A/n : 100+ comments for next part.

[JK's POV]

You’ve tormented your poor Kookoo long enough; it’s time I get a bit of revenge, my moon.

I couldn’t stop smiling. I had been so caught up in my emotions, in the fear of losing her, that I hadn’t seen the truth for what it was.

She wasn’t pulling away—she was pulling me in, trying to see if I’d follow.

And now that I knew the game, I was more than ready to play along.

A few minutes later, Y/n emerged from the fitting room, carrying a shopping bag with her clothes.

Her expression was one of mild confusion as she caught sight of my wide grin, probably wondering what had happened to the gloomy Jungkook she had left behind.

I could almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to figure out what had changed.

“Did you finalize your dress for the big day?” I asked, my tone syrupy sweet, placing a deliberate emphasis on big day. I could see her frown deepen, trying to decipher the sudden shift in my mood.

“Well, I asked you to pick something for me, didn’t I?” she replied, slightly wary. “I was just checking Hyunie’s options.”

I raised an eyebrow at the nickname, my smile widening as I caught the slight hesitation in her voice.

“Hyunie, huh?” I repeated, letting my voice rise just an octave, adding a playful edge that I knew would get under her skin.

She visibly shivered at the change in my tone, her nerves starting to show. I leaned in closer, bending down to her height level so that we were eye to eye. “But you never told me what kind of dress you’re searching for, my moon. What kind of dress are you looking for on the big day?”

She gulped, her bravado faltering as she stammered, “What do you m-mean by what kind of dress? A dress s-suitable for w-wedding…”

I couldn’t hold back the chuckle that rumbled in my chest, leaning even closer to her, our faces almost touching. “Yeah, a wedding dress. But for what exactly? The wedding? The reception? Bridal white? Or maybe you prefer something more colorful? Floral patterns? Something cute? Maybe mid-length? Or…”

I paused, letting the anticipation build as I watched her squirm, “…something like a maid of honor dress?”

Y/n’s eyes widened, the color draining from her face as she realized I was onto her little game.

She fumbled for a response, her voice barely above a whisper, “Why would I be thinking about a maid of honor dress?”

I hummed, pretending to think it over, watching her squirm a little more.

She was outright lying now, and she knew it. It was written all over her face.

"Cool,” I finally said, nodding as if I was in full agreement. “Now that you see my taste, my moon, I’ll make sure you shine brighter than the moon itself and put her to shame on the big day.”

Before she could react, I grabbed her hand, pulling her with me toward the racks of dresses.

Her hand was warm in mine, our fingers entwined, the connection between us as tangible as the fabric brushing against our skin as we moved.

We passed by Hyunsik, who gave us a quick look, his eyebrow raised slightly as he noticed the way I was holding Y/n’s hand.

I shot him a grin, something mischievous and a little possessive, before turning my attention back to Y/n, who was struggling to keep up with my pace.

“Kookoo, slow down!” she protested, trying to pull her hand free, but I tightened my grip, refusing to let go. “Where are we going?”

I ignored her question, instead focusing on the task at hand—choosing a dress.

I could feel her heart rate pick up through our joined hands, her breath coming in short bursts as she tried to keep up with my sudden energy.

We reached the section with more elaborate gowns, and I slowed down, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

“Alright, my moon,” I said, my voice softening as I turned to face her. “Let’s pick out the perfect dress for you. Something that’ll make everyone’s jaw drop when they see you.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Kookoo, I’m just—"

“Shh,” I interrupted, placing a finger against her lips, silencing her. “No more excuses. I want you to look your best, okay? Let me do this for you.”

[Y/n's POV]

I watched in a mix of disbelief and horror as Jungkook rummaged through the racks, pulling out one fully-blown bridal dress after another. Each dress was more extravagant than the last—lace, tulle, intricate beading, and long, flowing trains that seemed to stretch for miles.

And every time he picked one, he turned to me with that infuriatingly charming smile, giving the dress a brief look before dismissing it with a line like, “This one’s nice, but you’ll outshine it anyway,” or “This dress isn’t nearly as stunning as you’ll be.”

What the heck am I even supposed to do with these?

I internally groaned, my frustration mounting.

Is he seriously just okay with this?

Why isn’t he freaking out or showing some kind of emotion?

Does he really not feel anything? The thought made my stomach twist.

As Jungkook continued to pick out dress after dress, my mind spiraled further.

What if he really is happy that I’m getting married to someone else?

