Chapter Text
At ass o’ fucking clock in the early morning, Jackson finds himself carefully sneaking into Jungkook’s designated domain. The forest is quiet and damp with dew, but Jackson doesn’t have the time to savour nature at its most raw.
Not right now.
Not when there’s a strange crack forming in Jungkook’s many patterns.
Which may or may not be the answer to all their Jungkook-related problems… or the beginning of much worse ones.
Jackson’s trying to keep his positive spirit intact.
He finds the Alpha sitting cross-legged on the tatami, spine straight, shoulders pulled back, and eyes closed. His markings ripple under his skin, dark and ancient. Bare body built like a threat, cut for conquest.
A weapon given flesh.
And suddenly, Jackson’s positive spirit all but departs.
He exhales. It isn’t the first time he’s seen Jungkook in this state, primal and meditative, but it’s daunting every time. It solidifies everything terrifying, that the world survives on borrowed time, granted by Jungkook’s indifference.
“Do you want to die?” Four eyes open, gleaming scarlet, menacing in a way Jackson is used to. His voice is low and guttural, jaw stretched taut, as if Jackson had interrupted a slumbering God.
“I’ve come with an offering,” Jackson says as he would to a God.
Something like a smile crosses his face, a warning on its own. “You'd better hope it’s worth your life.”
Well, if it isn’t, Jackson is sure he’d know sooner rather than later. He’s not a survivalist, not by a long shot, so a quick and clean death would be a dream. Especially if Jungkook is doing the killing.
“I took the liberty.” Jackson lifts his chin towards Jungkook’s phone. It pings at the same time he lazily reaches for it.
Jackson waits impatiently for the surprise to kick in, but Jungkook’s face remains hard and impassive as he goes through the document. God forbid he ever give Jackson any sort of satisfaction for his hard work.
He had to go hand-to-mouth to break through the formidable firewall of the Sanctuary’s security system to obtain the file on one blonde Omega in a pink hanbok. These old-fashioned, traditional fuckers really didn’t play around with their impregnable safety measures.
“You noticed the imbalance,” Jungkook stands, almost amused as he closes the phone and pockets it.
“I noticed you.” Jackson raises his brows, lets the words settle.
Of course, he noticed.
Not the imbalance or whatever it is Jungkook’s implying, but the pause, the sheer delay in the bearings of a monster who is a whirlwind of blood and chaos, who never really stops, never really spares.
Of course, you notice when a curse’s eye lingers on a pretty little blessing.
“Who else?” Jungkook doesn’t deny it. Instead, he wants to know who else noticed.
Which is a pleasant surprise if there ever was one. Because if the boy has truly caught Jungkook’s attention, then there’s a chance this operation will bear fruit and not Jungkook’s wrath.
“Just me, probably.” He shrugs.
Jungkook robes himself, loose and open, and goes over to sprawl across the chaise by the window, soft sunlight pools around him like he’s resting on a throne stolen from the light.
It’s a stark contrast against everything he is.
Jackson can never get used to his twisted relationship with nature. He likes the sun, likes soaking it up with his eyes closed, but he looks far from human in his indulgence of it.
“Ask.” He says quietly, which is a small mercy because Jackson is dying to ask.
No. You don’t understand. His toes are curling with curiosity.
It’s not every day Jungkook wakes up and chooses to loiter in the sun and not soak in the blood of his foes.
So, Jackson asks the only question worth asking, and very carefully.
“Do you…want?” He lets his hesitance show, hoping it would earn mercy.
It earns a laugh with teeth. “Want? Heh,”
“I mean, he’s only the prettiest Omega I’ve ever seen.”
Which is the truest thing Jackson’s ever admitted to. He has eyes and a sudden epiphany about beauty that demands wars to be fought for it.
“Pretty?” Jungkook’s eyes snap open. Not four. Two. His tone borders on a scoff. “Pretty does not serve me.”
What’s beauty to a curse? Jackson wonders. It’s never come up before. It’s the only thing he doesn’t know about Jungkook, even though he’s known him the longest.
“Then what?”
Silence.
A bitter one.
Jungkook narrows his eyes like he’s thinking, his mouth downturns into a frown, an angry one at that. The gentle sun bearing down on him fails to soften him.
“I should have destroyed him,” Jungkook murmurs dangerously, more to himself than to Jackson. “Instead, he lingers like a poisonous vine.” His mouth curls into a sneer, like he’s disappointed.
