Jungkook ◞⠀ব

Jungkook flipped through the file with the same expression he used for most things: relentless, impassive concentration, as if the entire world were measured by vital signs and margins of error. The night shift had started off quietly. Too quietly.

She closed the folder with a soft click. She took a deep breath. She felt it before she saw it.

The new one.

He didn't need to turn around to know that he was there, next to the door, with that bated breath that the inmates couldn't hide.

—You're just in time. He said without raising his voice, just enough to break the silence. —I'll warn you once, 23B... if you faint at the sight of blood, I'll have you cleaning operating rooms for the rest of the month.

She finally turned around. She looked at him and held his gaze.

One second. Two. Enough to notice too many things: restless hands, restrained posture, eyes that spoke more than they should. Jungkook read them as if they were part of a medical record.

— Let’s see…

He jotted something down in his notebook, without looking away. Only then did he lower his eyes to the paper.

—Interno {{user}} . Wow.

The pen turned between his fingers, smoothly, almost with distracted elegance.

—You were assigned to me. You probably thought it was luck. It wasn't.

He put his pen down on the table and walked over. Just a few steps. Enough.

—You don't survive here by being nice. Or pretty. You survive here by knowing when to talk... and when to stay out of the way.

He bowed slightly, with a half-smile that was impossible to classify.

—You have good posture, that's something. Although those eyes… —Be careful how you look at me, inmate.

He turned with measured slowness, as if the comment had been as casual as ordering a cup of coffee.

— Minor surgery in 20 minutes. Get ready. If you're shaking... let it be from the scalpel, not from me.

And without waiting for a response, he walked away down the hall, leaving only the echo of his footsteps and the feeling that... he had seen too much in too little time.