(ENGLISH VER.)
In the heart of Seoul, where love once blossomed like cherry blossoms in spring, Y/N and Jungkook shared a love that seemed destined to withstand the test of time.
Their days were painted with laughter, and their nights echoed with wh...
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"I could've easily murdered you without any hesitation. But those angelic eyes made me all dizzy and weak"
Y/N POV
In the cozy corner of the café, I found myself seated across from Ilyes. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as we delved into a conversation that would shape the uncertain path ahead.
Ilyes looked at me, his eyes reflecting concern and disbelief as I unfolded the audacious plan I had been nurturing. "Are you sure about this, Y/N? It's highly dangerous. What if Jungkook recognizes you? Or worse, what if Taehyung catches wind of it? What could possibly happen then?"
Rolling my eyes, I dismissed his worries. "Calm down, Ilyes. I know it's risky, but I can't take it anymore. Besides, I have a fake ID; he won't have any proof that I'm Y/N. All I want is to be close to him. And as for Taehyung, he's flying back to America in a few days for a couple of months."
Ilyes shook his head, genuine worry etched on his face. "I understand your desperation, Y/N, but I'm genuinely concerned for you. Taehyung won't show any mercy if he finds out. The guy doesn't even want you to stay in touch with me."
Brushing off his concern, I insisted, "Don't worry about it. I just need you to support me in this plan, Ilyes. Six years... he believed I was dead all this time, and now I'm sitting here alive in front of you. The only difference is my name is Layla, and I look different."
When I was 22, I often caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and saw a young woman with features that seemed almost delicate, yet striking in their own right.
My hair, a rich shade of caramel, fell in gentle waves just to my shoulders, often catching the light in a way that made it look like liquid gold.
My eyes, a deep, dark green, seemed to hold a world of stories, often sparkling with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Just at the right angle of my eye, there was a small, almost inconspicuous mole.
Jungkook, my one and only Love who now believes I'm gone from this world, used to adore that mole. He would often trace it lightly with his finger, bringing his lips close enough to kiss it tenderly, a symbol of his affection for every detail of my being.
Now, as I look at myself, the reflection shows a transformation that speaks of the years and experiences that have shaped me. My hair, once a warm caramel, is now a deeper shade of brown, cascading down my back in long, flowing locks.
The addition of a nose piercing gives an edge to my appearance, a stark contrast to the softer, more innocent look of my youth. My style has evolved too; it's colder, more guarded, as if each piece of clothing is a piece of armor, protecting me from the world that has brought me so much pain. The vibrant, open warmth that once defined me has been replaced by a more reserved and enigmatic demeanor, a reflection of the journey I've been through and the scars I've gathered along the way.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. Sometimes, I forget what you've been through. I'll support you no matter what happens. But Jungkook can't see me with you, you know that, right?" Ilyes questioned, his worry palpable.
"I know. It would be too conspicuous, wouldn't it?" I replied, contemplating the potential risks. "That would be more than just conspicuous. You know he cut off contact with me after your supposed death. The poor guy wanted no reminders associated with you. He even blamed himself for your death," Ilyes recounted, triggering an unexpected surge of tears from me.
I missed him so much.
"Okay, okay, let's change the subject. No more tears. So, how do you plan to proceed now?" he diverted the conversation, attempting to bring some semblance of normalcy.
"I've already applied for a position as his... assistant," I confessed, anticipating his reaction. "As his assistant? You're driving me crazy!" Ilyes exclaimed, incredulous at the audacity of my plan.
Just as the tension peaked, my phone interrupted the moment. Historically, I'd have hoped it was the company calling, but this time, it was Teanyung. I pulled out my phone, letting Ilyes guess. "Who do you think it is?"
„Psycho monster?" With an exasperated sigh, I reluctantly pick up the phone, pressing it against my right ear.
"What?" I mutter, a tinge of irritation coloring my voice. "Where are you?" The familiar voice on the other end asks.
"Coming home. Bye." My response is curt, devoid of any warmth or enthusiasm. The call ends almost as abruptly as it began.
I hate that voice.
It echoes in my mind like a haunting melody, each word a reminder of a past I'd rather forget. As I hang up, I feel a surge of frustration coursing through me. Stuffing the phone back into my pocket, I turn to face Ilyes, my expression void of any emotion.
"Have I mentioned that I'm fed up with everything?" I remark, my tone heavy with weariness. Ilyes chuckles in response, shaking his head in understanding. Laughter spills from his lips, and he shakes his head. It's as if he finds humor in the irony of my statement, fully aware of the complexities that weigh me down.
[...]
The air in the room feels heavy as I enter, and his voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade. "Where have you been?" The deep resonance of his words echoes in the confined space.
I roll my eyes, dismissing his interrogations, and casually toss my bag onto the marriage bed. Unfazed, I start peeling off my leather jacket.
"Are you dense? How many times do I have to tell you, I was out with Ilyes" I retort, my frustration evident in the edge of my tone.
He approaches slowly, his presence looming, and I feel his intense, menacing gaze on me. He grabs me by the waist, pulling me closer, his breath against my lips sending shivers of revulsion through my body.
"Ilyes is starting to get on my nerves. He should know his place, and so should you, or it won't end well for either of you," he whispers, his words dripping with a dangerous blend of threat and possessiveness.
My hands instinctively find their way to his chest, a feeble attempt to maintain some distance between us. "Would you do the same thing you did to my mother?!!"
I hiss, the pain and grief in my voice unmistakable. The memory of that horrific day, where he callously shot my mother in front of me, is etched into the core of my being. He did it to instill fear, to break me.
"If that's the only way to keep you with me forever, then yes, gladly. You belong to me and no one else. Not even him. Understand that and never forget who I am!" he asserts dominantly, his grip tightening.
Tears well up in my eyes, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as I wipe away a lone tear on my cheek.
"How can I forget that you, Kim Taehyung, are the biggest Psycho bastard in the world?"
The words leave my lips with a mix of defiance and despair, a poignant acknowledgment of the painful reality I find myself entangled in.