Jackson almost huffs a gasp. That’s a first. Jungkook never second-guesses himself, and yet here he is, looking like the freaking air in the room has personally offended him.
“He’s pretty enough to.” Jackson attempts to reason.
“Get out.” Jungkook says flatly, like he’s done entertaining Jackson. His quota for tolerating the other Alpha is officially full.
But Jackson wouldn’t be Jackson without his desire to touch death and return unscathed.
“So, you’ll what? Kill his Alpha?” He ignores Jungkook’s dwindling patience and perseveres because he needs to know what this unexpected interest would cost.
Yoongi is probably going to murder him for putting such ideas in Jungkook’s head, but it’s a necessary evil.
Jungkook looks up, eyes gleaming ruby and murderous. Jackson should tuck tail, but it’s too late now.
“Maybe I’ll kill the boy.” Jungkook bares his teeth, those pearly canines that have torn out throats and eaten hearts. “Remove the root cause.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Easy.” The reaction comes swiftly because that’s not what Jackson had anticipated, though he should’ve. It’s fucking Jungkook they’re talking about. Never a dull fucking moment. “I’m out here on a limb for you, man!”
Jungkook stands, blocking the sun like the unnerving goliath he is. “Soon, you’ll have no limbs left, Jackson.” He says, like, that’s a completely casual thing to say to anybody, which it totally is for him. Doesn’t make it less unnerving, though. “Now, how about you do your goddamn job and keep that doctor and his lovesick patient off my trail.”
Jackson blinks. That’s….unexpected.
Massacre. Carnage. Chaos. This is the standard.
What Jungkook’s asking for is…space?
“Off your trail?” Jackson calls out as he watches him go. “Where are you going?”
Jungkook only offers him a sharpened grin. “I thought that part was clear.”
Oh, that can’t be good.
It’s only goddamn day two.
And Jungkook is going hunting.
X - X
It’s not so much a hunt as it is stalking.
Jungkook is careful and vows to be discreet. Still, he lets his presence linger, just to see. There’s much he wants to know, analyze, and confirm. His spirit all but soars, cursed energy, a giddy lull in the center of his chest.
This is as interesting as it is inconvenient.
Not only because it affects him, but because its ripple would determine whether this Sanctuary stands… or learns how easily it can fall.
The back of Luna Hwang’s neck must prickle with divine prognosis. The fifth-day mark looms closer, and Jungkook has an inkling: he will have his fill of blood.
The unremarkable, incomplete record of the Omega’s life in Jungkook’s inbox has opened his eyes to a potential mismanagement that Luna Hwang may or may not pay for with her life.
He knows Jackson believes unearthing that file was an act of salvation, that it would somehow spare everyone in its orbit.
Jungkook is ever-amused.
How noble of him.
In truth, all it’s truly done is decide who gets buried first.
It’s with that thought the Alpha walks and buries the fallen little wildflowers under his weight. They do not wither; they are crushed and turn to ash.
They’re in his way, after all. It cannot be helped.
He walks undetected, mostly because the more noble Omegas don’t linger around the land marked for orphans. There’s a protocol in place, Jungkook finds, a sort of barrier is drawn around the lesser manor where the Omegas reside - the orphaned ones, the lowest tier - and they are not permitted to cross the threshold until they’re given their duties for the day.
A cruel hierarchy.
Of course, they stratified them.
Small minds build small cages.
There’s nothing particularly wrong with it. Hierarchy is essential, but Jungkook has only contempt for people who pretend their system is sacred when it’s actually provincial.
The Sanctuary wears a mask of self-righteousness, hides behind their ugly humanity, and then calls Jungkook a monster.
Something ugly twists where his curse is gathered.
For a moment, he thinks if it’s worth it to wait, to give these hypocrites the mercy of five days. But then he spots a blonde head amongst the forming queue for breakfast, a sleepy little thing with a plate in his hand.
And there’s that stutter again, right where his curse is gathered.
The inconvenience of it all is jarring. Of the boy’s existence. Of the pause Jungkook has never felt before in his life.
He’s wearing a worn-out set of pink pajamas. A pink robe over it. Jungkook grimaces because that’s….a lot of color.
And then suddenly.
This is unbecoming of me.
It hits him, and it’s enraging.
Surely, he has better things to do than follow a bite-sized, mouthy Omega who is currently demanding to be served twice the standard amount of food because he skipped dinner.
