[Y/n's Home]

As Y/n was escorted back home, the events that had just transpired weighed heavily on her young heart.

The ride was silent, her tears still fresh, her body trembling with the overwhelming emotions of losing someone she had just begun to care about so deeply.

The car pulled up to her house, and the moment the door opened, she bolted out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran up the steps to her front door.

Her parents, who had been in the living room, heard the door burst open and rushed to see what was wrong.

“My darling, what happened?” her mother asked, her voice full of concern as she knelt down to her daughter’s level, cupping her tear-streaked face in her hands. “Why are you crying, sweetie?”

Y/n hiccuped, struggling to catch her breath as the sobs wracked her small frame.

“J-Jungkook… they took him away!” she finally managed to choke out, her voice full of pain and fear. “They came and took him, and I couldn’t do anything!”

Her father, who had been standing nearby, felt a pang of worry. Jungkook was more than just the boy next door; he was practically family.

He knelt beside his daughter, gently pulling her into his arms. “Who took him, Y/n? What happened?”

“Guards… They said his grandma wanted him back in London. They wouldn’t listen to him! They just took him away, and he was so scared…” Y/n buried her face in her father’s chest, her small hands clutching his shirt tightly as she cried.

Her mother exchanged a worried glance with her husband, her heart aching for their daughter. “We need to find out what’s going on,” she said softly, stroking Y/n’s hair in an attempt to comfort her.

“Let’s go next door and talk to Mirae. Maybe she knows something.”

With a nod, her father stood up, lifting Y/n into his arms as they made their way to the Jeon household.

There was no sign of Mirae in the house. As if she never existed there.

The staff member hesitated, glancing around as if unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Master Jungkook has been taken back to London on his grandmother’s orders. We don’t know much more than that.”

Y/n’s parents exchanged worried looks. “Is he okay?” her father pressed, his voice edged with anxiety.

The staff member offered a small, apologetic smile. “We believe so, sir. But we’re under strict instructions not to interfere. I’m sure he’ll be in good hands.”

But the words did little to comfort Y/n, who felt an emptiness in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.

[Jungkook's Focus]

At the airport, the atmosphere was tense. Jungkook, usually so composed, was in the middle of a full-blown tantrum.

The realization that his usual commands were falling on deaf ears was both humiliating and infuriating.

Every order he barked out, every demand to be let go, was met with indifference from the staff. He was no longer in control, and the reality of that stung deeply.

“Get me my grandmother on the phone, now!” he demanded, his voice rising in desperation as they escorted him toward the plane.

One of the guards, unfazed by the young master’s outburst, shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Master Jungkook. We’re under strict orders not to allow any communication until you’ve arrived in London.”

Jungkook clenched his fists, his heart racing with frustration and a deep sense of betrayal. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

He was the young master, the one everyone listened to, the one in charge.

But now, it seemed that his grandmother’s influence outweighed his own.

The plane that awaited him was larger than the one he usually flew in.



There was a bunny sign in the black jet at its entrance.

The symbol representing the ownership of Jeon Jungkook.

The plane belonged exclusively to him, yet it wasn't his exclusively. He felt trapped.

He had always wanted such big jets for himself, but he didn't want to be on one which took him away from his little one.

As he was forced onto the plane, none of his protests were acknowledged. The doors closed behind him, sealing him into the luxurious but suffocating space.

He was going back to London, back to the life he had left behind, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The flight was long, but Jungkook barely noticed the passing time. His mind was filled with thoughts of Y/n, of the promises he had made to her, and of the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that now consumed him.

When the plane finally touched down on the runway of his family’s ancestral chateau, Jungkook felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. The last time he had been here, he had been much younger, much more naive.

As he descended the steps of the plane, the first thing he noticed was the imposing figure waiting for him.

His grandmother, Ms. Jeon-William Charlotte, stood at the base of the stairs, her presence commanding and regal.

She was the epitome of British aristocracy, her gaze sharp, and every bit of her oozed royalty.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding as he met her gaze.

