J U N G K O O K'S  P O V

I woke up with a rare smile tugging at the corners of my lips, the early light spilling into my room. For the first time in days, I felt an odd sense of clarity—like a fog had lifted from my mind overnight. My mother's words still echoed softly in my head, the way she spoke about love, life, and duty. It had been comforting, but more than that, it had helped me organize the mess of thoughts that had been consuming me for weeks.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I replayed the plan I had made in my mind before I fell asleep. Every piece had fallen into place, and I had no doubt about it now. A sense of calm washed over me as I considered how everything I was about to do aligned with my duties as a king, my obligations to my family, and the emotions that had been creeping up on me despite my best efforts to push them aside.

It was the right choice, the only choice. I had to move forward with purpose—clear and unwavering. I exhaled deeply, feeling lighter than I had in weeks, and allowed myself a moment to savor that peace. Today, I would begin to put my plans into motion. There would be no turning back now.

I rose from the bed with newfound determination coursing through my veins, the remnants of last night's clarity sharpening my focus. The decision had been made, and now it was time to act.

"Chin Hae!" I called out, my voice steady, carrying the weight of authority. Within moments, the door to my chambers opened, and my trusted aide stepped in, bowing low.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice as composed as ever.

I looked him directly in the eye, my tone firm. "Announce the war. We're moving against the Jung Dynasty."

Chin Hae's eyes widened slightly, the gravity of my words sinking in. His usual stoic demeanor faltered for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. "As you command, Your Majesty. The preparations are already underway, but should we proceed without further council? The declaration—"

"There is no need for further counsel," I interrupted. "The Jung Dynasty has been waiting too long for this, and we cannot delay any longer. The time for discussion has passed."

Chin Hae nodded, his loyalty evident in his unquestioning acceptance of my order. "It will be done."

I turned away from him, staring out of the window as he exited the room, my hands clasped behind my back. The weight of the decision settled heavily on my shoulders, but for the first time, it didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a necessary step—one that would set everything in motion. The path ahead might be perilous, but I was prepared to face it head-on.

𓆩♕𓆪

"Why did you do this?" My father's voice thundered through the throne room, each word striking with the force of a battle drum. His face was flushed, fists clenched at his sides as he stood before me, radiating fury.

I remained seated, my expression calm, though inwardly I braced myself for the storm. His anger was justified; I had gone against his counsel, against the traditions he had ingrained in me since childhood. But there was no turning back now.

"You went to war without consulting the council, without consulting me," he continued, his voice shaking with disbelief. "Have you lost your mind, boy? The Jung Dynasty is not some insignificant threat you can brush aside with a flick of your wrist!"

I met his gaze, unwavering. "I did what had to be done."

"Had to be done?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "You don't get to make that call alone, Jungkook! This is not how we lead. This is not how I raised you to lead!"

I stood slowly, the weight of the throne pressing against me as I rose. "With respect, Father, I am the king now. And a king must act when the moment demands it." My voice remained steady, but the tension was palpable between us, like a taut string threatening to snap.

"Act?" His eyes flared, and he stepped closer. "Or reckless? There is no valor in unnecessary bloodshed. You've jeopardized everything we've built—our alliances, our stability—all for what? Some personal vendetta?"

I exhaled slowly, feeling the burn of his words. He was right, in some ways. But this wasn't just about pride or recklessness. I had made a decision for the future of our empire, for the future I envisioned. One that didn't wait on the whims of ancient protocols.

"I'm not asking for your approval, Father," I said, quieter this time but no less firm. "I'm asking for your trust."

His silence weighed heavily, the echo of his anger lingering in the room. He stared at me, searching my face for something—remorse, uncertainty, doubt. But there was none. Not anymore.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Jungkook," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And I hope, for your sake and the sake of this empire, that you know what you're doing."

With that, he turned on his heel and left, the sound of his retreating footsteps reverberating long after the doors closed behind him.

I stood there, staring at the spot where he'd been, the tension in the air still thick. I wasn't sure if I'd won anything in that exchange—or if I had lost more than I realized. But what was done, was done.

