"Mom, they won't come to harm us, right?" Jungkook asked, his wide eyes reflecting the sterile brightness of the London airport terminal. His small hand clutched tightly at his mother Han Mirae's coat, seeking comfort in her presence.

Mirae looked down at her five-year-old son, her heart aching at the fear etched on his young face.

She knelt down to his level, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "No, sweetheart, they won't. We're safe now," she assured him gently, her voice soothing like a lullaby.

"We're going far away from here, to a place where no one can hurt us."

Jungkook's brows furrowed as he absorbed her words, his mind trying to grasp the gravity of their situation. "Why didn't Dadda come to say goodbye?" he asked innocently, his voice tinged with confusion and a hint of betrayal.

Mirae's face tightened for a fleeting moment, a shadow passing over her features as she recalled the harrowing events that led to their hasty departure.

The memories were like ghosts, haunting her every thought, but she pushed them aside for Jungkook's sake.

"Dadda had to stay behind to take care of some things," she said, forcing a smile. "But he loves you very much, and he wants us to be safe."

Jungkook nodded slowly, accepting her explanation for now, though he didn't fully understand.

As they made their way through the terminal, Mirae held Jungkook's hand tightly, navigating the bustling crowd with a sense of urgency.

The announcement for their flight to Busan echoed through the speakers, and they quickened their pace, finally reaching the gate where a small, private plane awaited them.

Jungkook's eyes widened in curiosity as they approached the aircraft. "Mom, why are we taking a small plane? I wanted to go on a big one like those," he said, pointing to the massive Emirates planes lined up on the tarmac.

If only the little boy knew that the Emirates couldn't afford to be apt enough to the standards of the Jeons.

Mirae crouched down again, her heart swelling with a mix of sadness and determination.

"This plane is special, Jungkook. It's just for us," she explained, her voice tender. "See? It even has your name on it." She pointed to the side of the plane where "J-Jeon" was written in bold letters.

Jungkook puffed out his cheeks in mild disappointment. "But I wanted my name on a big plane," he mumbled, though his curiosity soon got the better of him.

Emirates? Nah. Plaster his name on top of it to satisfy the 5 year old.

He allowed his mother to lead him aboard the private jet, his eyes widening in awe at the luxurious interior.

The air hostess greeted them with a warm smile, her attention immediately focused on Jungkook. "Welcome aboard, Master Jungkook," she said, bending down to his level. "Would you like to see your seat?"

Jungkook nodded eagerly, his earlier disappointment forgotten as he followed the air hostess to a plush seat near the front of the plane.

"Well this plane is also okay because now I won't have to deal with other annoying passengers.", he said, marvelling at his very own private plane, which he wasn't even aware - belonged only to him.

Mirae watched from the back of the plane, her heart heavy with a mixture of relief and sorrow. She sighed softly, retreating to a seat further away to give Jungkook some space.

Despite the luxury around them, she knew the real cost of their escape, and it weighed heavily on her mind.

Jungkook, oblivious to his mother's inner turmoil, quickly grew accustomed to the pampering. He reveled in the attention from the air hostess, who catered to his every whim with a smile.

But when his request for a banana-flavored milkshake was met with an apologetic shake of the head, his mood shifted dramatically.

"I want my banana shake!" he demanded, his small fists clenching in frustration. The air hostess tried to explain that they didn't have that flavor on board, but Jungkook's face turned red with anger.

"No! I want it now!" he shouted, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He kicked his legs and thrashed in his seat, throwing a full-blown tantrum.

Mirae closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon the patience she knew she needed. She walked over and knelt beside her son, gently taking his hand in hers.

"Jungkook, listen to me," she said softly, her voice calm and steady. "I know you're upset, but we can't always get what we want. Sometimes we have to be patient."

Jungkook sniffled, looking up at his mother with tear-filled eyes. "But I want it," he insisted, his voice cracking.

Mirae wiped away his tears with a gentle touch. "I know, sweetheart. But we have so many other nice things here. How about we find something else you like? Maybe some juice or a snack?"

Jungkook, sensing his mother's reluctance, wiped away his tears and sat up straight. "Okay, Mom, I'll be good," he said, his voice dripping with false innocence.

His small hand reached out for hers, a gesture of reconciliation.

Mirae, taken aback by his sudden compliance, hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. She returned to her seat, a mixture of relief and suspicion in her eyes.

