Cold concrete bit into her raw, exposed skin.
Every breath felt like swallowing shards of broken glass, her ribs screaming in protest.
Blood, dried and sticky, glued her torn silk dress to her thighs, a brutal reminder of the endless hours she had spent in the dark cellar.
She had broken.
Agony had finally overridden her loyalty, and she had screamed the password to her father's private servers through her tears, yielding to her tormentor.
Guilt was a heavy, suffocating weight in her chest, far worse than any physical wound Jungkook had inflicted.
Her mind reeled with the horror of her betrayal, imagining her adoptive father's empire collapsing because she couldn't withstand the pain.
Footsteps echoed in the damp cellar, vibrating through the stone floor.
Metal scraped against metal as the heavy iron door swung open, casting a long, terrifying shadow across the room.
Squinting against the sudden influx of harsh yellow light, Tulin flinched, curling tighter into a ball of misery.
Jeon Jungkook stood in the doorway, a towering figure of pure, unadulterated malice.
Black leather gloves covered his hands, hiding the blood she knew was painted on his knuckles from the night before.
His expensive leather shoes clicked softly as he approached her crumpled form on the floor.
"Look at you," his voice drifted down, low and devoid of any human warmth.
"A broken little princess, lying in her own filth."
Tulin squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh tear cutting a clean path through the grime on her cheek.
Trembling, she waited for the heel of his boot to grind into her ribs again, braced for the inevitable pain.
Instead, cold hands gripped her waist.
Groaning, she tried to pull away, but her limbs lacked the strength to even twitch.
"Let me die," she whispered, the words scraping her raw, dry throat.
"You don't get to die until I say so," Jungkook growled near her ear, his breath hot against her freezing skin.
He lifted her easily, hoisting her battered body against his broad chest as if she weighed nothing at all.
Step by step, he carried her up the winding stone stairs, leaving the damp, suffocating darkness behind.
---
Bright light blinded her.
Warmth wrapped around her shivering frame, a stark contrast to the icy draft of the basement.
Blinking rapidly, Tulin realized she was no longer in the underworld.
Jungkook kicked a heavy mahogany door open, stepping into a room that looked like it belonged in a royal palace.
Plush cream-colored carpets sank beneath his boots.
A massive king-sized bed dominated the space, draped in pristine, shimmering white silk sheets.
Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering skyline of Seoul, high above the clouds.
Gently, almost reverently, he laid her down on the soft mattress.
She gasped at the sensation of the smooth silk against her torn skin.
It felt like a cruel joke, a beautiful illusion designed to mock her suffering.
"This is your new home," Jungkook murmured, standing over her and adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket.
Confusion swirled in her hazy mind, battling with a sudden, shameful sense of relief.
She was out of the dark.
She was away from the rats and the dripping water, and for a split second, a twisted knot of gratitude flared in her chest.
"You... you brought me here?" she rasped, her voice trembling.
"I need you alive to witness the end of your family," he replied coldly, his dark eyes scanning her battered face.
Turning on his heel, he walked toward the door.
"A maid will be up shortly to clean you. Eat what is brought to you, or I will make sure your next meal is served on the cellar floor again."
Heavy oak doors clicked shut, followed by the unmistakable, heavy thud of a deadbolt sliding into place.
Locked in this golden cage, she realized her nightmare had only changed its scenery.
---
Hours passed in a blur of exhaustion and agonizing pain.
A silent, terrified maid had bathed her, gently wiping away the blood and grime before dressing her in a clean, oversized white silk nightgown.
Now, Tulin sat curled on the edge of the massive bed, her knees pulled tight to her chest.
Every muscle in her body ached.
Her ribs throbbed with every shallow breath she took.
On the mahogany table near the window sat a silver tray, loaded with an impossibly lavish feast.
Steaming abalone porridge, roasted duck, delicate side dishes, and fresh fruits mockingly filled the air with their rich aromas.
Her stomach twisted in knots, empty but entirely repulsed.
