by your rapidly beating heart and the fear and anger that spread like vicious poison throughout your system. “How can you accuse me of cheating on you and when you’re doing just the same?”

“It’s not the same,” said Jungkook harshly, his familiar brown eyes hardening as they returned to you.

You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms over your chest. “What is it then?” you asked. “Why haven’t you two announced your breakup yet? Why didn’t you tell me about your collaboration with her?”

“Because…” Jungkook struggled with his words for a few moments before he went on. “Because I knew you would react like this! And I’m a singer! Can I not sing with girls because of you?”

“Don’t twist my words, Jungkook,” you said, feeling the muscles around your jaw tense. “I’ve never forbidden you from doing anything and I don’t ever want to do that. I just want an explanation.”

“It’s just how things are in the industry!” he exclaimed, clearly agitated. “I can’t control it, and neither can she! But we’re done, I promise.”

You eyed him for a long while before you released a heavy sigh, letting your muscles relax. Were you just being overly paranoid? When even Yoongi had told you that you could trust Jungkook, why were you still doubting him? Was it because you were being an idiot? Was it because you were too proud to admit that your instincts might be severely wrong?

“Okay,” you murmured as you lowered your gaze to the floor. “I trust you. But that means you’ll have to trust me about this as well,” you added quickly. “I’m not cheating on you. I’m just trying my best to help Jung-Hyun since he’s going to be my brother-in-law eventually.”

“(Y/N)...”

“I mean it.” You raised your gaze, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the ambivalence in his eyes. “I would never be unfaithful. You have to trust me.”

You truly meant the words as you said them. Jungkook must have realized it for the furrow between his brows faded and his whole posture seemed to unwind. He approached you, one, slow step after another, before he hesitantly reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it, and involuntarily let out another breath of air as he intertwined his warm fingers with your cold ones.

“I trust you, too,” he murmured as he looked down at you with so much fondness in those familiar brown eyes of his that you almost had to avert your gaze.

“Thank you.”

Although you yearned to kiss him again, you knew that the argument had taken up enough time already. Jung-Hyun might already be long gone, but you had to try and find him. You had to explain.

“I have to go,” you said as you disentangled your hand from Jungkook’s.

“I know,” he said reluctantly. “But first…”

Your breath nearly caught in the back of your throat when Jungkook leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It was only briefly, and the touch featherlight, but it was still more than enough to ignite your whole body in an invisible fire. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and even more so when you saw the crooked smile he wore as he withdrew.

“Try not to beat him up if he doesn’t want to listen to you,” he said, and though he was obviously joking, a tendril of genuine irritation had also entered his voice.

“I’m not a violent person,” you parried as you gathered your purse and blazer.

“Yeah, sure, Miss Violent.”

You hid your smile behind a hand. “Stupid idiot,” you muttered before raising your voice to a normal speaking volume. “You know the way out, right?”

“Not really.”

You grabbed the desk phone and called front desk. The same female voice belonging to one of the receptionists answered, and you instructed her to come to your office and lead Jungkook back down. In the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook unpocketing his phone and, to your great relief, a black mouth mask that covered a majority of his face.

After exchanging quick goodbyes, you hurried out of your father’s office. You called Jung-Hyun but he, unsurprisingly enough, didn’t answer. You started thinking about where he could have gone, if there was a place you would be able to find him if he was sad or upset, but your mind came up empty. In truth, you still didn’t know much about Jung-Hyun. You didn’t know what hobbies he might have, what he liked and didn’t like, if he had a favorite dish or what kind of music he enjoyed. It made the already heavy weight on your shoulders even heavier, especially since you had had a lot of opportunities to ask him about himself during your dinners together.

You halted and leaned against a wall where you grasped your hair and exhaled. A passing employee gave you a curious look but you didn’t care. Where could Jung-hyun be? What would you have done if your roles were reversed?

“I would have quit,” you said with a self-deprecating snort, before you realized that was probably the case with anyone. You only hoped Jung-Hyun belonged to that category.

After finding out from the front desk where Jung-Hyun’s office was, you hurried as fast as you could toward the right floor. Your feet were still a bit sore from all the walking from the day before but fortunately, you had found a pair of somewhat elegant flats to wear that morning and thanks to them, It didn’t take very long until you reached the door to his office. Just as you placed your hand on the handle, however, the door abruptly opened from inside.

“Jung-Hyun-oppa,” you said, slightly out of breath.

Without even acknowledging your presence with so much as a glance, Jung-Hyun pushed past you with a laptop and a folder tucked underneath his armpit. You tried calling his name again, but he didn’t turn around. Your heart was swimming somewhere deep down your stomach as you followed him, anxiousness twisting your features into a frown, and you had to dig your nails into your palms as not to yell after him.

He tried getting away using one of the elevators but you managed to reach the closing doors just in time. The air turned tangible, practically, and your heart was slamming so hard against the inside of your rib cage that you thought you would have a heart attack.

“Jung-Hyun-oppa,” you tried.

“Do not call me that.”

His stiff, somber voice was frigid and sharp enough to cut. You flinched at the sound, not used to hearing him speak to you, or really anyone, with such little regard, but you couldn’t get angry. He deserved to be angry. He deserved to call you out.

He deserved the truth.

“Jung-Hyun,” you began and added the sort of polite suffix you would have used to address someone you did not know. “I can explain everything if you’ll just let me.”

He didn’t say anything, and when you glanced up at him, you saw that his cool gaze was fixed to the closed elevator doors. His jaw was set, and you could see how tense his fingers were around the laptop and the folder.

Not knowing whether you should take his silence as a sign for you to continue, you opened your mouth again. “Please,” you pleaded. “Please let me explain.”

“There is no need for me to listen to anything. I’m ending my employment here, and I’ll be gone from your life by tomorrow.”

You caught yourself from protesting impulsively and instead inhaled deeply. “Are you staying in South Korea?”

Jung-Hyun didn’t answer, but this time, you were able to glean enough information from the look in his eyes. He wasn’t leaving until he had found out whoever was behind the murder of his former boss.

“I can help you,” you blurted. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I realize now that I do.”

Your eyes widened when you understood the meaning of his words. Jung-Hyun seemed to have an inner conflict whether to look at you or not when the elevator came to a halt. Thanks to his long legs, Jung-Hyun managed to gain some distance between the two of you as you exited the car. However, ignoring the looks you got from the fortunately low amount of employees walking around in the foyer, you jogged after him.

“Jung-Hyun!” you called when you were outside. The sun was shining, the sky an endless expanse of clear blue, the wind a gentle whisper against your exposed legs. The beautiful weather made you feel even more rotten inside, but you fought against the nausea and continued after Jung-Hyun, who just kept on walking down the road, apparently not even in the mood of bothering with a taxi.

He kept walking, and you kept on following him. You didn’t know where he was going, or if he knew it himself, but judging by the increasing stiffness in his shoulders, his temper was only rising.

“Stop following me.”

Several minutes had passed since you had left Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul Headquarters. Jung-Hyun had swung in on an empty alleyway that reminded you an awful a lot about the alley he had been assaulted in the day before, but you quickly pushed that notion away. Nobody was going to attack you in broad daylight, right?

“Not until you’ve allowed me to explain.”

“Then speak.”

Jung-Hyun lit a cigarette and placed it between his thin lips. His eyes, which were normally already difficult to read, were, if possible, even more indecipherable.

“I was going to tell you about me and Jungkook,” you started as you scratched your arm. “Do you remember when I came to your hotel room last month?”

He nodded stiffly, and let out a gray swirl of cigarette smoke from the right corner of his lips.

“I was going to tell you right then,” you said and swallowed. “But when I saw you, I couldn’t. And even though I’ve been meaning to tell you again and again, I just haven’t been able to. I didn’t want you to push me away like you’re doing right now and not let me help you with… you know.”

For some reason, you felt reluctant to speak the name of the gang out loud. Although you would have to admit that you hadn’t been very scared of them before, the attack yesterday had put everything into a whole different perspective. Suddenly, they were no longer shadow people or featured on the news articles. Suddenly, they were very real and very dangerous.

Jung-Hyun remained quiet. His eyes were downcast, locked onto a particular spot on the asphalt, and it wasn’t until he was lighting his second cigarette that he finally spoke.

“You love Jungkook.”

The solemn look in his eyes, combined with the confident certainty behind his statement made you blush furiously. “I… yes?” The question had surprised you to the point where you tripped over your words, and even though you attempted to gather yourself, you found yourself stumbling aimlessly. “But wait, what? I… I mean, how did--”

“I’ve always suspected Jungkook to harbor some manner of feelings toward you,” interrupted Jung-Hyun, his voice low and only barely audible. “But I didn’t expect you to feel the same. What few times I saw you two interact when you were children, you always seemed to dislike him.”

“I did,” you confessed before launching into an explanation about everything that happened since that fateful night in February, when Jungkook had first gotten in an accident. You were sure to be speedy, since you didn’t know how long Jung-Hyun’s patience might last, but you took care not to skip too many details. You also told him why you hadn’t been able to tell him beforehand - and that yes, you had intentionally kept him in the dark so that he would confide in you regarding his issue. When you were done, your heart was beating so fast you were on the border of feeling dizzy, but you could at the same time not have been more relieved.

“So yeah,” you finished as you scratched your arm. “I did despise Jungkook and I don’t really know how or why that changed but it’s no longer the truth. I actually think I love him.”

To your surprise, instead of being embarrassing or somehow painful, it felt as if an immense invisible weight lifted from your shoulders. Your heart was beating lightly, for once, and you felt your self-assuredness grow from the admission. It was also such a release to finally speak what your heart was telling you every day, what you felt like saying every day.

“I see.”

Jung-Hyun did a good job at keeping his expression cool and unresponsive, but he couldn’t hide the pain from momentarily gaining hold over his eyes. And he must have noticed you seeing it, for he hastily averted his gaze and took another drag on his cigarette. A white puff of smoke whispered between his lips as he sighed.

“I wish,” he started slowly, “I wish you would have had the bravery to tell me in person before today.” He paused. “Do you remember what I told you that day when we were out buying engagement rings for one another?”

You couldn’t bear to look at him as you replied. “You told me you would like to love me one day.”

“And?”

“And that I would love you the same.”

“I said neither of those things to bring you mere amusement. I meant it.”

“Jung-Hyun,” you started, your voice trembling due to nervousness. “You don’t mean to say you’re in love with me, are you?”

When you had mustered the strength to raise your gaze again, he was already regarding you, a heartbreakingly melancholy look in his eyes.

“Perhaps a little.”

Shame. You were drowning in it. Gulping in several mouthfuls of it. Yet you could not stop yourself from saying perhaps the most moronic thing you could have possibly sprouted.

“I’m sorry.”

Shockingly, Jung-Hyun didn’t get angry. He didn’t even get annoyed. Instead, a smile abruptly spread across his mouth and a low chuckle escaped from his throat.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting to hear that,” he said, the remnant of a smile still lingering on his lips as he tossed the butt of the cigarette aside.

You smacked yourself in the forehead and dragged your hand down your face, while inwardly cursing yourself for being quicker with your tongue and emotions than your mind. “You don’t deserve any of this,” you mumbled into the palm of your hand. “I’m a horrible person.”

“No, you’re not. I can understand your reasoning, and I don’t think I can fully blame you. I should have been better.”

“Don’t blame yourself!” You took a step toward him and pressed your hand against your chest. “Please, don’t think any of this is your fault, Jung-Hyun. It’s not. It’s mine, entirely. I should have told you.”

“Yes,” replied Jung-Hyun, and suddenly, the last of his amusement melted away. “I am going to have to ask you something, (Y/N), and I want you to answer truthfully. I don’t want to repeat your mistake by not telling you when I should have - and have you suffer the consequences.”

“Ask me anything,” you said, eager to respond to anything that might make him stay for a little while longer.

“Have you read or watched celebrity news reports as of late?”

The seemingly random question bemused you and you frowned. “No, I don’t keep up with that kind of stuff if I can help it. Found out I can get a bit too addicted to it.”

“It’s because of Jungkook, right?”

You glanced sideways. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I got a little bit obsessed a month or two ago, when he moved back to his dorm and his relationship with Yi-Jae got public.”

“Understandable. But perhaps you should have kept at it.”

“Why?” you asked as you aimed your attention back at Jung-Hyun. “You don’t exactly strike me as a celebrity gossip follower. What is this about?”

Jung-Hyun inspected your face for a few wordless seconds before his eyes widened slightly. “You really don’t know,” he said.

You frowned again. “About what?”

“About the fact that Yi-Jae is rumoured to be pregnant.”

For a second, all the colour in the world disappeared. You forgot how to breathe, how to speak, how to blink, how to do, well, anything really. But then your mind broke through.

“Rumours are stupid,” you said dismissively. “Paparazzi and celebrity reporters are nothing but vultures. Has she gained weight or something? So what? It must be hard for idols to always be in shape all the time.”

Jung-Hyun opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. Instead, he unpocketed his phone and, after fiddling with it, approached you with the screen facing your direction.

The instinct to run abruptly spread throughout your system, to get away from whatever catastrophe Jung-Hyun was surely about to show you, but you couldn’t. It was a little like when people occasionally spoke of car crashes and major accidents and how the horrific but incredible awe of the incident could render them unable to tear their gazes away from the starting scene despite knowing how it would unfold. You finally understood what they meant. For the frozen numbness that enveloped your body at that moment was just like that - only, the only one caught in the accident was you yourself. You couldn’t blink, you couldn’t look away, you couldn’t do anything but simply stare at Jung-Hyun’s phone.

For he was showing you a picture of Yi-Jae - but not any kind of picture.

Lying on a hospital gurney with her round stomach exposed, she was staring at the blurry image of a screen next to the bed wearing the widest and proudest smile you had ever seen. You had always viewed her as pretty, almost unfairly so, and if you had ever hosted any sort of suspicions that she might be ugly without cosmetics, you were proven severely wrong in that moment. For although her hair was up in a sloppy mess on top of her head and her face was bare and she was wearing a dreary grey cardigan and jeans, you still found her pretty. Perhaps even more so with that smile on her face.

“My mother sent this a month ago,” said Jung-Hyun quietly. “Yi-Jae’s father had sent her the picture just before. My mother… she told me I was going to be an uncle soon.”

You snatched the phone from Jung-Hyun’s hand. He didn’t even raise a brow at you, but he did react when you grabbed his wrist and started tugging him along.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a hint of concern entering his stiff, somber voice.

“You and I are going to see Jungkook,” you said icily. Or rather, you heard yourself say it in an icy tone. You couldn’t feel your limbs, even less control them. It was as if the shock at seeing the picture had sent you out of your body or that perhaps you had just always been a ghost following the seemingly cursed woman named (Y/F/N). The cursed woman that destiny hated. The cursed woman who had accumulated all the bad karma in the world.

The cursed woman who had just had her heart ripped out of her chest by the person she thought loved her - just like she did him.

“I do not think that’s a very good idea.”

He dug his heels into the ground, but by some miracle, your body still managed to move him anyway, even though he was a lot more physically fit and larger than it.

“But I do,” you heard yourself say. “You can decide whether you’d like to walk or be carried.”

There was a pause before Jung-Hyun answered. “I will walk.”

“Then walk.”

Within minutes, you and Jung-Hyun reached one of the main streets. Cars and buses trundled past sluggishly, all on their respective journeys, but stuck in the aftermath of Seoul lunch traffic. You looked around for a taxi, not wanting to let Jong-Yeol see you in the state you were currently in, and after a few minutes of fruitless waving and walking around, one finally drew near.

Just as you and Jung-Hyun had sank down onto the backseat of the cart, however, another taxi came by. The driver poked out his head from the window and called for the driver of the first taxi to move and stop stealing his customers. He sounded angry, and didn’t hesitate from yelling right there on the street. You didn’t really care how you would get to Jungkook, but since you wanted to avoid an argument that might prolong the time it would take you to reach him, you apologized and exited the first car, walking up to the second one instead.

The second driver stopped shouting immediately as you and Jung-Hyun, who had silently complied with you, entered his car instead. He was younger than you would have ever expected a taxi driver to be, wore a wireless earpiece and a thick, black mouth mask and had a scar above his left eyebrow. As soon as you sat down, he apologized profusely over his colleague’s behaviour even though it was he himself who had caused trouble.

“Where are you two off to then?”

“I don’t know yet,” you heard yourself say in a stiff tone. “Just drive around for a bit and I’ll tell you when I know.”

The driver smiled without showing teeth. “Right away, Miss.”

While the taxi roamed about the cityscape, you tried to reach Jungkook. He didn’t answer no matter how many times you called him, and the texts you sent were delivered but never read. You still held Jung-Hyun’s phone, and although it was tempting to crush and smash it, you knew you couldn’t. It was the single most convincing form of evidence you had to confront Jungkook with. You would rather die than lose that image of Yi-Jae.

How could you have been so naive as to believe Jungkook’s words? How could you have been so stupid as to ignore all the warning signs? Yoongi’s words in his studio, Se-Eun’s obvious doubt… And the evening your father got his second heart attack, when you were supposed to tell Jungkook’s parents - and your own, for that matter - that you weren’t engaged to Jung-Hyun any longer. Now that you thought back on it, you remembered that Jungkook had told you there was something he needed to tell you. He had repeated that several times now. Was this it?

You shook your head. That was just stupid. Although you didn’t know anything about pregnancies, she was clearly pregnant in the picture, and it had been taken a month ago. Just how long had Jungkook known about it? How long had it taken him to say that he needed to tell you something?

And why, why, why, why was she pregnant with his child?

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to hit something until you couldn’t feel your fists anymore.

You wanted to disappear.

The agony you carried in your heart was not worth the small glimpses of bright, warm happiness that Jungkook had given you. It was the opposite, in fact. The more you recalled a sweet gesture or an unusually soft look or Jungkook’s endless warmth, the pain and darkness grew stronger. It was overwhelming, suffocating, and you felt your breaths grow shorter and more uneven. Initially, you thought it might just be because of your heartache, but then your grip of Jung-Hyun’s phone loosened. It slid to the floor mat with a small thud .

You attempted to lean over and grab it, but your limbs wouldn’t obey you. It was similar to when you had felt as if though you were watching someone else in your body, yet still an altogether different feeling. Earlier, you would have described the sensation like you were floating. This was the complete opposite.

You were drowning in a lake where each struggling motion and desperate gasp of air brought you closer to the brink of unconsciousness.

“Something… is wrong.”

Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice was slurred. When you realized you could not muster the strength to answer, panic coursed throughout your body. You tried to call out to the taxi driver and managed to squeeze out a breathless grunt or two, but as you glanced at him through your half-lidded vision, you found to your horror that he was inspecting you in the rearview mirror already with a look of expectancy in his eyes.

“Stop… car…”

It was Jung-Hyun again, but you were too weary to turn your gaze toward him. You fought against the inexplicable wave of fatigue that had dug its talons into you with every bit of determination and anger that might fuel your will, but it was a fruitless struggle - and you knew it.

And as your eyelids slowly, agonizingly slowly, finally slid shut, you knew that you could not safely count on waking up ever again.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 8: The Kiss

It was the first time you had ever heard Jung-Hyun talk with such timidness. And it wasn't difficult to understand why. Had he seriously just asked if you could help him clean himself?

Jung-Hyun was looking at everything except for you as he extended his treated hands. “I can’t let my palms get wet,” he continued when you would say nothing. “And without my hands, I won’t be able to accomplish particularly much on my own.”

Ah, of course. His hands. You cursed yourself inwardly for letting his question shock you so severely that you had completely forgotten about the obvious reason behind it.  

“Oh, alright,” you said after gathering yourself. “I mean, yeah, I could. Of course. Sure.”

“You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’ve already seen you shirtless,” you said dismissively while trying not to blush. “As long as you leave your pants on, I’ll be fine.”

The corners of Jung-Hyun’s mouth curved upward infinitesimally. “I see.”

A wave of heat enveloped your face and you turned around. “Come on,” you said as you gestured for him to follow you.

After leaving Jung-Hyun in one of the bathrooms, you hurried toward your parents’ bedroom. It took you a few minutes to rummage through their walk-in-closet, but it was a moment of solitary thinking that you appreciated.

There wasn’t anything weird about you helping Jung-Hyun getting cleaned up and into a set of dry clothes. There wasn’t anything weird about seeing him half-naked all the time. Or well, that’s what you kept trying to convince yourself. But apart from the fact that he still thought you were engaged, which you were, though only technically speaking, you still didn’t know Jung-Hyun very well. You definitely didn’t know him well enough to know how he looked underneath his suit. Additionally, even though you knew it wasn’t cheating, you couldn’t help but think back on Jungkook’s accusation. It was stupid, for you knew to whom your heart belonged and would always belong to. You would always love him.

Jeon Jungkook. Someone you used to despise for being so annoyingly perfect and dismissive and cold. Someone who still irritated you beyond boundaries, but still made your heart race like no other.

You checked your phone. There were no messages or calls missed. The discovery made your chest ache even more than your right hand, which was still feeling the aftermath of the punch. You knew you should get over yourself and contact Jungkook already, if only to ease the guilt you felt over not having broken your engagement with Jung-Hyun. Besides, it was the right thing to do. You had said something horrible at the end of your last conversation. You were responsible for your jealousy and its manifestations.

But why, then, if it was only something as petty and senseless as jealousy that stood between you and Jungkook, why could you not bring yourself to call or text him first? What was it that stopped you from pressing send everytime you typed out a message? What was it that stopped you from calling him everytime you scrolled down your contact list? Was it perhaps because there was more behind your reluctance than just jealousy?

Was it perhaps because you thought there had been more to Jungkook’s anger than just pure mistrust from his part?

You shook your head clear from thoughts. The more you thought about it, the more you thought you would hit something. And now that you were going to help Jung-Hyun wash up, you couldn’t afford losing your left hand.

But seriously, why did love have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t your life have straightened out after you helped Jungkook regain his memories? Wasn’t that an act of good karma?

What did you do in your past life to deserve heartache like this?

When you thought you had found some clothes big enough to fit Jung-Hyun, you returned to the bathroom. Although you tried to forget about your concerns, at least for the moment, you simultaneously found your frustration increasingly hard to ignore. It was like a mosquito bite you knew you shouldn’t scratch if you didn’t want some kind of ugly mark on your skin afterward, but it was simply just too tempting to touch.

However, your thoughts quickly dispersed when you swung open the door to the bathroom.

Jung-Hyun was regarding himself in the mirror, wearing an unreadable expression. His shirt was a bloody pile on the floor, and although his half-nakedness would have been more than distracting to even the most pious of women, partly because of his physique and partly because of his numerous scars, what truly caught your attention was the tattoo on his shoulder. The Hanja for “Son”.