As soon as the door closed, Jungkook's demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed, and a determined look settled on his face.

He turned to the air hostess, his voice firm for a five-year-old. "Call Grandma," he demanded.

The air hostess was taken aback by the child's sudden change in tone. "But young master..." she began, her voice hesitant.

Jungkook's expression darkened, his small features hardening with determination. "If you don't let me call my grandma, I'll tell my mom you were mean to me," he threatened, his voice low and menacing for a child his age.

Because Jeon Jungkook knew very well that he can never be denied for anything.

Never.

As long as he has his grandma with him, there is nothing which can be denied to him. If he puts his hand on something, grandma Jeon ensures that it belongs to Jungkook.

The air hostess, not wanting to upset the child, picked up the phone and dialed the number.

Twenty minutes later, the plane began its descent. Jungkook smuggled knowing well that his plan worked.

His plan had worked flawlessly.

Mirae, startled by the sudden change in course, looked out the window with growing anxiety. As the plane touched down, she turned to the air hostess with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Why are we landing?" Mirae demanded, her voice tight with worry.

The air hostess swallowed nervously, glancing at Jungkook, who sat with a smug expression on his face. "We're making a brief stop in Berlin, Mrs. Jeon. There was... an urgent request."

Mirae's eyes widened as realization dawned. She turned to Jungkook, her heart sinking at the triumphant look on his face.

"Jungkook, what did you do?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly. "I asked Grandma for a banana shake. She said she'd get it for me."

His grandmother, ever the indulgent one, had intervened, and the plane had been diverted to Berlin for a brief stopover.

As the plane came to a stop, a staff member hurriedly boarded, carrying a silver tray with a perfectly blended banana milkshake.

He handed it to the air hostess, who in turn presented it to Jungkook with a forced smile.

"Here you go, Master Jungkook," she said, her voice shaky.

Jungkook took the shake, his face lighting up with satisfaction. "Thank you," he said, sipping it contentedly.

Mirae watched in disbelief, her mind swirling with fear and awe at the power her young son wielded.

She knew that this was just the beginning of her son's reign of terror. He was a tiny dictator, and she was his unwilling subject.

He was a child of immense privilege and influence, capable of bending the world to his will with a mere phone call.

--

The plane touched down in Busan, South Korea, and Jungkook was the first to unbuckle his seatbelt, eager to explore his new surroundings.

Mirae gathered their belongings with a weary sigh, casting a glance at her son, who seemed unbothered by everything going around him.

Their new home in Busan was modest compared to their previous residence in London, nestled in a quiet, unassuming neighborhood. Despite the lack of grandeur, Jungkook didn't complain.

He had gotten his banana milkshake, and for now, that was enough.

As they arrived at their new house, a fleet of house helps bustled around, unloading their luggage and setting up the home. Jungkook watched with mild curiosity as half of the staff focused on household chores while the rest attended to his personal needs.

His grandmother had ensured that Jungkook would want for nothing, even in this less opulent setting.

There was a personal butler, a bodyguard, a maid to cater to his whims, a laundry attendant, a fashion consultant, a food taster, a chauffeur, and a carrier for his belongings, among others.

Mirae could only sigh at the extravagance, feeling a mix of gratitude and exasperation.

While the staff busied themselves, Jungkook stood outside on the porch, surveying the unfamiliar neighborhood. His eyes lit up as an ice cream truck jingled down the street, stopping nearby.

He watched as children from the surrounding houses rushed out, forming a neat queue in front of the truck.

An old man, the ice cream vendor, stepped out with a warm smile, instructing the kids to line up properly.

Jungkook's interest piqued. He waddled over to the truck, his small feet carrying him with purpose.

He observed the children obediently waiting their turn, each receiving a chocolate treat from the kind vendor.

Jungkook decided he wanted that too.

Without a second thought, he bypassed the line and marched straight to the front, staring up at the old man with expectant eyes.

"I want an ice cream," Jungkook demanded, his voice authoritative despite his small stature.

The old man looked down at the new boy with a gentle smile. "Hello kiddo! Are you new around here?" he asked kindly.

Jungkook crossed his arms, his expression stern. "That's none of your business. Just give me the ice cream, take your money, and go. Don't waste my time."

A murmur rippled through the queue as the children exchanged surprised glances. The old man blinked, taken aback by the boy's rudeness.

