Prologue

...ᝰ.ᐟ...

The Balearic Sea shifted under the weight of the descending night, transforming from the warm blues of afternoon into a vast, haunting canvas of deep sapphire and ink.

On the distant horizon, the final, bleeding embers of twilight cast a thin ribbon of vibrant orange and pale gold across the water, a fleeting reminder of the sun that had already abandoned the sky. Above it, the atmosphere deepened into a cold, heavy twilight gradient, plunging the open sea into an isolated stillness. The water surged in low, rhythmic crests, the dark waves folding over themselves in frothy white foam that churned against the darkness like static, swallowing the remaining warmth of the day.

Cutting cleanly through the restless, churning currents was the mega-yacht-a blinding, multi-decked fortress of absolute luxury slicing through the dark waters. Illuminated against the pitch-black void of the open sea, the vessel glowed fiercely from within, its multiple tiers radiating warm, brilliant golden light from every window and deck.

The sharp, aggressive lines of its white hull cast a striking silhouette against the abyss, while powerful under-glow lights pierced the water beneath it, turning the surrounding wake into a shimmering, electric blue pool.

As the yacht surged forward on its course from Barcelona, the golden reflections of its opulence danced fractured and broken across the dark, rippling surface of the Balearic Sea, a solitary beacon of absolute power entirely isolated by the encroaching night.

The surrounding air of the Balearic Sea hung in a delicate balance-the ambient warmth of the Spanish coast clashing with the creeping, biting chill of the open ocean night. Yet, inside the perimeter of the mega-yacht, nothing felt similar.

The atmosphere within the glass-paneled deck was entirely divorced from nature, choked instead by a heavy, suffocating stillness that radiated from a single point of absolute authority.

Standing dead-center in the middle of the yacht was Jeon jungkook. He stood entirely devoid of human emotion, a terrifying monument of pure biological dominance. His body structure was an imposing, lethal architecture; the sleek, fluid agility of his maternal Korean roots seamlessly fused with the towering, broad-shouldered frame of his Russian mafia lineage. Every muscle beneath his dark, tailored clothing was locked in a state of hyper-vigilant calm.

His face, carved with a ruthless, aristocratic jawline and pierced with silver metal at his lip, remained completely unreadable. But it was his eyes that truly stripped the warmth from the room-deep, terrifying pools of absolute obsidian that held no mercy, no hesitation, and no warmth. They were flat, calculating, and entirely dead to the tears of the boy before him.

In front of him stood Kim taehyung, his posture vibrating with a fierce, angry defiance. Though he was trembling, he refused to back down.

His body structure was an elegant, slender masterpiece-a narrow waist and sharp, graceful shoulders that he now held rigid, squared against the predator in front of him like a shield.

A breathless, frustrated whimper left his plush lips, but it was born from sheer rage, not surrender. He stood tall, his chest heaving with volatile anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it shook.

In his eyes, thick, heavy tears were gathering, welling up over his long lashes and catching the golden light of the yacht-yet through those glittering tears burned a desperate, untamable spark of hope. He looked shattered, but his stance was a battlefield; he was crying, but he was fighting, glaring through the wet blur of his eyes with a hopeful resilience that dared Jungkook to try and break him.

Then

Jungkook spoke. His voice was not loud, but it carried the absolute, unyielding weight of an empire, entirely devoid of warmth. Every syllable was calculated, every breath perfectly controlled.

When he spoke, the air on the deck turned instantly colder than the biting wind howling across the Balearic Sea.

"Go and get some rest. We have to travel more, Malysh," he murmured, his face a mask of stone. "You are looking like a mess. Like a stray cat."

Taehyung scoffed, the sound sharp and broken. His eyes-not stark black, but a striking, storm-like silver-shone through the gathering sea of tears.

His voice trembled violently, yet it pulsed with that same desperate defiance.

"Are you telling me t-that what happened between us... it's not true?? Are you sure it's not love? Look at my eyes, you fucking Jeon Jungkook!"

By the end, his voice rose, a beautiful, agonizing scream against the quiet ocean.

Jungkook looked at his face calmly, completely unfazed by the outburst.

"Love is a fragile thing, moya zhena," he spoke, using the Russian endearment like a heavy iron shackle.

"And you are my possession. Not love."

Taehyung's defiance faltered, shattering instantly. He took staggered steps backward, desperately trying to create space to save himself from the absolute gravity of the man.