The heavy silence of the throne room lingered long after my father stormed out, his angry words still echoing in my mind. I could feel the weight of his disappointment, the sharp sting of his accusations ringing in my ears like the clash of swords. My hands were clenched tight, the tension coiled deep in my muscles, as if bracing for a blow that had yet to land.

I had expected his anger. I had known he wouldn't understand. But still, facing it head-on left a hollow ache in my chest.

Before I could dwell too long in the rising tide of doubt, a gentle, familiar touch rested on my shoulder, grounding me. My mother. I knew without even turning—her presence was a steady warmth, like a candle's glow in the dark.

She didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, her hand a calming weight, letting the silence between us stretch. It wasn't uncomfortable. It never was with her. It was her way of telling me that she was there without needing to say it out loud.

"I trust you, my son," she finally said, her voice soft but filled with certainty.

I turned, meeting her gaze. Those eyes, wise and full of love, had seen me through every moment of triumph and failure. They saw right through me now, past the stoic mask I wore for everyone else.

"I believe you know what you're doing," she continued, her hand gentle yet firm, like an anchor keeping me from drifting into the chaos around me. "And whatever your reasons are, I know you've thought them through. You wouldn't make this decision lightly."

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. The weight of everything I had been holding inside—the pressure of the empire, the judgment of my father, the decisions that had to be made—all seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. Her faith in me was unshakable, and that was something I could rely on when everything else felt uncertain.

"I just hope," I said, my voice quieter than before, "that I haven't gone too far this time."

She gave a soft, knowing smile, the kind that always managed to soothe the deepest fears. "You've carried this empire on your shoulders, Jungkook. Every step you've taken has been with its future in mind. You may think you're alone in this, but you're not. You've made hard choices before, and they've been for the good of this empire. This is no different."

Her words settled over me like a cloak of protection, warding off the doubt that had been gnawing at me since I made the decision. In the eyes of my father, I had made a reckless, impulsive choice, but my mother understood—she always did. She saw the bigger picture, the burden that came with ruling, and how much it weighed on me.

"I hope he sees it that way," I muttered, the tension still clinging to my voice.

She chuckled softly, the sound a low melody that reminded me of better days. "He will. In time. He loves this empire, but he's forgotten what it means to lead with the heart of a young king. You have that heart, and with it, the courage to make choices not everyone understands."

Her hand brushed against my cheek as she spoke, her touch so gentle that it nearly undid the stoic facade I had worked so hard to maintain. "You've always had a strength that goes beyond what others see. I see it, though. I always have."

Her words, so simple and yet so profound, washed over me, settling something deep inside. In her eyes, I wasn't just a king; I was still her son, someone she believed in, no matter what.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice rough with emotion I hadn't meant to show.

She smiled, the same warm, reassuring smile that had comforted me since I was a child. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You never have to thank me for believing in you, my son. It's my greatest joy."

I closed my eyes at her touch, letting the calm she brought ease the storm brewing inside me.

As she stood to leave, I found myself reaching out, catching her hand for just a moment longer. She squeezed it lightly, her gaze full of understanding, before turning to go.

"I'll always be here for you, Jungkook. No matter what," she said softly as she left, the warmth of her presence lingering even after the door quietly clicked shut behind her.

Alone again, I stood in the stillness of the room, the echoes of my father's anger now replaced with the quiet comfort of my mother's faith. In that moment, I knew—I wasn't lost. There was still a path forward, and I would walk it with the strength she saw in me, even when no one else did.

As the door closed behind my mother, I stood in the quiet, her words lingering like the warmth of a fading fire. Her faith in me had rekindled something, reminded me of the certainty I had once felt before the doubts crept in. I wasn't lost. I knew what I was doing.

I wasn't acting out of impulse or recklessness, no matter what my father thought. Every step I had taken, every decision made, had been calculated with the empire's future in mind. The war, the alliances, even the delay in my marriage—it all served a purpose.

I had seen the pieces on the board, and I had moved them carefully, knowing the weight of each choice. The empire was vast, and ruling it demanded more than just strength. It required foresight, the ability to think ten steps ahead, and the courage to make decisions that not everyone would understand. But I understood them. I understood the risks and the rewards.

And I knew I was doing the right thing.

I had to. There was no room for uncertainty now.

