The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the security monitors. Jungkook sat in the shadows, his gaze fixed on the faint glow of the screens, but his mind was elsewhere.
Memories crept in unbidden, pulling him back to a time he thought he'd buried.
It had been five years since he left the military, five years since that mission gone wrong. His team had been tasked with extracting a diplomat from hostile territory. Everything was planned down to the second, but plans meant nothing when betrayal was involved.
Jungkook could still hear the gunfire, the screams of his teammates. He had made it out alive, but barely. The scars on his body told one story, but the ones in his mind ran deeper.
"You'll never make it in civilian life," his commander had said. "Men like you aren't built for peace."
For a while, Jungkook had tried to prove him wrong. He had moved to a quiet town, taken odd jobs, and tried to forget. But the nightmares always found him. He couldn't escape the guilt, the faces of the people he couldn't save.
It wasn't long before he got his first call—private security for a CEO's family. It was supposed to be a simple job, a way to ease back into the world. But it had spiraled into one high-stakes assignment after another, each one pulling him deeper into the life he'd sworn to leave behind.
And now, Emi.
Jungkook shook his head, frustrated at how much she had already gotten under his skin. She wasn't the first spoiled rich kid he'd protected, but there was something about her—something that made it harder to keep his walls intact.
Maybe it was the way she challenged him, her fiery spirit refusing to be subdued. Or maybe it was the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. Whatever it was, Jungkook knew it was dangerous. Attachments always were.
The faint sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. He turned to see Emi standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice low.
She hesitated before stepping into the room. "I was just…checking if you're still awake."
Jungkook's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "I don't sleep much."
"Yeah, I can see that," she said, folding her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. "So, what's your deal, Jungkook? You're not just some random bodyguard. I can tell."
His smirk faded, replaced by the impenetrable mask he always wore. "My deal is keeping you safe. That's all you need to know."
She rolled her eyes, though there was no malice in it. "Right. Because being mysterious is part of the job description, I'm sure."
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "You should go back to bed, Miss Emi. Tomorrow won't be any easier than today."
For a moment, she didn't move. Then she sighed and turned to leave. "Fine. But you're not as unreadable as you think, you know."
He watched her disappear down the hallway, her words lingering in the air.
Maybe not, he thought. But for both of our sakes, I have to be.
Jungkook's Past and Emi's Persistence
The next morning, the house was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of staff going about their duties. Emi wandered into the living room, still groggy, and found Jungkook standing by the window, his silhouette framed by the morning light. His posture was rigid, his gaze distant, as if his mind was far from the present.
She hesitated before speaking. "Do you ever relax, or is being a statue part of the job description?"
Jungkook glanced at her, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Good morning to you too, Miss Emi."
"Cut the 'Miss Emi' thing, seriously," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's weird."
Ignoring her comment, Jungkook turned back to the window. His fingers flexed at his sides, a subtle tell that he wasn't as calm as he appeared.
"You know," Emi said, crossing her arms and leaning against the back of the couch, "for someone who's supposed to be protecting me, you don't share much about yourself. What's your deal? And don't give me the 'just doing my job' line again."
He sighed, his jaw tightening. "My deal is keeping you alive. Anything beyond that is irrelevant."
"God, you're like a broken record," Emi muttered. "Why can't you just—" She stopped, noticing the faint scars peeking out from under the cuff of his sleeve.
Her curiosity got the better of her. "What happened to your arm?" she asked, her voice softer now.
Jungkook stiffened, instinctively tugging his sleeve down. "Old injury."
"From what?" she pressed, stepping closer.
"From a life I don't talk about," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
But Emi wasn't one to back down. "You know, for someone who demands trust, you're pretty terrible at giving it."
Her words struck a nerve, though Jungkook's face remained stoic. Trust wasn't a luxury he could afford—not with her, not with anyone. But something about Emi's determination chipped at his defenses, and before he could stop himself, he spoke.
"I was in the military," he admitted quietly, his gaze fixed on the garden outside. "Special operations."
Emi blinked, surprised by the sudden revelation. "Oh."
Jungkook continued, his voice steady but distant. "It was…a different life. One where mistakes cost lives." He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "I made my share of mistakes."
She hesitated before speaking. "Is that why you left?"
He nodded, his jaw tightening. "I couldn't save everyone. And I couldn't keep living with that reality."
Emi stared at him, a mix of understanding and sympathy flickering in her eyes. "But you still chose this," she said softly. "Protecting people."
"Because it's the only thing I know how to do," Jungkook replied.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Emi stepped closer, her expression gentler than he'd ever seen it.
"Well," she said, her voice lightening to break the tension, "I guess it's a good thing you're stuck with me. At least I'll keep things interesting."
Jungkook glanced at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Interesting is one word for it."