Here's the first chapter..
Hope you enjoy reading it.
Tell me in comment how was this jungkook?
Since the prologue crossed 100+ views and 20+ votes
The target for next chapter is 30+ votes and comments.
The canteen at Haneul University was loud in a careless way.
Metal trays slid across counters. Students shouted orders in bored voices. Steam rose from pots of soup, fogging the air with the smell of kimchi, oil, and rice that had been cooked too many times that day. It was the kind of place where people blended into noise—faces passing, laughter overlapping, nobody really looking at anyone else.
That was why the boy liked it.
When he stood in line, holding his phone in one hand and his worn wallet in the other, he felt invisible. Safe. Just another student waiting for food.
He ordered quietly, bowing his head out of habit.
“One bowl of doenjang-jjigae, please.”
The auntie behind the counter barely looked at him as she filled the bowl. He paid carefully, counting notes twice before handing them over. Every won mattered. His scholarship covered tuition, not hunger. He always chose the cheapest meal, always ate slowly, always planned.
As he waited for his tray, his thoughts drifted back to the morning.
To her.
The memory made his chest tighten. He hadn’t slept properly since yesterday, replaying the moment again and again—her surprised eyes, the laughter, the way the whole world seemed to tilt beneath his feet. He hadn’t known.
Truly.
If he had known who she belonged to, whose name followed her like a shadow, he would have never dared to even look at her.
But it was too late now.
He picked up his tray and turned around.
That was when he felt it.
The shift.
Noise didn’t stop, but something changed. Like the air had grown heavier. Like people nearby were suddenly paying attention without turning their heads.
He took two steps forward.
A shoulder slammed into him.
Hard.
The tray tilted. Soup sloshed dangerously close to the edge.
“Watch it,” someone said sharply.
The boy froze. “S-sorry,” he muttered automatically, bowing his head again.
Five boys stood in front of him, blocking the narrow path between tables.
They were loud without shouting. Confident without smiling.
Everyone in the university knew them.
His followers.
His shadow.
At the front stood Ryan—tall, sharp-eyed, always chewing gum like the world bored him. Beside him was Lucas, broad-shouldered with a lazy grin that never reached his eyes. Eiden leaned against a table, arms crossed, watching like this was entertainment. Noah and Mark stood slightly behind, laughing quietly among themselves.
Five against one.
Ryan looked down at the tray. “That smells cheap.”
Lucas laughed. “Figures.”
The boy’s fingers tightened around the edge of the tray. His heart began to race. “I—I was just passing through.”
Ryan stepped closer, invading his space. “Passing through where?”
The boy glanced around instinctively.
No one met his eyes.
Some students pretended to scroll on their phones. Others suddenly found their food very interesting. A few watched openly, curiosity lighting their faces, but none moved.
Fear crawled up his spine.
“I didn’t mean—” he began.
Lucas reached out and flicked the edge of the tray lightly.
Soup splashed onto the boy’s wrist.
He hissed in pain.
“Oh?” Lucas said. “Sensitive?”
Eiden chuckled. “Careful, hyung. He looks like he might cry.”
The boy shook his head quickly. “Please. I don’t want trouble.”
Ryan smiled slowly.
“That’s funny,” he said. “Because trouble already knows you.”
The boy swallowed. His mouth was dry now. “I don’t understand.”
Mark leaned forward, voice low and sharp. “Don’t play stupid.”
Noah laughed openly. “Yeah. You’re not that innocent.”
Ryan circled him slowly, like a predator enjoying the wait. “Do you know why we’re here?”
The boy shook his head, panic rising. “No.”
Ryan stopped in front of him again. “You talked to a girl.”
The boy’s stomach dropped.
“I—I just—”
Lucas cut him off. “You proposed to her.”
The word hit him like a slap.
Proposed.
So they knew.
His legs felt weak. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “If I had known—”
Ryan grabbed the front of his shirt suddenly and slammed him back against a pillar.
The tray fell.
Soup spilled across the floor, splashing onto his shoes.
The sound echoed too loudly.
Conversations around them faltered.
