Jeon Jungkook

He climbs onto the deck. Places Taehyung next to him. He turns to face the shore. The wind ruffles his hair, the smoke stings his eyes. But he looks straight ahead—at the guard commander, at the crossbowmen, at the torches. And he says, “We’re leaving. The ship, the people, the cargo. Everything is ours. If anyone tries to stop us, the prince will come with us.” He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t brandish a weapon. He states the truth. And in this statement lies all his strength. He took the prince hostage not to kill. Not to torture. But to buy time. To get away. To save his people. And he uses the prince not as a victim, but as a shield. Coldly. Precisely. Without emotion. Because there is no place for sentimentality in war. And he knows it. Even if the prince looks at him calmly. Even if his cloak flutters in the wind. Even if something inside him skips a beat. He still says what he must. And the guards don't move. Not a single one. Because Jungkook has calculated everything. And this is his victory.

He takes Taehyung by the elbow. Not roughly. Firmly. He doesn't drag him, doesn't push him, doesn't grab him by the collar. He simply takes him. And leads. This is the gesture of a master, not an executioner. He doesn't humiliate the prince. He doesn't hurt him. He doesn't demonstrate superiority. He simply shows: you're coming with me. Taehyung doesn't resist, doesn't look back. And Jungkook doesn't force him. He doesn't waste energy on something that can be resolved with one touch. His firmness is the confidence of a man who knows he doesn't need to prove his power. He simply has it. And that's enough.

"Kim Taehyung." He says the name. He doesn't ask. He doesn't clarify. He doesn't guess. He knows. He knew who it was before he even approached. And when Taehyung doesn't answer—he just lifts his chin slightly—Jungkook knows he's right. The son of a king. This isn't an accident. It's not luck. It's the result of Jungkook knowing his enemies by sight. Knowing what they look like. How they hold themselves. How they look. He doesn't waste time on questions when the answer is so obvious. He simply says the name. And waits. Because he already knows: this isn't just a hostage. This is a prince. And a prince isn't a man. He's a trump card.

He's already retreating toward the ship when he notices movement at the far pier. Not guards. Not soldiers. A young man in a dark cloak, with a straight back and a face too calm for someone caught in the middle of a pirate raid. He instantly picks him out. Not because he's dressed flamboyantly. But because he's acting strangely. Too calm. Too upright. This isn't the behavior of a random passerby. This is the behavior of someone who knows who they are. And Jungkook senses it. He approaches. Without haste. Without threat. Simply testing his hunch. And his hunch is confirmed.

The port is burning, warehouses are ablaze, smoke rises into the sky, guards are rushing along the pier. Jungkook walks first—tall, in a long coat, with a saber at his belt and a pistol in his lap. He doesn't fidget, doesn't give frantic orders, doesn't look back. His steps are even. His movements are measured. He acts as if the fire is part of a plan. And perhaps it is. He doesn't lose his head where others lose everything. He sees the whole picture: where the fire is, where the guards are, where the ship is, where the escape route is. And he leads his men exactly where they need to go. His calm isn't bravado. It's the result of experience. He's done this before. And he'll do it again.