The Dying Butterfly⨾༊
Oh jungkook..
Jungkook learned early that pain had no limit. That just when he thought he had endured the worst, life found a way to prove him wrong.
His body ached—his ribs burned with every breath, his skin throbbed where fingers had dug too deep, and his face felt numb, swollen from a slap that had sent him to the floor hours ago. His lip was split open, his jaw stiff, but that was nothing new. He didn’t even flinch anymore when the hits came. His body had learned to take it, to bend without breaking.
It's the helplessness that broke him more.
"You're what? Just a bastard child that's unwanted".
"guess what? In the end you're b__tch just like your b__tch mother".
If they're so disgusted why won't they just let him off.
Why won't they just let him go?
Why is he made to be the medium for them to vent their anger and frustration?
He sat curled in the farthest corner of the storage room, his arms wrapped around his knees, his fingers gripping his own skin like he could hold himself together. The room was dark, the only light slipping in from the hallway where the rest of the house remained alive—filled with people who shared his last name but not a hint of familarity. They laughed, ate, lived as if nothing had happened.
As if they hadn’t left him gasping on the floor just hours ago.
Jungkook didn’t know when he had stopped fighting back. Maybe it was when he realized that no one would ever take his side. Maybe it was when he understood that no matter how much he bled, no one would come to save him.
It was a hopeless fight for him.
He used to hope—hope that one day just like his his halmeoni used to say..he too would have someone like she had his grandpa
Who'd help him and stay with him through ups and downs.
Even though it's not okay. Even if nothing changes. Even if it ends up worse. He'll believe and feel it's okay.
Because that person..his person would be by his side.
But instead of love..emptiness had filled his being.
After his grandpa and halmeoni set on their journey to afterlife..jungkook had lost the familarity he used to have with the term 'love'.
He has lost the sense of it.
Now that every emotion is strange And terrifying. Jungkook avoids it all. To the point he feels he had lost himself before he realised.
For what, he wasn’t sure.
Or for the day when he would finally disappear, and the world would go on without him, just like now?
He wasn't always like this.
Why did it all slip through his fingers?
A glimpse of past
Lee Ji Ah Had Always Been a Dreamer.
In a world where pragmatism was survival and love was a foolish indulgence, Ji Ah chose to believe.
She believed in warmth, in kindness, in the idea that love—pure and unwavering—could be enough.
Her parents had never shared her optimism.
They were hardened by a life where affection was a weakness, where survival meant making choices that had nothing to do with the heart. They spoke in truths that cut like blades, carved from years of hardship.
"Falling in love with a man like him isn’t romance, Ji Ah—it’s self-destruction wrapped in a pretty lie." her mother had told her, eyes void of sentiment.
"He will make you believe you’re his world, until the moment he decides you’re not even worth remembering."
But instead Ji Ah had clung to her beliefs.
She had believed in fairy tales.
If not fairytales. She had believed in love.
So when Jeon Minhyuk walked into her life, all effortless charm and whispered forever, she fell.
She fell fast. She fell hard. She fell with reckless abandon.
Minhyuk was power personified. His name carried weight, his presence commanded respect. People spoke of him in hushed voices, laced with awe and caution.
But to Ji Ah, he wasn’t a man sculpted from privilege and legacy. He was simply Minhyuk—the man who held her close, kissed her slow, and made her believe in the impossible.
She thought he loved her.
She thought they were building a future.
She never imagined that the foundation of that future was already cracking beneath her feet.
Not until she saw him with another woman.
The name alone was enough to hollow her chest.
Because Aeri wasn’t just anyone.
She was Ji Ah’s best friend.
The one who had been there in her weakest moments, who had held her secrets and soothed her insecurities. The one who had promised, time and time again, that she would always be by her side.
And all the while, Aeri had been spinning a different story.
A story where Ji Ah was nothing more than a supporting character—an obstacle to be removed.
Ji Ah hadn’t gone looking for the truth.
Because there it was—undeniable, unforgiving, carved into the fabric of reality.
Minhyuk’s lips on Aeri’s.
His hands, possessive and knowing, pressing into her waist.
Their laughter, soft and intimate, like a shared secret.
Ji Ah hadn’t screamed. She hadn’t confronted them.
She had simply turned and walked away, numbness overtaking her limbs, her mind too blank to process the agony waiting beneath the surface.
It arrived like a tidal wave, drowning her in the cruel truth—
She had never been loved.
Because what Minhyuk had with Aeri—that had been real.
Not a fleeting mistake. Not a moment of weakness.
Something stronger than anything he had ever given Ji Ah.
And just when she thought the pain couldn't cut any deeper—
She found out she was pregnant.
Ji Ah had always been a fool for love.
But she refused to be a fool for her child.
She knew Minhyuk. She knew the Jeons.
The moment they discovered the pregnancy, they would erase her existence from their world. They would erase her child.
So she took that power from them.
She went public with her pregnancy before they could silence her.
