Jeon Jungkook sat behind his sleek mahogany desk, cold blue eyes fixed on the divorce papers. Two years of marriage. Two years of chaos caused by Taehyung. The man in front of him had embarrassed him countless times: sneaking into meetings, leaking company secrets, wearing ridiculous outfits, and laughing in his face when Jungkook scolded him. Today, he would finally end it. He picked up the pen, ready to sign, when his phone rang.

The world tilted. Relief should’ve come, but it didn’t. Only emptiness. Only the strangest, hollow ache. He… didn’t know how to feel. Two years of hating someone could make a man feel anything—anger, irritation, even exhaustion—but this numbness was new. He looked at the papers again. The divorce… meaningless now. Somewhere in the city, the man who had caused him so much frustration… was gone. And Jungkook—CEO, cold, precise, untouchable—found that a small, unfamiliar twist of grief knotted in his chest. He didn’t understand it. And yet, deep down, he realized that life… was about to change in ways he couldn’t yet imagine.

Taehyung slowly opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was white—too white. It didn’t look like the wooden roof of his village house. The air smelled strange, clean but sharp, nothing like soil or grass. He sat up abruptly. The bed was soft. Too soft.

Just then, the door opened. A tall man in a black suit walked in, his presence heavy and cold. His sharp eyes locked onto Taehyung, filled with suppressed anger.

Taehyung blinked and stared at him for a long second. Then, very honestly, he asked,

The room went dead silent. Jungkook’s expression darkened instantly.

Before the white hospital room… Before the cold-faced man who claimed to be his husband… Taehyung had lived another life. He remembered silk robes brushing his ankles, golden hairpins heavy on his head, and palace corridors echoing with laughter. He was a mischievous prince—loved by servants, scolded by elders, always escaping lessons to climb trees or steal sweets from the royal kitchen. Life was simple. Happy. Until the night it ended. The palace burned under a blood-red sky. Screams filled the air as soldiers stormed in. Taehyung ran barefoot across the cold marble floors, clutching his sleeve, heart pounding wildly.

He never made it far. An arrow pierced his chest. The pain was sharp, suffocating. He collapsed onto the stone floor, vision blurring as warm blood soaked his robes.

He thought it would be darkness. Instead, he fell into endless light. When he opened his eyes again, the world was unfamiliar—bright lamps, strange smells, machines beeping beside him. His body felt heavier, different. Voices echoed around him. “Mr. Taehyung is awake!” He didn’t understand the words. Didn’t understand the place. And then… him. The tall man with cold eyes. The man who looked at him with anger instead of concern. Later, when that man said, “I’m your husband,” Taehyung almost laughed. … reborn as a modern man’s wife? Fate truly had a cruel sense of humor.

Jungkook stood silently beside the hospital bed, watching Taehyung. This was wrong. Taehyung should have been arguing by now. Laughing. Saying something shameless. Instead, he sat quietly, hands folded on his lap, eyes roaming around the room with cautious curiosity—like someone seeing everything for the first time.

Jungkook frowned. That sentence alone felt strange. Taehyung slowly slid off the bed and stood, wobbling slightly. Instead of complaining, he steadied himself quietly, bowing his head a little.

Jungkook stiffened. The old Taehyung never said thank you. Never bowed. Never looked at him with such calm, respectful eyes. When a nurse entered, Taehyung moved aside politely, apologizing for being in the way. When food arrived, he ate slowly, neatly, without complaining once. Jungkook watched it all in silence. Did the accident damage his brain? he wondered. Yet something deeper bothered him. This Taehyung didn’t provoke him. Didn’t mock him. Didn’t seek attention. He was… gentle.

But deep inside, an uneasy thought formed: What if… he really isn’t the same person anymore?