What if he came back after all these years just to see me off into the arms of another man?

My heart sank at the idea, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. No, that can’t be true.

I didn’t wait eight years for him to come back, only for him to happily want me to marry someone else. What the heck is going on?

Jungkook turned to me with another dress in hand, a playful smirk on his lips as he held it up for me to see. It was a beautiful lace gown, delicate and intricate, the kind of dress that would make any bride feel like a queen.

“How about this one, my moon?” he asked, his voice dropping to that low, raspy tone that always made my heart skip a beat. “Or should I call the real designer here to handcraft a dress just for you?”

“N-no, that’s not necessary. Just pick one, and I’ll try it on.” My voice sounded weak even to my own ears, the confidence I’d tried to muster completely gone.

Jungkook’s grin widened, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Uh-huh,” he hummed, as if he didn’t quite believe me.

I was still trying to gather my wits when Jungkook suddenly looked around the store, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted one of the saleswomen nearby.

With a quick motion, he signaled for her to approach Hyunsik, who was still busy looking through racks of his own.

The saleswoman complied immediately, moving over to engage Hyunsik in conversation, leaving us momentarily alone.

Before I could ask what he was up to, Jungkook grabbed my hand again, pulling me with him toward the fitting rooms at the back of the store.

“Kookoo, what are you—” I started, but he cut me off with that same mischievous grin, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Come on, my moon. Let’s get you into this dress,” he said, his tone playful yet somehow commanding.

I found myself being pushed into the small, enclosed space of the changing room, the lace dress in my arms as Jungkook closed the door behind us.

The room was tiny, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. I was suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. My heart raced, and I felt a rush of nerves that I hadn’t anticipated.

“Why are you in here?” I whisper-yelled, trying to keep my voice low in case anyone outside could hear us.

“You’re not supposed to—”

“To make sure you look perfect, of course,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning back against the door, effectively blocking any chance of escape.

His eyes were locked on mine, an intensity in them that made my breath hitch. “You entrusted me with this responsibility, didn’t you?”

I couldn’t believe what was happening. This was the same Jungkook who had been joking and laughing just moments ago, and now he was looking at me like… like this.

“Kookoo,” I stammered, trying to find my voice, “you can’t just—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice soft yet firm, placing a finger against my lips.

“We don’t want people to know we’re in here together, do we?”

“Then why are you even here?” I whispered back, my voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile tension in the air.

His smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek.

“I told you. To make sure you look perfect.” His hand moved to the back of my dress, fingers brushing lightly against the zipper as he continued, “Now, let’s get this dress on you, shall we?”

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest as I realized what he was about to do. “W-what?” I stuttered, my mind racing. “You can’t just—”

“You heard me,” he said calmly, his fingers already tugging at the zipper. “Strip.”

“Yah! You pervert!” I hissed, my face heating up even more as I tried to push him away, but he was unyielding, his body a solid wall between me and the door.

“Shh, darling,” he whispered again, his lips curving into that maddeningly confident smile as he cornered me against the wall.

The space was so tight that I could feel every breath he took, every movement he made. “I told you, we don’t want people to know what we’re doing in here, do we?”

My mind was spinning, torn between the urge to fight him off and the undeniable attraction that pulsed between us. “Kookoo, this isn’t—”

“This isn’t what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping even lower, more intimate, as his hand moved to cup my face, tilting my chin up so that I was forced to meet his gaze. “This isn’t what friends do?”

“You know, I was so disappointed,” he said softly, his fingers tracing the outline of the moon ring on my finger, “when I thought my eight-year-long wait had been in vain, that my moon had chosen a small asteroid while ignoring her sun.”

My heart stopped at his words, and I couldn’t stop the tears that pricked at the corners of my eyes. "These won't suit you now that you have chosen to wear a wedding gown for someone else, my moon."

How could he say things like that? How could he toy with me like this, when he knew how much I’d been hurting?

“It was a memento of our friendship,” I managed to choke out, clinging to the last bit of dignity I had left. “So why not?”

“Friendship, huh?” he murmured, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against my lips. “Well then, let your friend do you the honor of making you the most beautiful bride for your lover, hmm?”

I shivered as his hand moved to the back of my dress, pulling the zipper down slowly. The dress loosened around me, the fabric sliding down my body and pooling at my feet, leaving me standing there in nothing but my undergarments.

But Jungkook’s eyes never wavered—they stayed locked on mine, intense and unyielding, as if he was daring me to break first. He didn’t look down, didn’t even glance at the exposed skin.

