Jeon Jungkook had never cared about anyone.
People were chaotic, unpredictable, flawed. Even as a child, he had viewed the world with revulsion—a decaying, corrupted society in desperate need of dismantling and rebuilding. Order. Purity. Submission. That was what he hungered for.
Then he saw him.
It happened in middle school, a day like any other: crowded hallways, noisy chatter, heavy footsteps pounding the floor. Jungkook was there on his father’s orders, handling business, when something caught his attention.
A boy.
Blond hair. Slouched shoulders. Eyes wide with hope that seemed almost defiant, despite the ridicule and shoves from those around him. No heat, no rut—just a beta. Weak. Useless. And yet…
He smiled. Kept trying. A softness so subtle, so fragile, that the world failed to notice it. Jungkook had never seen anything so delicate, so breakable—and yet emanating a warmth that unsettled him.
And then the thought slithered into his mind.
He’s mine.
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