Shadows In The Ashes

The morning sun struggled to break through the heavy clouds that hung over Kim Manor.

Outside, the world was gray and still, the trees swaying gently in a bitter wind.

Inside his small room, Jungkook stirred from an uneasy sleep, his dreams haunted by the whispers of the manor and Taehyung’s piercing blue eyes.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of the journals or the photographs he’d found in the library. The resemblance between himself and the man in the pictures gnawed at him, a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch.

Jungkook swung his legs off the bed and pulled on his sweater, steeling himself for the day ahead. Whatever secrets Taehyung was hiding, he was determined to uncover them. But first, there was work to do.

---

The ballroom was quiet when Jungkook arrived, the torn seascape painting looming over him like a ghost of the past.

He set up his tools and began his work, his hands moving automatically while his mind wandered.

His concentration broke when he heard the faint click of shoes against the marble floor. He turned to see Taehyung entering the room, his gaze unreadable as he approached him.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice calm but distant.

“Good morning,” Jungkook replied, his tone cautious.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Taehyung studied the painting, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You’ve made progress,” he said finally.

“I’m trying,” Jungkook said, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “It’s delicate work.”

“You’re skilled,” Taehyung said, his tone almost begrudging. “But I wonder if you have the patience to finish what you’ve started.”

Jungkook frowned, turning to face him fully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Restoration requires more than talent,” he said, his gaze fixed on him. “It requires understanding. To bring something back to life, you must first understand why it was destroyed.”

His words sent a chill through Jungkook . He wanted to challenge him, to ask what he meant, but the intensity of his stare silenced him.

---

Later that day, Jungkook was walking through the east wing, his mind still turning over Taehyung’s cryptic words. He carried a notebook and charcoal pencils, planning to sketch the manor’s architecture during his break.

As he passed an open door, a soft sound caught his attention—the faint strains of music. He paused, peering inside to find Taehyung seated at a grand piano, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys.

The melody was hauntingly beautiful, its melancholy notes resonating deep within him. He watched from the doorway, transfixed, as Taehyung poured himself into the music. For the first time, he seemed vulnerable, stripped of his usual coldness.

The song ended, and Taehyung looked up, his eyes meeting Jungkook's.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his voice quiet but sharp.

“Not long,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He stood, closing the lid of the piano with deliberate care. “You have a habit of being where you’re not supposed to be.”

Jungkook hesitated, his heart pounding. “I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy. It’s just… the music was beautiful.”

Taehyung regarded him for a long moment, his expression softening slightly. “It was my mother’s favorite piece,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. “She used to play it every evening.”

Jungkook stepped into the room, his curiosity outweighing his caution. “You must miss her.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, and he turned away, walking to the window. “She was the heart of this house. When she died, it changed everything.”

Jungkook hesitated, sensing the weight of his grief. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

He looked back at him, his gaze piercing. “Grief doesn’t care for apologies, Mr. Jeon. It simply lingers.”

---

The fragile moment between them was broken when Victor entered the room, his presence as stiff and formal as ever.

“Mr. Kim,” he said, his voice clipped. “A matter requires your attention.”

Taehyung nodded, his cold mask slipping back into place. “Excuse me,” he said to Jungkook before leaving with Victor.

As the door closed behind them, Jungkook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He felt like he had glimpsed something rare and raw beneath Taehyung’s icy exterior—a man haunted by loss and pain.

But he also knew that whatever connection he felt with him was dangerous. Kim Taehyung was a man of secrets, and he was beginning to realize just how deep those secrets ran.

---

That evening, as Jungkook prepared to retire for the night, there was another knock at his door. When he opened it, Taehyung stood there, his expression unreadable.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

Jungkook's pulse quickened. “What kind of proposition?”

“There is another painting,” Taehyung said. “One that is even more damaged than the seascape. I want you to restore it.”

“Why me?” Jungkook asked, his voice wary.

“Because you have a unique perspective,” he said simply. “But there are conditions. The painting is in the west wing.”

Jungkook’s breath caught. “I thought the west wing was off-limits.”

“It is,” Taehyung said, his tone firm. “But I’m willing to make an exception—if you’re willing to follow my rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“You will work only during the hours I specify. You will not explore beyond the designated area. And under no circumstances will you attempt to uncover the painting’s history.”

Jungkook hesitated. The offer was tempting, but the restrictions made him uneasy.

“Why is it so important?” he asked.

Taehyung’s gaze darkened. “Because some things are better left buried.”

---

As the weight of his words settled over him, Jungkook knew he was standing at a crossroads. Accepting Taehyung’s offer would pull him deeper into his world, a world of secrets and shadows.

But despite his fear, he felt an undeniable pull—toward the painting, toward the west wing, and toward Taehyung himself.

“I’ll do it,” he said finally.

Taehyung’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Good. We’ll begin tomorrow.”

As he turned and walked away, Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if he had just made a deal with the devil.