The mark of a member of the Hwan Song Sung Pa.

As if noticing where all of your attention concentrated, Jung-Hyun quickly turned around. A flood of questions threatened to rush out of you all at once, your curiosity woken anew, but you held yourself back. You said nothing as you dropped your father’s clothes on the sink countertop and discarded your wet blazer after first having removed your phone from its inner chest pocket. You felt Jung-Hyun’s eyes on you as you paced around the bathroom in search of different-sized towels, but he, too, remained quiet as you washed your hands.

“Sit down, please,” you told Jung-Hyun as you drew up hot water in the sink. You nearly flinched as your fingers came in contact with the surface. You hadn’t expected your hands to be so cold.

He complied wordlessly and sank down onto the closed lid of the toilet seat.

Against your will, you submerged your hands and one of the hand towels into the hot water. A needle-like pain enveloped your fingers and palms, but as agonizing as it was, it also felt nice experiencing warmth for what felt like the first time that week. However, the pleasant sensation didn’t last for very long.

For the hot water was still a bleak comparison to the endless warmth and comfort of Jungkook’s touch and presence.

“Are you alright?”

It wasn’t until Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice broke the silence that you realized you had gotten lost in thought again. “Sorry,” you said as you lifted the now drenched towel and wrung a majority of the water out of it. “I space out when I’m tired.”

“I’ve noticed that a lot in the office.”

You couldn’t resist letting out a small chuckle. “Hey, that’s mean,” you said and walked over to where Jung-Hyun sat. “You should pretend not to notice. I’m your boss, you know?”

He craned his neck backwards in order to look up at you, who were, for once, taller than him. “Yes, huijang-nim.”

You grimaced, and were just about to protest against his usage of that word when your breath almost caught in the back of your throat. For as soon as you patted the wet towel against his cheek, Jung-Hyun’s eyes fluttered close with a sort of relieved calmness you had never witnessed on his face before. And for some reason, that caused your heart slam harder against the inside of your ribcage. You didn’t know what you felt as you continued to wet his cheek gently, and you didn’t know if you wanted to know.

“How can you be so calm about this?” you asked in an attempt to disturb the sudden shift in atmosphere. “You just got stabbed.”

“Only barely.”

He didn’t open his eyes as he responded, and his voice was a lot quieter than usual, the words leaving his lips in a little more than a whisper. Judging by his tone, it had been meant as a joke, but you were too stunned by his sudden display of vulnerability to acknowledge that.

“Thank you, also.”

“For what?” you wondered.

“For removing him. I didn’t think you did martial arts.”

“I’ve just been on a few boxing classes,” you said hastily. “I don’t know anything more than the basics.”

He opened one eye lazily and gazed up at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive.”

You grimaced. You didn’t know if it was a good compliment to receive as a twenty-year-old woman, even less as the chairman of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world. Probably not.

“I’m glad I could help,” you replied as you began patting Jung-Hyun further down his jaw and neck. “Even though it felt like I broke something.”

At this, Jung-Hyun opened both of his eyes. A surprising amount of concern filled them, and he began reaching for your right hand, which you had used to hold the dangling end of the wet towel despite the pain you felt. He paused just before he touched you, and you read the inquiry in his gaze. Your heart picked up its pace, and after a few seconds of silence, you nodded.

Jung-Hyun’s fingers were cold, colder than yours had been just a moment ago. But it didn’t feel altogether bad. They were gentle as they slowly wrapped themselves around your right hand and brought it down for him to visually inspect. Initially, a tiny furrow appeared between his eyebrows as he gazed down at your right hand. But after some time of methodical prodding and touching, his face relaxed and he looked up at you with a shadow of a smile.

“There’s nothing broken,” he told you reassuringly. “Did anything hurt when I touched it?”

“Not more than any other part,” you said after a beat, briefly mesmerized by his smile.

“Good.”

Hesitantly, almost timidly, Jung-Hyun intertwined his fingers through yours. His hand was much larger than yours, nearly swallowing yours in the process, but he was still careful not to put too much pressure around your injured hand. In fact, the cold sensation of his fingers felt nice against the pulsating pain. His fingers felt nice.

“(Y/N)...”

Jung-Hyun was just about to continue when the sound of your phone cut through the air and the suddenly very intimate atmosphere like a hot knife through butter. For a second, you didn’t even register the sound, too caught up in whatever you could call the strange but pleasant mood, caused by the first sign of vulnerability you had ever witnessed in Jung-Hyun. But then, you blinked and darted toward the countertop where you had left your phone while telling yourself to calm your heart - only to inhale sharply at the sight of the caller ID.

Stupid Idiot.

“Give me a sec.”

You were already on your way out, towel tossed aside, phone in hand, when you spoke. Too excited, yet at the same time scared, you didn’t wait to hear Jung-Hyun’s response before you shut the bathroom door behind you. A part of you were admittedly glad to have gotten a valid excuse to put some much needed distance between you.

But a dreadfully large part of you missed the feeling of Jung-Hyun’s cold hands around your hand.

You shook your head. You couldn’t let your mind get distracted right then. Not when you had a chance to apologize for what you told Jungkook earlier that week. Not when he had been the first person to call.

Not when you felt so strongly for him that you sometimes thought your heart might just break.

“Hello?”

You were relieved to hear that your voice sounded somewhat put-together. If Jungkook had called any time earlier, you would have probably sounded half out of your mind due to all the shock and adrenaline triggered by the assassin.

“I need to talk to you.”

Although Jungkook’s familiar voice was somewhat guarded, you sensed that it was laced with anxiousness and something more. Perhaps guilt? Or was it anger? Or were you just imagining it all?

“Okay,” you said slowly as you strode toward your room in an attempt to not be heard by Jung-Hyun. Even if you stayed, you doubted he would know who it was you were talking to, but you didn’t know for how long you could keep your responses neutral. You never knew what sort of responses Jungkook could elicit from you. “I don’t have time right now, though. Can I call you later?”

“I don’t want to talk to you about this over the phone. Are you home?”

Your eyes widened. “Uh… yeah. But--”

“I’m on my way.”

“No, Jungkook!”

Even though the pain threatened to make you cry, you couldn’t help yourself from reflexively balling your right hand into a tight fist. Frustrated at your mistake at calling Jungkook’s name so loudly, you almost didn’t hear his response.

“Why?”

“I told you,” you began hastily, “I don’t have time right now. I honestly won’t have time to call you until tomorrow.”

“What do you do tomorrow then?”

Although it was Saturday, you were heading into the office. Your parents had worked every day for as far as you could remember, as had your grandfather. You weren’t going to be the first in the line of heirs to have a laidback schedule, even though Jung-Hyun and Ju-Min had told you that there were no important meetings over the weekend. Your decision was based more on a sense of duty than obligation, however, for you felt proud over your decision, despite the fact that you weren’t the official chairman and really had no additional tasks. Yet.

“I’ll be at Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul Headquarters,” you answered as you opened the door to your bedroom.

“For how long?”

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it. “From eight to six, probably.”

“Shit,” you heard him mutter before he replied. “Do you really have to be there all day? And during a Saturday?”

“I do.” Unwittingly, you had allowed a sliver of ice to enter your voice. You cleared your throat in an attempt to buy enough time to regain control over your emotions before you continued in a softer tone. “It’s important to me. Please try to understand.”

You thought you heard Jungkook take a deep breath and readied yourself for an explanation, but nothing came. With a slight frown, you pressed the phone closer to your ear. “Jungkook?” you asked. “You there?”

“I am,” he blurted. “I was just checking my schedule again.”

“You don’t have time tomorrow evening,” you guessed.

Jungkook mumbled what could have been another curse. But then, he seemed to abruptly brighten for his voice was amused as he spoke. “I’m busy all weekend,” he said. “But it’s alright. It can wait.”

“Okay,” you said bemusedly.

There was a long pause. You were struggling with the many things you wanted and needed to say, but there were so many of them that you didn’t know how to begin. You wanted to apologize and thank Jungkook for calling, an action you had been unable to muster the bravery for and do yourself. You needed to explain more about Jung-Hyun and his situation, not only because you were deceiving him but also because you felt like you were deceiving Jungkook, too. What was it that had made your heart beat as fast as it had when Jung-Hyun had been so close? Why had his touch felt so nice? What were the feelings that came up when you thought of him?

“(Y/N)?”

You didn’t know if Jungkook had called your name once or twice or more, but you hoped you didn’t sound weird when you answered. “Yeah?”

“You’re busy doing something now, right?”

“Right.” You soaked your lips. “Yeah.”

“I’ll hang up then.”

“Bye,” you said. “But thank--”

The call ended. You stared at your phone for a long while, contemplating whether to text or call Jungkook and thank him for calling as well as apologize for your behavior that Monday. In the end, you decided to do nothing, however. There was still the fact that Jungkook hadn’t explained why he didn’t tell you about Yi-Jae and his duet, a fact that bothered you to no end. And he hadn’t apologized for accusing you of infidelity.

Your fury renewed at just the thought of it, and you were tempted to toss your phone, if only so that you didn’t have to mull over whether to contact Jungkook or not. Fortunately for your phone, you managed to reign in your emotions when you realized just how many minutes had already passed since you had left Jung-Hyun. He had to be cold, and so were you. You had forgotten that your clothes were still soaked. If neither one of you got some hot water treatment and dry fabric on your bodies, you would both accomplish the ridiculous feat of getting a cold in the summer heat.

When you returned to the bathroom, you stumbled upon Jung-Hyun standing in front of the mirror again. This time, he wasn’t regarding his appearance, however. He was in the process of half-heartedly trying to pat himself down with the wet towel while concurrently keeping the gauzes on his hands dry. This made his motions weak and awkward, and you were quick to tear your eyes away from the tattoo on his shoulder and hurry to his side.

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed after you had put aside your phone.

Jung-Hyun glanced at you. “You seemed uncomfortable touching me,” he replied. “And your call seemed important.”

“Still, you should think about your injuries,” you told him firmly and held out your hand. “Give me the towel.”

Jung-Hyun let out a small breath of resignation and obeyed. You gave him a quick smile before you prepared some more hot water in the sink and dipped the cold fabric into it. You then worked as speedily you could, wiping and patting his face, neck, torso and arms until he was warm and clean. You could only feel the worst of his scars through the thickness of the hand towel, but your fingertips glided over scarred tissue enough times to make you nauseous.

“How did you get all of your scars?” you found yourself blurting.

“Through work.”

You raised a brow. “I didn’t think business people were this competitive,” you said, hoping you could steer the conversation in a direction that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable.

Jung-Hyun’s mouth curved. “Have you met your mother?”

You chuckled. “Actually, let’s not joke about that.”

The corners of his lips lifted higher, but he said nothing.

“Could you elaborate what you meant by ‘through work’?” you asked gingerly.

All signs of humour vanished from Jung-Hyun’s face and he stared stonily back at you through the reflection in mirror. You regretted saying anything in the first place, and clenched your jaws as you returned to focus on your task.

When it came to his shoulder and the tattoo, you got the chance to inspect it more closely. The tattoo was simple, really, consisting of nothing more than blank ink, but you couldn’t deny the fear and concern you felt, both for yourself and Jung-Hyun. Why would someone send an assassin after Jung-Hyun? And if you were wrong and the man wasn’t some trained individual, why had he attacked Jung-Hyun? Had he recognized Jung-Hyun from before? Was he just crazy?

And why couldn’t you rid yourself of the feeling that you now also faced some kind of risk?

You felt Jung-Hyun’s gaze grow extra intense in the reflection of the mirror. His attention might have made you a bit self-conscious in normal cases, but this was hardly one of them. You were patting his shoulder absent-mindedly while trying to answer your own questions. Even though you wanted to voice them, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Partly because you didn’t want to pressure him into replying to questions he didn’t want to answer, be it out of fear or concern or whatever.

And partly because you feared what the answers may be.

Occasionally, you switched out the wet hand towel for another one while you worked. A small pile had accumulated next to the sink by the time you were done and reached for a dry bath towel.  

“I can take it from here,” said Jung-Hyun. “Thank you.”

You gathered the wet hand towels and, after some stomach-churning hesitation, also picked up Jung-Hyun’s bloody shirt, which lay discarded next to the door. “It was nothing.”

“No, it was a lot.”

The sincerity behind his words drew your attention, and you peered over your shoulder at him. Jung-Hyun’s face was solemn, but there was a softness to his eyes that blunted his overall expression.

“Thank you for helping me with all of this,” he went on. “And thank you for not calling 119.”

You pursed your lips in concern. “About that… are you sure you want to keep this for yourself?”

“Law enforcement can’t do anything.”

A surprising amount of sardonic cynicism coloured his stiff, somber voice for once. You thought you hinted something more in his eyes, which had turned emotionless again, but you were unable to glean anything else.

“Well, alright,” you started, “but what about your parents? My parents?” You hesitated, but then went for it. “What about Jungkook?”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes widened slightly. “No. Please,” he added when you opened your mouth to speak. “Nobody can know. It’s bad enough that you and Jong-Yeol know.”

You swallowed. “Are we in some kind of danger?”

Jung-Hyun was quiet for an unnervingly long amount of time before he answered.

“No,” he said. “No.”

“But that man, he saw my face.”

Jung-Hyun’s jaw tensed. “I’ll sort this out, I swear it. I will not let you come to harm, no matter what.”

The sudden fervor with which he spoke made a shudder travel down your back. But it wasn’t a bad one. Strangely, and even though he was wounded, Jung-Hyun exuded a sort of unwavering aura of competence that made you want to rely on him. Or perhaps it was only because you had grown to rely on him over the past week in work. Or perhaps it was because he appeared to have a sort of inner calmness, something you were severely lacking in. You were admittedly hot-tempered with a proclivity to take out your frustration through some sort of violent act even though it would hurt you in return. Jung-Hyun, on the other hand, always seemed to be in control of his emotions. You envied and admired him for that.

“Okay,” you said finally. “I’ll assemble the extra bed in the living room. Get dressed meanwhile.”

“You… you still want me to stay?”

“I’m not forcing you,” you blurted as a blush crept past your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Jung-Hyun, his voice adopting an unusually soft element. “I just wanted to ask to make sure you’re fine with my staying.”

“Of course I’m fine with it,” you said, acting a bit insulted. “I wouldn’t ask you if else, would I?”

The faintest shadow of amusement trickled into his eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Exactly,” you said, and started to leave.

“Wait, tell me where everything is and I’ll handle it. You should go take a shower. You’ve helped me enough.”

You glanced down at yourself, having forgotten your own sorry state once again. “Oh, right. Okay, listen here…”

After explaining where the foldable bed was as well as where he could grab the extra blankets and pillows, you found yourself stifling a yawn. “There’s ramen in one of the kitchen cupboards,” you finished. “You could order food, too. Do whatever you feel like. Except for smoking. You’ll have to leave the building for that.”

“Are you not hungry?”

“Not really,” you said truthfully. “I’m going to bed as soon as I’m clean.”

“I see.”

Jung-Hyun looked as if though he had something more to say, and that he was wrestling with himself. But in the end, he remained quiet and you left the bathroom with a parting smile.

Sleep came swift that night, but it felt as if dawn arrived almost as quickly as dusk had. You were stifling your umpteenth yawn that morning as Jong-Yeol came with the car. Thankfully, he didn’t say much on your way to the office, but he did stop you just before you exited the vehicle outside the front of Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul Headquarters.

“How’s Jung-Hyun?” he asked.

“He’s alright,” you said honestly.

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Judging by his tone, Jong-Yeol seemed to have taken for granted that Jung-Hyun stayed the night. And while that was true, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed since you had told Jong-Yeol that you ended your engagement with Jung-Hyun for Jungkook, something you had actually not yet done. You hoped Jong-Yeol wouldn’t think you were playing some kind of game.

“I didn’t want to wake him,” you replied. Jung-Hyun hadn’t even stirred while you were up and about getting ready for the day. “He seemed exhausted.”

“You do, too.”

“I’m alright,” you said and smiled.

After exchanging goodbyes, you headed into the building. The enormous foyer was nearly empty, and the calm beating of your heart seemed audible in the silence that dominated the cool air. By now, you knew how to reach your father’s office, which had become your default place of work, without much delay, and you unlocked the double doors leading into it by 8.32.

Stacks of files and papers balanced on top of the desk, untouched from yesterday. You sank down with a weary exhale and unceremoniously started shuffling between the documents you had read and the ones you knew you would have to reread, a stack that grew with each paper you surveyed. Now, you weren’t going to lie, it was tedious work and you were close to falling asleep at least a dozen times. Your right hand still hurt, and each time it did, you kept thinking back on all the blood and the unknown man and Jung-Hyun, which made it even harder to focus. The minutes ticked by like hours, and even though you went out to grab some much needed coffee, you couldn’t battle your boredom for very long.

That’s why you were extra shocked when the desk phone rang.

Initially, you froze upon hearing the sound, not knowing what to do. It felt as if though you were playing adult again, that you were just some kid sitting in their father’s chair at work while he was off visiting the bathrooms or something. But then, you caught yourself and picked up the phone.

“Yeah?” you said tentatively.

“It’s the front office, huijang-nim,” said a polite female voice that you didn’t recognize. “There’s a young man here who claims he knows you and is here to see you.”

You frowned. You didn’t know any young men. Unless…

“Is he wearing a white oversized T-shirt?” you asked.

“Eh, no,” she said before she lowered her voice. “Would you like to know what he’s wearing, huijang-nim?”

You smacked yourself in the face. “No! It’s alright, I just--I mean, no, it’s nothing.” You were glad she couldn’t see how you were fumbling with your words. “Or well, could you lend him the phone?”

“Certainly, huijang-nim.”

After some faint murmuring, you spoke. “Hello?”

“(Y/N)?”

“Jungkook?” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you yesterday, I need to talk to you.”

He sounded amused, but you weren’t. “Yeah, but what if someone recognizes you? And shouldn’t you be off practicing or doing something with your group members?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Jungkook!”

“I brought coffee and a muffin.”

You glanced at your empty plastic cup and sighed. “Give her back the phone.”

“Yes, huijang-nim?”

“Would you be so kind and escort him to my office?” you wondered. “I’m in the middle of something right now.”

Frankly, you weren’t, but you were too fatigued to take the elevator down. Besides, you didn't know what Jungkook thought he was doing there, but the less eyes that saw him together with you, the better. You could only pray that the receptionist didn’t recognize him.

“Right away, huijang-nim.”

If time seemed to have passed slowly earlier, it truly trickled by during your wait. Your heart was beating too fast for you to be able to concentrate on the letters and numbers in front of you, and it only got worse as you heard the door handle twist. However, as soon as the door opened and the familiar figure of Jeon Jungkook came in view, it stopped.

Wearing something so unusual as a shirt and a pair of dress pants, you kind of got the feeling that he had made an effort with his appearance. That impression was strengthened when you saw that he had fixed his hair and wore various accessories. In your opinion, he always looked good no matter what he wore, but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was extra handsome right then and there. Handsome enough to steal the first word.

“Hey,” he said as he shut the door after him, a small, hesitant smile spreading across his lips. He held up a paper bag with a coffee shop brand plastered on it in his right hand. “I’ve got your coffee and muffin right here.”

All the anger and annoyance that might have piled up ever since your abrupt separation that Monday clashed immediately with all your sense of longing. There was an uncharacteristic lightness to your steps as you rose from the chair and approached him, but you had to ball your hands into fists as not to yell at him straight away.

“Thanks,” you said stiffly, and after an uncomfortably long amount of time had passed. By then, you had reached him where he stood and grabbed the bag from him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you until you had returned to your chair. “You can sit here,” you said as you gestured at the chair on the other side of the desk.

Jungkook’s large, familiar brown eyes inspected every corner of your father’s office as he slowly walked toward the desk, clearly impressed by the interior. You took out the muffin and iced americano from the paper bag, but you touched neither one of them. Instead, you simply waited for him to sit.

“Jungkook,” you began after he had sank down onto the chair. “What’s so important you couldn’t even text me before showing up?”

Jungkook’s faint smile had faded since long, and his voice was solemn as he replied. “I came to apologize,” he said and lowered his gaze. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what I said. What I accused you of.”

You pursed your lips as the recollection made your heart ache, and said nothing. There were no words that could accurately described just how furious he had made you.

Jungkook was quiet, too, and seemingly nervous if his shaking knee was any indication. His gaze remained locked onto the surface of the desk as he finally continued. “It wasn’t right,” he said slowly. “I just became so… angry. I didn’t even think about what I had said until it was out.”

“You could have taken it back,” you blurted. “You could have apologized earlier.”

He furrowed his brows. “I could have, but I didn’t know what to say after… you know.”

You swallowed. You knew. However much you would like to blame Jungkook as the catalyst and the reason your argument had derailed so quickly that Monday, you knew it wasn’t the truth. You had known it then, you knew it even more now.

“About that…” Your attention drifted sideways. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that either. I was just so…”

“Jealous?”

“Yes,” you admitted after a while. “I was jealous. I… I still am.”

“Me too.”

You turned back to Jungkook and found him already regarding you. Again, an overwhelming urge to both scream as well as embrace him filled your system, causing you to just freeze and do neither. You couldn’t believe just how easy it was for him to manipulate your emotions, and worst of all, you didn’t think he did it willingly. If he did, at least you could take out your frustration. At least you could accuse him of toying with your feelings. At least you could blame him for all the injuries sustained by your poor heart.

At least you could hate him for making you love him so much.

But now you couldn’t. And so, you didn’t even question yourself as you slowly got to your feet. You didn’t even know what you were doing as you circled the desk until you were next to Jungkook. He appeared momentarily stunned, and did nothing but follow you with his gaze as you leaned down until your lips hovered right above his. Your heart had ceased its frantic beating once again, and both of you had stopped breathing altogether.

For a moment that could have been a mere second or several long years, the two of you simply stared into each other’s eyes. For a moment, all you smelled was the scent of soap, warmth and something uniquely Jungkook. For a moment, the world and your concerns fell away like sand between your fingers.

And for a moment, you closed your eyes and kissed Jeon Jungkook like nothing else mattered.

Warmth. Delicious, tantalizing warmth. The kind of warmth you hadn’t realized you had always wished for. The kind of warmth that nothing in the whole world could match.

The kind of warmth that only Jungkook could give you.

When you withdrew, you were out of breath. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t believe how rapidly your poor heart was racing. You were proud of yourself, but also terribly embarrassed, and you couldn’t bear to open your eyes and look at him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling your breath bounce back against your lips due to the close proximity between your faces. “I didn’t mean to do that all of a sudden.”

“That… was long fucking overdue.”