As I stood there in the stillness of my chambers, the flicker of torches casting shadows on the walls, my thoughts drifted toward her. Y/N. I hadn't seen her in days, not since the chaos had begun to unfold, but her absence weighed on me more heavily than I'd like to admit.

Before everything—before the war, the arguments, the unrest—she had been the one constant in this whirlwind of a life I led. Her fire, her wit, the way she challenged me in ways no one else dared. I needed to see her. Not just because of the bracelet or the tangled fate that had brought her here, but because I needed the clarity her presence often brought.

The thought of leaving without facing her gnawed at me. It felt unfinished, like an open wound that hadn't healed. I had to see her, if only for a moment, to remind myself of what I was fighting for. Not just the empire, not just power—but something deeper, something I hadn't fully grasped yet.

Before I rode into battle, before the chaos consumed everything, I needed to see her one last time.

I called for Chin Hae, my voice steady but edged with urgency. He appeared swiftly, bowing low before raising his gaze to meet mine.

"Find Y/N," I instructed, keeping my tone measured. "Tell her I've summoned her."

Chin Hae blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but he nodded without question. "Yes, Your Majesty."

As he turned to leave, I felt the weight of my decision settle within me. The need to see her before everything descended into chaos was undeniable. There was something unspoken between us, something I couldn't leave unresolved, not with the war looming on the horizon.

I turned away from the door as Chin Hae left, my mind racing. Would she come? Would she even want to see me after all that had happened?

I needed to know.

I paced the room, each step echoing against the stone floors as my thoughts churned. The memories of our last conversation replayed in my mind, the questions she had asked me still lingering like smoke. Do you believe in love? Her voice, so resolute yet fragile, had unsettled me in a way I couldn't fully understand. And now, with everything that lay ahead, I needed to see her—if only to clear the tension that gnawed at the space between us.

Moments stretched into what felt like hours, and the quiet around me only amplified my restlessness. I knew war demanded focus, but the thought of leaving without seeing her, without addressing whatever it was that had woven itself between us, gnawed at me more fiercely than any battle plan.

The minutes dragged on, stretching into what felt like an eternity. I stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the turmoil in my heart. Each tick of the clock echoed in my ears, amplifying my impatience. I wondered what Y/N would say when she arrived. Would she still be avoiding me, or had enough time passed for her to be willing to talk?

Chin Hae had been gone for what felt like forever, and with every passing moment, my thoughts spiraled deeper into uncertainty. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake off the tension. I had made a decision that could change everything, and I needed her to understand why I had done it. Why I felt compelled to act against the Jung dynasty. But first, I needed to see her face.

Chin Hae finally returned, his steps hesitant as he entered the room. The look on his face told me everything before he even spoke. "Your Majesty," he began, bowing slightly, "I informed her as you requested, but... she said she's busy."

I clenched my jaw, biting back the frustration that flared up within me. "Busy," I echoed, the word sounding hollow in my mouth. A pitiful excuse, one I had heard far too many times in the past few weeks. It was a weak attempt to distance herself, but I wasn't blind. Y/N was avoiding me again, just like before.

Chin Hae shifted uncomfortably, clearly sensing the tension in the air. "Shall I—"

"That will be all," I interrupted, waving him off before he could finish. He bowed again and quickly exited the room, leaving me alone with the weight of her refusal pressing down on me.

Busy. It was the same tired excuse, and yet it hit me harder than it should have. The time for excuses was over.

I watched Chin Hae's retreating form as the door creaked shut behind him, leaving the room in a heavy silence. I stood there, hands behind my back, feeling the weight of everything press down on me. The decision I had just made was monumental, one that would ripple through the kingdom, through lives, through the very fabric of my empire. War.

The word itself felt cold, detached, but the reality of it churned in my chest. The Jung Dynasty had been our rivals for generations, a thorn in our side. Yet, this was more than just duty to the crown or the empire—it felt personal now. The lines between honor, pride, and personal need blurred. The looming conflict wasn't just about power or land anymore; it was about something far deeper. I had made my choice, and now the consequences were set in motion.

