The handkerchief was, by all standards of common sense, aggressively unremarkable. It wasn't blessed by a mythical goddess or stitched from the silk of some rare, endangered creature. No, it was just a handkerchief—a small square of cloth whose sole purpose was to dab at one's nose or the occasional spill. And yet, by some cosmic joke, it had turned into the most sought-after object of the emperor's grand hunting contest.

Jungkook had chosen it with all the enthusiasm of someone grocery shopping on a rainy Monday. It wasn't ornate or glittery; no one would mistake it for a family heirloom. It was clean, crisp, white, and adorned with a threadbare edge of embroidery so subtle it practically whispered, "I exist." His initials, J.K., sat in one corner—not because he particularly cared, but because apparently, nobles were contractually obligated to monogram everything, including their socks.

Sure, the fabric was luxurious in that of course it is, we're nobility way. It had that soft, airy quality that screamed, "Don't you dare use me for anything practical." But it wasn't legendary or magical or anything worth fighting over. At least, that's what Jungkook thought.

Still, Jungkook wasn't one to tempt fate. He spritzed it with lavender perfume—a subtle, strategic decision. After all, you don't hand the emperor something that smells like pocket. It was a delicate touch, just enough to say, "I made an effort," without venturing into, "I'm trying too hard."

"Please, for the love of all things holy, let this stay boring," Jungkook muttered as he folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket. He had no idea this single piece of fabric was about to start a small war.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The contest began, and Jungkook immediately questioned every life choice that had led him to this point. The fields were filled with noblemen and women armed to the teeth, all pretending to be here for "the sport" but clearly eying each other like characters in a badly written intrigue novel.

Jungkook? Jungkook had no business being here. His idea of hunting was finding the last piece of cake in the fridge. He adjusted his boots with the sort of focus only the woefully unprepared can muster and, in doing so, managed to drop The Handkerchief.

It fluttered to the ground like a snowflake in a storm of overdressed aristocrats. Jungkook barely noticed until the first scream pierced the air.

"It's enchanted!" shrieked a noblewoman in violet, sprinting toward the fallen cloth as if her life depended on it.

"It's DEFINITELY enchanted!" a man with a disturbingly large crossbow yelled, charging in from the left. "I heard the emperor himself commissioned it from the magical bakery artisans. It probably grants wishes!"

"What?!" Jungkook's voice cracked as the crowd descended. "No, it's not—it's just—guys, IT'S A PIECE OF FABRIC!"

His protests were useless. In the blink of an eye, the handkerchief was no longer a handkerchief. It was a talisman, a treasure, a holy relic imbued with Jungkook's completely accidental aura of mystery.

And then there was Taehyung. Jungkook's fiancé, whose natural resting state was somewhere between heroic protagonist and Shakespearean tragedy, was already in the fray. With a dramatic sweep of his robes, he waded through the chaos like a knight preparing for battle. His eyes locked on the fluttering cloth as if it were the last rose of winter.

"TAEHYUNG!" Jungkook yelled, frantic. "IT'S LITERALLY JUST A PIECE OF CLOTH!"

But Taehyung didn't hear him. Or maybe he chose not to hear him because he was too busy elbowing a duke in the ribs while simultaneously dodging a flying shoe. He moved with the kind of determination typically reserved for people trying to disarm a bomb.

Meanwhile, Jungkook stood frozen, caught between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. The crowd grew thicker, louder, and significantly more unhinged as they all scrambled, lunged, and fought for the fabric that was now more famous than the emperor himself.

By the time Jungkook managed to gather himself, the scene before him looked less like a hunting contest and more like the opening act of a very poorly organized circus. And in the center of it all, Taehyung—ever the picture of grace under unnecessary pressure—was wrestling a knight for possession of The Handkerchief.

Jungkook sighed, already regretting not just staying in bed.

"Disgusting pigs!" Taehyung yelled, arms flailing as he swatted away anyone who dared come too close to the precious handkerchief. "This is mine—get your filthy hands off it! It's my fiancé's handkerchief!"

The crowd parted like the Red Sea in front of him, though not out of respect, more out of sheer terror. Taehyung was a man who'd calmly thrown entire kingdoms into chaos just by raising an eyebrow. Seeing him like this—rage-filled, determined, and slightly disheveled from a run through a muddy field—was like watching a storm in slow motion.

Jungkook couldn't help but laugh nervously, his feet glued to the spot. "This is getting out of hand," he muttered to himself.

"No," Taehyung called back, glaring over his shoulder. "You—you're getting out of hand, letting this cloth be stolen by these peasants. I won't let anyone lay a finger on it. This... this represents us!"

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but Taehyung had already elbowed his way past yet another hapless nobleman and was now practically diving for the handkerchief like it was the last pastry in the bakery.

The embroidery, so dainty it might as well have been whispered into the fabric itself, was now the thing everyone in the royal court wanted to lay claim to. The handkerchief. The symbol of Jungkook's (perfectly normal) existence, now turned into a battle royale.

Jungkook sighed, watching the spectacle unfold in front of him. If this was the kind of chaos his life was going to involve from now on, he might just stick to baking pastries and letting them get stolen instead. At least he could have some peace when no one was trying to steal his personal belongings like he was some kind of magical artifact.

"Well, at least it's a good handkerchief," Jungkook muttered, watching Taehyung duke it out with a dozen noblemen, all trying to claim it as their own. The emperor was clutching it like a knight guarding a holy relic, as if his life depended on it. And in a way, it did.

Jungkook shook his head and silently prayed for the day when his handkerchief could go back to being just a handkerchief.

As Taehyung reached out for it, another competitor—a knight with a gleaming sword—leaped forward, fingers brushing the cloth.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Taehyung roared, grabbing the handkerchief and yanking it back just in time. "Mine!"

Jungkook blinked. "Taehyung, seriously, it's not that important—"

"It's magical!" Taehyung hissed, waving the handkerchief in front of Jungkook's face. "You don't understand! This is a symbol!"

Jungkook had no idea whether Taehyung was referring to the handkerchief's "magical" properties or their engagement. Either way, the emperor was looking pretty ridiculous, his hair disheveled and his face flushed with exertion, all while clutching a piece of cloth like it was the last slice of pizza at a family reunion.

"Taehyung," Jungkook said, shaking his head, "you look like you're fighting a horde of wild animals over a napkin."

Taehyung didn't even glance back, eyes locked on the handkerchief as though it were the most valuable thing in the kingdom. "This is the most important napkin in the world. Don't you dare underestimate it."

As the two of them stood there, surrounded by an increasingly absurd crowd of desperate competitors, Jungkook couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten dragged into this mess. He had come for a leisurely stroll through the contest, maybe snag a snack or two, and now? Now, his handkerchief had become the epicenter of an all-out war.

"Well," Jungkook muttered, glancing at the emperor still clutching the cloth like a treasure, "this is definitely not how I imagined my day going."