She made sure the world knew.
Because as long as the world knew about the child, the Jeons couldn't erase him.
But Aeri had always been ten steps ahead.
"She’s manipulating you," Aeri whispered into Minhyuk’s ear, her voice as smooth as silk and as deadly as poison. "Think about it—why else would she announce it like this? She knows she has no place in your life anymore, so she’s trying to force you into staying."
And Minhyuk—who had always been so easy to control—believed her.
Ji Ah’s last act of defiance was twisted into a calculated ploy.
Minhyuk turned his back on her.
Her parents, drowning in shame, disowned her.
And completely powerless.
Ji Ah never got the luxury of a safe pregnancy.
She had no doctors. No gentle hands to guide her through the pain.
She gave birth in a rundown hospital, where the walls were thin, the beds were cold, and the nurses were indifferent.
The kind of place where women like her faded into the background, unnoticed and unremembered.
She never even got to hold her son.
She barely saw him—just a glimpse of dark curls, a tiny fist reaching out—before the world blurred, her vision dimming at the edges.
She clung to the sound of his first cries, desperate to imprint it onto her soul.
The moment Jungkook opened his eyes and took in the view of the world before him for first time his mother took in her last- a view of him..a view of her world. That came to an end before it could begin.
And the child she had fought so hard to protect was left in the hands of the very people who had destroyed her.
The Jeons didn’t want Jungkook.
But Ji Ah had made sure that wasn’t an option.
So instead, they discarded him.
They sent him away—to Ji Ah’s parents, the very people who had once turned their backs on her.
But grief changes people.
Losing Ji Ah shattered them.
And when they looked at Jungkook, they saw her.
He was a piece of herself she had left behind.
For fifteen years, Jungkook was loved.
He grew up with sun-warmed skin, Bambi eyes and dirt-streaked knees, running barefoot through golden fields, climbing trees with scraped palms, laughing beneath wide skies.
His world was painted in warmth.
The village was small, but to Jungkook, it was everything.
His grandmother’s hands were always warm, his grandfather’s voice always gentle.
He was too beautiful to go unnoticed—his features delicate, almost ethereal. In a village where most faces were weathered by time, Jungkook was like something out of a painting.
He knew nothing of wealth, of power struggles, of cruelty disguised in expensive suits and fine wine.
He was a butterfly, untouched by the storm that had created him.
Then, one by one, his wings were torn away.
His grandfather died when Jungkook was fourteen.
It was the first time he understood grief—the aching emptiness of a missing presence, the way his grandmother sat on the porch for hours, staring at the place where her husband used to sit.
Jungkook took care of her the way she had taken care of him.
But love could not hold back time.
And Jungkook, at fifteen, after his grandmother's death was left with nothing.
.
It drizzled over the broken edges of the village roofs, soaking the funeral mats, making the earth soggy beneath Jungkook’s bare feet. The incense sticks burned faintly, their trails of smoke rising like fading memories, curling into the grey sky as if trying to carry his prayers to a god who had long since turned away.
Jungkook stood still, drenched, trembling, and numb. His fingers clutched a white handkerchief that once belonged to his grandmother—a small piece of fabric now soaked and crumpled in his shaking grip. The flames of the cremation pyre crackled beside him, eating away at the wood and cloth and bone, devouring the only person left who had ever called him my child without spite. After his deceased mother and grandfather.
He didn’t cry anymore. Not because it didn’t hurt—but because the grief was too vast to find a voice. The lump in his throat stayed lodged like a rock. His chest ached from holding in sobs that never came. The villagers watched him from afar—offering condolences from the corners, whispering how painful it must be, how lonely.
None told him where to go now that his halmeoni had departed to a journey of no return.
He hadn’t eaten in two days. He hadn’t slept in three. He hadn't spoken in almost a week.
Because what words did a boy have when his world was reduced to a pile of burnt flowers and a house already claimed by relatives with greedy hands?
Jungkook had begged them. “Please let me stay. I’ll take care of the house. I’ll find work.”
But no one wanted a boy with no papers, no parents, and no money.
It rolled into the village like a ghost in black paint. The engine purred like it didn’t belong here, like it had never tasted dust or poverty. The villagers turned to look, frowning, whispering. From it stepped a boy almost the same age as Jungkook but dressed in black, sharp as a razor, with sunglasses that reflected everything except his own intentions.
He looked at the crowd and then at Jungkook.
Jungkook blinked. His throat was dry.
Jeon woo shik
“I’m your brother. Jeon Woo Shik.”
Jeon Jungkook
Jungkook’s brows furrowed, head tilting slightly. “I don’t have a brother.”
Jeon woo shik
Woo Shik chuckled, as if amused by a child's tantrum. “You do now. Half brother actually..You’re coming with me baby.”
Jeon Jungkook
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jungkook whispered, stepping back. “Halmeoni would never—”
Jeon woo shik
“She’s dead” Woo Shik said, sharp and merciless. “And you’re just a burden now. The relatives already signed you over to me.”