She was a woman of elegance and authority, a force to be reckoned with, and as much as he wanted to defy her, a part of him couldn’t help but feel intimidated.

“Ah, Jungkook,” she said, her voice laced with a thick British accent, her tone both welcoming and cold. “Welcome ‘ome, my baby.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” he said, his voice barely concealing the anger and frustration he felt.

Charlotte arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, her lips curling into a small, condescending smile. “I could tell from tha way you grunted on your way down. So very… unclassy. You’ve certainly picked up a lot from yer mother’s side of tha family.” She paused, letting the insult hang in the air.

“But we’ll work on that.”

Her words stung, and Jungkook felt his cheeks burn with a mix of shame and anger.

His grandmother had always been critical of his mother’s Korean heritage, and by extension, Jungkook himself. She had high expectations for him, expectations.

Expectation of being a proper British aristocrat.

A true Royal.

Exactly what his identity is.

She stepped forward, placing a hand on his head in a gesture that was both affectionate and condescending.

“Welcome to yer home, baby. Château de la Lune missed you,” she said, her tone softening slightly.

“It’s time ye remembered where ye truly belong.”



Jungkook didn’t respond. He didn’t trust himself to speak without saying something he might regret.

Instead, he allowed himself to be led away from the runway, his grandmother’s presence overwhelming as they walked toward the waiting Rolls-Royce Phantom.



The car was a sight to behold, its sleek black exterior gleaming in the late afternoon sun. It was a classic, an embodiment of luxury and history.

The kind of car that turned heads, even in the company of other luxury vehicles.

Charlotte ran her hand along the car’s polished surface with a hint of nostalgia. “This was yer father’s favorite, ye know,” she said, her voice almost wistful.

“I thought it only fittin’ to have it out of the garage to welcome ye back.”

Her British accent was full on display.

Jungkook remained silent, his gaze fixed on the car.

They climbed into the backseat, the interior as luxurious as the exterior, with leather seats and wood paneling that spoke of wealth and refinement.

"Do sit up straight, Jungkook," she said, her voice lilting with that refined British accent that had always grated on his nerves.

"It’s quite unclassy to behave like a common ruffian. You are, after all, a royal by blood."

Jungkook let out a grunt, a dismissive sound that made her lips press together in a tight line. He couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care about any of this.

The car started smoothly, its powerful engine purring as it began the journey toward the main palace.

The car ride to the chateau was long, almost 2 kilometers, winding through perfectly manicured gardens that seemed to go on forever. Fountains sprung up at every turn, each one more elaborate than the last.

"Do you remember this fountain, Jungkook?" Charlotte asked, her voice carrying that hint of expectation, as if she assumed he’d forgotten.

"It was sculpted by Gian Lorenzo Bernini himself, a gift to your great- great- grandfather from the Pope. A masterpiece of the Renaissance, wouldn't you agree?"

Jungkook glanced out the window, his eyes landing on the fountain. He simply didn’t care.

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, turning his gaze away.

Lady Charlotte sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment. "How unbecoming," she murmured, more to herself than to him, though her voice carried the weight of judgment.

"Such a lack of appreciation for history... I daresay, you’ve been too long in Korea, where they’ve not the same culture of refinement."

They passed by another sculpture, this one towering over the garden path, a marble likeness of a victorious general, his sword raised triumphantly. Charlotte looked at it with pride.

"That was a gift from Napoleon Bonaparte himself," she said, a trace of a smile on her lips. "A token of goodwill when the French and English were on amicable terms."

Jungkook scoffed. "A hunk of rock. Who cares?"

Lady Charlotte felt like passing out.

Did her grandson really call that gift from Napolean itself...... A piece of rock?

"You will not speak so dismissively of your heritage," she said coldly. "This estate, this history, it is a part of you, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, biting back a sarcastic remark.

What did she expect?

That he’d suddenly start caring about statues and fountains just because they had some historical significance?