He must’ve scrubbed the walls all night. The thought comes to him unbidden.
And oh, this is war.
This is wrong.
Jungkook has half a mind to turn away and leave. Let the imbalance persist. Let it remain a mystery.
But that’s not him.
No.
He would not be unsettled by a tiny thing he can so easily kill. Eat, even. Supple flesh and youthful bones.
So, he follows him, watches the boy walk to the very edge of the pulsing barrier, only to sit down in the dirt to share his food with a lion cub, a fox, and, surprisingly, a cat that’s most likely drifted to the woods from the city.
It’s strange. Almost magnetic.
Irritating.
He eats from the same plate as them, talks to them like they’re human, pets them without fear, like it’s a word foreign, like the lion, though a cub, would not tear him apart as its appetite grows.
Jungkook thinks it stupid.
Such gentleness in a world so hostile.
The call of his name takes them out of the moment.
Jimin.
Jungkook sees the widening panic in the boy’s eyes. He gathers his plate and, with a hushed promise to return with more food, shoos them away so they aren’t found and taken away.
He hurries inside, passes the bend of the barrier where Jungkook’s standing under the shadow of the tree. Close enough for him to have noticed a domineering silhouette. Close enough that Jungkook got a whiff of his scent. Not in its entirety. The moment slipped way too quickly.
A soft flare.
Young. Untrained. Steady.
Jungkook feels it then. Not desire. A subtle recognition.
An Omega who hasn’t yet learned fear.
A rarity that’s either protected, powerful, or doomed.
And Jungkook knows doom like the back of his hand.
He knows never to let it go to waste.
X - X
The hunt continues well into the late evening.
Jungkook shadows the boy like a ghost, cursed energy surprisingly still nestled at the center of his chest and not spilling at the seams, demanding blood and bone.
The imbalance is softer now, tolerable as he circles the far east infirmary where the Omega is posted for the day. It’s a rundown facility for the old and sick.
Jungkook keeps his distance. Not because he fears being found - that would be more unbecoming of him than he’s already unbecome today - but because he simply wants to see.
And he sees plenty.
All things insignificant at first.
The dying heat of the day. The scent of disinfectant oozing out of the building. A glimpse of the boy here and there in his nurse's apron, hard at work. The faint sound of his voice, of his laughter, of overlapping chatter that mentions his name with another.
Of course.
He’s betrothed.
The thought is indifferent, but the opportunity to prove otherwise presents itself.
An eager Omega drags the boy outside into the overgrown yard, freeing him from the apron, smoothing her hands down his hanbok, as if to make him look presentable.
The boy stands with a pout, confused as she tucks a blonde strand behind his reddened ear. “Your Alpha is coming!” She exclaims, and Jungkook sees the boy’s face drop.
“No.” He frowns.
“Yes!” She squeals. Others join her. Jungkook wants to kill something because this insufferability feels second only to Jackson’s. “He wants to bring you home! Isn’t that so romantic?”
The boy makes a face.
A thin smile touches Jungkook’s lips.
He doesn’t want his betrothed.
“Make an excuse. Tell him…I’m - I’m…not here.” He begs his friends, but they force him ahead.
“Don’t play coy. He’ll wed you soon, what then?” One of them giggles.
“Better to get over the formalities before he takes you to bed.” The other preens and all Jungkook can think is: cleave.
His discomfort is physical enough to want to cut through the root of it. But he’s too deep in his observation to ruin the progress now. He needs to let it happen, and so he does.
The Alpha arrives, pompous and overbearing, right off the bat with a rowdy bunch at his back. Some idiot, disgrace of an heir from the Kim clan, who wants nothing more than an exotic bird on his arm.
Jungkook watches their interaction with something akin to tolerance, the type of patience that grows teeth. His curiosity has never before surpassed his bloodlust, and yet, here he stands in the shadow, like a predator biding his time.
The surprise isn’t just that Jungkook has it in himself to wait, to restrain his dark intent from spilling over into indulgence. It comes when he sees how blatantly the Omega’s cursed core rejects the lesser Alpha.
The boy whose core did not bend or spike in Jungkook’s presence, but rather aligned and adjusted to his frequency, is currently having trouble even breathing near his betrothed.
Jungkook blinks.
The realization tightens some invisible loose end in the very pit of his stomach.
That’s why it had felt wrong.
The stutter. The pause. The delay.