His focus was entirely on me, and the connection between us was so palpable that I could hardly breathe.

He turned me around, guiding me to face the mirror, his hands moving to the laces of the new dress as he began to tie them.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from our reflection—him standing behind me, his expression unreadable, and me, trembling with a mix of fear, excitement, and something else I couldn’t quite name.

“Just friends don’t keep each other as their phone wallpaper,” he murmured, his hand doing up a lace of my dress.

“Especially not after years of abandonment.”

I winced at the word, my heart clenching at the reminder of the time we’d lost. His fingers moved to the ring on my finger, the one I hadn’t taken off in all these years, and he continued, “Just friends don’t wait with a simple ring for eight years, without even removing it once.”

He had noticed the marks under my finger, the kind of marks that only form when you've been wearing the jewellery for too long.

Jungkook's breath fanned across my neck as he gently brushed my hair aside, exposing the small, hidden tattoo behind my ear. The moment he saw it—a delicate ‘J’ inked into my skin—everything seemed to stop.

His hand moved to the tattoo behind my ear, the small ‘J’ that I’d had inked into my skin years ago. “You’ve had this for a long time, haven’t you?” he whispered, his lips so close that I could feel them ghosting over my skin.

“You know,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower, a seductive rumble that sent chills down my spine, “just friends don’t get tattoos for each other. Especially not where no one else can see.”

“Why did you get it, moon?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper now, but I could hear the edge of something deeper in it—something that made my heart race even more.

“Was it for me? Or were you just trying to remind yourself of something… someone you couldn’t let go of?”

I wanted to deny it, to push him away and tell him that it didn’t mean anything—but I couldn’t. The truth was right there, inked into my skin, a permanent reminder of the boy who had left but never really left me at all.

“Kookoo,” I managed to whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I was feeling, “I…”

“You what?” he murmured, his lips so close that they brushed my skin with every word. “You couldn’t forget me? You didn’t want to forget me?”

I was shaking, my body betraying me as I leaned into him, craving the warmth and the comfort he was offering, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice dark and full of something I couldn’t quite name. “Why did you do it? Why did you get my initial tattooed on your skin?”

Jungkook’s hand tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us.

I could feel every inch of him pressed against me, the hard lines of his body fitting perfectly against mine, and it took everything in me not to let out the breath I was holding.

“You didn’t just get this tattoo for a friend,” he murmured, his voice full of dark, seductive certainty. “You got it because you wanted to keep a part of me with you. Always.”

"Kookoo—", before I could even answer him, he simply put his finger on my lips, "Shh. I don't need answers, my moon. I'm content with your silence for now."

But before I could even process what he’d said, he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. “You still outshine the moon, you know?”

“But tell me… do you really want to be this beautiful for him? The guy who’s been here for the past eight years, just because he was here? You want to be this gorgeous for him?”

How did he always do this—how did he always manage to get under my skin with just a few words? I could feel his breath against my neck as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he spoke again.

“Not for the one who’s been dying to get a glimpse of you?” he whispered, his voice so close and intimate that it made my knees weak. “You’re going to be this heavenly for another guy who isn't even yours, rather belongs to..... Tzuyu."

The mention of Tzuyu’s name made my heart skip a beat.

He knew.

He had figured it out.

“You’re not doing this for him, are you?” he continued, his voice a soft, seductive murmur that sent chills down my spine. “You’re doing this for me. You want to make me jealous, don’t you?”

I was frozen, caught in the web he’d spun around me.

“Did you really think you could fool me, my moon?” he teased, his fingers tracing the bare skin at the back of my neck, right where my tattoo was.

“I’ve known you too long, Y/n. I know every little thing about you.”

My mouth felt dry, and I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. “Kookoo, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his fingers pressing gently against my lips. “Let me finish.”

He was relentless, his eyes never leaving mine as he continued his torment, his voice soft and hypnotic.

“You want me to see you in this dress and go crazy, don’t you? You want me to lose my mind thinking about how beautiful you are, knowing that you’re wearing it for someone else.”

“Kookoo, please,” I whispered, my voice cracking with the weight of everything I was trying to hold back.

But he didn’t relent. He stepped even closer, his body pressing against mine, the heat between us almost suffocating. “Please what?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“Please stop? Please keep going? What do you want, my little one?”

As Jungkook tightened his hold around me, his breath warm against my ear, a sharp knock on the changing room door startled us both.