It all seemed so pointless to him, just another reminder of the life he never wanted.

The car finally pulled up to the entrance of the chateau, and even Jungkook had to admit, it was impressive.

The building loomed before them, its architecture a mirror image of the Palace of Versailles.



The chateau had been built in the 1640s, and the sheer size of it was overwhelming.

Forty bedrooms, five living rooms, and countless other rooms that he didn’t even want to think about.

"Your ancestors built this chateau," Charlotte said as they stepped out of the car, her voice filled with pride.

"The same architect who designed the Palace of Versailles was commissioned to create this masterpiece. It is a symbol of our family's legacy, a testament to our status."

"Forty bedrooms?" he sneered. "Seems like a waste. Who needs that many rooms?"

Charlotte’s expression didn’t falter, "A royal family, Jungkook. This is the residence of royalty, not some common household. You would do well to remember that."

They entered the grand hall, the ceiling towering above them, adorned with the intricate paintings of Michelangelo and Da Vinci, masterpieces that most people would never have the chance to see in person, let alone live with.

"Do you remember these?" Charlotte asked, her voice softer now, almost nostalgic.

"Your father would spend hours here, gazing at the ceiling, absorbing the beauty of these works of art. Real art, painted by the hands of the great masters."



Jungkook barely glanced up. "It’s just paint on a ceiling."

"How vulgar," she whispered, almost as if speaking to herself. "To be raised in such a manner, devoid of any sense of culture or respect for the arts... It’s a tragedy, truly."

Jungkook ignored her, walking through the hall with long strides, eager to get this over with.

They passed by a massive two-story library, its shelves lined with over 30,000 books, all of them ancient manuscripts, written long before the invention of the printing press.

"This is your inheritance, Jungkook," she said, her voice filled with a kind of reverence.

"Your father was a scholar, as was your grandfather. It is in your blood, my dear boy. You are destined for greatness."

Jungkook snorted. "Yeah, right. I’d rather burn it all down."

The words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn’t regret them. He wanted to hurt her, to lash out at this world that had been forced upon him.

"You have no idea what you are saying," she said softly. "But I will not give up on you, Jungkook. You may despise this place now, but one day, you will understand the value of your heritage."

Jungkook said nothing, just rolled his eyes and continued walking.

As they made their way through the chateau, they passed by more rooms, each one more extravagant than the last.

The furniture, too, was all gold leaf-plated, the kind of luxury that most people could only dream of.

"Gold everywhere," he muttered. "Doesn’t anyone here like anything else? Maybe wood? Something normal?"



Charlotte ignored his comment, Jungkook needed to be raised to a class, she believed.

They continued on, passing through more rooms, each one filled with more luxury than the last. Three floors of underground parking, filled with luxury versions of Rolls Royces, each one more pristine and valuable than the next. His father had loved collecting them, a hobby that Jungkook never understood.

"You will inherit all of this, Jungkook," Charlotte said, her voice softening. "This is your birthright. One day, it will all be yours."

Jungkook’s response was a sarcastic laugh. "Lucky me."

"You may scoff now, but mark my words, Jungkook. There will come a day when you realize the importance of all this. And when that day comes, you will be grateful."

Jungkook didn’t answer. He didn’t believe her. How could he? This world of wealth and power was nothing but a gilded cage, and he wanted no part of it.

---

The living room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire that sent shadows dancing across the gilded walls.

Charlotte, his grandmother, watched him from her seat, her eyes cold and calculating as she took in the sight of him.

“Sit,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment before complying, sinking into the plush armchair opposite her.

“I had hoped that Mirae would raise you with the love and dignity befitting your standards,” she began, her tone laced with disappointment. “But it seems she has instead let you grow into a… junglee animal.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at the insult. “Maybe if you’d been around instead of hiding in your castle, you’d know that I’m just fine the way I am,” he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlotte’s eyes flashed with anger, though she maintained her icy composure.