Your eyes fluttered open in surprise when Jungkook all of a sudden pressed his lips against yours. Your shock was soon replaced with pleasure, however, as he rose and grasped your face between his fingers in order to kiss you even harder, and your eyes drifted shut within seconds as you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of his desire. For there was a greedy hunger to every kiss, every touch, a kind of bottomless, ferocious hunger you had never expected from someone as perfect and controlled as Jungkook.

And you didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

You dug your fingers into his hair, probably hard enough to hurt his scalp, and kissed him back with just as much fervor. Jungkook let out a small noise that could have been a growl or moan or a mixture of both, and you felt your knees weaken. He continued to move against you, removing whatever space there had been between you, and before you knew it, the back of your legs bumped against the edge of your father’s desk. You thought this would make Jungkook stop, but he startled you by continuing to kiss you and push you until you were forced sit down so that you wouldn’t topple backward. And even then, he didn’t seem satisfied.

Jungkook’s hands slid down the sides of your body, stopping only when they reached your naked knees, which were exposed underneath the tight lining of your skirt hem. A fiery thread spread from your toes all the way to your face as he gently squeezed your thighs, and you couldn’t deny the exhilarating feeling that his touches and kisses ignited within you. There was suddenly too much fabric covering you, covering Jungkook, and your hands slid down his face and broad shoulders until they reached the buttons of his shirt. He moaned again as your nails accidentally scraped the skin on his chest during your desperate endeavor to touch more of him. The sound was so sensual, so uninhibited, you thought you would go crazy with lust.

But you didn’t. For just as you were about to release your last ounce of control, a voice roused you from the almost trancelike state of yearning and passion Jungkook’s kisses and touches had plunged you in.

A voice belonging to no other than Jeon Jung-Hyun.

[wrienne]

Hi! Just wanted to check in if there's any updates for AHPH? How you're doing well!

Yeah, there will be! I've just been busier than I thought with stuff at my parents' 😅 Hopefully, I can post a new chapter by tonight! ✍🏻💕

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 7: Aftermath

Time seemed to slow down into painful crawl as you watched blood - Jung-Hyun’s blood - spill out from between his fingers and drip onto the asphalt below. With a shocking amount of clarity, you realized that although the stranger had aimed to stab Jung-Hyun in the stomach, the latter had been quick enough to grab the blade with his own two hands before it could truly sink in. The amount of blood spreading across his crisp white shirt was hardly a good sign, however, and although you were initially too frightened, too shocked, to do anything but stare at the scene that unfolded before you with a twisted sort of fascination, you found your senses returning to you, if only for a second.

Before you could question yourself or become scared, you charged at the stranger. You were still out of breath due to Jung-Hyun’s earlier push, which had forced you into the building wall, but managed to gain enough of a momentum and speed to propel your body forward. A memory of one of your boxing classes resurfaced, and you did your best to follow the steps you had practiced so many times.

The man didn’t even glance your direction as your knuckles collided with his jaw. He instantly released his grip of the knife and fell over. His eyes closed for a millisecond as he hit the ground, and you thought he might pass out when determination filled his gaze, which then turned to scrutinize you.

You had jumped with both of your feet to lend enough power to your punch, and it was only barely you were able to land without falling over or twisting an ankle. A sharp pain had shot up from your knuckles the very instant you struck him, coursing all the way to your shoulder, and you gritted your teeth as not to cry.

Doing your best to appear unfazed, however, you raised your fists in height with your face and kicked off your heels. Partly because you doubted you would be able to land another hit while you struggled to balance yourself and without surprise to your advantage. But partly because your mother would kill you if you ruined your current shoes. And she could be just as scary, if not more so, than the current situation.

The stranger’s eyes widened at your reaction. He scrambled to his feet and bolted down the empty alley whence he’d come from. You considered giving chase but the breathless gasp you heard behind you was more than enough of a reminder of a far more pressing issue than the mysterious attacker - Jung-Hyun’s condition.

“Jung-Hyun!”

Jung-Hyun brows furrowed slightly as he slowly released his grip of the knife. It clattered against the ground and blood - Jung-Hyun’s blood - sprayed from the blade end, leaving a streak of red against the dirty asphalt.

Your right hand pulsated with pain, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins numbed it enough as you searched around in your purse for your phone. Before you could dial 119, however, Jung-Hyun raised a bloodied hand.

“Don’t,” he told you. His features were startlingly put-together and his stiff, somber voice was just as neutral as if he were talking about the weather. It was as if he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of discomfort from having been attacked by some random man, an attack which had resulted in two deep cuts across his palms and perhaps more. Blood practically poured out of his hands, and it didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon.

Your eyes were wide, and you could barely hear yourself over the frantic beating of your heart. “You need to get to the hospital,” you managed, a mixture of fear and shock making your voice rise high.

“No.”

“This isn’t exactly the time for jokes.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, this time in a louder volume. His tone was stern, unyielding, and held a trace of steel that you were unfamiliar with. Sure, Jung-Hyun didn’t exactly have a kind voice, but he had never addressed you with anything but gentle politeness, and sometimes even a hint of amusement or tenderness.

Was this what he sounded like when he was angry?

You swallowed. “You need professional medical attention,” you told him firmly, or well, as firmly as you could in your current state.

Jung-Hyun glanced down at his palms and then carefully peeled up his shirt, which stuck to his abdomen due to all the blood. You were overwhelmed by nausea when when you saw that the knife had cut into his stomach as well.

“The cuts aren’t very deep,” he said after he had lowered his shirt and put a hand over the wound. “They’ll need some stitching and antibiotics. Anything more than that will be redundant.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen my share of knife wounds.”

You shuddered as you remembered the scars on his body. So that’s what they were.

“Okay.” You swallowed and lowered your phone. “I won’t call for an ambulance. But since neither you nor I can treat you, we still need to get you to the hospital.”

“Jong-Yeol can handle this,” said Jung-Hyun and bent down to pick up the knife.  

“He’s a chauffeur,” you said incredulously.

“Recruits are required to know and be able to perform advanced first aid in field.” The faintest resemblance of a frown washed over Jung-Hyun’s features when he rose, knife in hand. “He should still remember the basic steps. If he doesn’t, I can guide him.”

“Why don’t you want to go to the hospital?” you demanded, unable to understand.

“I don’t want to leave a trace. Information is much too accessible nowadays.”

You grabbed your forehead with the hand that didn’t hurt like you had just punched a brick wall. This was just too much. You had so much you wanted to ask, but considering the fact that Jung-Hyun was still bleeding profusely, you knew that time was of the essence. And although you hated having to involve Jong-Yeol into whatever the situation had devolved into, you couldn’t figure out an alternative method.

It took about fifteen minutes for Jong-Yeol to arrive. During that time, you put on your shoes again and kept an eye out for passersby. Fortunately but also unfortunately, Jung-Hyun had chosen an empty alley between three minor businesses to smoke in. It was fortunate because the dead end made it easy for you to keep a lookout, and the gloomy air between the walls made most people instinctively either ignored or not notice you. It was unfortunate because if you hadn’t been there, perhaps Jung-Hyun would have been a lot worse off than he currently was. Perhaps he would have died.

Or would he?

You couldn’t think of even a single scenario where you would have reacted as quickly as Jung-Hyun had. Not only had he forced you aside, he had also managed to catch the knife, albeit by the blade, before it could sink in any further than it had. That wasn’t just some random feat powered by adrenaline and luck. That wasn’t something a normal person would have been able to achieve.

Thunder broke through the humid air. You were struck by the first few raindrops when suddenly Jong-Yeol’s face appeared around the corner. Guilt burdened your shoulders. You hadn’t told him anything more than that Jung-Hyun was in serious need of help, and you regretted not telling him the details so that he would have had time to mentally prepare himself for what he would witness. His eyes were larger and rounder than you had ever seen them before as you led him to Jung-Hyun, but he didn’t say anything. He merely took off his blazer and covered Jung-Hyun from the front so that the knife and his bloody shirt and hands were covered.

The three of you waited for a moment when the street was somewhat empty before you darted to the black BMW. The heavy rainfall helped tremendously, chasing away potential onlookers as well as cloaking Jung-Hyun’s bloodied pants. You were glad for the Korean monsoon summers for the first time in your life.

While Jong-Yeol looped around the car to the driver’s side, Jung-Hyun tried to get inside the spotless interior of the car without using his hands. You helped him get inside before he could protest. His eyes, which had been unreadable ever since the attack, were suddenly filled with silent gratefulness. You felt your heart skip a beat for some unknown reason as you shut the door and ran over to the other side of the car.

“Explain.”

The soft purring of the engine did nothing to dampen the fear in Jong-Yeol’s voice. The weight on your shoulders seemed to double, but instead of answering, you first exchanged glances with Jung-Hyun. He seemed to know what you were asking, and nodded stiffly.

You cleared your throat. “Promise not to tell my parents about this,” you said.

Jong-Yeol’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you and Jung-Hyun through the rearview mirror. “I won’t,” he said after a pause.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

After taking a deep breath, you launched into a quick explanation about Jung-Hyun’s backstory. Not the darker secrets of his childhood, where he had experienced a sort of abuse you had never thought a parent would ever inflict upon their child, but simply the latter parts of his teenage years. You also skipped the part where Jung-Hyun was on some supposed “hunt for justice”. It wasn’t something you could support no matter what Jung-Hyun’s Boss figure had done for him, but you didn’t know what Jong-Yeol would think about it. Frankly, You didn’t know what he would think about anything you had just divulged. Jung-Hyun had always been Jong-Yeol’s favourite among the brothers, made clear by the way Jong-Yeol treated him, and you didn’t know how all of this would change Jong-Yeol’s opinion of him.

But it still felt nice to tell him some of the truth. Especially with Jung-Hyun’s, who was the person directly related to the story, permission. You had lied and was still lying more than you would like to that year.

Jong-Yeol was quiet for a while after you had finished with perhaps the most shocking part: namely, that you wanted him to stitch up Jung-Hyun’s wounds. His eyes were focused on the road, but there was an unnatural tenseness in his fingers as he controlled the steering wheel. You understood that he was partly considering what to do, and partly piecing together your recent behaviour in regard to Jung-Hyun and his parents. Really, that whole family, actually.

“That’s why you can’t tell my parents, or really anyone about this.” You scratched your arm. You hoped he wouldn’t mention anything about Jungkook or the engagement while Jung-Hyun could hear, and tried to convey that message through your eyes. “Jung-Hyun is in enough of a danger as he is. We can’t risk exposing him anymore than he already is.”

You had said “we” unconsciously, and it wasn’t until you felt Jung-Hyun’s gaze on you that you realized the meaning behind your words. Embarrassed, you dug your nails into your palm as not to blush.

“Understood.”

You let out a breath of relief. Honestly, you had expected Jong-Yeol to put up somewhat of a resistance. But then again, he might just comply due to the fact that Jung-Hyun was as injured as he was. Either way, you were glad that you had Jong-Yeol on your side, and that you wouldn’t have to worry about your parents finding out - at least not yet.

Instead of driving up to the main entrance of the hotel that your parents’ penthouse apartment was situated upon, Jong-Yeol drove into the parking garage below ground. Jung-Hyun’s face was pale and he was breathing through his mouth as he walked the handful of meters from the parking spot to the elevator. You offered an arm, but he waved you away, gesturing instead for Jong-Yeol to help him. You would have been offended if it weren’t for the fact that Jung-Hyun weighed a lot more than you and you couldn’t risk stumbling what with his condition.

While Jong-Yeol supported Jung-Hyun all the way to your parents’ apartment, you did your best to distract the staff and hotel guests. Considering that it was pouring outside, you thought you would have a difficult time finding vacant elevators and hallways, but you had forgotten that it was Friday. Practically everyone was out meeting friends for dinner, and the staff all avoided to look at you, as if they were scared of what you would do if you would catch someone staring at your drenched outfit and hair.

You didn’t like to use people’s fears against them, especially since they were only treating you differently because of your money. But in lack of a better plan, you did your best to look as pissed as possible. You even picked up your phone and argued with some imaginary employee when a corridor seemed extra crowded by staff or an occasional hotel guest, and you paced back and forth on the same spot until they left. It was then you would backtrack and gesture to Jong-Yeol and Jung-Hyun that the coast was clear.

Your reputation would probably suffer a bit, but you would gladly pay something as measly as that if you could get Jung-Hyun to your parents’ apartment without anyone knowing. You didn’t know what kind of people Jung-Hyun had gotten involved or reinvolved with, but if you assumed that the unknown man you had punched was nothing less than a hired assassin - albeit a poor one, since he had ran like a dog with its tail between its legs - you also had to assume that they were of significant influence and power. And that made it difficult for you to trust anyone outside of your personal circle of family and friends. Because how had that man found Jung-Hyun back in the alley? Had he stalked the two of you ever since you left Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul Headquarters?

Or even before?

“(Y/N)?”

You hadn’t even realized that the elevator had stopped at the penthouse level and that both Jung-Hyun and Jong-Yeol had stepped out until the latter’s voice roused you from your musings.

“Sorry,” you said as you strode up to the front door, your healthy hand rummaging through your purse for your keys. “Here, come in. Take him to the kitchen. It will be easiest to clean up there.”

“As you wish.”

You moved aside to let the two men past. “We should has some sewing equipment in the big bathroom,” you told Jong-Yeol while scratching up your arm. “And there are some mild painkillers and antiseptics there, too, together with a first aid kit. Do we need vodka? They always use some kind of liquor in the movies, don’t they? My dad got a really expensive bottle of vodka from a Russian business partner a few years back, but he puked almost immediately after he tasted it. He hasn’t really touched it since my mom was able to down five shots without blinking, so we should be able to use it without him caring or noticing.”

You were trying to be funny, but your bleak voice betrayed your true emotions. The aftermath of what had happened in the alleway was just now beginning to sink into you. There was no longer any adrenaline keeping you afloat. There was no longer any rain to numb your skin.

There was just this immense fear of an enemy without a face. Without an identity.

And you also couldn’t rid your mind of the realization that the assassin, whoever he might be, however incapable he had proven to be, hadn’t targeted Jung-Hyun in the first place. In fact, if Jung-Hyun hadn’t reacted as quickly as he had, you might be the one covered in blood.

You might have not made it out from that alley that day.

“Is there a bookstore nearby?” asked Jung-Hyun abruptly. It was the first time he had spoken since you had called Jong-Yeol, and although he sounded like himself, there was an unusual amount of tenseness in the muscles around his mouth.

You frowned, his voice taking you out of what you presumed was some kind of nervous breakdown. “Not really. How so?”

“I want something to read while Jong-Yeol’s working on me.”

Jong-Yeol looked like he had something to say, but Jung-Hyun silenced him with a quick glance. Your frown deepened at their strange interaction, but when both of them pretended that nothing had happened, you continued, though still a bit bemused.

“Alright…” You scratched the back of your head. “I mean, if you want something right now, there are some books on business and leadership in dad’s home office, and some on yoga and meditation in my mom’s. I don’t have to leave to buy a book if you’re alright with those options.”

Jung-Hyun’s lips curved infinitesimally upward. “I’ve had enough of business for today. And do I look like I do yoga?” he added, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise unreadable facade.

“Er, no.” You stepped into the entryway and pulled out an umbrella and a coat from the built-in wardrobe before you exited your parents’ apartment. “Do you have a particular title or author you’ve been wanting to read?”

Jung-Hyun shook his head once. “No. Anything will do.”

“Anything but business and yoga.”

His smile, if it could even constitute as being a smile in the first place, widened ever so slightly. “Indeed.”

You shrugged on the coat and headed toward the elevator. “I’ll be back soon then,” you said over your shoulder, eager to leave in order to return as soon as possible. Because as much as your body longed for the cold numbness outside, you didn’t want to leave Jung-Hyun’s side. Even if you doubted you would be able to stomach seeing his wounds again.

It was the least you could do for someone who had saved your life.

“Take your time.”

The nearest bookstore was a lot farther away than you had thought one would be. You managed to yell over a cab almost as soon as you came out of the building, but it still took you what seemed like an eternity to get to the store. According to the navigation app on your phone, every possible route there were supposed to take about fifteen minutes, but the harsh downpour combined with Seoul city’s Friday evening traffic more than doubled that time. The hand with which you had punched the unknown man was still pulsating, and you grimaced as you punched in the code to your card, having purchased the first book in the literary fiction aisle that you had laid your eyes upon.

It wasn’t until you were waving for another cab on your way back that something about your conversation with Jung-Hyun struck you as odd. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly it was, but when you were halfway to the hotel, it all of a sudden struck you.

Take your time .

Why would he tell you to “take your time” if he was in as much pain as he had appeared to be in? Wouldn’t he tell you to hurry so that he could get the procedure over with as soon as possible? Unless…

You nearly slammed your head against the book you had bought. The taxi driver noticed your sudden rigidness and looked visibly disturbed, but you ignored it.

“I’ll pay you triple if you can get me to my destination within ten minutes,” you told him.

Eight minutes later, you paid for the journey and stumbled out of the taxi in front of the hotel. Your soles were killing you while you charged up the stairs to the main entrance and lobby, and you inwardly cursed yourself for not having changed shoes when you had the opportunity earlier. You would really have to figure out a better pair of office shoes.

A little more than an hour had passed in total when you fumbled with your keys at the front door. Again, you berated yourself for having been so easily fooled and that you should have seen through something so obvious, and your anger over your own stupidity fueled your steps as you headed inside your parents’ apartment.

“Jong-Yeol?” you called out as you peeled off your outerwear and placed the umbrella aside. “Jung-Hyun-oppa?”

“I’m in here.”

You followed Jong-Yeol’s familiar voice into the kitchen, and found him standing by the sink. The sleeves on his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and he was in the process of washing some things that clicked together with a metallic sound. A similar glass of whiskey rested on the counter beside him, next to a white plastic bag filled with bloody tissue, cotton balls and the like. The air was pungent with the smell of alcohol, hot water and iron.

“Where’s Jung-Hyun?” you demanded.

“He’s in the living room, but--”

You didn’t stay to hear the rest of his sentence. With the plastic bag containing the book still in hand, you rushed to the living room. An aggravated accusation was already on the border of bursting out of your throat when you caught yourself in the last second.

For Jung-Hyun was peacefully asleep.

Someone, presumably Jong-Yeol, had covered the leather sofa with dry towels where Jung-Hyun rested, still dripping wet. The bottom buttons of his bloody shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a strip of naked skin. A few layers of gauze covered both the wound on his stomach and the cuts on his palms. Although he looked a lot paler than usual, the slight furrow between his eyebrows was gone now and he breathed calmly.

“I told him you would figure it out sooner or later, and that you would be furious when you came back.”

You turned around to see Jong-Yeol approach you while drying his hands with a kitchen towel. His dark eyes were weary, and you felt bad yet again for having involved him with something as serious as this.

“You could have said something,” you said, and although you tried to refrain from sounding accusatory, you couldn’t help but feel a bit insulted.

“We both heard how nervous you were when you were rambling earlier,” said Jong-Yeol solemnly. “That’s probably why Jung-Hyun decided to trick you.”

You sighed. “Still,” you said as you placed a palm against your forehead. “I could have helped. Instead I went out to buy some book for no reason at all.”

“You would have been too anxious to help. I also don’t think Jung-Hyun wanted you to see him while I was treating him.”

You grimaced. “How bad was it?”

Jong-Yeol hesitated before responding. “It could have been worse.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him after a while. “I never intended on dragging you into this.”

“No, I’m actually glad.” Jong-Yeol gave you a small smile. “I’ve been worried about you ever since your parents decided to step down from Phoenix.”

Your eyes widened. “You have?”

“You have a tendency to absorb all the problems and responsibilities of people you care about in an effort to make life easier for them.” He turned around and you followed him back to the kitchen. “I’m glad you’ve finally started to share that burden, even if it’s with an old geezer like me.”

“Is that really what I do? Absorb people’s problems and responsibilities?” you clarified when he sent you a curious gaze over his shoulder.

“You’ve been like that since I was first employed by your father,” he said as he folded the kitchen towel and draped it over a handle. “It’s probably one of your strongest characteristics, save for your temper.”

You grimaced. “Thanks.”

He chuckled, but his mirth faded quickly. “I would be careful with whom you count as people you care about,” he said suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because you might be betrayed very badly by someone you thought you could trust. And I would never want you to get hurt like that.”

Jong-Yeol left shortly after that. You had expected him to insist on staying since Jung-Hyun was still there, but he left without even leaving an admonitory comment.

When you returned to the living room, Jung-Hyun was still asleep. You had just wanted to check on him before you took a much needed shower, and was just about to peel out of your soaked clothes when you realized that Jung-Hyun was still drenched. Sure, the air inside your parents’ apartment was warm and comfortable against the rainstorm outside, but it could still not be good to leave him in his wet clothes.

You padded back to the living room. Carefully, as not to frighten Jung-Hyun, you patted him on the arm. His eyes opened immediately, and you recoiled with a yelp.

“You scared me!” you exclaimed reflexively.

“I didn’t mean to.” Jung-Hyun winced ever so slightly as he came into a sitting position, and he gently put his right hand over the wound on his stomach. “How long have I been out?”

“I don’t know,” you said as you willed your racing heart to slow down. “I came home just a few minutes ago. Jong-Yeol has left.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” said Jung-Hyun and quickly rose. “I apologize for the mess I’ve made. I’ll be on my way.”

“Hold on,” you said as you placed a hand on his forearm. “I didn’t wake you to kick you out. You should stay here where it’s safe.”

For a moment, there was something akin to tenderness in Jung-Hyun’s eyes. Normally, it might have dissipated almost immediately behind the expressionless guise he always wore. But something was different now. Somehow, you felt as if though he had opened up to you, and that he wasn’t afraid to show it.

Somehow, you felt even worse than you already did regarding both Jungkook and Jung-Hyun.

“Then why did you wake me?”

You shook your head clear from thoughts. “I thought you might want to take a shower and change to some dry clothes.”

One of Jung-Hyun’s eyebrows twitched. “Do you have clothes my size?”

“I have some sweatpants and t-shirts that Jungkook forgot when he lived here,” you answered as you withdrew. “You’re taller than him, but everything was oversized on him so it should fit.”

“I don’t want to wear his clothes.”

If it was any other person, you might have thought it was meant to be a joke or some kind of insult toward Jungkook and his fashion taste. However, nothing about Jung-Hyun’s tone or expression indicated that it was either one of the two. And if you hadn’t spent as much time with him as you had, you might have thought that he felt nothing at all in regard to his statement. That he was merely indifferent.

But there was clearly something stirring in his eyes. Some kind of emotion you could not put your finger on. It could have been guilt.

But it could have also been something more, something darker.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “My dad might have something that fits you. But it will still be sweatpants and a t-shirt probably. You’re too…”

He waited for you to finish the sentence.