"Excuse me, ma'am," came the voice of one of the saleswomen, her tone polite but laced with suspicion. "Is everything alright in there? I thought I heard a man's voice."

Shit.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. The last thing I needed was for this situation to escalate. I was mortified, a mixture of panic and embarrassment swirling in my chest.

What were we thinking?

How long had we been in here?

I quickly glanced at Jungkook, who just shrugged, clearly unbothered by the whole thing.

"Um, I'll be out in a moment," I called back, trying to sound as normal as possible. My voice wavered slightly, betraying my nerves. The saleswoman didn’t budge.

“I’ll wait here to make sure everything is okay,” she replied, her tone now more insistent.

I could feel the blood draining from my face. Why was she being so persistent? And why did she have to wait right outside? Couldn’t she just leave us alone?

Jungkook scoffed softly, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “Why are you even scared? Let her wait.”

“Shut up, Kookoo,” I whispered back urgently, my eyes narrowing at him. “It’s indecent for you to be here. We could get into real trouble.”

“Why would we?” he asked nonchalantly, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I rolled my eyes, my frustration growing. “What do you think? A couple caught together in the fitting room won't be embarassingly scandalous, huh? Your father owns this shop or something? That it won’t be a problem?” I snapped sarcastically, hoping to knock some sense into him.

"Wait, did you just say a couple? You consider us as a couple already, little one? Really?", his eyes were shining like stars like a 5 year old boy who just got super happy after getting his favourite candies!

I groaned, "Is that all you caught from what I said, huh? You didn't get anything from other words I spoke?"

Jungkook’s expression shifted slightly, as if he was trying to suppress a laugh. “Why would this outlet belong to my father when the whole mall is mine?” he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.

Instead, he yawned dramatically, as if the whole situation bored him, and then turned toward the door. “I don’t care,” he said simply before pushing the door open and stepping out.

My heart plummeted as I watched him exit the changing room. Oh god, this was going to be bad.

The saleswoman’s eyes widened in shock when she saw us together. She blinked a few times, clearly taken aback, and then her expression shifted to one of polite disapproval.

“Sir, ma’am,” she began, her voice tight and controlled, “this is a sophisticated establishment. What you’re doing is both unethical and cheap.”

I flinched at her words, my face flushing with embarrassment. I opened my mouth to apologize, but the woman cut me off before I could speak.

“Are you planning to buy anything or not?” she asked, her tone curt and dismissive, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down.

I hesitated, then shook my head, feeling even more mortified. “No,” I whispered, barely able to meet her gaze.

The saleswoman scoffed, her lip curling in disdain. “Of course not,” she muttered under her breath, loud enough for us to hear.

“Cheap people like you come to these high-end stores just to take pictures, but you two have taken it a step further. Using our fitting rooms for some… cheap whorish acts. Disgusting.”

My eyes widened in shock at her words. I gasped, not just because of what she said, but because I had no idea how Jungkook was going to react. My heart raced, and I silently prayed, 'Please, please don’t say anything, Kookoo. Please just let it go.'

But I knew better.

This is Jungkook.

He never let anything go.

Another saleswoman, who had apparently overheard the conversation, joined in. “What do you expect from people like them?” she sneered, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Coming in here pretending they belong, when all they’re here for is to act out their trashy fantasies. This is a place of business, not a cheap motel.”

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to will the situation away. 'This is it', I thought, my mind racing. 'This is the end. Jungkook’s going to lose it, and we’re going to get kicked out.'

I could feel the tension radiating from Jungkook as he stood next to me, his jaw clenched. He was holding back, I could tell, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the giggle that bubbled up in my chest.

'Why am I even laughing?', I thought, barely able to contain it.

This is going to be a disaster.

But the absurdity of the situation was too much.

How could these women think they could talk about Jungkook’s little one, his moon like that?

Tsk, tsk, tsk, I thought, shaking my head internally. Count your minutes, ladies.

Jungkook finally spoke, his voice dangerously calm. “You’re really testing my patience, aren’t you?” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

He reached for one of the gowns hanging on my arms and threw it over the first saleswoman’s head.

“Call your designer,” he ordered.

The saleswoman pulled the gown off her head, her expression a mix of shock and indignation. “Local designers aren’t around,” she snapped, “and it’s not like you can afford them either.”

Jungkook tsked, shaking his head slowly. “Who said I want any local designer?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “I want Vang Wera. Not some random nobody.”

