teacher • kth

13: the truth

"They were what?" I choked out, and Mr. Kim took my hand into his own, before continuing.

"Your parents were murdered by a group of men. They wanted their company. When they refused to make the co-chairman of the company their legal second-hand, he quit in a rage. He was a very dangerous man. And your parents knew he was unstable."

"They knew what he was capable of, so they hired me, Namjoon and your cousin to protect you if things didn't go as they planned." He paused, wiping a tear from my eye.

"We work with the Korean police department, in a separate organization specialized to protect and guard particular people." He continued, pausing to let me process what I'd heard.

I let out a shaky breath, before sniffing and motioning for him to continue.

"I moved in right beside you, Jungkook moved in with you, and Namjoon followed you everyday whenever you weren't at school or home.

"Those men, like the one that hurt you tonight, they need to know where your parents are buried. Because right now, they believe that your parent's will is buried with their bodies."

"On that will, are those men's names, written down as their cause of death in case what they feared most happened, as well as yours, the ultimate successor of their company and money.

"But if someone finds it before they do, they're ruined. And now that you've turned 19 recently, if that will is found, you're eligible to takeover your parent's legacy." He finished, a grim look on his face.

I shook your head, unable to process everything he'd told me.

It was all too much.

First, I had three bodyguards I had no idea about, until now.

Second, my parents were murdered. 

And third, there were multiple men who were out to kill me.

And I'd barely scratched the surface.

"But I had my parents cremated. I dumped their ashes in the Sea of Japan." I murmured, and Mr. Kim nodded.

"I know. But they don't. And it needs to be kept that way, or they won't look to destroy the will. They'll come for you once they find out the will doesn't exist." He explained grimly.

-

After a couple hours, my cut was stitched up, the cast was on, and police officers were stationed outside of Jungkook's hospital room.

"Let's go home. You need to rest." Mr. Kim murmured, and I nodded weakly, cradling my wrist. 

It didn't hurt nearly as bad as the bruise on my cheek when I tried to speak.

It shocked me to see how violent men could be. 

And it saddened me that there was more of them out there, and the people they targeted weren't always as lucky as I was.

"I want to see Jungkook once before we leave." I said with much difficulty, and Mr. Kim complied, carefully leading me to the room guarded by tall men in blue uniforms.

"I'll be right out here." He assured me, and I nodded, before pushing the door open and entering.

The room smelled like Jungkook, like the cologne I'd always complain to him about.

Jungkook was asleep on the flimsy hospital bed, his pale figure hooked up to countless wires and machines, as his chest rose and fell unsteadily.

I sat down on the blue, plastic stool beside him, taking the hand that wasn't broken into mine and holding it tight.