“You know…” You averted your eyes, a rush of warmth threatening to rise above your cheeks. “Muscular. You’ll probably rip everything else. My dad probably wouldn’t mind losing a shirt or two, but my mom will murder me if she finds out.”

A flicker of amusement entered his eyes. “It is alright. I don’t wear suits all the time.”

Inwardly, you smacked yourself in the forehead. Outwardly, you mustered a smile. “Of course not. There’s a bathroom with a shower down the hallway right there. I’ll leave some clothes outside in a bit, so there’s no need for you to worry about me seeing you nude or anything.”

“I see.”

“I’ll be showering as well,” you said and started turning around. Your thoughts were already elsewhere, somewhere between what sorts of food you should order that evening and which one of your dad’s sweatpants would fit Jung-Hyun’s long legs. What sorts of ways you could approach Jung-Hyun about the topic of his background and if he would be alright with sleeping on the extra mattress. However, all of your notions were wiped clear away from your mind when he spoke.

“...Would you mind helping me get cleaned up, (Y/N)?”

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 6: Jung-Hyun's Past

You slammed your fist into the cool surface of the kitchen isle counter. Frustration numbed the pain that had blossomed throughout your hand, and you were tempted to hit something else in an attempt to retain that feeling of numbness.

For your heart felt like it had ruptured.

Why did it have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t you just trust Jungkook? Why had you allowed the conversation to derail as quickly as it had?

Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?

You didn’t know for how long you remained in the kitchen, constantly questioning yourself, but sleep soon came for you and forced you to bed. Your brain kept replaying the end of the conversation throughout the rest of the week, however, and that made it nearly impossible for you to concentrate on your tasks at the office. Jung-Hyun didn’t comment on your behavior, and so you thought you were doing a good job of masking just how distracted you were, but by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, he startled you by all of a sudden canceling dinner.

“What?”

You were sitting in your father’s office, buried underneath a sea of paperwork that you had yet to memorize, when Jung-Hyun announced the abrupt change of plans. He was seated before you, remaining by your side much like he had done all week. Over the course of the week, Jung-Hyun had been your guide both in the physical and mental world, leading you around the building when you needed to as well as helping you learn more about the state of business and Phoenix Inc. and your role in all of it. He still stubbornly insisted on calling you huijang-nim, but he had gotten better at not saying it while you were just two. His presence was invaluable, really, and even though you felt bad about the fact that his former position as director had been revoked, you were glad that he was with you.

“I canceled our dinner reservations this morning,” he repeated, his stiff, somber voice patient.

“Yes, but why?” you asked, your mind returning to the issue at hand. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I am quite well.” His eyes, which were so similar to Jungkook in so many ways, were unreadable as always as they regarded you. “It is you I’m concerned about. Did something happen to your father?”

When you returned to work that Wednesday, you had updated Jung-Hyun about your father’s condition. You had hoped the bad news would work as somewhat of a cover-up for your poor performance, but now grimaced when you realized that wasn’t the case.

“No,” you replied. “No, he’s fine. He sends pictures from Jeju Island all the time.”

“Then, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s on your mind?”

“What makes you think I have something on my mind?” you asked intentionally innocently.

Jung-Hyun’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Your mother told me your fluent in Chinese, but I still caught you making numerous easily avoidable language mistakes during the call you had yesterday with the Chinese investor. You had to read Ju-Min’s review of Phoenix Inc.’s central assets for a whole day before you understood anything when I asked you about it, and you seemed only barely cognizant during the meetings with the department heads and managers yesterday and the day before.”

You swallowed. Judging by the look in Jung-Hyun’s eyes, there were more examples that he simply hadn’t bothered to voice yet. But what possible story could you conjure up that would explain your absent-mindedness? It wasn’t as if you could blame it on your father, since you didn’t know how much Jung-Hyun communicated with your parents and you didn’t want to risk him revealing to them just how much stress your father’s weak health was causing you. But you couldn’t exactly tell Jung-Hyun the truth either.

After all, you two were still supposed to be engaged.

“It’s…” You contemplated saying “nothing”, but that sounded stupid even in your own head. “...complicated,” you finished as you lowered your focus to the cluttered desk. “I’ll be better next week.”

Jung-Hyun said nothing, but you could still felt the weight of his gaze on you. You tried to figure out a continued explanation, or at least some sort of half-adequate clarification, but you came up empty every time. Partly because you didn’t dare to lie, and partly because  of the bitter pain in your heart.

Neither you nor Jungkook had made an attempt of contacting one another even once after his abrupt departure that Tuesday evening. You didn’t know what it meant from his side, but you knew that you simply didn’t have the courage to call him. There was also admittedly a part of you that were too proud to apologize. Because although it was technically your fault your evening with Jungkook had been ruined, you weren’t wholly to blame. You would have never gotten as angry as you would have if he hadn’t accused you of cheating on him, an accusation made so much worse what with your history - and the omission of his and Yi-Jae’s romantic duet from any of your earlier conversations.

“I see,” said Jung-Hyun finally.

You looked up. He wore an unreadable expression as always, which made it hard to gauge his true intents, but you decided to take his answer for what it was. “Thank you for thinking about my wellbeing, but you should have asked me before you cancelled. I’m guessing we can’t re-reserve a table, right?”

Jung-Hyun nodded once.

“You…” You paused, then went for it. “You haven’t reconsidered telling me more about yourself, have you? Is that the real reason why you cancelled our dinner tonight?”

“No,” he replied. If he was offended or perhaps amused by your blunt question, you did not know. “I told you I would, and therefore I will.”

“Are you sure?” You weren’t going to lie, ever since he had first told you that he would reveal more of himself, there had been a growing seed of suspicion that Jung-Hyun was regretting his decision.

“I’m certain.”

“Well, can’t we just talk here?” you wondered carefully. “It’s a more private setting than a restaurant, so you won’t have to worry about potentially being overheard.”

Jung-Hyun glanced at his wristwatch. “Are you not hungry?”

“Not really.” Truth is, you were, but you could persevere. “We can get something to eat later. So what do you say?”

“Okay.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t continue immediately. Instead, he remained quiet as he seemed to gather himself. Anticipation made you tense up your muscles, and you forced yourself to relax. Leaning back into your father’s big desk chair, you let out a small breath of air and intertwined your fingers in an attempt to keep them away from scratching up your arms.

“I was fourteen when I moved to Seoul.” Jung-Hyun’s eyes were distant as he finally spoke. “Since I was and had always been at the top of my class, I managed to convince my aunt to let me move to her apartment so that I could live closer to the SKY-universities, which I hoped to apply for when I was old enough. I wanted to become a doctor or lawyer or a businessman. At least, that’s what I told my parents and my aunt.”

Jung-Hyun let out what could have been a quiet snort before he went on. “I don’t know if you remember, but my father used to work underneath yours for over a decade ago until he went about to start a business of his own. He couldn’t get enough financial aid from the bank, however, so your father lent him some. But my father has never been good with money.

“Instead of using it for his business, as he had said he would, he used everything to clear up his old debts with the local loan sharks. He then borrowed the same amount from loan sharks in a different area to start up his business, but eventually lost everything on bad investments and needless spending. It didn’t take very long before he went to additional loan sharks to pay back the other ones, and he continued to bury us deeper in debt through this endless cycle of worthless money.

“Meanwhile, the conditions at home were worsening.” Jung-Hyun clasped his hands together and looked at you, his expression solemn. “As you already know, Jungkook was affected very severely by my father’s… treatment , but so was my mother. And so was I.”

You remembered when Jungkook had revealed this same information a few months ago, but he had never mentioned anything about Jung-Hyun. You had just naturally assumed that it was because Jung-Hyun hadn’t been present during that time, but clearly, you had been wrong. Jungkook had merely decided not to speak about Jung-Hyun.

“Did he…” You soaked your lips. “Did he hit you, too?”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes were unreadable. “He didn’t lift a hand against me like he did Jungkook and my mother, but he did tell me to do things. Things that changed me, perhaps permanently.”

“What things?”

Jung-Hyun hesitated, and you saw a shadow of uncertainty cross the surface of his eyes before he continued. “I… I was a very unassuming child, growing up. I was thin, short and so nervous and shy and frightened all the time that I could barely speak without stuttering. I was quiet most of the time, and hid behind books whenever I could. I despised being in the center of attention.

“All of this caused me to get bullied a lot. When my father discovered that, he blamed me for it. He said it was my own fault for being so weak, and did what he could to make me ‘stronger’.”

“Like what?” you asked carefully.

You didn’t want to prod, but you felt compelled to find out more in detail so that you could understand Jung-Hyun and his past better and thereby help him. Because that’s what you wanted to do. You didn’t know how, or if it was even possible, but you knew you had to at least try. If it was because of guilt or perhaps even that superhero complex that Se-Eun kept nagging you about, you did not know. You only hoped you weren’t being too nosy or appeared insensitive - and that Jung-Hyun would open up to you.

Jung-Hyun seemed contemplative for a moment, his focus drifting sideways. The silence lasted so long you thought he might have just refused answering your question altogether when he finally spoke.

“I was nine when he enrolled me into every martial arts class that I could possibly attend. I was ten when I managed to run a eight kilometer lap without pausing. I was eleven when he forced me to stand out on the balcony twice every week for a whole day in winter, wearing nothing but underpants and a t-shirt. I was twelve when I realized I had forgotten how it feels to cry.”

You raised a hand to your mouth to hide just how shocked you were, but Jung-Hyun probably read the emotion in your eyes anyway. He shifted slightly where he sat, and averted his gaze again.

“I was overjoyed when I boarded the plane to Seoul,” he told you quietly. “My aunt was very lenient as a guardian, and allowed me to do whatever I wanted to as long as I was first in my class, which I always was. I felt free for the first time in my life, and that freedom intoxicated me.”

“It didn’t take long before I got into the wrong circle of friends, but it wasn’t until my aunt was relocated to Suwon due to her work that I truly stepped into the criminal world.” The corners of Jung-Hyun’s lips curved downward. “That’s when I encountered the Hwan Song Sun Pa.”

“I had a lesser following of my own during high school, which drew the attention of one of their bosses. I didn’t want to join at first, but they were very persuasive, and I eventually gave in. It didn’t take me long to climb the ranks within the organization, and I soon caught the eye of the Boss.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t have to clarify what he meant by “the Boss”. There was an immense sense of respect and gratitude in his stiff, somber voice, and although he had sounded reluctant, almost ashamed throughout his reminiscence, he now spoke with the kind of faint happiness nostalgic memories could sometimes evoke.

“The Boss saved me,” he told you. “I never applied for university since I thought I would be doing mob-related stuff from thereon, but he saw just how uncertain I really was about their endeavor. I didn’t see a future within the criminal world, at least not a long one, and although I was afraid to say it, I had to tell him the truth when he demanded it from me. I thought he was going to punish me, or even dispose of me, but all he did was to tell me to come see him after I was done serving my time at the military.”

“I was twenty-two when I returned to Suwon. I didn’t know what I was expecting when I saw the Boss, but it was definitely not what I was actually met with. He gave me more money than I had ever seen in my entire life and told me I had been accepted by Harvard Business School.”

You didn’t want to interrupt Jung-Hyun, who rarely spoke as much as he currently was, but you had to. “Why?” you wondered. “And what was the catch?”

“I wasn’t to return to South Korea,” replied Jung-Hyun solemnly. “Or at least not come in contact with any members of the organization, or really, the whole criminal world, for as long as I lived. As for why he aided me, I do not know. But he was a good man - a better man than anyone might have expected from a person in his position. Perhaps he wanted to give me a second chance. Perhaps he was afraid that my ambivalence would disturb my performance at work.”

“‘Was’?” you echoed, the word unable to slip past your tense senses.

There wasn’t even the slightest hint of emotion on Jung-Hyun’s features as he spoke. “He died. One year ago, if certain people are to be believed.”

You frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

A slight line appeared between Jung-Hyun’s brows. “I have been in contact with a few of my old friends from the organization, but I did not know if I could trust them. I therefore decided to get information from other sources.”

“But didn’t your boss tell you explicitly not to?”

Jung-Hyun nodded, his jaw setting firmly.

You swallowed, sensing a connection. “Does this have something to do with last month when I saw you in your hotel room?”

His jaw clenched further. “Perhaps,” he said. “But perhaps it would have occurred regardless of whether I made my presence known or not. What matters is that I’m one step closer to finding out how the Boss died. Or rather, how he was murdered.”

“You’re on some kind of revenge quest?” you asked with a deep frown.

“No. I’m on a hunt for justice.”

You rubbed your forehead. “But why? It sounds like the reason your boss sent you overseas was so you could get away from all this criminal stuff. Why return to it?”

A hint of sorrow filled Jung-Hyun’s eyes as he aimed them at you. “Being part of a crime organization as large and powerful as the Hwan Song Sun Pa is not like having a job, (Y/N). It’s a lifestyle, and it’s as difficult to get out of as the tattoo on my shoulder. Even if I were to remove it with laser operations, I can never truly get the traces of it out of my cells. Even if I were to hide it underneath clothes or makeup, I cannot forget it - and how it has forged me. The least I can do is to help vindicate the death of the closest person I’ve ever had to a  proper fatherfigure.”

It was quiet for a long time between you two after that. You had a few dozen inquires you wanted answered, like how he first met “the Boss” and what he’s been doing ever since he returned to South Korea, but there was a question that burned brighter than all of them combined.

“Jung-Hyun,” you began slowly, skipping the “oppa” in light of such a serious conversation. “I don’t know what the hierarchy of a crime syndicate looks like, but for you to have gained such a huge favor from the leader must mean you used to be quite important in general. What exactly did you do while you were a member of the Hwan Song Sun Pa?”

Jung-Hyun didn’t respond. He simply stared out of the panoramic windows, his eyes tracking something moving far away.

“Jung-Hyun,” you tried again, although his reluctance was practically tangible. “What made you climb the ranks so fast? What did you do? And what are you going to do if you find the culprit of your Boss’ murderer?”

With a shudder that you fought to hide, you involuntarily recalled the scenery in Jung-Hyun’s hotel room, almost one month ago. Aside from the cuts on his hands and forearms, there had been a lot more scars on his body than you had time to count them during your short visit. Almost all of them had looked different from one another, which probably meant he had gotten them separately over the years. And if you assumed he hadn’t been in a ugly fight since after the military when he was sent off to Harvard, that meant he must have gotten the scars before and or during his time in the army.

Judging by the sheer amount of scars, that could hardly bode well.

Jung-Hyun rubbed his clean-shaven jaw for a few moments, his eyes still locked onto the scenery below, before he abruptly stood up. “I need a smoke,” he murmured as he turned away from you.

“I’ll come along,” you said immediately and rose.

Jung-Hyun froze and peered over his shoulder at you. “You don’t have to,” he said, his features stiff. It was clear what he really meant: he didn’t want you to come along.

“It’s fine,” you said insistently as you gathered up your phone and purse. “I need some fresh air.”

“You won’t be getting that near me.”

“Besides,” you went on, ignoring Jung-Hyun’s comment, “I’m hungry. We don’t have to eat somewhere fancy to fill our stomachs, right? Let’s go get some samgyeopsal.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to talk more about my past, (Y/N). Not tonight, at least.”

Jung-Hyun’s tone had quivered toward the end of the sentence, and for a second, you thought you saw the boy he had told you he once was. Timid, quiet and scared and “weak”. Sympathy rose within you, and you felt briefly ashamed over your curiosity.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly. “I won’t mention it more tonight. But I need to know more. I need to know why.”

“Why?”

“To help you, of course,” you said truthfully.

Jung-Hyun turned around fully. Judging by the ever so slight furrow between his brows, he seemed to doubt you, or at least be uncertain. “So you’re not going to report me to the police?”

“Have you done something bad?”

“Not yet.”

You pursed your lips. “Jung-Hyun, I’m not going to let you do something illegal.”

“I can’t promise you I will be able to restrain myself once I identify the people responsible for the Boss’ death.”

You opened your mouth to protest and plead for him to see reason, but then caught yourself. Jung-Hyun was already searching for a way to get out of the conversation, which was understandable, but not the result you sought. Even if the two of you spoke about nothing but work the rest of that evening, you would be fine spending that time with him.

For now you realized just how emotionally scarred he really must be - and how long he must have battled the ghosts of his past by himself.

You grabbed your blazer, which you had discarded earlier when you were getting frustrated over numbers and names. “As long as you don’t do something illegal,” you began in a lenient tone, “I won’t get the police involved. But please don’t try to do things on your own. We can hire private investigators to figure out who the culprit is.”

“Why?” he murmured.

You raised your brows. “Well, because that’s what private investigators are for, aren’t they? Snooping around, getting information...”

Jung-Hyun shook his head. “No, I mean why are you helping me? I thought...” His voice trailed away, and he lowered his gaze.

“You thought what?” you asked gently.

“I haven’t told anyone about this, ever. I didn’t think you would be so… tolerant.”

You paused at this. There were countless of ways you could answer his question, half of which were somewhat true, half of which were somewhat untrue. You knew you cared about Jung-Hyun, if not as a fiancé then at least as a friend, and you didn’t want him to get hurt. However, there was also a part of you that was afraid of what Jung-Hyun’s past occupation might entail, especially since he had so clumsily dodged answering your inquiry earlier. You had absolutely no wish of entering the criminal world, but if Jung-Hyun felt compelled for whatever reason to pursue the murderer or murderers of a man who once did him a great kindness, you wouldn’t let him walk alone.

Because he had walked alone long enough already.

“I…” you started, before you bit your lower lip. How were you supposed to explain to Jung-Hyun how you felt in regard to his predicaments, both past and present? How could you voice just how much sympathy you felt for both him and Jungkook, and how badly you wanted to help them both? How could you say that without sounding condescending?

You shook your head clear from thoughts. Hesitating wouldn’t do. No, you needed to find a way to express your attitude in a manner that wouldn’t be plain stupid or patronizing. And you might have just the right solution, now that you thought about it.

“We’re in this together now,” you said and held up your left hand, which bore the ring he had bought you. “I have a responsibility to both Phoenix and my parents, but I also have a responsibility to you.”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes were nothing but dark pools as he regarded you for a long while. You shifted awkwardly, wondering briefly if you had been too forward with your implication, while simultaneously feeling a bit ashamed inside. You weren’t technically cheating on neither Jungkook nor Jung-Hyun, but you knew that it wasn’t the most optimal of situations. If only Jungkook could get over his jealousy and find a way to get along with Jung-Hyun, you wouldn’t have to lie to either of them. But for now, you knew that you had to keep them apart.

“I see.”

Jung-Hyun turned back around and started toward the door. You opened your mouth, thinking he might have decided to disregard your words, when he glanced over his shoulder and halted.

“Let’s eat.”

Humid air immediately clung to your body and hair by the time you and Jung-Hyun exited the enormous revolving door at the front of the Phoenix Inc. Seoul Headquarters. Glancing up at the sky, you saw that the clouds were already gathering for another night of drenching rain. You only hoped the two of you would find shelter and food before that happened.

Silently, you followed Jung-Hyun down the street. He wore an unreadable expression, as per usual, and remained expressionless as he took out a tiny white and red packet from his inner chest pocket. He unceremoniously placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a lighter he carried in his pocket, letting out a cloud of white smoke in the shadow of the dingy alley you two had entered.

You leaned against the wall next to him and tried your best to inhale as little of the foul smoke as possible. He said nothing, and neither did you, and at first, it didn’t really bother you. But by the time Jung-Hyun lit his third cigarette, the silence turned to, if not awkwardness, then plain idleness.

You turned toward Jung-Hyun, who stood with his back against the building wall. “Why did you come back to South Korea?” you wondered.

Jung-Hyun’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he glanced your direction. “I was told by my mother that you refused to marry Jungkook and that I would therefore have to step in.”

“Would you have returned otherwise?”

“No.”

You gave him a small smile, even though a twinge of guilt pierced your heart. “Thanks. For coming, I mean. You must have left a lot behind in the States.”

He let out a puff of smoke. “Are you wondering if I had a girlfriend?”

You blushed. “No,” you said truthfully. “I didn’t even think about that.”

The corners of Jung-Hyun’s thin lips curved infinitesimally upward. “Really?” he asked, a hint of amusement entering his otherwise somber, stiff tone.

“Really,” you affirmed.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about her?”

You arched your brows. “You had a girlfriend?” you exclaimed, unable to hide your shock.

“Is it really that unlikely?”

If you hadn’t known that the slight curve of his mouth was the extent of Jung-Hyun’s amusement, at least what you had witnessed thus far, you might have thought he was being sarcastic, or even offended. You knew better than to assume the latter two, however, and quickly sent him an apologetic smile.

“I--no,” you amended hastily. “I just, I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought.”

Jung-Hyun tapped his cigarette with his finger, releasing a thin sliver of ash that fell to the ground, blending with the bleak colour of the old asphalt. “Apart from a handful of friends,” he began, “I did have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, still embarrassed over your recent misstep. “Were you two together for long?”

Jung-Hyun lifted and lowered the cigarette to his lips once. The smoke escaped through the right corner of his mouth, and rose slowly toward the sky. “We met the very first day I went to Harvard,” he told you. “We got along from start. I would have liked to stay in contact with her even after I came back here, but that would not be appropriate considering my current status.”

“So you broke up with her and haven’t spoken to her since you left?”

“Yes.”

You pursed your lips and stared down at the ground. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Why are you sorry?”

“You had to leave so much behind because of me,” you replied stiffly. “And I never even thought about it before now.”

“It’s fine.”

You looked up, your eyes widening in surprise. Jung-Hyun’s eyes were gentle as they held yours, and he tossed away the butt of his cigarette.

“Our breakup was bound to happen eventually,” he continued. “So do not feel sorry about it. Besides, I would have never found out about my Boss’ death had I not returned.”

You opened your mouth to say that you didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but you had only just began speaking when Jung-Hyun’s eyes focused on something behind you. It wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, if it weren’t for the fact that you had never seen Jung-Hyun’s eyes that wide - and never with so much emotion.

In the blink of an eye, Jung-Hyun grabbed hold of your blouse and pushed you aside with enough force to make you lose your breath. You gasped for air, an angry and admittedly terrified retort already rising from your throat, but you lost all ability to speak when you saw an unknown man standing pressed up against Jung-Hyun.

For there was a growing patch of unmistakably red fluid spreading throughout the midsection of Jung-Hyun’s shirt.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 5: Fractures

It wasn’t until you woke to the furious vibrating of your phone that you realized you had actually fallen asleep. The sensation jolted you back into consciousness, and you scrambled around for your phone, managing to answer in the last second.

“Hello?” you said while rubbing your eyes.

