Chapter 29: The  Suspicion

Traffic crawled around them, the endless stream of headlights flickering like restless stars in the darkened city. Taehyung sat slouched in the passenger seat, his attention fixed on the glowing screen of his phone. His brows furrowed as he traced over the scattered dots and dashes of the Morse code again and again, trying to piece it together.

It didn’t make perfect sense, but the fragmented message still struck him with clarity: “We’re starting, Taehyung.”

His chest tightened. Namjoon. It had to be him. They had agreed on this—once Ilene and Gyu were safe, once he managed to get them out of Jungkook’s mansion, he too would slip away. That was the deal. That was the hope he was clinging to.

And yet… there was no opening, no opportunity. He couldn’t imagine escaping Jungkook’s watchful eyes, couldn’t fathom how Namjoon planned to pull it off without raising suspicion.

Taehyung’s thumb hovered over the screen as his mind spun in restless circles, but when his gaze drifted absently out the window, his heart skipped. The familiar skyline, the familiar curve of the road—his breath caught.

“Daegu…” he whispered, realization crashing into him.

“What are we doing here?” Taehyung turned sharply to Jungkook, who gripped the wheel with one hand, his face calm, almost casual.

“I thought you might want to visit,” Jungkook replied smoothly, eyes still on the road. “The place where you and your best friend lived. In Seoul, there was nothing left of him for you to hold onto. Here, though…” His voice trailed off, measured, careful. “Maybe there’s something you’d want to keep. Something to remember him by.”

Taehyung blinked in surprise. His throat tightened at the mention of Jimin, and for a moment, his suspicion wavered.

“But still… you should’ve told me,” he murmured.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I had,” Jungkook chuckled softly, sparing him a glance. Then his voice dipped lower, almost tender. “Besides, you’ve been through enough. After what happened, I figured you’d need comfort—your parents, his memory. I don’t want this to eat away at your mind.”

Taehyung studied him quietly, conflicted. “Aren’t you… busy?”

“I took days off. I’ll be fine,” Jungkook replied without hesitation. His tone carried no trace of regret, no sign of sacrifice—as if taking days off from work was nothing compared to this.

Then, his eyes flicked briefly to Taehyung, sharp, deliberate. “Don’t you want to meet his parents? Wouldn’t it mean more if you were the one to tell them the truth of what happened?”

“But Yoongi-hyung said he’d do that for me,” Taehyung countered.

“I know. But think about it.” Jungkook’s voice hardened with a quiet edge. “You’re his best friend. You were the reason he went to Seoul in the first place. Don’t you think it’d be wrong if they thought you didn’t even care enough to tell them yourself?”

The words cut deeper than Taehyung expected. He sat back, lips parting slightly, struck by the weight of Jungkook’s reasoning. He hadn’t thought Jungkook would go to such lengths for him.

“Thank you… for understanding me,” Taehyung whispered, managing a faint smile.

Jungkook’s eyes softened as he reached across the console. He took Taehyung’s hand, raised it, and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Everything for you, baby,” he said, the faintest curl of a smile tugging at his lips before his attention returned to the road.

The words warmed and unsettled Taehyung in equal measure.

By the time they reached Daegu, night had settled heavily over the streets. Jungkook parked in front of a modest house—the place Jimin once called his own.

As they stepped out of the car, a sudden shrill ringing broke the quiet. The sound echoed in the air, sharp and insistent. It was coming from Jungkook’s phone.

“You go ahead inside,” Jungkook said calmly, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll follow after I take this call.”

Taehyung hesitated, glancing at him, then nodded. “Okay…”

He disappeared into the house, leaving Jungkook alone by the car. Jungkook waited until he was certain Taehyung was out of sight before answering.

“What did you find out?” His voice was clipped, stripped of all warmth.

“It’s confirmed, sir,” came the response on the other end. “Everything you suspected—it’s true.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching at the side of his face. His grip on the phone hardened until his knuckles whitened.

“Keep digging,” Jungkook ordered, voice low, dangerous. “This isn’t random. He’s not the kind of man to act recklessly without support. Someone’s backing him, giving him confidence. Find out who. And then…” He exhaled, sharp and heavy. “…make sure he learns what it means to overstep.”

“Yes, sir.” The line went dead.

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe evenly. His chest rose and fell with the restrained anger before he finally composed himself and stepped inside.

The house smelled faintly of dust and old wood. Taehyung was in the living room, rifling through Jimin’s belongings with quiet reverence. When Jungkook’s voice suddenly filled the silence, Taehyung nearly jumped.

“Oh—where are his parents?” Jungkook asked, his tone deceptively casual as he approached.

“They must be in Busan right now,” Taehyung replied, placing an old photo frame back on the shelf. “Hyung lived here on his own… for me.” His voice faltered, tinged with both sadness and fondness.

“Mhm.” Jungkook’s gaze lingered on him. “You two must’ve been close—close enough for him to leave his parents behind.”

Taehyung smiled faintly. “He said he wanted independence too. And… this is where he met Yoongi-hyung.”

“I see,” Jungkook murmured, though his tone betrayed little interest. His eyes sharpened instead, studying Taehyung. After a beat, his voice cut in again, sudden, disarming.

“Tell me, Taehyung… has someone been bothering you lately?”

Taehyung froze mid-motion, his back stiffening. Slowly, he turned to face Jungkook. “No one. Why?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer, his eyes locking with Taehyung’s in a stare that felt unrelenting, suffocating. The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, until Taehyung’s skin prickled.

Then Jungkook spoke, his voice lower now—steady, deliberate, every syllable a veiled warning.

“I just want you to remember something. People are vulnerable when they’re grieving. It’s easy to manipulate someone who’s lost as much as you have. Easy for the wrong person to twist your pain.” He drew closer, each step sinking like a weight on Taehyung’s chest. “And I don’t want to see you dragged into something that’ll only hurt you. Or worse… force me to hurt others because of you.”

The words slithered around him like cold chains. Jungkook’s tone wasn’t loud, but it carried an edge that chilled Taehyung to the bone. It wasn’t affection—it was a threat, wrapped in care.

“Let’s not do something you’ll regret, hm?” Jungkook’s eyes bore into his, unwavering, sharp enough to pierce through him. “So make sure to tell me everything.”

Taehyung swallowed hard, his throat dry, a lump caught in it. His body went rigid, his mind screaming at him to respond, to do something—yet all he could manage was a small, instinctive nod.

Because deep down, he wondered—did Jungkook already know? That everything was fabricated?