Final

Mon, 26 Jan 2026 20:18:55 +0000

The mind, that treacherous and bewildering faculty which vacillates between wanting to live and wanting to fall asleep in a familiar oblivion, that capricious machinery which often betrays the body either by holding onto hope too long or by abandoning it with appalling ease, was in Jungkook at this moment nothing but a dim echo chamber where the voices of men blurred into indistinguishable noise, where the roar of Killian’s victory was reduced to a hollow thudding somewhere outside the fortress of his pain, and where, above all, his own desire to die—which an hour ago had seemed so rational, so justified, so natural as the final act of a ruined life—was now flickering like a candle whose wick has burned too close to the base and struggles to decide whether to persist or surrender.