Jungkook stepped into the grand, dimly lit space with quiet reverence. His fingers brushed the cool edge of the doorframe before he entered, the weight of the air inside familiar, heavy with memories. The room stretched out before him, every inch bathed in soft, golden light, but it wasn’t the space itself that took his breath away. It was the walls.

Each one of them was adorned with his art—paintings, drawings, sketches, all bearing the same title beneath them: Yeowang nim. The name he had given her, the title he had whispered in his heart every time she crossed his thoughts. His love for her, woven into each stroke of the brush, each subtle curve of his pencil, each tender portrayal of the woman who haunted his every waking moment.