“That mouth of yours,” she said, her voice cutting like a blade, “is as foul as a roadside goon’s. You are a royal, Jungkook. It is high time you learn to behave like a royal.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, the sting of her words fueling the fire of his anger. But he knew better than to lash out now.

That would only give her more power over him.

A maid entered the room, carrying a sleek tablet, which she handed to Charlotte with a respectful bow.

Charlotte took it without a glance at the maid, her attention fully on Jungkook as she tapped on the screen.

“You will have a strict schedule from now on,” she said, her voice calm, almost too calm, as if she were discussing something as mundane as the weather.

“You will begin with speech lessons. Your vocabulary and manner of speaking are appalling, and I will not have my grandson sounding like a commoner.”

“You will also have culinary lessons,” she added with a hint of biting sarcasm. “To learn how to eat like a royal, instead of… whatever it is you’ve been doing. Your table manners are practically nonexistent, and that is unacceptable.”

“Horse riding lessons,” Charlotte went on, scrolling through the schedule with a flick of her finger. “You will learn multiple languages, and you will be home-schooled by the finest teachers, all of whom are directly from Oxford University. You will become the man you are meant to be, Jungkook. Whether you like it or not.”

Jungkook was burning inside, every word she said felt like a chain tightening around his neck, but he knew he had no choice.

He couldn’t fight her.

Not yet.

With a deep breath, he bowed his head slightly, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

“I understand. But I want a deal.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by his sudden change in demeanor. “A deal?”

“Yes,” Jungkook said, his voice firm. “I’ll do everything you ask. I’ll follow your schedule, take your lessons, and behave the way you want. But in exchange, you have to promise me something.”

Charlotte’s gaze narrowed. “And what, pray tell, is this promise?”

“You have to promise to fulfill one wish of mine in the future. Whatever I ask, no matter what it is.”, Jungkook asked.

Charlotte’s lips curled into a faint, amused smile. “You think there is something in this world that you have to ASK me to give you? Dont you know that I'll give you anything you want without you asking for it?”

Jungkook smirked, that same defiance sparking in his eyes. “I’m sure you can. But I want the promise. And I can assure you that it won’t be something you can’t give.”

Very well,” she said finally, her voice steady. “I promise to grant you this wish, whatever it may be, in the future. But remember, Jungkook, you belong to this family. Your loyalty lies here.”

Jungkook’s smirk widened, though he kept it hidden behind a mask of obedience. He had gotten exactly what he wanted. “Of course, Grandma,” he said, his voice smooth, almost mocking. “My loyalty is to the family.”

But in his mind, his thoughts were elsewhere.

'I’m coming to you, my little one. I’ll be back to you.', he thought.

“Before you go,” Charlotte said, her tone suddenly sharp again, “there is one more thing.”

Jungkook turned to face her, barely concealing his irritation. “What now?”

Charlotte’s gaze flicked over his clothes, her nose wrinkling in disdain. “Why are you dressed in those… cheap casuals?” she asked, her voice dripping with contempt.

“You should be in a three-piece suit, not this disgraceful attire. You look like a street urchin.”

Jungkook looked down at his outfit—just a simple hoodie and jeans—and felt a fresh wave of anger rise within him.

“This is what I’m comfortable in.”

“Comfort is a luxury, not a right,” Charlotte snapped. “You are a royal. You will dress like one.”

Jungkook bit back the retort that burned on his tongue. It was clear she wouldn’t understand, and frankly, he didn’t care to explain. Instead, he nodded curtly, his voice flat. “I’ll change.”

“See that you do,” Charlotte said, her tone dismissive. “You are excused.”

Jungkook walked away to his room, not bothering about anything except his little one.

Soon enough, he would have what he wanted. He would play the obedient grandson, the perfect royal, for now. But one day, that promise would be fulfilled.

And when it was, he would be free

.

Wait for me, my little one, he thought as he started to change into the three-piece suit that had been laid out for him.

"I’ll be back to you."