Ryan leaned in close, eyes cold. “That girl doesn’t belong to people like you.”
The boy’s breath came out shaky. “I’m sorry. I swear I won’t—”
Eiden pushed his shoulder. “Don’t swear. You’re not worth that.”
The boy stumbled, barely keeping his balance.
Lucas looked amused. “Do you know whose girlfriend she is?”
The boy hesitated.
He knew now.
Everyone did.
But hearing it aloud felt like a death sentence.
Ryan tilted his head mockingly. “Say it.”
The boy’s lips trembled. “ple—”
A fist slammed into the pillar beside his head.
He flinched violently.
Ryan’s voice dropped. “Careful.”
Silence wrapped around them.
Ryan straightened and glanced at his friends. “He says he didn’t know.”
Noah scoffed. “Liar.”
Mark shrugged. “Even if he didn’t, does it matter?”
Lucas grinned cruelly. “Rules are rules.”
The boy felt tears burn his eyes. “Please,” he said again, weaker this time. “Let me go. I’ll leave. I won’t come back to the canteen. I won’t even look—”
Ryan laughed.
“Let you go?” he repeated.
Lucas stepped closer. “We haven’t even started yet.”
The words sent a wave of pure terror through the boy’s body.
Eiden leaned down, speaking almost kindly. “You’re lucky, you know.”
The boy looked up at him, confused.
Eiden smiled thinly. “The one you messed with isn’t here yet.”
Ryan added casually, “If he were, you wouldn’t still be standing.”
Noah snickered. “He’d teach you a better lesson.”
The boy’s knees nearly buckled.
So this was just the beginning.
This wasn’t even punishment.
This was waiting.
His mind spiraled. He thought of his mother working late nights, of the tuition receipt folded carefully in his bag, of the tiny room he rented off-campus. He thought of how carefully he had lived, how quietly he had loved.
If he had known… if he had known whose world she belonged to…
He would have erased his own feelings before they ever reached his lips.
Ryan shoved him again.
“Why are you shaking?” Ryan asked mockingly. “Did fear finally reach your brain?”
“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered, tears slipping free now. “I didn’t know she was his. I swear.”
Lucas grabbed his collar. “That makes it worse.”
Mark laughed. “Yeah. Ignorance doesn’t save you here.”
Someone kicked his fallen tray aside.
Metal scraped loudly.
Students nearby shifted uncomfortably but stayed seated.
The boy felt completely alone.
Ryan leaned in one last time, voice calm, deadly. “Stand straight.”
The boy obeyed without thinking.
Ryan smirked. “Good. At least you learn fast.”
Behind him, Lucas cracked his knuckles.
And the bullying began again.
-
The canteen no longer felt like a canteen.
It was still crowded, still full of students, still noisy on the surface—but underneath, something ugly had settled into the air. The kind of tension that made shoulders stiffen and voices lower without anyone realizing why. The five boys circled the trembling figure near the pillar like they owned the space, and in truth, they did. No one questioned them. No one ever did. Haneul University had rules, but those rules bent easily when certain names were involved.
The poor boy stood there, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes darting around in helpless instinct. He searched faces desperately—any sign of mercy, any hint that someone might intervene—but what he saw instead was avoidance. Heads turning away. Friends pulling friends back into their seats. Even seniors who usually acted fearless suddenly remembered urgent phone calls or empty plates that needed clearing. Everyone knew what this meant. This wasn’t just bullying anymore. This was a prelude.
Then it happened.
The doors of the canteen opened.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
But the effect was immediate.
The noise dipped, as if someone had turned down the volume of the entire room. Conversations died mid-sentence. Laughter vanished. Even the Followers straightened instinctively, their casual cruelty tightening into alertness. A few students stood without realizing they had done so. Others froze with spoons halfway to their mouths.
He had arrived.
Jeon Jungkook
walked in like the space had been waiting for him.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t look around to assert dominance. He didn’t need to. His presence alone did the work for him. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black like he never needed to blend in, Jungkook moved with a calm that was far more terrifying than rage. His sleeves were rolled casually to his forearms, revealing veins and faint scars that whispered of past violence without explanation. His expression was unreadable—eyes dark, face composed, mouth set in a neutral line that never bothered with smiles.