"Now, now, young man," he said, still maintaining his composure. "You need to stand in line like everyone else. I'll make sure you get your ice cream, but you have to wait your turn."

Jungkook's brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I don't stand in lines," he retorted. "Just give me the ice cream."

Mr. Kim kept his smile, though his eyes narrowed slightly. "Young man, everyone waits their turn here. You need to show respect and follow the rules."

Jungkook crossed his arms defiantly, his expression stubborn. "I don't care about your rules. Just give me my ice cream now. Do you even know who I am?"

Before the old man could respond, a girl stepped out of the line, her eyes flashing with indignation.

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Jungkook. "Hey! Who do you think you are, talking to uncle like that?" she scolded boldly.

Jungkook scoffed, his eyes narrowing at the girl. "You don't know who I am," he said haughtily. "Just mind your own business."

The girl's cheeks flushed with anger. "I don't care who you are! You're being rude, and you need to apologize."

Jungkook crossed his arms defiantly. "Why should I? I get what I want."

The girl took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "Well, not today. You're not getting any ice cream if you don't wait in line like everyone else."

Jungkook smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And who's going to stop me? You?"

The girl's fists clenched at her sides. "Yeah, me! You're just a spoiled brat!"

Jungkook opened his mouth to retort, "You call me a spoiled brat you little-"

SPLASH!

Everyone around gasped as they saw the rude boy's face covered in chocolate icecream, the ice cream slowly melting and dripping down his chin.

"Serves you right! Now go, enjoy that ice cream on your face." the girl huffed, glaring at him with fierce determination.

A hush fell over the locality as the ice cream-covered Jungkook stood, mouth agape, his tiny tyrant heart momentarily stunned into silence.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as everyone waited to see what he would do next.

Jungkook's shock quickly turned to fury. He wiped the melting ice cream from his face and glared at the girl.

"How dare you!" he shouted. "Do you know who I am? I'll make sure you pay for this!"

The girl, undeterred, folded her arms and stared him down. "Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?" she challenged.

Jungkook clenched his fists, ready to retort with more scathing words, but before he could, the girl lifted her shoe and threw it at him.

The girl, a miniature spitfire, stood victorious, her chest puffed out like a proud peacock. Her shoe, a pink princess slipper, lay discarded on the grass.

Thankfully, he dodged just in time, the shoe missing him by inches.

"You little-you little-you threw your shoe at me!" he shrieked, his voice rising an octave with each word.

The girl, unfazed, crossed her arms and replied, with a level of maturity that belied her age, "Well, you deserved it. Who do you think you are, huh? The king of the park?"

Jungkook, incensed, launched into a tirade of insults, each one more creative than the last.

He called her everything from a "shoe-throwing maniac" to a "ice cream-wasting villain."

The girl, in turn, retorted with equal vigor, labeling him a "spoiled brat" and a "queue-jumper extraordinaire."

By now, the commotion had drawn the attention of a young couple, likely the girl's parents. They hurried over, their faces a mix of concern and bewilderment.

"What's going on here?" the father asked, looking between his daughter and Jungkook, who stood fuming with ice cream still smeared on his face.

"Mom, he called me a shoe-throwing maniac!" the girl exclaimed, her eyes wide with indignation.

Jungkook, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables, turned to the man and said, in a voice dripping with fake innocence, "Your daughter threw ice cream and a shoe at me!"

The mother turned to her daughter, raising an eyebrow. "Is this true?"

The girl looked up at her parents, her defiance wavering slightly. "He was being really rude, Mom. He wouldn't wait in line, and he was demanding ice cream."

The father sighed, kneeling down to his daughter's level. "You know better than to throw things at people, no matter how rude they are," he said gently.

"But Dad-" she began to protest, but he shook his head.

"No buts. You need to apologize."

The girl's shoulders slumped, but she nodded. She turned to Jungkook, her expression contrite. "I'm sorry for throwing ice cream at you," she said, though her tone still held a hint of defiance.

Jungkook glared at her, his pride stinging more than his face. "You should be," he muttered, wiping at the sticky mess on his cheeks.

The father stood and turned to Jungkook. "And you need to apologize for being rude to Mr. Kim and the other children."

Jungkook's eyes widened in disbelief. "Me? Apologize? Never!"

Mirae, having noticed the commotion from the house, hurried over just in time to hear Jungkook's defiant declaration. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression stern but gentle. "Jungkook, we don't behave that way," she said firmly. "Apologize now."