He had expected love-he had bled for the hope of it-but he was merely being held as a possession. Property, not a person.

"You heartless monster," he muttered, the words tasting like ash.

Jungkook turned his back, facing away from Taehyung. For a fraction of a second, his jaw ticked, the sight of the profound hurt in his prize's eyes striking a hidden chord, but he covered it instantly. He ignored Taehyung as if he didn't exist, as if the boy's trembling, weeping frame meant nothing to the vastness of his world.

"Go. I am coming," Jungkook said, glancing coldly over his shoulder at the fragile boy behind him. "Go, Taehyung. Sleep. Don't throw a tantrum."

The sun was drowning in the sea, bleeding its last violent shades of crimson into the dark water. The mega-yacht fell into a suffocating silence, but inside Taehyung's mind, his thoughts crashed like a violent ocean wave. Tears soaked his face, freezing in the night wind.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his own body, a futile attempt to save himself from breaking apart.

The reality was a devastating, hollow ache. From the age of five to twenty-three, he had never known what it felt like to be truly loved by a family. He had friends, yes, but no roots, no sanctuary. And just when he thought there might be a chance-a beautiful, terrifying chance at love-it had been completely crushed beneath the heel of Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung took a sharp, agonizing breath, murmuring to the empty air, "It's good to be dead. Better than being held as property."

The hurt was too profound, paralyzing his senses until his brain simply stopped working. Driven by pure, unadulterated pain, he began taking slow steps backward. His silver eyes remained glued to the broad, distant back of the man who refused to look at him. With every step, the distance between them grew.

Finally, Taehyung's back touched the cold, metallic end of the yacht's railing. He spoke, his voice carrying a deeply hurtful, final expectation.

"You know, hub... I just wanted to be held. To be seen. Even if it was by a monster like you. But you see me as property. As a prize. You held me like your doll, not as a human, hub."

His voice trembled, carrying the visceral sound of pure agony, like something violently torn from living skin.

At the word 'hub', Jungkook halted. He spun around to face Taehyung-but the scene that met him was instantly horrifying.

BANG.

The sound tore through the quiet night. Suddenly, from the front of Taehyung's chest, dark crimson blood began to drown his clothes. A sniper's bullet had ripped straight through him.

Taehyung's entire world tilted. The gravity vanished beneath his feet as his body went completely loose. Losing his balance, he faltered, tipping backward over the high railing.

SPLASH!

The freezing, dark waters of the Balearic Sea swallowed him whole.

"TAEHYUNG"

Jungkook's legendary composure shattered into dust. His steps faltered as he sprinted wildly toward the edge of the yacht-but before he could reach the railing, two more deafening shots echoed through the dark basin.

BANG. BANG.

Heavy-caliber rounds ripped brutally through the muscle of his back, tearing out his chest, while a second round shattered the bone in his leg. The iron ruler of the underworld collapsed, his body dropping heavily onto the blood-slicked deck. His face drained entirely of color, his pupils dilating in absolute horror as his failing vision tracked the empty space where Taehyung had just stood.

The physical agony was nothing compared to the violent, clawing panic screaming in his chest. Property. A doll. A prize. Taehyung's dying, heartbroken words echoed in the space between his heartbeats, tearing through his soul like acid.

Jungkook had called him a possession, but as he watched the ink-black abyss swallow the boy, the terrifying reality broke through his frozen exterior: if Taehyung was gone, Jungkook owned nothing but a hollow kingdom of ashes.

With blood pouring from his chest and his broken leg failing him, Jungkook didn't hesitate. He didn't look for cover. He didn't care about the unseen assassin still aiming at his head.

Dragging his shattered body up by pure, unadulterated willpower, he hauled himself over the high metallic railing.

He didn't care that the freezing Mediterranean currents were fatal, or that his own body was rapidly filling with blood. The only thought left in his hyper-vigilant, chaotic mind was that he would never let the darkness take what was his.

If Taehyung was drowning in the abyss, Jungkook would tear the ocean apart to reach him, or sink to the very bottom by his side.

Leaning over the edge, he let himself fall.

SPLASH!

The freezing, heavy waves of the Balearic Sea violently closed over Jeon Jungkook, swallowing his plunging form into the tragic, silent depths right behind, His Malysh.

...༺☆༻...

^^^Released on 13th July 2026.^^^

^^^Presented by Ink & Onyx^^^

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