“It’s me,” said Jungkook. He sounded out of breath, as if he had just been exercising or was in a hurry.

Embarrassed, you frantically searched around for Yoongi, letting out a breath of relief when you saw that he was no longer there. “Yeah?” you said absentmindedly.

“You called me earlier.”

“Oh.” While inwardly beating yourself over for having dozed off in a place that would constitute as his office, you glanced down at yourself. Someone, presumably Yoongi himself, had draped his large plaid, flannel shirt over you.

“You didn’t call me all weekend,” said Jungkook, a hint of irritation entering his voice. “And now that you finally do, all you have to say is ‘oh’?”

“I just woke up from a nap,” you said a bit defensively. “And I’ve been too busy to call you.”

“Busy with what?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “Can we meet?” you asked instead of replying. “There are several important things I need to talk to you about, but I don’t want to talk about them over the phone.”

To be more specific, there were three topics you wanted to bring up. Firstly, you wanted to tell him about your father’s health condition and your semi-official promotion from mere university student to the CEO of one of South Korea’s largest conglomerates. Secondly, you wanted to ask him about Jung-Hyun, and whether Jungkook could consider meeting him over more… amicable circumstances. Even though you had your suspicions, you had still not gotten to the core of whatever troubled their relationship as well as the reason for it. So, in addition to gleaning some kind of information from Jungkook that might shed some more light over Jung-Hyun’s situation, you still wanted them to put their differences aside. There was simply something heartbreakingly tragic seeing two brothers avoid each other, Jung-Hyun out of inexplicable shame, Jungkook out of inexplicable anger. You only hoped it wasn’t too late to mend their relationship.

And thirdly but not lastly, you wanted to know why exactly Jungkook hadn’t told you about his and Yi-Jae’s duet.

Although you had tried your best not to think about it, the main contents of your conversations with both Se-Eun and Yoongi’s had, perhaps inevitably, wormed themselves into your head, infecting your heart and mind with doubt and mistrust. You hated the feeling of jealousy, but the more you tried to repress it, the more pronounced it became.

Was Jungkook truthful to you? Had he truly ended stuff with Yi-Jae?

Or was he deceiving you again?

You didn’t know if it was your exhale or something in your voice, but Jungkook’s tone immediately softened. “You don’t have to make up an excuse to make me come see you,” he said jokingly. “I’ll always have time for you.”

“I’m not making things up,” you said with a faint smile. “And do you really have time to meet me? Aren’t you practicing for your upcoming promotions?”

“I am, which is why I can’t see you today. What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.” You tucked your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stood and folded Yoongi’s shirt before dropping it back onto the sofa. A whisper of an unknown, masculine fragrance swept past your nostrils, sharp and clear, yet discreet enough for you to not be overwhelmed. It suited Yoongi perfectly. “What time?”

“Eight pm. Your place?”

You contemplated his question for a beat before answering. “Yeah, okay.”

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Bye.”

After hanging up, you stepped tentatively out of Yoongi’s studio. There weren’t any windows, but according to your phone, it was well into the evening. Jong-Yeol would definitely be concerned, and, if not waiting directly outside, already either on his way or driving around in the area. Your suspicions were confirmed when you texted him and he answered within seconds, saying that he were already parked where he had left you.

Upon entering the seating area, you found Yoongi seemingly deeply absorbed by whatever was on the screen of his tablet where he sat perched in the small sofa. His slim, black eyes instantly darted to you, however, when you stepped closer.  

“Sorry for falling asleep,” you said as soon as he pulled out his earbuds. With an apologetic and embarrassed smile, you scratched the back of your head. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew I was this tired. How long was I out?”

Yoongi glanced down at his wristwatch briefly before returning his focus to you. “An hour and a half,” he said.

“Shoot.” You felt your face grow hot as a new wave of embarrassment rolled over you. “I must have taken so much of your time. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Yoongi waved his tablet. “I could work out here, too, thanks to this.”

“Still, you should have just woken me.”

“I was going to,” began Yoongi, a bit hesitantly. “But you looked like you needed some rest.”

You chuckled. “Was I snoring?”

“No, you were…”

You furrowed your brows when Yoongi didn’t finish his sentence. He averted his gaze hurriedly, almost as if he was feeling self-conscious for some reason, then cleared his throat. “You just looked tired,” he finished.

“Alright,” you said, too weary to bother asking him why he had hesitated. Perhaps you had been drooling or something and it simply was too embarrassing for both of you to talk about it. Whichever the case, you were grateful of his kindness.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a grimace. “I’ve bothered you long enough.”

Yoongi nodded as he rose and put down his tablet onto the coffee table. You followed him to the entryway, where both of you put on your shoes before heading out. Your soles stung against the smooth insides of your heels, and you knew you were walking a bit stiffer than you usually did as you trailed after Yoongi, who seemed to have decided to follow you all the way to the entrance.

“You didn’t have to come with me all the way,” you told him when the two of you had exited the building. The humid, heavy August air blanketed you the very instant you left the cool air of an AC heavy environment, and you began pulling your hair up into somewhat of a bun again.

Yoongi’s slim, black eyes regarded your motions with neither interest nor disinterest. “I didn’t know whether you could find your way back or not. Especially since you couldn’t even find the entrance in the first place.”

You chuckled. “I see. Thank you.”

“Are you available this Friday?”

The sudden inquiry startled you, and you stared wide-eyed back at Yoongi. “Actually, no,” you said. “How so?”

He shifted his attention elsewhere. “No, it’s nothing.”

“Come on,” you prodded. “Why did you ask if I’m available this Friday?”

Yoongi’s usually rather composed features turned into one of discomposure. “Just wondering if you had time to meet up again. I’ve said it before, but it’s kind of nice talking to you.”

You smiled. “It’s nice talking to you too, but I really can’t this Friday. I’m meeting Ju--I mean,” you amended quickly, “someone important from work. I think. It’s something business-related, at least. But what about Saturday?”

Yoongi’s eyes had narrowed when you made your error, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m busy all weekend, save for Friday.”

“Well, let’s try next week then.” You pointed at his phone, which poked out slightly from the right front pocket of his jeans. “Keep an eye on my messages. And try to answer them more from now on.”

“I will.”

You smiled again. “By the way, thanks for lending me your shirt while I was sleeping. Your perfume or cologne or whatever it is smells really nice.”

Yoongi averted his gaze. “Thanks,” he said.

With a lingering smile, you started away from him. “See you,” you said over your shoulder.

“Goodbye.”

Although your nap in Yoongi’s studio had rejuvenated you, you were still tired when you reached the front door of your parents’ apartment. That’s why it took you a second extra before you recognized the conversing voices of your parents, coming from somewhere further into the apartment.

After kicking off your heels, you padded toward the sound, not sure whether you could trust your senses or not while you were as tired as you were. However, you were both pleased and worried to discover both of your parents in your father’s home office. Pleased, because you were glad your father had been discharged from the hospital and was finally at home. Worried, because the expression both of your parents wore hardly gave you a room for emotional relief.

Your mother’s lips formed a thin line where she stood leaning against one of the many bookshelves that bordered the walls, while your father sat behind his desk, hands covering his face. Various folders and stacks of papers cluttered the surface of the desk and the area around it. The atmosphere, already charged with something you didn’t know, grew even more tense when both of your parents saw you and clammed up.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Your father lowered his hands from his face and smiled at you. “Nothing, sweetie. We’re just looking for a document.”

You expected your mother to snort or really, do anything, since your father’s lie was obvious. But when she remained quiet, her lips pursed tightly together, your nervousness turned into anxiousness. “Mom?” you tried.

“There are some… complications at the company,” she said through clenched jaws, her sharp gaze flitting over to you briefly.

“What kind of complications?” you asked, dread curling inside your stomach.

Your parents exchanged looks. You saw a whole conversation pass between them in silence, and fleetingly admired just how strong their bond was. There had never been a shred of jealousy or doubt between your parents, but it wasn’t until now that you realized just how unwavering their belief in one another was and had always been, and in turn how impressive it was.

Because here you were, questioning what barely constituted as a relationship with Jeon Jungkook, BTS’ “Golden Maknae” and someone you had grown up with - someone you loved.

“It’s nothing major,” assured your father suddenly.

“It might be,” elaborated your mother immediately afterward. “But your father is right, (Y/N) - at least for now.”

“You two keeping secrets from me again?” you wondered as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“We’re not,” said your father and gave you a warm smile. It hurt, for even though it was the same smile you had seen when you were a child, the lines around his eyes and mouth seemed to have multiplied since then. Your father looked better than when you had visited him during the weekend at the hospital, but he still appeared significantly weaker compared to Friday.

“But it’s better for you if you don’t know,” said your mother.

“What kind of logic is that?” you exclaimed. “I get home from having been at Phoenix all day. I’ve introduced myself as the new CEO even though I have no real allies among the other presidents, and I’ve done my best to study up on our company all weekend! How can I run a company if you won’t let me?”

“Please, try to understand.” Your father sighed and leaned back into his chair. “I would like you to know about this issue, but if you do, you might get involved in it, too, and that mustn’t happen.”

“Don’t be a stubborn child,” said your mother sternly. “For the future of Phoenix, you’ve got to trust us.”

“Fine,” you said after a long pause where you had contemplated whether it was worth arguing more or not. You despised giving up on something obviously troubling, but you didn’t want to upset your father or make him stressed.

Your father smiled at you. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“How did the hospital tests go?” Your heart started beating faster in fear and anticipation. “I’m assuming they must be done and over with since you’re home.”

Your father’s smile fell, and you saw your mother stiffening in the corner of your eye. Neither one of them had to say anything for you to understand the answer.

The tests must have proven positive. Your father had CHD.

Whatever vain hope you might have had that he would return to good health - and the company - disappeared like smoke.

You opened your mouth, only to quickly close it again. You didn’t know what you could say to console your father, for not only having been forced to step down from his position as chairman but also for having been diagnosed with an incurable disease. You didn’t know what you could say to comfort your mother, who wore a shattered expression.

You didn’t know what you could say to convince yourself you weren’t in a bad dream right then and there.

“We’re leaving for Jeju Island tomorrow.”

It was your mother who eventually broke the silence inside your father’s home office. You stiffly turned to face her. She had managed to regain control over her features and met your gaze evenly, her gaze as sharp as it usually was.

“You’re leaving?” you wondered numbly. “But what about dad--”

“He’s coming with me,” interrupted your mother as if it weren’t already obvious.

“But where are you going to stay?” You frowned. “And what if he has another heart attack while you’re there?”

Your mother snorted. “There are hospitals in Jeju as well. Even if they’re not as competent as they might be in Seoul, your father and I have decided that it’s better than staying here amid all the pollution and exhaust gas.”

“We bought a house and some land last year,” said your father, then let out a small chuckle. “It was supposed to be our retirement present to ourselves. I never thought we would move there already.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re moving?” you exclaimed.

“Lower your voice,” snapped your mother as she ambled around to your father’s side and draped her hands over his shoulders.

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, sweetie,” said your father as he raised his hand to meet your mother’s fingers. “I never planned to lay it out this way. But I don’t think I can last very long here and I really don’t want to die in Seoul.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you blurted as you balled your hands into fists. “You’re not going to die anytime soon. You’re still relatively young, and CHD is not some slow, debilitating disease. You can still have a long, healthy life.”

Your father chuckled. “I hope you’re right about that. And I know I can’t leave before I’ve done my duty as a father and watch you get married to the person you love.”

Your eyes stung, and you lowered your gaze before you could lose control over yourself. As much as you wanted to ask your mother--no, demand that she must stay to help you become the true chairman of Phoenix Inc., you couldn’t bear bringing the question up. How could you, when the love of her life was at risk of dying all of a sudden?

“I hope you can understand, (Y/N),” began your mother, her normally piercing voice sounding uncharacteristically blunt and mellow. “And we both know this is hard for you. But please, be strong. For the company, for yourself… for all of us.”

You merely nodded, unable to vocalize a response. There was a thick lump in your throat that you couldn’t seem to speak past no matter how hard you tried, and so, you left your father’s office in silence.

The next day, your parents departed almost immediately. You followed them to Incheon Airport, where you said your goodbyes. Your father assured you that it wasn’t some kind of permanent goodbye, and that you could visit whenever you wanted to, but your mother’s eyes told a different story. You didn’t know exactly what she was thinking, but you could tell she didn’t want you to come to Jeju Island. Not because she disliked you, but rather because she didn’t want you to leave your seat at Phoenix Inc. Seoul Headquarters.

You didn’t know whether you agreed with her or not.

It was a little after lunch when you returned to the office. The air was just as alien and strange as it had been the day before, but you were at least not meeting the presidents or any other head of departments that day.

You figured it might be a bit awkward between you and Jung-Hyun, but the air was fine. He listened to you going through the thick folder of employees at the Seoul HQ, and helped you navigate the treacherous waters of the business world. It didn’t take long for you to realize just how little you knew, despite having studied at Korea University Business School for almost two years. You still had a long way to go regarding things like business strategy, market forces and company management, and so on and so forth.

Your stress accumulated throughout the day, and by the time Jong-Yeol came around to pick you up at almost seven, you were ready to pass out. Glad that you at least could look forward to seeing Jungkook, you perked up when you arrived home at your parents’ apartment. The silence and emptiness should have perhaps unnerved you since it reminded you of your parents permanent departure, but you found that it wasn’t really that much different from before.

If it was good or just sad, you did not know.

The sound of the door bell startled you. You had finished showering and was just about done cleaning up the dishes left from your dinner, which had consisted of ramen, when the electronic melody echoed throughout the hallway.

Nervousness but also anticipation trickled throughout your system. After a quick look in the entryway mirror where you made sure you weren’t wearing your clothes inside out or that there was a fragment of chili in your teeth, you padded over the cool linoleum floor and unlocked the front door.

“(Y/N).”

On the other side of the threshold stood Jungkook, dressed in ripped blue jeans, leather sneakers and a surprisingly fitted T-shirt with black sleeves. He was holding a black cap in his left hand and was in the process of pulling the white mouth mask underneath his chin. His large, familiar brown eyes peered down at you through a pair of round glasses, an accessory you weren’t really used to seeing on his face. And it must have been obvious, for Jungkook quickly grimaced.

“That ugly, am I?” he asked as he took them off.

“No,” you blurted, resisting the urge to punch yourself. “You’re not ugly. I’m just not used to seeing you with glasses. You’ve never worn them in front of me before… you know, a few weeks ago, when you first told me.”

It wasn’t until after your reunion that Jungkook had revealed his faulty eyesight. Partly because he simply hadn’t remembered due to his amnesia that he had a pair of glasses lying around, and partly because he had been too self-conscious. Now, he hadn’t said the latter out loud, but it had been obvious in the way he brought the subject up.

“Really? They look fine?”

“Really.” You rolled your eyes. “Are you coming in or not?”

You moved back to let him inside. Jungkook shut the door, and kneeled down to untie his shoes after first putting his glasses aside on the end table, which stood next to the mirror you had just recently appraised your appearance in.

“But seriously,” he said when he was done, a hint of uncertainty swimming around in what used to be pools of indifference and unrelenting emotionlessness. “Do you like my glasses or not?”

“I like them,” you said as you carefully grasped the thin arms of Jungkook’s round glasses and reached for his face. “So stop repeating that question. Besides, even if I didn’t, what would you do? Walk around blind?”

Jungkook didn’t answer immediately. His familiar brown eyes were locked with yours, and he almost seemed transfixed by your gaze. You had stepped closer in order to put his glasses back onto him, but hadn’t thought about how close your bodies suddenly were. You hadn’t thought about how addicting the smell of soap, warmth and something uniquely Jungkook was and how easily it made your heart - and knees - quiver.

You hadn’t thought about how much you yearned for him.

It was such a strange feeling. You had always avoided Jungkook, and disliked, if not outright despised him. How it had changed, and when it had, you did not know, but you knew that you had suppressed your desires for so long that it felt wrong to embrace them. It felt wrong to want him. It felt wrong to love him.

Especially when Park Yi-Jae was still in the picture.

The notion cooled your senses, and you instantly withdrew after you had returned Jungkook’s glasses to his face. He appeared to have noticed your sudden change of demeanor, for his brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

He was waiting, you could feel it.

You wordlessly went to the kitchen. He followed you. The atmosphere was stiff, awkward, which was ridiculous and stupid since you knew you were the culprit of it. Why did you have to be jealous? Why did you have to show that you were jealous by confronting Jungkook about him and Yi-Jae?

Why couldn’t you just trust him?

You sank down onto one of the bar stools. “Jungkook,” you began slowly, uncertain as to how you should approach the issue. “I have something I need to tell you.”

He perched next to you, his familiar brown eyes expectant - but also a bit wary.

“It’s about my parents,” you began. “Or to be more specific, my dad. He… he was diagnosed with this incurable heart disease. He decided to retire from his position as chairman at Phoenix, and moved to Jeju Island with my mom today. He won’t be coming back to Seoul anytime soon.”

“What?” exclaimed Jungkook. “But what about--”

He cut himself off when he saw the answer in your eyes. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips and he grasped your hand. “You can’t run a company, (Y/N)! What about university? And your mother is capable of running Phoenix Inc. alone, isn’t she? Why can’t she do it?”

You proceeded to tell Jungkook everything you had discussed with your mother. At several occasions, he looked like he wanted to interject, but by the end of your explanation, his lips were pursed tightly together.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, both of his hands holding yours. “I hope your dad can rest now that he’s in Jeju.”

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t unwind. You knew why. Despite the relief that rushed through your system after having told Jungkook about your predicament as the new “CEO” of Phoenix Inc., that had been the easiest subject you wanted to bring up that evening. Now came the hard parts.

“You know Jung-Hyun is still working for us here in Seoul, right?” you asked.

Jungkook, whose familiar brown eyes had been overflowing with sympathy until that point, suddenly stiffened. “Yeah. I’m guessing it’s because you never told him about us.”

It wasn’t an inquiry; it was a statement. And a statement you couldn’t deny.

“I think he’s going through something tough right now,” you said, unable to put any other word on Jung-Hyun’s situation, which you still did not know more about. “And I think it would help if you and him got on better terms.”

“What do you mean, ‘something tough’?”

Jungkook’s eyes were cool now, and his tone hovered on the brink of hostility. The grasp he had of your hands also loosened, and you felt the suspicion in his words.

“I don’t really know,” you said truthfully. “Hopefully, it’s nothing too bad. I’m having dinner with him this Friday to find out more about it.”

Jungkook scowled, and old fury sparked inside both his eyes and voice. “You’re having dinner with him? When you and I barely have time to talk over the phone?”

“It’s not like that,” you said with a frown. Your heart was beating faster and faster, and the knot inside your stomach wrung itself even tighter together. “It’s just a normal dinner. Friends can have dinner too, can’t they?”

Jungkook let out an incredulous laughter and released your hands. “You can’t be serious with that argument. Firstly, you’re not friends. Secondly, he still thinks you’re engaged! Why can’t you just tell him the truth and have coffee instead? And haven’t you two already spent hours together yesterday and today? What did you two do during all that time that stopped you from talking about my brother’s supposedly tough situation?”

Your frown deepened. “Are you actually accusing me of cheating on you?” you demanded, anger and disbelief making your voice low.

“What else kind of explanation is there?” Jungkook rose from the bar stool, seemingly too agitated to sit still. He started pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor, eyes still filled with old rage. “You’re clearly hiding something from me since you don’t want to tell Jung-Hyun that you’re mine.”

“I’m not a possession,” you said through gritted teeth. “And there is an explanation, but it’s complicated and difficult and I want to wait with it until I have everything clear for me.”

“There you go again about how hard Jung-Hyun is having it. You care about him more than you care to tell me. How else am I supposed to interpret this other than that you’re unfaithful?”

You should have probably kept your temper in check and asked for Jungkook’s forgiveness while you told him another half-truth, half-lie, but you didn’t. The mere fact that he had just accused you of something so horrible like cheating would have been aggravating in a normal relationship, but you two had history and cheating was a huge part of that. It would be an understatement to say that his implication infuriated you.

“You shouldn’t interpet it at all!” You balled your hands into fists in a vain attempt to keep your voice - and temper - down. “You should just trust me like I’m trusting you with Park Yi-Jae! You don’t hear me being all jealous and stupid about your duet with her - and the fact that you failed to mention that that collaboration ever happened.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so passive-aggressive, but that’s what came out of your mouth. You wished you had been able to reign in your anger, that your boxing classes were helping you with not only your stress, but with some of your emotions, too, but it seemed like you were still ways off. Either that, or this anger was simply not something you could punch away.

Jungkook froze, mid-step, and his attention turned to you. Genuine fear overshadowed his fury, at least momentarily. “How did you find out about that?”

His question made you, if possible, even more annoyed. “Did you actually think I wouldn’t hear about it eventually?” you wondered instead of answering.

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

Jungkook’s gaze hardened. “When were you planning on telling my brother about us?”

“Is there even an us?” you said before you could think.

If the atmosphere in the kitchen had been awkward and stiff at first, it turned frigid as soon as that sentence left your lips. You averted your gaze, ashamed over having said those words, but still too indignant and offended to take them back.

And so, you didn’t say anything when Jungkook stalked out of your parents’ apartment with nothing but a long stare as goodbye.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 4: Min Yoongi

“We’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized that you had fallen asleep sometime during the journey to the BigHit Entertainment building. With a yawn, you checked your makeup in the front camera of your phone. It didn’t look perfect, but it looked better than it could have after you had practically drooled against the seat during the thirty or so minutes Jong-Yeol had been driving.

After thanking him and assuring him that you would contact him later, you stepped out of the vehicle. The humid, mid-August heat enveloped you like a thick blanket, and the smell of warm asphalt, cigarette smoke and car fumes filled your nostrils. It took you a few moments to get your bearings, partly because you were still coming to, and partly because you had forgotten that the company had moved to another building since last time you visited it. The new building was darker, inconspicuous, and you couldn’t even find an entryway that didn’t lead into one of the establishments on the ground level, which were clearly not related to BigHit Entertainment.

A few curious eyes slanted your direction when you moved up and down the street for the fifth time. Feeling exposed where you stood, and more than a little stupid, you reached for your phone - just in time for it to vibrate inside your purse.

“I’m right outside,” you said as you rubbed the nape of your neck. “I’ve been trying to find a way inside for a while.”

A male’s low, raspy, almost hollow-like voice responded in monotone. “Are you on the two or one-way road?”

“The former.”

“Head to the one-way road. There’s an entrance right around the corner if you continue forward.”

“Alright…” Following his instructions, you finally found yourself at the entrance.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you replied as you neared the double glass doors. “Are they locked? Do I need some kind of code?”

“What time is it?”