The second saleswoman rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Look at him,” she scoffed, turning to her colleague. “He acts like a cheap thug but talks as if he’s a billionaire. Excuse me, mister, but Madam Wera doesn’t have time for guys like you.”

Jungkook’s expression darkened, but he managed to keep his cool. “Get her on the phone with me, now,” he demanded, his voice hard, “or…”

“Or what?” the first saleswoman shot back, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly unafraid.

Jungkook leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Or she can kiss this store and six others in Korea goodbye. Not to mention her home couture in London too.”

Both women burst into laughter, the sound echoing around the boutique. “And who exactly do you think you are?” the first saleswoman asked, sarcasm dripping from her words, "The owner of this shop?”

Jungkook looked at her incredulously, genuinely taken aback by her question.

“Why do you all think I’m just the owner of this shop when I own the whole mall?” he thought, more to himself than to her.

He sighed, clearly exasperated, “Some people are just too delusional.”

Ignoring their laughter, Jungkook fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. He put the call on speaker and held the phone out in front of him.

“Hello?” came a voice from the other end after two rings. “Mr. Jeon, I apologize for not answering immediately. I missed the first ring. How can I assist you today?”

The saleswomen froze, their laughter dying in their throats. The voice on the other end of the line continued, “I’m honored that you’ve chosen to call me. There must be something truly important.”

Jungkook bit back a laugh, his eyes flicking over to me. I stared at him in disbelief, my mind racing.

Is he really talking to Vang Wera?

I wondered, my heart pounding in my chest.

This can’t be real.

Is he lying?

Did he just get someone else to pretend to be her?

"Ms. Vang Wera," Jungkook's voice dripped with mock sweetness as he spoke into the phone, "I’m afraid I might have to shut down your store in Emporio Mall." He sighed dramatically, as if the mere thought pained him.

"The behavior of your staff has been nothing short of appalling. I simply can’t accept this kind of treatment toward customers in any establishment associated with me."

My jaw nearly hit the floor.

Shut down her store?

I thought, my mind reeling. He’s pretending to know Vang Wera and threatening to close her store?

Jungkook was taking this way too far. What the hell was he doing?

On the other end of the line, Vang Wera’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "Mr. Jeon, please accept my sincerest apologies. I had no idea you were being treated this way. I’m mortified, and I assure you this will be addressed immediately. If you’re still in Korea, I can personally attend to you if necessary."

Jungkook yawned, not bothering to hide his growing boredom with the conversation. He was so relaxed, so completely in control, as if the entire world was just a playground for him to manipulate.

"I don’t think you quite understand," he said slowly, his voice thick with condescension.

"Your staff’s behavior is beyond repair. I’ve already made up my mind. Your store will be shut down. Permanently."

Jungkook wasn’t just bluffing—he was serious. Deadly serious.

On the other end of the line, Vang Wera’s voice faltered, the fear unmistakable now. "Please, Mr. Jeon. I... I’ll do anything to make this right. Just tell me what you want."

Jungkook’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk as he glanced at the saleswomen, who were now visibly trembling. He took his time, savoring the moment, before finally speaking.

"You want to make it right?" he repeated, his voice laced with venom. "Fine. Here’s what you’re going to do: Fire Ms. Kang Aera and Ms. Lee Sora. Immediately."

Vang Wera’s voice rang out, sharp and decisive. "Consider it done, Mr. Jeon. They’re fired as of this moment."

The sheer ruthlessness of it all left me reeling. Jungkook had just ended these women’s careers with a single command, and he did it without a second thought.

The saleswomen, realizing the full extent of the nightmare they were in, tried to claw back some semblance of control.

One of them, her voice shaky but defiant, scoffed, "You really expect us to believe that was Vang Wera? We know your type—always faking it till you make it. How do we know you didn’t just get some cheap actress to mimic her voice?"

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with irritation, his patience wearing thin. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.

"You really think you’re in a position to question me?" he hissed, his tone suddenly deadly serious. "Check your emails, if you’re so eager to confirm your demise."

The sound of notifications pinging in unison was like the final toll of a bell, signaling their inevitable downfall.

"It’s... it’s a termination letter..." one of them whispered, her voice hollow. She looked up at Jungkook, terror etched across her face. "We’ve been fired..."

"No, please," she begged, her voice cracking. "We didn’t know you really knew Vang Wera! If we had known, we would have welcomed you into our shop respectfully! Please, give us another chance!"