People stepped aside without being asked.
Not because he demanded it.
Because instinct told them to.
Haneul University was not an ordinary institution. It was elite. Prestigious. The kind of university that made parents boast and students bow their heads with pride. Generations of politicians, CEOs, prosecutors, and chaebol heirs had walked its halls. Its connections ran deeper than textbooks—into courtrooms, boardrooms, and government buildings. Inside its walls, reputation mattered more than morality.
And Jungkook was woven into its foundation like a shadow.
Everyone knew his background. Or at least, everyone knew enough. His family name carried weight that silenced professors and softened administrative offices. Donations made quietly. Favors returned discreetly. Complaints erased before they ever reached paper. He was not just a student here—he was an unspoken authority. A reminder that power didn’t need permission.
Rumors followed him like smoke. Stories passed in whispers. Some said he had beaten a senior into transferring. Others said a professor once failed him and lost his position within a day. No one knew which stories were true.
No one dared to find out.
For the poor boy standing near the pillar, Jungkook felt unreal.
Like a final boss you weren’t meant to encounter.
His heart pounded so violently it hurt. His mouth went dry. His legs threatened to collapse. He had heard the name. Of course he had. Everyone had. But knowing a name and standing in front of the person were two very different things. This wasn’t just fear anymore—it was the crushing realization that he had crossed into a world that was never meant for people like him.
The devil would have been kinder, he thought dimly.
At least the devil punished openly.
Jungkook stopped a few steps away.
His Followers parted instantly, making space for him like disciples before a god. Ryan bowed his head slightly. Lucas smirked, energized now. Eiden straightened, satisfaction flickering across his face.
Jungkook’s gaze finally landed on the boy.
It was slow.
Cold.
Clinical.
Like he was assessing damage on an object.
“So,” Jungkook said quietly, his voice low but carrying effortlessly through the canteen. “This is him.”
The boy flinched at the sound alone.
Ryan nodded. “Yeah. The one who proposed.”
Jungkook tilted his head just slightly. “Proposed,” he repeated, as if tasting the word.
The boy opened his mouth, desperation pouring out of him. “I didn’t know—please—I swear I didn’t know she was—”
Jungkook raised a hand.
The boy fell silent instantly.
That single gesture held more authority than any shout.
Without warning, Jungkook grabbed the boy by the collar and slammed him back against the pillar.
The sound echoed.
Gasps rippled through the canteen.
The boy cried out, pain exploding through his back, his breath knocked out of him in a strangled gasp. Before he could recover, Jungkook’s fist connected with his stomach—hard, precise, practiced. The boy folded instantly, coughing, saliva spilling from his lips as his knees buckled.
Jungkook didn’t let him fall.
He held him upright like a lesson on display.
“This university,” Jungkook said calmly, “is not for people who don’t know their place.”
He shoved the boy down.
A foot pressed against his chest, pinning him to the floor. Jungkook looked down at him, expression unchanged.
“You thought you could look at what’s mine,” he continued. “You thought feelings gave you permission.”
The boy sobbed now, humiliation burning worse than pain. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll disappear. I’ll transfer. I’ll—”
Jungkook crouched slowly, lowering himself to eye level.
“Too late.”
He grabbed the boy’s hair and forced his face up.
“Do you know why people fear me?” Jungkook asked quietly. “It’s not because I’m violent.”
His grip tightened.
“It’s because I’m allowed to be.”
He released him abruptly.
Ryan and Lucas stepped in immediately, delivering kicks that sent the boy rolling across the floor. Jungkook watched without interference, arms resting loosely on his knees. Students stood frozen, some covering their mouths, others staring with morbid fascination. Phones stayed in pockets. No recordings. Everyone knew better.
The boy curled into himself, body shaking, mind breaking. In that moment, he understood the truth with brutal clarity—this wasn’t justice, or anger, or jealousy. This was dominance. This was what happened when someone like him dared to exist too loudly in a world ruled by elites.
