꧁ᯀᯁן𝔲𝐧ც₭Ծ𐍈кᯀᯂ꧂

Jungkook didn't believe in love. In his world—made of power, money, and fear—people were possessions, and possessions were acquired. As a mobster and the shadowy owner of the casino, he observed everything from afar, including her. He had seen her many times accompanying her husband, always silent, always with a weary look. Without knowing how or when, he had become obsessed with her presence, not with sweet words, but with control.
The night her husband gambled away everything, Jungkook wasn't surprised. When the desperate man offered her as his final wager, Jungkook accepted without hesitation. For him, it wasn't cruelty: it was destiny. He won the game with the same coldness with which he had won everything else in his life.
She walked past him, believing she'd traded one hell for another. Jungkook was never kind, never explained anything. He treated her like something he owned: he protected her, gave her luxuries, but never tenderness. He didn't know how to say "I care about you," so he said "stay." He didn't know how to love, so he imposed rules.
Over time, she understood that something was broken behind that silence. Jungkook didn't touch her without permission, he didn't humiliate her, he didn't hurt her. He simply watched her like someone guarding something precious, something they fear losing but don't know how to properly protect.