“Er.” You checked your phone briefly. “It’s almost six pm.”

“Then yeah, probably. Don’t worry about it, though. I’m on my way.”

“Oh, okay.”

He ended the call without responding. You lowered your phone into your purse and grimaced as you glanced down at your heels. The balls of your feet were burning, even more so than they had before Jong-Yeol came with the car, and your stomach was growling. You had been completely occupied during lunch, both dissecting your performance during the board meeting with the presidents as well as discussing your upcoming meetings with the lesser directors and management heads. It wasn’t until now, after everything had blown over, that you felt your brain relax enough for you to care about your more biological needs, like food and sleep.

Perhaps you should have listened to Jong-Yeol. Perhaps you should be on your way home to rest and reload for another hectic day at Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul headquarters. Perhaps you should listen to whatever voice of reason you carried that told you to read up more about your own company in order to disperse some of your stress.

But as soon as you spotted the somewhat familiar figure of Min Yoongi on the other side of the closed doors, you were glad you had decided to come.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said.

His slim, unreadable dark eyes were almost completely hidden between the brim of his black bucket hat and the mouth mask he also wore. The contrast between his ripped jeans, dark t-shirt, casual sneakers and your clothes was ridiculous. You felt more than just a little self-conscious as he regarded you from head to toe twice, before he gestured for you to follow him inside.

The lobby was cozily lit. The two receptionists didn’t even look up from their computers when Yoongi entered through the second set of doors, but as soon as your heels clicked against the flooring, they perked up. You felt even more out of place with your outfit, and felt the need to explain yourself as soon as you had entered an elevator cab after Yoongi.

“I came directly from the office,” you said quickly as you stared down at the cab floor. “That’s why I look like this.”

“‘The office’?”

He sounded genuinely surprised, which reminded you - you hadn’t told Jungkook that you were replacing your father already. You had been too busy that weekend as well as stressed out. Slapping yourself inwardly in the face, you managed a strained smile while you made a mental note to call Jungkook as soon as you had time.

“My dad fainted a few days ago,” you said in what you hoped was a normal tone. “It wasn’t a dangerous thing, but the doctor wanted to keep him at the hospital for a few days to test him for some kind of incurable heart disease.”

“What does that have to do with you being at what I assume is your family’s company?” The way Yoongi phrased the question was blunt, harsh even, but his tone was gentle and upon glancing at him, you saw that his slim, dark eyes were filled with sympathy.

You scratched your arm. “The doctor said he’s almost certain my dad has this disease. As a result, my mom told me I would have to step up from now on.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, no.” A weak smile parted your lips. “You’re looking at the new chairman of Phoenix Incorporation.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened with shock and not a little disbelief. “What about the whole engagement thing?” he asked. “Don’t you need to marry Jungkook in order to inherit the company in the first place?”

“I do,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t run the company meanwhile.”

That’s at least what you had managed to glean from your mother’s lengthy explanation regarding the legal aspects surrounding Phoenix Inc.. Although your late grandfather’s company was currently technically ownerless, your father had been able to possess and maintain his position after being continuously voted for as the chairman by the presidents, which were the people in charge of each business unit or separate businesses altogether that was owned or controlled by Phoenix Inc.. It was, at least in your opinion, a fair system with democracy at the spine, but your mother disliked the idea, since it meant you would also have to either gain their votes - or marry into Jungkook’s family.

This was the primary reason you were so worried about making a good impression and what had landed you in your stressful situation. On one hand, you couldn’t marry Jungkook until you were certain you knew enough about Jung-Hyun and his secrets. On the other hand, the longer you postponed your wedding, the longer you would have to fight for the presidents’ approval - and risk having someone else be voted as the chairman of Phoenix Inc..

Sure, they had all seemed very nice when you met them earlier and even addressed you appropriately, but you knew you couldn’t trust them. Because even though they had served your father - some of them had also worked underneath your grandfather - well, that didn’t mean they would necessarily approve of you, too. And could you blame them for that? Se-Eun and Yoongi both doubted you - heck, you doubted yourself too. You would have doubted yourself even more if you were in one of the presidents’ positions.

Now, even if they didn’t vote for you during the election meeting the company arranged every September, your potential ownership of Phoenix Inc. wouldn’t disappear. But that would mean you would have to watch someone else control your late grandfather’s company, a company you had now watched your father sacrifice his health for, for a whole year until the re-election.

You wouldn’t stand by that, which was the main reason you had managed to persevere throughout the day.

“So you and Jungkook are back together?”

“Yup,” you said with a smile. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

Something moved in Yoongi’s slim, dark eyes. You frowned, to which he reacted by averting his gaze. Judging by the movement underneath his mouth mask, he had been just about to say something when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

Only a few people were roaming about the corridor, but you still didn’t want to talk about your personal business out loud. So, even though his reaction intrigued you, you allowed the matter to pass. Yoongi didn’t say anything as he led you through the building, except for when he greeted the occasional person you passed by. You wondered how much further you were going to have to walk when Yoongi finally stopped to unlock a door.

It opened up to a smaller area that almost looked like living quarters. From where you stood in what appeared like an entryway, all you saw was a small corner kitchen and a seating area for two or three people. The area seemed to stretch further past the seating area, leading most likely to additional rooms or spaces.

The carpeted floor was definitely not meant for shoes you wore outdoors, and your suspicion was confirmed when you saw Yoongi kick off his sneakers and put on a pair of slippers that had been waiting on a shoe rack next to the door.

With a sigh of relief that bordered on a moan, you peeled your feet out of your pumps. “Do you have an extra pair?” you wondered when Yoongi’s slim, dark eyes darted in your direction.

“No, but the floors are clean. You can walk barefoot.”

Although you were happy to be rid of your heels, your soles still burned as you stepped onto the carpet. You trailed after Yoongi, who still hadn’t bothered explaining where he was taking you, but just when you were about to ask, he halted outside an opaque glass door with a sign that said “Genius Lab” on it.

“Who’s the genius?” you wondered. Even though you remembered what Se-Eun had told you about the leader of BTS, Kim Namjoon, and his prominent intelligence, you doubted Yoongi would have led you all the way to meet him without telling you first.

“That would be me.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn’t comment further on it. There was an electronic bell on the door, as well as a code lock, which Yoongi fed a password into. The door unlocked with an electronic pling and he offered it for you to go inside first.

After entering through an additional glass door situated directly after the one with the password lock, you found yourself in a small room cramped with furniture and various collectibles. A single swivel chair in the center of the room was surrounded on two sides by desks laden with various expensive-looking electronic equipment and on one side by a heavy keyboard. Big television screens hung above each desk that said nothing but “SUGA”. The wooden floor was cool against your feet.

It was neat, save for a long plaid, flannel shirt that lay sloppily tossed across the black leather sofa directly to your right from where you had entered through the doors. A large plastic cup also rested on a thin, foldable table in front of the sofa.

“I didn’t think you would come,” muttered Yoongi as he gathered the jacket in his hands and slung it over the back of his swivel chair. He then disappeared briefly to dispose of the cup.

“You said you wanted my help on something,” you said cheerfully when he returned. “And I have been meaning to see you again.”

“You have?” he asked dubiously and pulled his mouth mask underneath his chin, exposing his face.

You sank down onto the sofa when he was done putting away the foldable table. “I never really got to thank you after what you did for me when we last met, so I thought I could do that as well as catch up.” You paused. “You haven’t really been that talkative in our text conversations.”

“I have been busy,” he said and perched down onto the chair.

“You guys have recently announced an upcoming album, right?”

His gaze grew curious underneath the brim of his bucket hat. “I didn’t know the soon-to-be owner of South Korea’s largest business conglomerate was a fan of us.”

“I don’t know if I can count myself as a fan, but I do have a fanatic friend.”

“Oh yeah, I remember her. ” Yoongi crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair. “We all met her when we visited you and Jungkook for the first time since his accident.”

“Yeah,” you said, glad that he remembered Se-Eun. You would have to tell her about it later.

“A shitton has happened this year. A shitton has happened since I met you.”

You grimaced as you briefly recalled everything that had happened since that fateful February evening when you had gone to your first BTS concert ever. “Sorry. Things are better now, though, aren’t they? I mean, we don’t have to think about Jungkook’s amnesia anymore.”

“Fortunately.”

“How is he?”

“Why do you ask? Don’t you guys talk?”

You freed your hair from the tightly wound bun you had made it up into that morning. “We do,” you said as you rubbed your scalp gingerly. “But I don’t know what I cannot see or hear.”

“Don’t you trust him?”

“I do,” you blurted incredulously, almost insulted by the mere suggestion you might do anything but.

Yoongi’s slim, dark eyes didn’t yield, however. “But…?” he prodded.

You held his gaze for a while before resigning with a heavy sigh. “He didn’t tell me about his song with Park Yi-Jae that’s the title for that new drama that’s running.”

“Oh?” Yoongi furrowed his brows. “But that’s old news. I think it was announced a month ago.”

You felt your heart sink. “Really?”

“When did you hear about it?”

“Two days ago.”

“So you guys don’t really talk.”

“We do,” you repeated insistently. “But I guess we’ve just been too busy to talk about his career. Or mine for that matter.” You grimaced. “I haven’t told Jungkook about my current situation.”

“Look,” began Yoongi after a pause, an unreadable look in his eyes. “I don’t have much experience in the relationship department, but it’s obvious that you two are experiencing some kind of bump in the road. And I don’t want to be rude, but shouldn’t you talk to him instead of me about your problems? That is why you agreed to meet me today on such notice, isn’t it? To get me to tell you if Jungkook’s deceiving you.”

You averted your gaze. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I just… I feel like I can rely on you. I know it’s presumptuous and kind of stupid since you’re Jungkook’s hyung and a member of his group and we’ve only met, what, a handful of times, but I still do. You helped me a lot while Jungkook was amnesic, and you helped me realize just how I feel for him. I… I don’t want to doubt him, but a growing part of me wonders why he and Park Yi-Jae haven’t announced their breakup yet. I can’t help but become jealous.”

Hearing you say those words yourself made your cheeks grew hot. Not only because you had outwardly admitted your emotions, but also because you had voiced them to Yoongi. You didn’t even know how you could describe your relationship with him since it was more than an acquaintanceship, but not quite really a friendship. It was never awkward with him, and even though your conversations more than often took on a personal turn, you never felt uncomfortable opening up. It was different with Yoongi compared to Se-Eun or even Jungkook.

You only hoped you hadn’t just overstepped the boundaries of whatever relationship you might have.

“What has Jungkook told you about Yi-Jae and his relationship?”

It was impossible to gauge what exactly Yoongi was leading the question into, and so you simply answered honestly. “That their breakup was known between your company and hers, but that it hadn’t been announced yet. I haven’t had time to ask him the duet.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing.” You scratched your arm. “Is he hiding something from me?”

Yoongi rested an elbow against the arm rest on his chair and rubbed his chin. His slim, black eyes were contemplative as they regarded you, but there was also the slightest shadow of hesitation. You pursed your lips nervously. Although you wanted to ask him what it was he had wanted to say earlier in the elevator, you decided to wait for him to respond to your most pressing question.

Dingdong .

The sound of the doorbell startled you almost to standing. Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, however, and he calmly went to open the door. He exchanged a few words with whoever it was standing outside, then shut the door and went back to his chair.

“Well?” you said when he wouldn’t speak.

Yoongi’s slim, black eyes were indecipherable. “If that is what Jungkook said, then you should trust him.”

“So I’m getting all jealous and worried for nothing?”

“Yes.”

You let out a breath of relief that you hadn’t even noticed you were holding. “Great. Okay. Don’t tell him I’ve asked you about this, please.”

“I won’t,” replied Yoongi.

You smiled, and were just about to wonder what exactly he had wanted your help with when a deep growl erupted from your stomach, cutting you off.

“You’re hungry.”

“Kind of.” You wrapped a hand over your midsection, as if it would help, and your smile turned sheepish. “I’ll eat something when I get home. Let’s go over to you. What do you need help with?”

“Are you being expected?” asked Yoongi instead of answering your question.

You furrowed your brows slightly. “No.”

“Then let’s order something,” he said as he swiped his phone from the desk next to him. “It might take a while helping me out.”

“Why?”

Instead of answering, Yoongi spun around on the swivel chair and dragged himself to the center desk where, amid various mixers and speakers, a stationary computer was set-up. The monitor came alive when he touched the wireless mouse, and he started clicking around, eventually causing the TV screen that hung on the wall above the desk to flicker alive. You frowned when he continued dragging files around between the two, and even more so when he touched a few knobs on the mixers, not really understanding what he was doing.

But all of a sudden, music flowed out from the speakers.

There were no lyrics, but you instinctively knew that the song was an original work. You didn’t know how exactly, but as soon as the first few tones hit your ears, you knew it had to be Yoongi’s. Perhaps you really was a fan.

The sound was cut off abruptly, just when the song was going somewhere. You opened your mouth to ask Yoongi if an error had occurred within the software or something, but your first word was drowned out by the same song. Thinking he might have simply hit the replay button accidentally, it took you a few more extra seconds to realize that even though the song was in majority the same, there were subtle changes in nuances throughout the beat. Soon, the song ended just as abruptly as it had before, and you realized immediately what Yoongi’s slim, dark eyes were demanding when he spun back around to face you.

“I liked the second version more,” you said.

“Why?”

“Er, well… I just do.”

It had sounded like a question, but Yoongi seemed to accept your answer nevertheless. He nodded, and turned around to tap something into the computer.

“I’m probably not the best person to ask about this,” you said after a few seconds during which nothing but the tapping of the computer keyboard had filled the air. “I don’t know anything about music. I like a song just because; I’m hardly qualified to judge one version of a song from another. Besides, don’t you have professional producers here? Can’t you talk to them? Or perhaps your group members?”

“No,” said Yoongi and slowly pivoted back toward you. “I want a fresh set of ears to listen to the sounds I’m contemplating on for my next mixtape. You’re that.”

“Is this for your mixtape?” you exclaimed in disbelief.

Yoongi furrowed his brows. “What, is it not good enough?”

“No, no,” you said as you hastily waved your hands. “I just… I wouldn’t trust someone like me with something as important as your mixtape.”

“Are you saying I’m stupid?”

“No!” You smacked yourself on the face, frustrated by your inarticulacy. “No, of course not,” you then said a little quieter.

“Good. Then I won’t need to change my sign.”

You chuckled. “Are you actually serious about that? You think you’re a genius?”

A glimmer of amusement entered Yoongi’s slim, dark eyes. “Sometimes.”

“Wow. That’s humble.”

Yoongi seemed on the very verge of uttering a retort when your stomach growled. You grimaced. “Let’s eat something before I can insult you any more than I already have,” you said.

“Let’s.”

After making an order from a nearby fast food place, Yoongi continued to play short snippets of different songs. Despite your uncertainty, you helped him the best you could, picking between different alternatives of a part of a song as well as explaining why you leaned toward your particular choice. After all, it was the least you could do after tricking him into thinking that you had agreed on meeting him without an ulterior motive.

In fact, wasn’t that what you always did with Yoongi? You hadn’t met him very often, but did you ever make an effort to meet him unless you weren’t out to find some kind of information about Jungkook? How selfish wasn’t that?

The fact that Yoongi had invited you to hang out in order for you to help him with his mixtape, something you knew - thanks to Se-Eun - had to be an exhaustive endeavor, particularly since he as an idol had to have a packed schedule almost every day of every week. It made you nauseous in hindsight, and Yoongi must have noticed your discomfort when you were eating, for he spoke up.

“You don’t eat much, considering the sounds your stomach made earlier.”

You peered down at your half-eaten burger and untouched fries. “I have a small stomach,” you tried.

“You don’t have to lie,” said Yoongi, appearing a bit offended when your eyes found his. “If you’re on a diet, just say it.”

“I’m not,” you said firmly. “I just…”

He arched a brow. “You just…?”

“I’m sorry,” you began and lowered your gaze. “I can’t help but feel like I was trying to use you. Like I am trying to use you,” you amended hurriedly. “And that kind of makes me sick.”

It was quiet for a long while. You barely dared to breathe, shocked by the brashness of your own admission, as well as surprised by your reluctance to lie. But then, hadn’t the case always been like this with Yoongi? You always wound up telling him the truth, and even though it initially had been because he managed to sniff out a clue himself, he had no way of knowing what you were thinking.

So why not just lie?

“(Y/N).”

You swallowed, and raised your gaze. “Yeah?”

Yoongi’s slim, black eyes were uncharacteristically soft for once. “Would you consider me your friend?”

His voice was impossible to read, sounding neither accusatory nor forgiving. You soaked your lips before responding. “I don’t know,” you said hesitantly. “What about you? Would you consider me your friend?”

“I do. Is that presumptuous?”

“Kind of,” you said, struggling to hide a smile, glad by his answer. “But who am I to judge a genius? I’m just a mere mortal.”

Yoongi snorted, and a smirk danced across his lips. “One of the richests mortals on this planet,” he grunted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle even though the prospect of being ultimately responsible for Phoenix Inc.’s resources and funding terrified you. “Why did you ask if I think you’re a friend?” you asked after a brief pause.

“That would change things, wouldn’t it?” Yoongi readjusted his bucket hat, revealing a glimpse of brown hair underneath. “You wouldn’t be using me to get information on Jungkook, and I wouldn’t be using you to get some unbiased feedback on my tracks. We would be friends helping each other.”

“Still.” You scratched your arm. “Are you sure it doesn’t feel weird talking about Jungkook? I mean, we would have never met each other if it weren’t for him.”

Yoongi had appeared rather relaxed ever since you entered his studio, but as soon as you finished your sentence, he strangely stiffened. “No,” he said. “But I hope we can talk about things other than Jungkook sometimes.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, though you were still confused by his reaction. Had you said something wrong?

“I’ll be right back,” said Yoongi abruptly and stood up. “Don’t touch anything on the computer while I’m gone.”

“I won’t.”

He made a small noise of acknowledgement before he exited the room. The door locked automatically after him, leaving you alone.

In lack of a better thing to do while Yoongi was at the bathroom, most likely, you took out your phone and dialed Jungkook. He failed to answer, however, and even though you wanted to try and spam him, you decided to keep your number of calls at two, leaving a message for him to call you back at the last one.

Your eyelids were growing increasingly heavy with each second that you waited for Yoongi to return. You had hoped your brief nap in the car would be enough of a reprieve for you to meet Yoongi, but your body obviously disagreed. Although you did your best to try and stay awake, it didn’t take long before exhaustion overtook you. Fleetingly, you heard the sound of the door unlocking, but you had already plunged far too deep into sleep to resist its soothing numbness.

And so, you didn’t even feel when someone draped his long plaid, flannel shirt over you, shielding you from the cool blast of the AC overhead.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 3: The New CEO

 “You can not be serious.”

Se-Eun and you were at small café close to where you lived. The two of you had spent the Saturday afternoon shopping, or well, to be more specific, Se-Eun had been shopping while you just followed her around, too nervous to initiate the conversation about your father’s health. Now that you had finally told her what had happened during the dinner as well as the consequences - namely that you were quitting university - you felt an immense weight lift from your shoulders. Ever since you had told Se-Eun the truth about your involvement with Jungkook, both historically and emotionally, you had decided to continue relying on her as the best friend she was.

Only, you didn’t think you would be able to ever tell her about Jung-Hyun’s tattoo.

You wiped the condensation on your plastic mug of iced coffee with your fingers, then dried your hand on a napkin. “I am,” you said dejectedly before you sipped the beverage. “Dad is too weak to run the business any longer. And I can’t blame mom for wanting to stay with him.”

The creases between Se-Eun’s eyebrows immediately faded at the last thing you said. “I get that, too,” she said quickly. “But still, you’re not even twenty-one. Are you seriously going to quit university and become CEO of a company as big as Phoenix Inc.? Don’t you guys own, like, ninety percent of the export and import industries in all of South Korea?”

“I’m not really sure,” you admitted with a slight blush. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know much about the company other than what your parents had told you, which wasn’t much. Your father had never been poor, and although your mother had also been born into a somewhat affluent family, they had made sure to raise you as any middle-class child and kept you away from family business. You had attended public schools and been forced to do your part of household chores, even if your parents had always employed cleaning staff.

That’s why your mother’s decision worried you. Because even if you knew and had always known that your ultimate fate would land you as the CEO of one of Asia’s largest corporations, you had thought you would learn more about the whole business aspect during university and then be slowly integrated into the position.

You had never thought you would have to become CEO practically overnight. But then again, your parents probably hadn’t thought that either.

“Well, the exact number isn’t important to the conversation.” Se-Eun had already finished her drink during the time it took you to tell her about yesterday, and ate what remained of the whip cream topping with the small spoon she had grabbed for the cheesecake the two of you had shared. “And I promise, I’m not trying to bring you down or anything, but are you really qualified for this?”

“No,” you said truthfully. “I’m not.”

“That’s reassuring to hear.”

“I won’t be completely alone,” you said a bit hesitantly. “Jung-Hyun will help me.”

Se-Eun’s eyes widened. “Is he still at your company? I thought he would leave after… you know.”

You averted your gaze in a mixture of embarrassment and shame. Because even though Se-Eun had assured you that she was fine with you and Jungkook, you didn’t know if what she told you was the truth. You of all people knew just how obsessed she had been with him for years, and it didn’t sit well with you that you had “taken” him from her. And although you knew you ought to talk to her about it, you couldn’t bring yourself to mention it.

There was also the fact that you hadn’t told Se-Eun that Jung-Hyun didn’t know about you and Jungkook, and that you weren’t really going to tell him at least for now. Not until you had found out more about him - and the tattoo he wore.

“It’s not a bad position,” you said half-heartedly. “He was appointed as the director of…” You scratched your head. “Er, something.”

“You really know nothing about your family’s company, huh?”

You returned your focus to Se-Eun and found that she wore an amused expression. “Unfortunately,” you said with a grimace. “Can we please change subject to something else? I’m just doubting myself more and more right now.”

“Well,” began Se-Eun as she picked up her phone from her purse. “Have you been watching that new drama about a gumiho and a shaman?”

“You know I don’t really watch dramas,” you told her.

“Yeah, but I thought you might make an exception of this one since Jungkook is singing one of the title songs. Hasn’t he told you?”

You frowned and leaned closer to her and her phone. “No.”

“Oh.” Se-Eun suddenly seemed uncomfortable and stopped unwinding her bundle of earbuds and cables. “I think I know why.”

“Why?”

“The song is a duet. And the other singer is Park Yi-Jae.”

“That can’t be why,” you said, even as your hands balled into fists underneath the table. “They’ve broken up and told their managements about it.”

“You said that almost a month ago,” said Se-Eun a bit hesitantly. “And I still haven’t heard anything from either of their companies.”