Jungkook looked up at his mother, his defiance wavering under her steady gaze. With a reluctant sigh, he mumbled, "I'm sorry for being rude."

The old ice cream vendor, Mr. Kim, smiled warmly. "That's better. Now, how about everyone gets back in line and we start fresh, hmm? The other ice creams would love to melt in your tummies instead of your faces kids!"

The children nodded, and even Jungkook found himself moving to the back of the queue, albeit grudgingly.

As the line reformed, the girl gave him a small, smug smile before turning back to her place.

--

Jungkook and the girl sat in the backyard of the Jeon household, both munching on their ice cream.

Their parents, Song Mirae and the girl's parents, Lee Haneul and Lee Minjun, were seated a little distance away, engaged in a somewhat tense conversation.

“We’re really sorry about our daughter’s behavior,” Haneul said, her expression apologetic. “She’s usually very polite.”

Mirae nodded, a small smile on her lips. “And I apologize for Jungkook. He can be quite...assertive. If there’s a commotion, you can usually count on him being involved.”

Minjun chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Kids will be kids. They’ll learn.”

Meanwhile, Jungkook and the girl were seated by the pool, far enough from their parents to feel a sense of freedom but close enough to overhear snippets of the conversation. Jungkook’s face still bore traces of the earlier ice cream incident, but his attention was more focused on the girl beside him.

“So, you threw ice cream at me,” Jungkook said, his tone half curious, half accusatory.

The girl shrugged, licking her ice cream. “You deserved it. You were being rude.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know who I am.”

“And you don’t know me,” she shot back, glaring at him.

'Does she have her name written on the bigger plane or what?', Jungkook thinks while scoffing.

Little doesbhe know that a few years from now, he will be the one writing her name on those big planes.

They both fell silent, eating their ice cream with a shared sense of stubbornness. Nearby, their parents continued their conversation.

“We’d love to have you and Jungkook over for dinner sometime,” Minjun suggested, his voice carrying over to the children.

The girl’s eyes narrowed at the invitation. “Dinner with him?” she muttered under her breath. “I’d rather eat dirt.”

Jungkook heard her and turned to face her, his eyebrows raised. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” she replied, a smirk playing on her lips. “I don’t want you at my house.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Like I want to be there. Your house is probably boring.”

“Better boring than having you there,” she retorted, her voice rising slightly.

“Kids, please,” Mirae interjected, glancing over at them. “Be nice to each other.”

The girl pouted, her cheeks puffing out in annoyance. Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk, feeling victorious. She noticed his smug expression and crossed her arms, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Hey, look up there!” she exclaimed, pointing at the sky.

Jungkook, startled and curious, looked up to where she was pointing. In that split second, she pushed him into the pool with all her might. There was a loud splash as Jungkook fell into the water, completely caught off guard.

He emerged from the pool, cheeks puffed out and face red with anger. “How dare you!” he sputtered, wiping water from his eyes. The girl was laughing so hard she could barely stand, holding her sides.

Seeing her laughter, Jungkook’s anger only intensified. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her leg, pulling her into the pool with him.

She screamed as she fell, the water splashing around them.

Both children resurfaced, their faces red with both embarrassment and anger. Their hair stuck out in all directions, making them look ridiculous.

They glared at each other, but the absurdity of the situation soon hit them.

The girl pointed at Jungkook’s hair, which was sticking up like a hedgehog’s spikes. “You look like a porcupine!”

Jungkook laughed, pointing back at her. “And you look like a wet cat!”

Ahem.

They both burst into laughter, the tension between them melting away. They started splashing water at each other playfully, their previous animosity forgotten.

“I’m sorry for being rude earlier,” Jungkook said, still giggling. “I guess I was just frustrated.”

The girl nodded, splashing water at him gently. “And I’m sorry for throwing ice cream at you. That was mean.”

They sat at the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water. Jungkook extended his hand, his expression sincere. “I’m Jungkook Jeon. Nice to meet you.”

The girl took his hand, shaking it firmly. “I’m Lee Y/n. Nice to meet you too.”

Y/n looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Can I call you Kookie? Like a cookie?”

Jungkook hummed, pretending to think deeply. “Only if you let me call you Little One.”

Y/n grinned. “Deal.”

“Okay,” Jungkook said, feeling a strange warmth in his chest.

"My little one."