Jungkook thought that was imbalance. But it was resonance.
There’s a reason why the boy did not kneel, did not soften his cursed pressure, did not fear Jungkook properly, and despite the paradox, Jungkook’s power did not fight the Omega’s indifference; it did not overwhelm, it did not demand suppression from him.
And that’s something his curse has never allowed.
Against his better judgment, Jungkook’s brain reaches the only conclusion it can:
This is a compatible system.
Not love. Not desire.
Functionality.
This Omega is built to survive me.
Not soothe. Not soften.
Survive.
That’s rare enough to be worth blood.
X - X
The Omega stays in the infirmary well into the night, and so does Jungkook outside.
The boy had excused himself from the Alpha’s company in under ten minutes. He’d been polite but not apologetic; the lie had slipped out of his mouth with ease when the man had chivalrously offered to walk him home after his shift.
Some telling excuse entirely too made-up to be believable.
Jungkook had been too focused on the humiliating sensory rejection of the lesser Alpha to hear the spoken one. He already did not trust himself to not sever that pretentious bastard’s head from his shoulders on basic principle.
The night air is cool against his burning skin, the forest sings a familiar tune. His phone buzzes for the umpteenth time in the pocket of his kimono, but he ignores it. If Jackson knows better, which he does, he would not call Jungkook again.
He’s thinking.
Everything prompts him to.
Especially the boy.
There’s little else to consider except that Luna Hwang’s little system is corrupt and defective. An insult to hierarchy. Her tall tales do not help her cause. It is her weakness that has bred the mismanagement of this stature, just because the boy is an orphan and is therefore immediately deemed the lowest of the low and unfairly subjected to a clan-sanctioned, misaligned match.
Jungkook dislikes the incompetence of the powerful.
Either way, she has long sealed her fate and would bear the consequence.
For now, Jungkook redirects his focus to the Omega. There’s something he wants to test—the edge of the boy’s calm. Whatever this is, Jungkook wants it solidified.
So, he trails him openly, abandoning the pretense of concealment as he leaves the infirmary. He follows without stealth, presence heavy and unapologetic behind the Omega.
Being seen is the point.
And to his surprise, the boy turns to do just that - see him - eyes big with cautious curiosity and not fear. His small hands curl around the sash of his pink crossbody bag. At least, he’s forgone the pink hanbok today, Jungkook notices.
The air is thick with proximity and anticipation. Jungkook does not stop; he keeps his pace and walks right over to the boy. He looks up through his lashes, but has to lift his head to fully take in the tower that Jungkook is.
A beat passes.
The boy blinks and takes a step back. Testing.
Jungkook takes the opportunity and walks him back into the trunk of the nearest tree. He goes easily, doesn’t recoil. His knees don’t buckle under the weight of Jungkook’s curse. Instead, he meets the Alpha’s gaze with neither challenge nor submission, like one meets weather—aware of the storm, unafraid of rain.
He’s not rejecting me.
Jungkook observes.
And neither am I.
He leans close enough to steal a breath, searches for it on instinct, but finds nothing but the infirmary’s sterile rot, and the absence needles him. The Omega’s scent flickers at the edge of perception and vanishes, like it’s mocking him.
“You don’t hide well for someone who wants to be unseen.” The accusation is gentle, articulated without flinching, without being smothered with fear.
“I don’t hide. I wait.” Jungkook’s voice is rough from disuse. He hasn’t spoken to anyone since he began the hunt.
“For what?” The boy adjusts against the trunk calmly, not attempting to put distance between, but…settling.
He understands danger instinctively, Jungkook notes, and does not panic.
Notable.
Uncommon.
“For things to stop pretending they don’t notice me,” Jungkook says, studying him.
Up close, he sees too much, things he’d rather not. He’s still expecting fear, but all he gets is curiosity, stillness, an Omega stabilized under his cursed output, which is now a quiet hum under his skin, and not a nagging, spilling sea of violence capable of immobilizing infrastructures and reality.
Nothing breaks around them.
Nothing withers.
The wards don’t flicker. The talismans don’t hum their incessant tune. The barrier doesn’t threaten to fray.
It’s enraging.
This stable silence after years of loud static.
“You’re standing too close.” The Omega complains.
It’s intriguing.
“Then move.”