“They’re probably waiting for the right opportunity,” you said defensively. “I bet it’s just some kind of PR tactic while this drama is running.”

“Right. Yeah, probably.”

Se-Eun didn’t sound convinced. And although a part of you agreed with her, a bigger part refused to doubt Jungkook. Whatever your relationship now was, you knew he deserved your trust. And that’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched the trailer on Se-Eun’s phone. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched the clip of Jungkook and Yi-Jae singing the duet together in a studio environment.

That’s what you kept telling yourself as jealousy rose like bile in the back of your throat, forcing you to down all of your iced coffee in one go in an attempt to cleanse your palette.

“Good luck on Monday,” said Se-Eun when it was time for you to part. “You’re definitely going to need it.”

“I need more than luck,” you grunted.

And you did. When Monday morning rolled around, you barely knew anything more about Phoenix Inc. than you had when you spoke to Se-Eun. You had been too busy emailing and calling Korea University Business School in order to explain your abrupt leave, something that concerned the principal since your parents had been providing significant funds to the university ever since you were admitted. It was a matter you couldn’t comment on, which made the conversation somewhat awkward. And as if that didn’t take up vital amounts of hours where you should have probably researched Phoenix Inc., what remained of the weekend had been swallowed up by your visits to Gangnam Severance Hospital. Your father looked fine, but judging by the constant creases in your mother’s forehead, you would be a fool to assume the best.

It was 7.23, and about forty minutes before you were supposed to arrive at the front desk of Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul headquarters, yet you wouldn’t stop fidgeting where you sat in the backseat of the BMW. Checking your appearance in your phone, you couldn’t help but notice how tired and young you looked even with makeup. How were you supposed to announce your father’s retirement to a board full of people who had probably spent as many years in the business as you were old? How were you supposed to assume the leader position in one of the largest companies in the world?

But most importantly, how were you going to look Jung-Hyun in the eye after what you had seen at his hotel room?

Your arm was burning by the time the car came to a soft halt outside the main entrance of  Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul headquarters. The fifty-eight-storey building reached probably over two hundred meters from the pavement you stepped out onto, and even though you had driven past the giant edifice numerous times before, you had never been filled with as much dread as now. For now it was no longer just a building.

It was your building.

“Do you want me to follow you inside?”

You glanced over your shoulder to find Jong-Yeol having rolled down the window on the driver’s side. His eyes were concerned, and you saw that he was already on the verge of unlatching his safety belt.

“I’ll be alright,” you assured him, though your voice trembled. “It’s just a bit overwhelming.”

Jong-Yeol nodded. “I’ll be ready to pick you up whenever,” he told you.

“Thank you,” you said, and sent him a smile. A smile that rapidly faded after he had driven off with the BMW, leaving you alone.

Your legs were trembling as you ambled toward one of the biggest revolving doors you had ever seen. The air was heavy with humidity, and you were already sweating underneath your attire, which consisted of creamy white blouse, a dark blue blazer and a matching skirt. You had initially felt comical in the outfit, like you had stolen the pieces out of your mother’s wardrobe and was dressing up, especially since you had paired it with high heels. Looking at yourself in the mirror at home, you had felt overdressed, but upon entering the building, you saw to your great relief that the other women were also dressed similarly to you, if not even more proper.

But still, your greatest fear remained. Would anyone take you seriously?

The foyer was huge. With windows covering every outer wall and countless of bright lamps beaming down from the crazy high ceiling, you were dazzled by the amount of light that filled the space. Big blocks of black glass in different shapes and forms danced across the inner walls, and you could practically see your reflection in the matt, glassy gray floors. White leather furniture and dark wood contradicted the The interior was boldly designed with . You could see your mother’s taste permeate everything, and fleetingly wondered how your parents’ office spaces looked as you strode toward the front desk, which was a wide, circular desk of marble centered against the wall opposite to the revolving doors.

“Hello,” said the receptionist, a woman only a few years older than you, and greeted you with a sweet smile. The name tag read Hwang Ji-Woo. “What can I do for you, Miss?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but closed it almost instantly. What were you supposed to say? If you said you were the chairman’s daughter and there to report said chairman’s retirement, she would probably think you were crazy. Your profile was somewhat public due to your involvement with Jungkook and his family, but judging by Hwang Ji-Woo’s reaction, she didn’t have the slightest idea who you were. And since your father’s arrival at the hospital had been yet to be reported, nobody knew the state of his health.

“Miss?” She furrowed her neatly plucked eyebrows slightly, a hint of concern entering her eyes. “Is there something I can do for you?”

You were just about to tell her who you were when someone said your name from behind. The familiar voice made your body stiffen from head to toe, and you had to stifle your urge of just ignoring it and walking away. Mustering whatever pieces of courage you could gather in your nervous state, you slowly turned around and framed a polite smile.

Dressed in a dark suit that fitted his tall, broad-shouldered frame perfectly, Jeon Jung-Hyun came to a gradual halt in front of you. His black hair was perfectly combed, a luxury watch peered out from underneath his sleeve and his briefcase was undoubtedly a brand name product. He definitely looked like he fit into the environment, and at first glance, anyone would have found him strikingly handsome. Clean-shaven with a masculine, broad jaw and  a straight nose, he was very easy on the eyes.

Nobody would have suspected him of being involved with one of South Korea’s most notorious gangs.

“Jung-Hyun-oppa,” you said before you could think. Immediately, you cringed. “Oppa” wasn’t the most appropriate of ways to address someone at work, especially someone who was your subordinate in rank. Your earlier fear of appearing like a child in her mother’s clothes rushed back to you with full force, and you felt your face grow hot underneath his scrutiny.

To your even bigger embarrassment, however, he also bowed to you.

“I didn’t expect you this early, huijang-nim,” said Jung-Hyun in that stiff, somber, no-nonsense voice of his. His brown eyes, which were so similar to Jungkook’s both in shape and colour, regarded you without any emotion as he straightened up.

Or at least, that’s what you would have thought if you were a mere observer. You had gotten to know Jung-Hyun well enough by now to see the faint nuances, would it be in his body language or his actual demeanor, and you realized without any doubts that he was wary of you.

And even if you hadn’t, the fact that he addressed you as huijang-nim said more than enough of his attitude toward you.

“‘Huijang-nim’?”

Suddenly remembering Hwang Ji-Woo, you gave her an apologetic smile. “He’s just joking,” you said quickly, reading the shock in her eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be able to handle myself from here.”

Ji-Woo’s smile was uncertain, and you cursed yourself for the poor first impression she would have of her soon-to-be boss. Turning back toward Jung-Hyun, you tried to ignore the frantic beating of your heart as you gestured for him to follow you. He merely nodded, and you led him away from the front desk where a few deliveries and other employees had started to gather around, stopping next to one of the windows.

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” you asked quietly.

“I’ll take you to your father’s office,” said Jung-Hyun monotonously.

You swallowed. “Alright.”

The two elevator rides to your father’s office were quiet. You constantly battled with your urge to scratch up your arm, and even though you found yourself starting a conversation on several occasions, they never led any further than the state of the weather and your father’s condition. Jung-Hyun didn’t look at you, and you had a hard time looking at him, too. Because every time your eyes traced over his figure, you kept recalling the tattoo on his shoulder.

You kept recalling the blood on his hands.

Speaking of which, he still wore the engagement ring. You took it as a good sign, particularly since you had decided to keep it on for the day as well. It felt heavier than usual, and you had considered leaving it home, but when you caught Jung-Hyun’s unreadable eyes flicker toward your finger, you knew it had been a good decision to wear it.

If you had to be Jung-Hyun’s fiancée in order to find out more about him and his tattoo, you would remain his fiancée. For despite his reserved, and a bit unapproachable nature, he wasn’t a bad guy. There had to be a reason why he carried that tattoo.

There had to be a way for you to help him.

Your father’s office was, unsurprisingly, schemed in your mother’s favorite materials and colours, meaning rich wood and marble clashed with glass and metal in various modernistic shapes. You circled the spacious room once and took in the view from the topmost floor before you sank down behind the massive desk in the rear center of the office.

“Well,” you began in a light attempt at humour, “how much of a kid running around at their parent’s job do I look like?”

Jung-Hyun had waited silently in the corner of the room while you looked around but now stepped forward, stopping only when he was directly in front of you, on the other side of the desk. “Not much at all, huijang-nim,” he said, his eyes downcast.

“Don’t call me that,” you blurted, more exasperated and annoyed now than self-conscious. You understood why Jung-Hyun might want to keep up a facade when there were other people around, but now that you two were alone, he had no reason to behave differently. He shouldn’t be addressing you with honorifics since you were both younger and more inexperienced than him, and he definitely shouldn’t be avoiding your gaze.

“You’re the new chairman of Phoenix Inc., are you not?”

“I am.” You hesitated, but then said it anyway. “But nothing has changed between us.”

You despised lying to him, but you didn’t know what other way you could confront Jung-Hyun about his secret. He would never tell you about it if you broke up the engagement, and you couldn’t just continue with your life after what you had seen. Jung-Hyun didn’t strike you as the gangster type, which meant there was a chance he had simply been dragged into it due to circumstances. You needed to know the truth, and the truth better not be the opposite.

For if Jung-Hyun proved to actually liked belonging to a brutal syndicate like the Hwan Song Sun Pa, you were going to have to report him to the police. And that meant Jungkook would find out.

Perhaps that is what was the most compelling factor about Jung-Hyun’s secret. You didn’t want Jungkook to get anymore hurt than he already had been. Because even though you knew he was strong, strong enough to endure the life of an idol and all that it entailed, strong enough to make it through a life catastrophe like amnesia, he wasn’t invulnerable. He could still break.

How would he feel if his only sibling, a brother he already had a very strained relationship with, was a criminal? How would it affect his career, his dream?

How would it affect someone who had already been betrayed by everyone else in his family?

No, you needed to hope for the best. You needed to believe that Jung-Hyun was just as surprisingly gentle he could be at times, and that it wasn’t just a farce. You needed to wish that Jungkook’s brother was a better man than their father - and someone Jungkook could eventually come to lean on.

You needed to know why Jung-Hyun had the hangul sign for “Son” tattooed on his right shoulder.

“But you… you saw my tattoo.”

You nodded. “I did,” you affirmed.

“And you know what it means?”

“Yes.”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Then you should also know how dangerous it is for you to get involved with me.”

“We’re engaged,” you said pointedly. “Did you think you could keep it a secret away from me forever?”

He didn’t respond.

“You’re smarter than that,” you continued, fueled both by your frustration and Jung-Hyun’s coolness. “I can’t marry some criminal.”

“I’m not a criminal.”

His normally stiff and somber voice adopted an icy edge and you found yourself stiffening in your seat. Jung-Hyun hadn’t raised his voice more than a notch, yet you caught yourself holding your breath, suddenly too scared to exhale.

“I’m sorry,” said Jung-Hyun hastily, his tone returning to normal. “I just cannot stand hearing anyone call me that. Because I’m not. Not anymore.”

You had never heard Jung-Hyun speak in short bursts like this before. Although he didn’t really speak that much in the first place, it always felt like he weighed his words once or twice before he released them. You were almost too startled by both his outburst and his uncharacteristic lack of composure to realize what he had said.

“‘Not anymore’?” you echoed.

Jung-Hyun nodded stiffly, once.

“I want to help you,” you said after a long pause where you had tried your best - and failed - to read Jung-Hyun’s expression. “I want to believe you, but I can’t just accept the fact that you’re supposedly some kind of ex-gangster. I need answers. I need the truth.”

Jung-Hyun stood there unmoving, silent, for a while. You felt like you had put an ultimatum before him, and indirectly, you had. And while you weren’t going to marry him either case, you did have a choice of reporting him to the police. Unless he explained himself, that’s what you were going to do.

“Let’s talk then.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t expected him to give in this quickly; you had thought you were going to have to pester him for weeks until he finally gave in. Maybe you should have just tracked him down and confronted him earlier.

“But not here and now.” Jung-Hyun’s eyes were impossible to read as he continued. “I would like some time to prepare myself.”

“What about over dinner this Friday?” you asked gingerly, while simultaneously wondering whether it was too little time.

“Are there going to be more than just us two?”

You raised an inquiring brow. Jung-Hyun averted his gaze. “Have you told anyone about my tattoo?” he wondered.

“No.”

“Not even your parents?”

“No,” you said truthfully. “We’ll eat and talk just the two of us.”

“Okay.” When Jung-Hyun’s eyes found yours, you spotted a shadow of relief flicker past just momentarily before it disappeared. “Friday it is. Do you have a place in mind, or do you want me to find one?”

“Ah, well.” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t really think that far. We can eat wherever you want to.”

“What about the Monarch?”

You smiled at the brief reminiscence. “Sounds good.”

Jung-Hyun produced his phone from the inner chest pocket of his suit and tapped something into it. “Do you know what you’re supposed to do here today?” he asked.

You grimaced. “I think so,” you said. “Mom said that she had arranged a meeting with all the presidents of Phoenix’s other business units as well as the head of the finance departments here in South Korea.”

“I have a list of the formers’ names here,” said Jung-Hyun and extended a piece of paper he had extracted from his briefcase. “The head of the finance department’s name is Kim Ju-Min. He’s one of your mother’s favorite employees.”

“She likes money, so,” you said jokingly as you surveyed the list. To your relief, each name came with a small description of their position and a picture, which made the prospect of meeting them already a little less scarier. “Did you make this?” you asked when you were done.

“Yes.”

You gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

His eyes softened infinitesimally as he placed a folder almost as thick as the briefcase he took it out from on the desk. “Here’s a file on all the employees stationed in this building,” he said in response to your wide eyes. “Your mother instructed me to give it to you.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?” you wondered skeptically.

“Your father has memorized the names and faces of everyone working here. Perhaps your mother want you to do the same thing.”

You had to use both of your hands to budge the heavy folder and glanced at it from the side. “This has to contain at least a thousand pages,” you said in disbelief.

“There are twelve hundred and forty-eight employees placed at Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul headquarters,” said Jung-Hyun, confirming your guess. “You have a lot more men and women working for you in other parts of the country as well as the world.”

“That’s going to be really hard to hear,” you muttered as you opened the folder.

“Pardon?”

“‘You have a lot more men and women working for you in other parts of the country as well as the world’,” you repeated stiffly, your eyes locking onto the picture of the first person in the folder. “To hear you say that… it’s kind of scary.”

“Is it because of the responsibility, or the power?”

You raised your gaze to found his. “Both,” you said quietly.

Jung-Hyun’s expression didn’t change, but the look in his eyes was a lot gentler now. “I’ll do my utmost to aid you, (Y/N),” he said, his stiff, somber tone sounding unusually soft. “If you have even the slightest of doubts, don’t be afraid to ask me.”

You didn’t know why your heart started beating faster at this, and so you did your best to ignore it. Clearing your throat, you pushed the folder aside for later inspection. “Is there something else for me to do here other than announce my dad’s retirement?” you asked.

“I emailed you your schedule,” said Jung-Hyun. His brief glimpse of tenderness had vanished completely and his features were neutral as he glanced at his phone. “The meeting with the presidents is at ten. You don’t have anything before it really, but the rest of the day, you’ll be meeting with the other department heads and preferably some director’s too. It’s absolutely vital that you make a good first impression on everyone and make sure they can look up to you as the new chairman and owner of this company.”

You gulped. “How long is that going to take?”

“A handful of hours, I would say.”

“Should I do something productive before the meeting?”

Jung-Hyun’s lips curved slightly. “Probably.”

You regarded the folder in the corner of your eye before checking your phone. It was 8.24, and you had probably gotten two hours of sleep the night before. Even though you were too antsy and nervous to feel any tired right now, you knew you were going to end up half-passed out by the time the meeting was due.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Please,” you said with an apologetic smile.

Jung-Hyun nodded, and turned around. Just when he was about to exit the double doors leading into your father’s office, however, you stopped him.

“Do you know where there’s another chair?” you wondered. “If you’re going to help me, you can’t be standing around all day,” you added when he seemed on the verge of protesting. “I’m going to have neck pains looking up at you everytime we’re in here. Besides, isn’t it some kind of violation against employees rights to have them stand around like statues?”

The smallest of smiles appeared on Jung-Hyun’s face. “No, but I’ll have someone bring a chair before I get back.”

“I can do it myself,” you said.

“You’re the owner of one of the largest conglomerates in the world,” said Jung-Hyun, a trickle of amusement entering his voice. “If people see you hauling around a chair with your own hands, they’ll think you’ve lost your mind.”

“But it’s just a chair,” you tried.

Jung-Hyun shook his head. “You need to think about your image,” he told you firmly. “You need to be the leader everyone else here can follow.”

“Will people really think less of me just because I can carry a chair myself?” you wondered dubiously. “I mean, isn’t it better for them to see that I can do things myself?��

“Perhaps if the company is smaller and more tightly knitted together,” replied Jung-Hyun. “But that’s not the case with Phoenix. A majority of your employees will rarely ever see you. One of those few times they do cannot consist of an image where you’re moving furniture. You’re the face of this company - you have to be what everyone else hopes to achieve. That’s the only way you’ll be able to lead other influential and rich figures.”

It wasn’t like Jung-Hyun to speak for such a long time at once. You were both surprised and concerned by his words, and mulled them over after he had left. Because if you were to trust Jung-Hyun, which you did, that meant you had forgotten perhaps the most important and difficult hurdle that stood in your way of being the new CEO of Phoenix Inc., both outwardly and inwardly. Something you now realized you had no idea how to achieve.

The image of a leader.

When you heard the double doors opened ten minutes or so into your examination of the folder and its contents, you were startled by Jung-Hyun’s quick return. However, when you looked up from the papers, you found yourself looking at a stranger. Since there had already been a man leaving a chair almost immediately after Jung-Hyun left, it couldn’t relate to that either.

“Who are you?” you called out, admittedly suspicious since he hadn’t even knocked.

The stranger strode toward your father’s desk with purpose and an easygoing smile, bowing only when he was close enough to speak at a normal volume.

“My name is Kim Ju-Min,” he said, remaining at almost a ninety degree angle as he continued. He was of average build and height, and neatly cut hair framed a slim facial structure dominated mostly by a pair of large eyes. He was notably young and attractive, and probably wouldn’t have a difficult time finding dates if he wanted to. “I’m the head of the finance department here at the Seoul headquarters. Jung-Hyun contacted me a few minutes ago and told me you had arrived.”

“Oh.” Feeling a bit foolish, you quickly rose from the chair and held out a hand. “I’m (Y/F/N).”

His hand was small and a bit clammy as it grasped yours. “I know,” he said as he straightened. “Your mother has already told me about the situation with your father. Is he still at the hospital?”

You nodded, feeling a thick lump in your throat at the mention of your father’s health.

Ju-Min gave you a sympathetic smile. “He’s a strong man, your father. He’ll get better in no time.”

“I hope so,” you said numbly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make matters so personal.” Ju-Min’s eyes were dark and apologetic as they found yours. “I only came to say hello and introduce myself, but look how quickly I made this whole atmosphere dreary.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him and sank back down into the chair. “Jung-Hyun told me you’re my mother’s favorite employee. Is that true?”

Ju-Min laughed. “Ah, I don’t know about that,” he said as he scratched the back of his head. “But I’m quite good with money.”

“Then it must be true.”

He laughed again. “I’m glad to hear that he thinks I’m your mother favourite,” he said. “I just try to do my best here at the company.”

You saw his eyes glide curiously across the folder and the papers that were spread across the desk. With a quick smile, you gathered all the papers and pushed them aside. “I’m trying to memorize the names and faces of everyone working here,” you explained.

“We have name tags,” said Ju-Min as he pointed at the tiny sliver of metal that was fastened onto his suit. “And there are at least a thousand employees here. Nobody will blame you if you can’t recognize a few of the regular staff. Just remember the big fish.”

“The department heads and everyone above?”

He chuckled. “No, they don’t really have that much power. The presidents of each business unit will suffice.”

You glanced at the list Jung-Hyun had given you. Though it went against your personal beliefs to put aside some people in favor of others, there was no way you would be able to memorize everyone that worked in the building. It was just not feasible, especially not when you had at least a thousand other things you needed to learn.

“Ah well. I got to run. I have a meeting in five. Will you excuse me?”

You returned your attention to Ju-Min and smiled. “Of course,” you told him. “It was a pleasure meeting and talking to you.”

He sent you a carefree smile. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said. “I hope we’ll be able to talk some more soon. I would like to get to know you some more.”

“If I have time,” you said, unable to actually give him a better response. For who knew how busy you were going to be from now on?

“Certainly.”

With that, Ju-Min left. When the double doors closed after him, you plucked the list with the seven names and faces from the desk and read through it. Although the computer was password protected, you managed to research each name quickly on your phone. Nothing of either relevance or importance came up, however, and so you used the remaining time before the meeting to discuss each president with Jung-Hyun, who had returned with coffee.

When it was time for you to head down to the meeting room, you were trembling in your high heels. You were glad you had met Ju-Min so that there was at least one more person there who you recognized, but upon hearing that everyone of the presidents were older than fifty and had been doing what they were doing as long as your father, you had been unable to refrain yourself from scratching up your arm.

It was completely silent inside the conference hall that Jung-Hyun led you into. Nothing but the sound of your heels and the fast beating of your heart filled the silence as you approached the head of the table, just as Jung-Hyun had instructed you to. Jung-Hyun himself followed you like a shadow, but backed away when you had reached your destination.

Ju-Min gave you a brief smile from his position at the table. You would have smiled back, but were too nervous to even breathe. Ju-Min and seven men more than twice your age had all rose in tandem as soon as you halted by your chair, and waited for you to get seated before they, too, sank down. The silence was palpable, as was the tense atmosphere.

“Greetings,” you said when you thought you could control your voice. The word came out quiet, half-strangled, and you felt your face grow hot, but your forced yourself to meet each and everyone of the table’s occupants’ eyes. “My name is (Y/F/N). I do not know if my mother has contacted any of you already, but I’m here to officially announce my father’s retirement. Due to health reasons, he cannot hold the position as chairman of Phoenix Incorporation.”

“May he be well soon,” said the man sitting two seats away from you, to your left. You recognized him as Han Do-Hyeon, and apart from being the oldest one there, he was also the president of Phoenix Inc. Heavy Industries, which was the part of the company your late grandfather had conceived at the very start of Phoenix.

The others murmured their assent. You waited for them to quiet down before you went on.

“I will be taking my father’s place,” you said with much effort. “I know I’m very young and not very experienced, but I will do my best to lead this company. I hope you will all support me like you’ve supported my father and his father so that we can together bring Phoenix more success.”

