Chapter 5: Threads of Ash and Fire

Jungkook hadn’t opened the flower shop for two days.

The “Closed” sign dangled crookedly on the front door, swaying in the soft breeze. Inside, petals began to droop from neglect. But Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care. He sat in the back room, fingers trembling as they traced the rim of the wooden box where the black seed had once rested.

He couldn’t stop thinking about V.

The name echoed in his thoughts like a half-remembered song. V—who claimed to be a prince, who claimed Jungkook had once loved and betrayed him. Who appeared in dreams and moonlight and whispered secrets that tangled his mind.

Every time Jungkook shut his eyes, he saw flashes—flickering embers, gold-threaded robes, the feel of a hand against his jaw. A kiss stolen in shadows. A voice, broken and betrayed, calling his name.

But they weren’t his memories. Were they?

He shoved the box aside and stood, pacing. The rose in the garden had only grown darker, taller, its petals unfolding like it knew things it wouldn’t say aloud. It radiated the same strange warmth as V’s presence, and when Jungkook stood near it, the air shimmered faintly, like reality was bending.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just a flower.”

But even as he said it, the black rose trembled as if laughing.

That night, he didn’t sleep.

Instead, he wandered. First through the garden, then into the back shed where his grandmother kept her old things. Dust curled through moonbeams as he sifted through boxes. Something—instinct, maybe—told him answers were hidden here.

And he was right.

Tucked beneath a cracked photo album and a bundle of dried herbs was a leather-bound book, old and nearly falling apart. He pulled it free and blew off the dust. The cover had no title, only a symbol pressed into the leather—a rose wrapped in flames.

His heart skipped.

He opened it. Inside, handwritten entries in his grandmother’s neat script filled page after page. Some were notes about plants, others about rituals, dreams, warnings. But then, he found one that stopped him cold.

“The Devil’s Bloom is not a myth. I sealed him once. My soul was strong enough then. But the boy… Jungkook… he must never plant the seed. It will call to him, as it did to me. Only love can bind him, and only betrayal can break him. I fear he will remember too much—or too little.”

Jungkook’s blood turned to ice.

His grandmother had known.

The book slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a thud. He backed away, breathing hard.

The memories… they weren’t dreams. Not entirely. They were echoes—ghosts of a life he didn’t remember living. But if she had sealed V, that meant…

“Was I… her?” he whispered. “In another life?”

Before the thought could settle, the candles around the room flared to life—without matches, without wind. The air rippled.

And then he was there.

Leaning against the doorway like a shadow with a smirk.

“You’re remembering faster than I expected,” he said, eyes gleaming like garnets in the candlelight. “I’m almost impressed.”

Jungkook stumbled back. “How did you—?”

“You opened the book. That was enough.”

Jungkook pointed at him. “You knew about her. About my grandmother.”

“She was a vessel,” V said softly, stepping closer. “A piece of the soul that once was you. When you sealed me away, your soul splintered. It hid across time, trying to forget me. But souls don’t forget. Not truly.”

He stopped inches away, and Jungkook could feel the warmth radiating off him, like standing too close to a flame.

“You’re saying I was… her? That I sealed you away?”

“Yes.” His voice dropped, softer now. “You were terrified. Not of me—of yourself. Of how much you loved me. Of what we were becoming.”

Jungkook shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. If I loved you… why would I betray you?”

V’s expression changed—something sharp and wounded flickered behind his eyes. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” he murmured. “I’ve waited lifetimes for the answer.”

His fingers reached out, hesitated, then brushed Jungkook’s cheek.

It was gentle. Too gentle for a prince of darkness.

“I hated you,” V said. “At first. For what you did. For the fire. The pain. The silence. But now…”

“Now what?” Jungkook breathed.

“Now I’m not sure if I want to hurt you… or hold you.”

The words lodged in Jungkook’s chest. His skin burned under V’s touch, but his heart ached more.

“I don’t remember being yours,” he whispered. “But when you look at me like that… it feels real.”

V’s lips curved. “It is real. Just buried.”

He leaned in—too close, too intoxicating. “You can feel it, can’t you? That pull. That hunger. That ache.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. “What happens if I do remember?”

V didn’t answer. Not with words.

He kissed him.

It wasn’t violent or rushed. It was slow, devastating, like a forgotten song remembered on the wind. Jungkook’s breath caught, and for a moment, the world spun. Flames curled around them, dancing at the edges of reality.

And in his mind, a door cracked open.

A flash—Jungkook in golden robes, kneeling beside a man in chains. Tears. A promise. A curse whispered with love.

He gasped and shoved V back.

“I saw something,” he said. “It was real—wasn’t it?”

V’s eyes burned. “Yes. And there’s more. So much more.”

Jungkook’s pulse raced. “Why me? Why keep coming back?”

V stepped back, face unreadable now. “Because I still don’t know if I want you to love me again… or suffer like I did.”

Then, as always, he vanished.

Leaving Jungkook alone with the flickering candles, the book, and the weight of memories he didn’t yet understand.

But one thing was clear.

This wasn’t just a story of a flower and a devil prince.

It was the beginning of something ancient, buried deep in the soul, bound by love, and broken by betrayal.