How could she eat?
She had sold out her father, the man who had sheltered her, loved her, and called her his princess.
Images of her father's face, smiling as he handed her birthday gifts, flashed behind her eyelids, replaced instantly by the memory of Jungkook's cruel laughter.
Sorrow, thick and black, settled in her chest.
She would rather starve than accept anything from the monster who had shattered her life.
Keys jangled outside.
Lock turning, the door swung open, and Jungkook walked in, having changed into a casual black silk shirt with the top buttons undone.
He looked devastatingly handsome, a dark angel of death.
His gaze immediately locked onto the untouched silver tray.
A dangerous silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.
Tulin kept her eyes on her knees, refusing to look at him.
"I am not hungry," she muttered, her voice cracking.
Jungkook took another step toward her, his posture rigid and imposing.
"I did not ask if you were hungry," his voice dropped to a low, quiet register that made the hairs on her arms stand up.
Defiance flared in her chest, a sudden spark of her old life.
"I will not eat your food," she spat, her hands gripping the silk sheet beneath her.
Jungkook stopped right in front of her, his shadow swallowing her whole.
"Blood money?" He let out a dark, mocking chuckle.
"That food was bought with the very empire your adoptive father built on the corpses of innocent people."
"He is a good man!" she cried out, her voice cracking as she finally looked up, her eyes wide and wet with tears.
"He loved me! He protected me! You're the monster, not him!"
Rage flashed in Jungkook's dark eyes, hot and sudden.
In one swift, violent motion, he lunged forward.
With a roar of pure fury, he flipped the table.
Porcelain plates shattered against the wall and the floor.
Steaming porridge, dark sauces, and broken glass rained down onto the pristine white silk rug.
Tulin screamed, flinching back, covering her head with her hands as a piece of sharp ceramic sliced through the air, grazing her cheek.
"You think this is a game?" Jungkook snarled, grabbing her jaw in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at the devastation.
"Look at it!" he commanded, squeezing her face until her lips puckered.
Tulin sobbed, her hands gripping his wrists, trying in vain to pry his iron fingers off her jaw.
"Please..." she whimpered.
"You are nothing," Jungkook whispered, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.
He threw her back onto the bed.
She fell hard against the pillows, weeping uncontrollably, her body shaking.
Jungkook stood over her, his chest heaving as he stared down at the ruined white silk carpet, now stained with dark red sauce and broken porcelain.
"Clean this up," he ordered coldly, his voice returning to its normal, deadpan tone.
He turned toward the large mahogany desk near the corner of the room, looking for his keys.
Ignoring her cries, he grabbed his keys from the desk surface and strode toward the door.
He had kicked open one of the drawers of the desk in his blind rage, spilling several documents onto the floor.
"If there is a single speck of dirt left on this floor when I return, I will drag you back down to the cellar," he warned.
Tulin lay on the bed for a long time, her chest heaving with silent, painful sobs.
Slowly, driven by pure terror of the dark cellar, she dragged herself off the mattress.
Her bare feet touched the cold, wet carpet.
Red sauce smeared against her skin, looking terrifyingly like blood.
Shivering, she dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she began to pick up the larger pieces of broken porcelain.
Sharp edges bit into her fingertips, but she barely felt the physical pain anymore.
Her gaze drifted toward the mahogany desk where Jungkook had kicked open the bottom drawer.
Papers were scattered near the desk leg, mixed with some of the broken ceramic.
Something caught her eye.
Curiosity, mixed with a strange sense of dread, drew her closer.
She crawled across the ruined carpet, reaching out with a trembling, blood-stained hand.
She pulled the piece of paper free.
It was a photograph.
Staring back at her from the picture was a tiny, newborn baby wrapped in a hospital blanket.
On the back of the photo, written in faded black ink, was a name and a date.
Tulin gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
This was her.
Why did Jungkook have it?
A cold dread washed over her, freezing the air in her lungs as she stared at the bloody relic of her forgotten past.