You had expected at least one person who would voice their opposition, but to your shock, everyone around the table rose once more. They bowed deeply, before saying almost in perfect union: “Yes, huijang-nim.”

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. You remembered fragments of it later when you had lunch with Jung-Hyun, but you were too busy wanting to hear his opinions about your performance to care about what would most likely be important information. He kept assuring you that you had been fine, but you continued overanalyzing everything about yourself as you returned to the Seoul headquarters and visited each floor to announce your father’s retirement and his replacement, which was you. You were exhausted by the end of everything and nearly fell asleep as soon as you entered the BMW.

But that’s when your phone vibrated.

“Straight home?” asked Jong-Yeol.

You shook your head as you read the message on your phone. “Swing by the BigHit Entertainment building.”

“Shouldn’t you rest today? You can always see Jungkook another time.”

“I’ll be fine,” you lied.

Besides, it wasn’t Jungkook who had texted you.

[wrienne]

Heyy, I wanted to thank you for those stories you share with us.💜 I discovered your stories yesterday, and I'm obsessed. I read them 2 times in a row 😂 and I'm already finished and waiting for the new updates. Thank you so much. I love them💜 especially AHPH. You have so much talent 🥹💜

Aww, thank you so much for your words and for reaching out to me like this! I really appreciate it, and I hope you'll continue to read and support my work! 😍

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 2: Flashback

The ambulance arrived sooner than expected. Or well, that’s what your mother kept telling you while the two of you were being driven to Gangnam Severance Hospital by Jong-Yeol. Her tone remained cool and calm - probably in an attempt to appear less affected by your father’s condition than she actually were - as she continued voicing different reasons why your father would be fine. However, you saw in the corner of your eye that she was constantly touching the tiny golden cross she always wore around her neck.

“He’ll be fine,” your mother said for the umpteenth time. “He’s only fifty-five. He’s been eating healthy and exercised everyday, I’ve made sure of it. He’s probably not even gotten another heart attack; he’s probably just passed out from too little water. I knew I should have kept him hydrated while he was cooking.”

Your mother’s explanation sounded somewhat reasonable. When you had ran back into the dining room while dialing 911, you found Jungkook’s father trying to wake your unconscious father to no avail. You, too, had initially thought that your father must have only had a fainting episode and thought your mother was exaggerating the situation, but when you explained to the operator that your father had had a heart attack before, she immediately sent an ambulance. You hadn’t known what it meant or why the ambulance personnel had taken off with your father - after first getting through all the security - with such haste. But while you had been waiting for Jong-Yeol to arrive with the BMW, you had searched it up on your phone and found that fainting could very much be a lot more serious than just a heart attack. Afraid that your mother would overreact or turn even colder, you hadn’t shared the news with her. Instead, you bottled your concern up, wanting to remain just as collected as your mother, even as the knowledge of the potential life-threatening state your father was in made you scratch up your arm real nicely.

Your phone kept vibrating, indicating the receival of several messages. You knew they were from Jungkook, but ignored them nevertheless. You were too unfocused and anxious to bother with social interactions. The food you had eaten felt like it was gradually crawling back up your throat, and you kept having to swallow it down. It was nauseating.

Jungkook could wait. He would have to wait.

As you followed your mother’s hasty pace into the emergency department, you found Gangnam Severance Hospital was busier than you would have liked it to be. Doctors and nurses and other patients and associates to the patient swirled around like frantic hens. The sheer amount of people crowding the rather small area made you feel seriously ill while you numbly watched your mother converse with one of the doctors she had managed to catch. The faint smell of plastic and disinfectant and something heavier permeated the air, and it didn’t take you long to figure out what the lattermost was.

It was the smell of pain.

“Follow along.”

You obeyed, but stopped as soon as you realized your mother was leading you out of ER. “Where are we going?” you asked, your voice sounding weak and fragile even in your own ears. So much for trying to keep up a brave facade.

Your mother’s sharp gaze softened, but only slightly. “We shouldn’t get in the way of the professionals. They are stressed enough as it is without family and friends hanging over their shoulders. Let’s register your father at the front desk and then get something refreshing to drink.”

“But--” you began, wanting to search around for wherever your father may be.

“Don’t be difficult,” said your mother immediately, cutting you off. “You need to be strong for your father so he doesn’t have to worry about you all the time.”

“He worries about me?” you asked, guilt clawing at your chest.

She nodded. “Always. Now come, I had that kind doctor promise to update us on your father’s health as soon as possible.”

With that, you quietly followed your mother out of the chaos that was the emergency department. After speaking to a hospital receptionist about your father’s arrival, you and your mother headed to the cafeteria where you bought coffee for both of you. Your mother grimaced when she gulped down the black beverage, and you had to pour both milk and sugar into your cup in order to dilute the bitter, acidic taste.

Your mother busied herself with her phone, and although your phone was still vibrating every other minute or so, you didn’t touch it. You didn’t even dare try to change the sound settings, afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from reading all the messages Jungkook had sent you.

You didn’t need sympathy now. You needed to be strong, just like your mother had told you. And in order to do that, you couldn’t let yourself be comforted. You knew it would push you over the edge and plunge your emotions into whatever turbulent storm that brewed inside your stomach.

The doctor from earlier came for you and your mother much sooner than you had anticipated. He didn’t say anything about your father other than the fact that he had been moved and offered to take you to him. Much to your relief, he led the two of you away from the emergency department, taking you instead to the fourth floor of an adjacent building sectioned off for inpatients and visitors only. Numbered rooms bordered both sides of the long hallway that crossed the level, and you followed the doctor to room 4112, where he halted and turned back around toward you. Without thinking, you went for the door handle, but your mother stopped you before you could turn it.

“I believe the doctor has something vital to share with us,” she said.

You swallowed, and withdrew from the door. “Oh.”

The doctor gave you a consolary smile and tucked his clipboard underneath his arm before he stretched out a hand. He was heavyset and only a few centimeters taller than you, and although he looked to be in his late fifties, his brown eyes were young still. “I’m Doctor Kim Joo-Won. I’m a consultant physician and cardiologist.”

“Pleasure meeting you, Doctor Kim” said your mother curtly and shook his hand, not bothering to introduce herself.

You managed a stiff smile when Doctor Kim turned to you and grabbed his hand with your clammy palm. “(Y/F/N),” you said, your voice small. “What happened? Is my father going to be alright?”

“Fortunately,” began Doctor Kim, “he didn’t have a heart attack. His syncope - his fainting - was caused by dehydration in combination with alcohol. He’s still unconscious, but I would advise you not to force him awake. He’ll be a lot less confused if you let him wake up on his own.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Alright. That’s great to hear.”

“But?” prodded your mother, her eyes narrowing at Doctor Kim.

You frowned at your mother, but when the doctor cleared his throat nervously, you realized that she must have discerned something in his tone that you hadn’t. Aiming your gaze back toward him, you regarded him with silent expectancy.

“...But, he might not be fully in the clear.” Doctor Kim flipped through the notes and papers affixed to his clipboard, then paused to read for a few seconds before he lowered the clipboard and found your gaze again. “There’s a risk he might have CHD, or Coronary Heart Disease. It’s a serious condition in which plaque, a waxy-like substance, accumulates on the insides of the coronary arteries, making it harder for oxygen to reach the heart.” He paused. “There’s no real cure for it, and the chances that your father may have other serious heart-related issues apart from heart attacks are significant.”

You froze. In your peripheral vision, you saw your mother doing the same. Neither of you spoke.

“But, again, I’m just saying there’s a risk your father has CHD. I would like him to stay for at least a day so that we can perform the necessary tests required to establish whether my suspicions are valid or not.”

“You’re an expert on the matter,” said your mother in a neutral tone. “How big are the chances that he has this heart disease? Give me a percentile.”

Doctor Kim appeared deeply regretful as he responded. “I would say there’s an eighty percent risk that your husband has CHD.”

Even though she didn’t appear fazed outwardly, you knew your mother well enough to know just how shocked she was. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

Doctor Kim nodded, then left. You and your mother stood for a long while outside room 4112, and while it was difficult for you to absorb what the doctor had told you, you couldn’t imagine just how terrible the news had to be for your mother. Because although you loved your father like a child adored their parent, the relationship between your mother and father was something one rarely witnessed even in fiction. They were like two puzzle pieces made for each other, connected by a bond so strong they could end each other’s sentences.

What would happen to your mother if your father died?

“Let us go in.”

Unable to hide your worry for both of your parents, you didn’t know who to look at as you entered room 4112. In the end, you decided to temporarily forget about your mother, focusing instead on your father’s sleeping form.

He lay in the only bed in the room, still dressed in the same clothes he had worn for the dinner. There was an IV connected to the crook of his arm and although his face was a little pale, you were glad to see his chest rising up and falling with a slow, even pace.

Instantly, your mother darted to his side. You almost thought she was going to ignore Doctor Kim’s words and rouse your father, but she simply lowered the side rail and sank down next to him. She didn’t touch him, and her face was hard, but she couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes as she gazed down at your father with so much unadulterated love that you had to look away.

You opened your mouth to say something, but then refrained. Just like you doubted you could recieve Jungkook’s sympathy without crumbling, you doubted your mother needed the same treatment you dreaded. Instead, you opted for letting the silence remain, reaching instead for one of the two chairs that were inside the room.

“Don’t.”

You furrowed your browns as you spun around. “Mom?”

“You need to go home.” Her gaze were sharp, but not nearly as sharp as it usually was. “I’ll stay with your father until he wakes.”

“I want to be here, too,” you insisted, raising your voice unintentionally. “The dishes can wait.”

“I’m not sending you home because I want you to clean up.”

You flinched. Your mother had spoken icily, a trickle of genuine irritation entering her piercing voice. It startled you as much as it scared you, for despite your mother’s rather hard demeanor, she rarely displayed anger.

Upon seeing your reaction, she quickly pursed her lips before continuing. “I wouldn’t force you to leave your father for something as mundane as that. But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“It’s alright, mom,” you said truthfully. “But why do you want me to go home?”

“So that you can start preparing yourself for Monday morning.”

“What happens then?”

She exhaled deeply before answering. “You’ll be in charge of the company from now on.”

Your jaw fell slack and your eyes widened. “You can’t be serious,” you said when you had gathered yourself enough to formulate words.

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s the first thing you will have to relearn,” she said. “Your father has spoiled you too much. You really need to learn how to address elders if you want to be taken seriously by investors.”

“I can’t run Phoenix!” you exclaimed, panic sinking its teeth into you. “I’m barely twenty-one! I don’t even have a degree!”

“It’s a shame you won’t be able to finish your studies,” assented your mother, “but experience is the best teacher of them all.”

“Still, I can’t take over dad’s position!”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

“Both!” You raked a hand through your hair in exasperation. “You can’t expect me to learn everything that’s required of a CEO in the matter of forty-eight hours!”

“Lower your voice,” ordered your mother sternly after sending your father a quick glance. “And don’t think I’m doing this because I want to. I don’t want you to ruin everything your father and I have built after your grandfather’s passing, but I don’t have a choice. I won’t let your father work anymore, and although I could probably take charge of Phoenix on my own, I won’t leave your father alone.”

“But--”

“I don’t know when he might die,” interrupted your mother, her guise cracking at the last word. “I don’t know when he might have another heart attack, and now that there’s a high chance that he has a heart disease, I really don’t want to let him out of my sight.” She soaked her lips. “I don’t want to lose your father, but if I have to, I want it to happen on our accords. Please, (Y/N). Try to understand the position your father’s health has pushed us into.”

You balled your hands into fists. Despite the fury and shock tumbling within you, you didn’t release them. Because deep down, you knew that your mother’s reasons for her choice of appointing you the new CEO of Phoenix Inc. were, if not right, then at least justified.

If you would have been in your mother’s position, you would have most likely done the same.

“Alright,” you said quietly. “I understand.”

Your mother’s expression softened. “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m blessed to have a daughter like you.”

You went to your mother and, after a hesitant pause, embraced her briefly. “I’m blessed to have you and dad,” you murmured into her hair, barely holding back your tears.

Your mother returned the hug awkwardly before you withdrew. Before you could leave, however, she stopped you.

“And don’t worry too much about Monday. I’ll have Jung-Hyun relieved of his other duties and instead be appointed your assistant for the being. He’ll help you with everything.”

You tried your best to sound glad by the prospect, even though you felt just how stiff your face was. “Oh, perfect.”  

After a quick peck on your father’s cheek, you left the room. You ran into Jong-Yeol by the front desk. Anxiousness was apparent on his face, but he relaxed somewhat after the two of you had gotten in the car and you explained the situation. He didn’t outright speak against your mother’s decision, but you understood that he wasn’t pleased with it by the way he gripped the steering wheel.

When you arrived home, the heavy smell of food sickened you. So, even though you had told your mother that the dishes could wait, the first thing you did was to clean everything up. After that, you took a shower, desperate to get rid of the smell from the hospital, which seemed to have caught onto your dress and hair somehow. You threw the dress directly into the washing machine and turned it on without any regard to the expensive fabric.

If it was destroyed, perhaps your memories of being in the hospital would be destroyed, too.

You continued cleaning. It took you a while until you realized that you were stalling the inevitable, which in turn made you even more reluctant to stop. But by 23.45, you were too tired to wipe down the already pristine countertops for the fourth time, and so, you trudged off to bed where you finally confronted what you had avoided the last few hours or so.

Your phone.

There were about thirty-five text messages and ten calls - four of which had left voice messages - from Jungkook. At first, you wanted to just ignore them. You could already feel the tears that had threatened to fall ever since you left your mother cloud your vision again, and had to dig your nails into the palms of your hands in order to retain control. However, when you thought about how Jungkook must feel, you couldn’t help but open up the log.

Most of the messages were variations on questions regarding your father, while some displayed Jungkook’s concern for you. The voice messages were the hardest thing to receive without breaking down, however. Jungkook’s voice, which you were so accustomed to hearing all cold and unrelenting, was now heavy with worry and when he kept repeating how much he wanted you to call him back, you were unable to hold back your tears. You wept silently as you listened to his voice messages once more, not wanting to actually call him and let him hear how much you were crying.

When you had calmed down enough for you to read what you were typing, you sent Jungkook one long message containing a recollection of the hospital visit. You didn’t expect an answer that same night, thinking Jungkook must have gone to bed, but he answered almost immediately.

[00.04 - Jungkook]: Wanna talk about it?

You tapped an answer instantly.

[00.04 - You]: No.

[00.05 - Jungkook]: Are you sure?

[00.05 - You]: No.

[00.05 - Jungkook]: (Y/N)...

[00.06 - Jungkook]: You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I’ll talk. You can just listen.

You wiped away what remained of your tears. Sniffling, you curled up underneath the blanket of your bed, suddenly feeling very alone. But even though Jungkook’s offer was tempting, you didn’t want it. Partly because you wanted to stop crying and you knew him comforting you would only renew the amount of excess water in your eyes. But partly also because there was still a part of you that couldn’t completely open up to him. It might be stupid, but you had an intense desire to portray yourself as emotionally independent and strong to Jungkook, who obviously had difficulties facing his own feelings and thoughts. You wanted him to lean on you for emotional support, and not the other way around.

For Jungkook, who had grown up in a household where he had been beaten repeatedly throughout the years, you wanted to be the strongest person in the world.

[00.11 - You]: It’s alright. I’m too tired to stay up anyways.

[00.13 - Jungkook]: Okay. I probably won’t be able to see you anytime soon due to my schedule, but don’t hesitate to call or text me whenever.

[00.14 - You]: I won’t. By the way, what is that you wanted to tell me earlier?

[00.20 - Jungkook]: Nothing. Goodnight.

[00.21 - You]: Goodnight.

You put the phone away and turned off the lights after that. Although you hadn’t been lying about how weary you were, you found that sleep evaded you. If it was due to your crying or all the stress and anxiety your body had experienced the last few hours, you did not know. But you wanted to sleep. You wanted to get away from what felt like a real nightmare.

Your father most likely had a heart disease and now you were supposed to step up to become Phoenix Inc.’s CEO. And Jung-Hyun, who still didn’t know about your change of  engagement plans, was supposed to help you.

Jung-Hyun, who you had suspected cheated on you just like Jungkook had, only to find out that the truth was much worse.

About One Month Ago

“Jung-Hyun…” you whispered, your voice thin and fragile with fear. “What happened?”

Jung-Hyun’s usually so emotionless face was twisted in pain as he tried to quickly shut the door, but you blocked it with your foot. Without much resistance, you managed to weasel into the room, jumping slightly when you heard the door slam shut behind you. Staring at the blood-covered shirt and jacket that lay discarded on the floor that you had managed to see from the corridor, you almost didn’t want to turn around, afraid that the reality of the situation would settle into you much harder if you actually looked at him.

“Leave… Forget what you’ve seen.”

His stiff, somber voice was brittle and quiet and it even broke painfully toward the end of the sentence. You had never heard Jung-Hyun sound so exhausted or weak and so, despite your reluctance, despite your instincts just screaming at you that you should do what he had just told you, you decided to turn around and really look at him.

Jung-Hyun was leaning against the door and its handle with barely enough strength to hold himself up. His normally neatly put-together hair was tousled, and sweat trickled down his forehead and temples. He breathed heavily, unevenly, and it wasn’t surprising considering the state of his body. Since he wasn’t wearing a shirt, you could clearly see just how fit Jung-Hyun was. He was muscular but not necessarily big, possessing just the kind of physique you might see professional fighters have. And although his toned abs might have made you blush in any other situation, you were too distracted by the sheer amount of scars that covered his torso.

They had to number at least several dozens.

Some were more severe than others, and even though you didn’t have any experience at all seeing battle scars, you instinctively knew that that was what it they were. Battle scars. Large red spots covered his skin, indicating the beginning of several bruises, and as if that, combined with the scars, weren’t confusing and shocking enough, there were a handful of fresh wounds across his forearms and hands.

“Leave,” repeated Jung-Hyun as he slowly pushed himself away from the door in order to stand on his own two legs.

“What?” you exclaimed. “No! We need to call the police! Who did this to you? What happened?”

You started fumbling around for your phone. Your voice had sounded shrill, panicked, and your hands were shaking so much you couldn’t properly type in 119. You succeeded eventually, however, Jung-Hyun’s large hand grabbed snatched the device before you could press call.

“No,” he said firmly. His brown eyes, which were so similar to Jungkook’s, were unrelenting as they found yours.

“But you’re hurt!”

“It will heal. So just leave me, will you?”

You shook your head. “Not until you’ve explained what the heck is going on.”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes softened infinitesimally. “I can’t do that,” he said.

You started to protest, but was cut off when he abruptly groaned and collapsed onto the floor. Eyes round, you hurried to his side. “Jung-Hyun!”

He wound an arm around his stomach and rose, but failed halfway. You grabbed him before he could stumble over, but he was a lot heavier than you had anticipated and you nearly fell over with him. In the last second, however, you managed to brace both of your weights and, with a loud grunt, you helped him sit down onto the king-sized bed.

“Sorry,” he breathed, before a fit of coughs wrecked his breathing pattern. He had draped a arm carefully around you while you half-carried, half-dragged him to the bed, and now released you. “I’m just a bit dizzy.”

“I can’t leave you now,” you said sternly. “Not when you can’t even stand up for a minute.”

Jung-Hyun gave you a weary look. “I can’t tell you anything, (Y/N).”

You glanced at his bloody hands and forearms. “I can live with that.” For now. “I’ll go buy some medical supplies.”

“I have everything here,” said Jung-Hyun somewhat sheepishly as he gestured toward his suitcase. “But if you would be so kind to buy me some cigarettes, that would be appreciated.”

You were tempted to say no, but found yourself unable to. It was hard to say no to someone when they looked like they had just survived a fight with Freddy Krueger. And so, with a nod, you left the hotel and walked around in search for a convenience store. You didn’t have to walk very far, which was fortunate since Jung-Hyun hadn’t returned your phone yet, and arrived back at his hotel room within twenty minutes.

“Hello?”

Nothing but silence met you. Furrowing your brows, you placed the keycard Jung-Hyun had given you on the end table right next to the door, and then unlaced your shoelaces.

“Jung-Hyun?” you called out when no response came.

You didn’t realize it until it stopped, but you all of a sudden heard the faint sound of water stopping. “I’m in the bathroom,” came the weak reply.

You padded over to the door, pausing when you realized it was unlocked. Blushing, you rapped your knuckles loosely against the treated wood. “I got two of your usual brand,” you told him. “I’ll put them on the bed.”

“Thank you.”

You hesitated. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No.”

The way Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber voice practically spat out the word felt almost like a physical slap. You didn’t allow yourself to really be hurt, however. He must be in a lot of pain. The cuts on his hands must be especially painful, and the fact that his earlier wounded hand hadn’t been bandaged was a detail you noted.

“I’ll leave then,” you said, raising your voice in order to be heard over the whooshing of water that had resumed. Your curiosity was burning within you, but you didn’t allow it to take over you. You would try to persuade him later, when you had more time and somewhat of a tactic.

He didn’t reply.

You were halfway out the door when you realized you had forgotten about your phone. Dashing back inside, you tiptoed across the carpet and surveyed the room for the device. Minutes ticked by, and you started to think Jung-Hyun might have just taken it inside the bathroom when you heard the bathroom door open.

Without thinking, you ducked behind the bed, planting face first into the carpet. You didn’t know why exactly, but it was a mixture of wanting to not be caught inside the room when you had told Jung-Hyun you would leave, and not wanting to see him naked. But as soon as you had hid, you regretted the decision. It would be a lot easier for you to explain your reason for staying if you weren’t crawling around on the floor, which was suspicious, if not straight up weird, to say the least.

It was silent for a while, but then the TV suddenly turned on. The volume was almost so loud you didn’t hear the sound of the light flicking on in the bathroom, and so it almost passed you by. Fortunately, you saw the light in the reflection of the windows, and you slowly came to a crouch. Slowly, you padded toward the entryway, but when you reached the bathroom door, which was only slightly ajar, you realized just how stupid you were being. How hard was it to just confront Jung-Hyun and just tell him what you had done in order to not be caught? Which was a ludicrous notion in the first place, since you were there for a valid reason, namely in search of your phone.

Swallowing, you formulated an apology, face reddening with embarrassment. But just as you raised your hand to knock on the bathroom door again, you spotted Jung-Hyun through the gap between the door and the frame.

The sight made you freeze. Because there was a tattoo on his right shoulder that you recognized. It was Hanja for the family name “Son” - and a name and tattoo your parents had warned you to stay away from.

For it was the telltale sign of one of South Korea’s most ruthless and dangerous gangs - the Hwan Song Sung Pa.

Needless to say, you left without finding your phone - and without caring whether Jung-Hyun heard your departure or not.