Mafia's Caretaker; The Devil's Cure

"Proceed."

The single word rang loud in the silence of the room. Cold, firm, and absolute. It echoed off the walls like a command from someone not used to being questioned and not willing to start now.

Y/n stood there, frozen. His intense gaze bored into her with the weight of a thousand unspoken threats. It felt like she was standing before the devil himself, cloaked in shadows, his stare darker than midnight. His eyes didn't just look at her.they peeled her layers away, one by one, exposing every ounce of hesitation and fear she tried so hard to hide.

Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, her wobbly legs hesitantly carried her closer to him. Each step felt like walking willingly into a lion's den. Her gaze flicked from the open wounds on his torso to his eyes that never left her. They were unreadable cold yet curious, dangerous yet oddly calm.

Without a word, Jungkook leaned slightly to the side and handed her the first aid kit that was beside him on the bed, still not blinking, still watching.

She knelt before him, the cold wooden floor pressing against her knees, grounding her. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the box, trying not to show the unease crawling under her skin. She peeked up at him cautiously.

"C-Can you please sit properly?" she asked, voice low, but not submissive, measured, composed.

He didn't object. Jungkook shifted and straightened his posture, his abs flexing subtly as he leaned back with ease. That small adjustment was enough to bring every carved line of his torso into full view broad shoulders, firm chest, and the sharp cut of muscles that screamed power and control.

Y/n cursed silently in her head.
Why the hell is he built like some Greek god dragged straight from a forbidden romance novel? Calm down, girl. He's literally bleeding and you're out here about to catch feelings-or a lawsuit.

Her face involuntarily flushed. Her face was barely inches away from his abdomen now, and the heat radiating off him only made things worse. She quickly leaned her upper body back a bit, trying to create more distance.

A deep, throaty chuckle left Jungkook's lips, low and amused. She didn't need to look up to know he was smirking.

Y/n kept her eyes strictly focused on his wounds nothing else. Not his annoyingly perfect jawline, not his abs, and definitely not the smugness she could feel radiating off him.

She reached forward and examined the cuts. They weren't too deep, but the dried blood had formed crusted edges along the wounds, making them look harsher than they were.

"First, it needs to get cleaned," she murmured more to herself than him. Without waiting for any response, she stood up and walked quickly out of the room, trying to regain her breath and sanity both at once.

She made her way to the kitchen, grabbed a clean bowl, filled it with lukewarm water, and snagged a soft cloth from the drawer. As she walked back, she mentally braced herself, chanting in her mind:

He's just a patient. A scary, shirtless, smirking, overly muscular patient. Not hot. Not hot. Not,damn it, brain, stop.

Re-entering the room, she dropped to her knees again, placing the bowl beside her. She dipped the cloth into the water and gently began to dab at the dried blood on his skin, careful not to press too hard. Every now and then, his muscles tensed slightly under her touch, but he didn't make a sound.

Her movements were focused and delicate, her brows furrowed in concentration. She was meticulous, cleaning each wound with practiced care. When she finished, she placed the cloth and bowl aside, wiping her hands with a towel from the kit before rummaging through it to find the antiseptic cream.