I paced the length of the room, the sound of my boots echoing off the stone floor. My thoughts kept returning to Y/N, no matter how hard I tried to push them away. She had been avoiding me, making excuses, keeping herself distanced. Chin Hae had come back earlier with her usual excuse of being busy. Busy. It was a word that meant nothing yet spoke volumes. I clenched my fists at the thought. This war—this decision—was the right path for the kingdom, but why did her absence feel so unbearable, as though something essential was missing?

I forced myself to focus. "Prepare for war," I reminded myself, as if the repetition could make me forget her, the questions she raised in my mind. The army would be ready. They were always ready. My men were loyal, strong, and willing to follow me to the ends of the earth if needed.

Yet as I stood there, feeling the cool breeze filtering through the open window, I realized it wasn't just the kingdom I was trying to protect—it was something far more fragile. Something I hadn't named yet, something I didn't dare to fully acknowledge.

I stared out the window, watching the clouds churn like the thoughts in my head, heavy and restless. The castle felt suffocating, even with the open air seeping in from the cold breeze outside. It wasn't the walls around me that felt tight—it was everything else. The decisions, the people, the war brewing just on the horizon. It felt like the world itself was closing in, squeezing out any room for hesitation or weakness.

"Chin Hae," I called out, my voice firm but quieter than I intended, as if the weight of the moment pressed down even on the sound itself. In a matter of seconds, Chin Hae entered, his posture rigid, as always, ready to execute any order without question.

"Yes, Your Highness?" he replied, bowing deeply as he approached, waiting for my command.

I kept my gaze on the horizon, searching for something beyond the mountains, something that might ease the storm churning in my chest. But all I saw was grey—the promise of rain, the heaviness of war. There was no escape from what was coming.

"Inform the army to prepare," I ordered, my tone sharper this time, more resolute. "We leave within the hour."

Chin Hae's eyes flickered for the briefest second, maybe wondering if I'd call for Y/N again. But he quickly nodded, bowing again before retreating to carry out my command without delay. His footsteps echoed down the hall, the sound gradually fading into the vastness of the castle until I was left alone with nothing but the silence that clung to the air around me.

I stayed by the window, my thoughts drifting in places they shouldn't go. I had trained myself to focus on the mission, on the kingdom—on the things that mattered, the things that defined my place in this world. War had never unsettled me. I knew what it was, what it required of me, and I had always been ready to meet it head-on.

But this time... it felt different.

My mind wandered back to her—Y/N. She was like a thorn in my side, constantly defying me, always speaking her mind even when it was the last thing I wanted to hear. And yet, she was also a mystery that I couldn't quite unravel. The way she challenged me, her wit, her fire... how had she come to matter so much?

I gripped the windowsill, my fingers tightening as frustration surged through me. It was ridiculous. A king like me shouldn't be so distracted, so plagued by thoughts of a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with me. She hadn't even shown up when I called for her. Again. The excuse was the same as always—lame, transparent, like she wasn't even trying anymore.

But I couldn't deny the ache of her absence. It gnawed at me, leaving a hollow space where her presence used to fill. I had allowed her space, given her time to process whatever it was she needed to figure out. Yet now, on the cusp of something far bigger than either of us, I couldn't shake the feeling that I should have done more—said more—before it got to this point.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair, as if I could rid myself of the lingering thoughts of her. There was no time for this. War was upon us, and my people needed me strong, unshakable. I couldn't afford to let this obsession, whatever it was, distract me.

Yet despite my attempts to focus, every moment stretched into an eternity. Every minute that passed without her felt unbearable, a slow, maddening torment. I had always prided myself on my ability to control my thoughts, my emotions. But now... now it felt like she had found a way into my mind, a place I hadn't even allowed for myself.

If she wouldn't come to me, then I had to face this without her. My duty came first—always.

With a determined step, I turned away from the window, my decision clear. There would be no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. I had a war to lead, and I would do it with the same ruthlessness I had always employed.

But no matter how hard I tried, a part of me couldn't help but wonder what she would say if she knew what was coming. Would she even care? Would she finally look at me, not as the king, but as something... more?

I forced the thought out of my head, straightening my posture as I moved toward the door.

"Prepare for war," I whispered, as if speaking it aloud would silence everything else.