“No.” He declares stubbornly, unable to suppress the twitching corners of his pink mouth. Jungkook stays still. Waits for the boy to break under his gaze. “Staring contest?” The Omega raises his brows instead, eyes gleaming with mirth, and lips pursed into a suppressed chuckle.
Jungkook lets a faint smile surface — brief, like something just became worth keeping alive.
It’s impossible to ignore.
“You’d lose.” Jungkook blinks, and four eyes open.
The Omega’s lips part, and he lets out a soft gasp, breathing a warm puff against Jungkook’s skin. There it is, he thinks, fear, finally. But it’s just a smile, a wondrous little quirk of his mouth as he peers into Jungkook’s eyes.
“Pretty.” He murmurs, voice dense with awe.
Jungkook tilts his head, face twitching into a scowl. “Pretty?” He almost growls.
That subtle acceptance troubles him more than resistance ever could.
“Can you do that again?”
“No.” Jungkook’s reply is blunt.
It does not deter the Omega. “Pity,” He scrunches his nose, “If I had those eyes, I wouldn’t stop batting them to get what I want.”
It’s a strange admission. Jungkook is…confused.
“You’re not afraid of me.”
His pout deepens thoughtfully, thick and pink. What’s with him and that goddamn color? It’s everywhere. “Should I be?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if I’m not, then maybe I’m not supposed to be?” He raises his shoulders sheepishly, and it’s a… noteworthy point, Jungkook admits begrudgingly. “Do others fear you?”
“They’d be foolish not to.” He scoffs, a grin ghosts across his lips as he leans closer, almost unconsciously, as if to see if the boy would squirm, if he would stay, or if he would run.
He stays.
Of course.
Holds his ground steadily, even with a storm looming.
“Why are you stalking me?”
“Why are you letting me?”
The boy crosses his arms. It’s a tight fit with their proximity. Jungkook gives him room. Unconsciously. Like his discomfort is…an issue.
“It’s not like I can stop you.”
Heh.
That he can’t.
“You can’t.”
He lets out a defeated sigh and chews on his bottom lip, surveying the Alpha with narrowed, brown eyes. Jungkook’s four eyes follow the movement before he forcefully wrenches his gaze away.
“I’m already promised.”
“I know.”
The Omega blinks like that tidbit of information was supposed to dissuade Jungkook. “Will you continue stalking me anyway?”
“Your betrothal is of no consequence to me.”
“But it is to me.” He says quietly, uncrossing his arms to look down and fiddle with his sleeves. “If Luna Hwang finds out, I'll be punished for seducing an Alpha while in another's claim.”
Jungkook notes the echo of a prior disaster. He sees it in the guarded set of the boy’s shoulders, in the way he glances up at him. This caution is earned, inherited from memory.
Which is interesting.
“Who says I’m seduced by you?” Jungkook says lightly.
And he’s surprised to see it earns him relief. The Omega looks comforted, not offended. He does not rush to defend his allure; instead, he looks glad that the Alpha is not interested.
“Then I hope you’ll tell her that if she finds out.”
“I will.” Jungkook concedes earnestly, because there’s indeed much he needs to tell her.
The boy nods, tucking a blonde strand behind his ear. Awkward. Like the nearness is only now registering. There’s that wretched color again; it dusts his pale skin in a deeper shade now.
Almost scarlet.
Almost the color of Jungkook’s eyes.
“I have to go before they enforce the barrier. I really don’t wanna sleep in the tree again and then later be disciplined for it.” He quibbles, looking up expectantly as he alternates his gaze between two sets of very scarlet eyes.
Jungkook pulls away at last, leaving air where dominance had been. His eyes never leave the boy, who only moves his limbs after a steadying beat.
“Will you be stalking me home?”
It isn’t like he’s left any room for doubt, but the boy’s question is almost charming in its futility. Jungkook only gives a curt nod.
“I’ll lead the way.” He announces and starts walking ahead.
Jungkook follows at a distance, leaving the imbalance behind.
At some point, the Omega plucks a leaf, and Jungkook is again forced to realize how the plants no longer shrink in his path, how, for the first time in a long time, he isn’t walking in the ashes of the world, all because the boy walks with him.
Oblivious.
Untamed.
A presence that steadies something monstrous without even knowing.
Pathetic, to be affected at all.
Jungkook thinks at first.
But the idea doesn’t hold.
The thought fractures.
No.
Not pathetic.
Earned.
A being like him is entitled to endurance, and what endures him has earned its place in the world.
And perhaps in his life.