Two distant cousins—women who had barely shown up during the funeral—nodded from the sidelines. “He’ll take care of you, Jungkookie” one of them said, voice too sweet. “You’ll be better off.”
as far and fast as he could.
They caught him. Dragged him into the car, kicking, screaming, fists pounding on the windows until his hands went numb.
The village faded into the background, blurred by the rain and his tears.
He didn't remember how long the ride was.
but soon enough the car door was yanked open and wooshik dragged him in with a deathly grip on his delicate wrist.
Just that by the time the gates of the Jeon mansion opened, his voice was gone.
That’s what it felt like stepping into the estate. Marble floors. Velvet curtains. Choking silence
He was introduced like a new pet.
Jeon woo shik
“This is the doll eomma..jungkook” Woo Shik announced to the gathering family.
His stepmother, Aeri, didn’t even look at him. She waved her fingers in dismissal.
Jeon aeri
"If am not wrong it's the bastard child isn't it?"
she finally looked up and at jungkook with disdain.
Jeon aeri
"woo you can still think about it..is it necessary to bring him here?"
Jeon yuna
"mom I think he's quite pretty..like a porcelain doll- it's annoying."
Jeon Jungkook
Jungkook yanked his hand from wooshik's hold in an instant. “Don’t talk about me like that…”
Jeon woo shik
Woo shik's gaze turned cold as he tightly grabbed jungkook from his elbow and yanked him towards himself. “Show some respect.”
Jeon Jungkook
Jungkook yelped and stumbled but managed to stand his ground. “I’m not here because I want to be!”
Before he could say more, Woo Shik’s hand flew across his cheek with a harsh slap. The sound echoed. Jungkook staggered, holding his face in shock.
Jeon woo shik
“Shut up baby you're angering me now.” Woo Shik hissed. “You belong to me now.”
As if sensing jungkook's reluctance to his statement woo shik made a move before jungkook could retort.
He grabbed a fistful of jungkook's hair dragging him and thrashing him with force.
Jeon Jungkook
"I- AH!! l-let go!! please! let go!"
Jungkook's gaze scattered around in panic.
He screamed Begging for help.
In response, the mother - daughter duo from earlier just ignored him
Servants looking away in helpless silence.
his biological father who had been reading news paper since the beginning. suddenly spoke up-
Jeon minhyuk
"stop right there."
Jungkook's eyes lit up for a second and just as he was about to breathe out a sigh of relief. his father's next statement froze his entire being.
as if drowning out all of jungkook's protests.
Jeon minhyuk
"discipline him well so, I Don’t need to."
Jeon woo shik
"Don’t worry dad I know how to manage what's mine."
The hold on jungkook's hairs grew tighter and with that jungkook was thrown inside woo shik's room..who entered along with him and slammed the door shut.
terrified jungkook pleaded.
Jeon Jungkook
"pl-ease let me go..please!..-"
Jeon woo shik
"sshh do you even know why you're here baby?"
jungkook's insides seemed to recoil at the petname.
wooshik circled around jungkook like a hunter to it's prey.
Jeon woo shik
"I said strip baby."
jungkook instinctively backed away.
What happened in the room remained unknown.
it wasn't after an hour or so that woo shik came out the room while buttoning his shirt.
following him after Two minutes.
jungkook crawled out the room. lips swollen and bleeding, neck and wrists bruised and worst was his ankle twisted and swollen.
jungkook was dumbfounded.
why is he getting treated like this. what's his fault in this?
He flinched when he heard footsteps again.
Woo Shik picked him up casually like a discarded doll and opened the storage room door.
Jeon woo shik
“This is your room now baby it'll be upgraded the moment you give in to me willingly or else. Get used to it.”
Jungkook was thrown onto a mattress with a thud.
suddenly he crouched down to jungkook's level and harshly gripped his jaw.
Jeon woo shik
"cry all you want baby but don't let me hear you."
Jeon woo shik
"And don't even think fleeing baby."
after that woo shik yanked jungkook away and got up and left while whistling.
he didn't forget to lock the door as he left
silent tears rolled down jungkook's doe eyes as they helplessly took in the surrounding of the room. he's being held captive in.
jungkook crawled to a corner and took our his halmeoni's hankerchief that had a dried flower crown the one he made her before she passed away.
feeling the sense of loss become overwhelming jungkook tightly pressed the hankerchief to his chest.
desperate to bask in his halmeoni's scent again. to believe her presence hadn't faded away.
jungkook's small sobs soon took over the silence of his confinement.
Jeon Jungkook
" halmeoni..why?"
Jeon Jungkook
" W-Why did you leave me in this hell..."
Jeon Jungkook
" I am All alone without you.."
Mental and physical exhaustion combined.
jungkook fell asleep curled in a corner with the hankerchief held tightly.
he was afraid woo shik would snatch it away.
The only thing he had now left of his halmeoni.
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