Jungkook's expression shifted from casual to dangerously cold, his eyes narrowing into slits of icy disdain. He took a deliberate step forward, towering over the saleswomen, his presence suffocating.

“You think you'd welcome me?” His voice was a low, venomous whisper that sent chills down their spines.

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, then added with a biting edge, “In my own store?”

He let the silence stretch, watching their confused faces. His lips curled into a slow, mocking smile as he delivered the final blow, "Correction—my mall."

WHAT THE FUCK?

My jaws were literally on the floor.

"You really think you’re entitled to a second chance after insulting me in my own mall?" He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing darker. "No, I don’t think so."

He turned his back on them, dismissing their pleas as if they were nothing more than background noise.

Two of his butlers and bodyguards appeared as if summoned from thin air. They had been trailing him earlier, shadowing his every move like silent guardians. Now, they stood at attention, waiting for his command.

"Throw them out," Jungkook ordered, his voice devoid of emotion. "I don’t want to see their faces in my mall ever again."

The bodyguards didn’t hesitate. They moved with military precision, coordinating with the security team stationed at the entrance.

They were dragged out of the store, their cries growing fainter as they were escorted off the premises.

Jungkook didn’t even glance in their direction. He was done with them—completely and utterly done.

This was the absolute power that came with knowing you could destroy lives with a single word.

And Jungkook wielded that power like it was his birthright.

He was dangerous. He was powerful. And he was utterly, unapologetically ruthless.

I couldn’t find the words to respond, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.

Jungkook didn’t just own this store. He didn’t just own this mall. He owned the world he moved through.

---

[Jungkook's POV]

I turned to Y/n, my earlier coldness fading away as a grin spread across my face, replaced by a childlike amusement that I knew would confuse her.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the shift, and she gulped, her voice trembling when she finally asked, “Do you really own the mall?”

With a mischievous tilt of my head, I let out a soft chuckle, my tone light and teasing. “Do you remember?” I asked, my voice dipping into a nostalgic whisper.

“When you were 13, you told me you wanted a big mall, a luxurious one, like the one you showed me in Seoul. You said Busan didn’t have anything like it.”

Her face paled, the realization creeping in. I could see the gears turning in her head, trying to piece together what I was saying. Her voice was almost a whisper when she finally spoke. “You…you built this mall for me?”

I nodded, a swell of pride and love filling my chest. “You wanted a mall, and I thought, why just visit one when I could bring it to you? I wanted to make you happy, to give you everything you wished for."

Her mind was reeling; I could see it in the way her eyes flickered, trying to comprehend what I had done. She stammered, “But… how… how could you do this?”

I chuckled again, “Oh, come on, don’t play dumb. You know it."

Her eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, shaking her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. “I don’t know…”

Oh.

So, she really didn't?

My eyes sparkled with a mischievous light as my hand slipped behind her ear, brushing against the small ‘J’ tattooed there.

"Let me tell you then. I’m not just any rich kid, darling. I’m the owner, the operating CEO, and the chairman of JJ Group of Firms. And not to forget, I’m the grandson of British Royal Ms. Jeon William Charlotte."

Her face turned ghostly white. The impact of my words finally hit her. She looked at me, disbelief etched across her features. 'This is him…?' I could almost hear her thoughts.

"As in the Lady Highness Jeon William Charlotte? From the monarch family of Britain?", she asked.

I nodded.

However, my identity was least of my concerns right now.

I couldn’t resist the urge to tease her, leaning in closer, my voice dropping to a near whisper.

“I built this place for you, to fulfill your dream of visiting a luxurious mall, to make my little one happy. I wanted to do it in style back when we were 13, but I couldn’t… because I was taken away.”

I watched as her mind raced, her breath quickening, her eyes darting between me and the mall around us.

The look on her face was priceless. But now… I had to do it. I had to make this moment perfect.

Without a second thought, I went down on one knee, taking her hands in mine, looking up at her with an intensity that I knew would shake her to her core.

“My moon, my little one, my dearest…” My voice was laced with sincerity and possessiveness as I continued,

“Everything I am, everything that constitutes me, it’s all yours. I’m a slave of my heart that has yielded itself to you.”

Her eyes widened even more, her breath catching as she took in my words. I could see the emotions swirling in her eyes—confusion, disbelief, and something else, something deeper.

This was the moment I’d waited for, the moment where she’d finally understand that I wasn’t just a friend, wasn’t just someone from her past.

I was hers, and I always would be.