The canteen had not recovered from the beating.
Even after Jungkook straightened, even after the Followers stepped back, even after the boy lay trembling on the floor like something already discarded, the air remained thick—heavy with dread, shame, and the unspoken rule that no one would interfere. The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, cruelly bright, illuminating every grain of rice stuck to the boy’s clothes, every tremor in his hands as he tried to push himself upright and failed.
Jungkook looked down at him once more.
Not with anger.
Not with satisfaction.
With boredom.
As if this alone was not enough.
He lifted his phone.
That single movement drew everyone’s attention sharper than any blow.
Students exchanged nervous glances. Some already knew what was coming. Others felt a pit open in their stomachs, sensing that the worst humiliation had not yet arrived. Violence could be survived. Bruises healed. But this—this was different.
Jungkook placed the call without stepping away.
“Come to the canteen,” he said calmly when the line connected. “Now.”
He ended the call before the other person could respond.
Ryan’s lips curled into a knowing smile. Lucas exhaled a low laugh. Eiden glanced down at the boy with something close to pity for the first time.
The boy heard it.
That call.
The final nail.
His chest tightened painfully. His vision blurred again, not from physical pain now, but from something heavier—anticipation, shame, the slow collapse of dignity. He knew who that call was for. The entire university knew.
The girl people whispered about. The girl whose name alone separated the powerful from the invisible. The most popular girl at Haneul University—not just because of beauty, but because of association. She was admired, envied, feared. Girls copied her hair, her walk, her expressions. Boys fought for her attention and destroyed each other over rumors of her smile.
And she was Jungkook’s.
Claimed.
Protected.
Untouchable.
The boy’s breath came in shallow gasps. He pressed his palms against the cold floor, trying to rise again, but his body betrayed him. He remained half-kneeling, half-collapsed, exactly where Jungkook had left him—low enough to look up, never high enough to stand equal.
Minutes passed.
Each second stretched like punishment.
Then the doors opened again.
This time, the reaction was different.
Whispers rippled instantly. Heads turned. A few girls straightened their posture unconsciously. Some boys lowered their gaze, others stared openly.
I she entered like she owned the space.
She wore confidence like a second skin. Perfect hair falling smoothly over her shoulders. Makeup flawless, not excessive—just enough to remind everyone she never tried too hard. Her expression was cool, bored, mildly curious, as if she had stepped into something beneath her concern.
Behind her walked her two closest friends—Lily and Ava—girls who mirrored her cruelty with eager loyalty. They laughed softly at nothing, eyes already scanning the room, feeding on the tension.
She is Iris
Iris Han
The girl belonged to none other than Jeon Jungkook.
Her gaze found Jungkook instantly.
Everything else blurred.
She smiled.
Not sweetly.
Proudly.
“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice clear, ringing through the silent canteen.
Jungkook turned toward her at once.
The shift was immediate. The same boy who had beaten someone without blinking softened only for her—not gentle, but attentive. Possessive.
He reached out, pulling her effortlessly against his side.
“Because someone forgot who you belong to,” he said calmly.
Iris’s eyes drifted downward.
They landed on the boy.
For a second, she frowned—as if trying to remember where she had seen him before. Then recognition flickered, followed by slow, deliberate disgust.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s him.”
Lily covered her mouth, laughing. “You’re kidding.”
Ava tilted her head. “This one?”
Iris stepped forward, heels clicking sharply against the floor. She stopped just short of the boy, looking down at him like he was something stuck to her shoe.
“This?” she asked Jungkook lightly. “This is who thought he had a chance?”
The boy’s lips trembled. Tears spilled freely now, unchecked. His chest hurt so badly it felt like it might tear open. He wanted to disappear—to sink into the floor, to stop existing, to wake up from this nightmare where everyone was watching him break.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered hoarsely, voice barely audible. “I swear.”
Iris laughed.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
“You didn’t know?” she repeated. “Then maybe you should learn to look before dreaming.”
Her friends laughed with her, sharp and cutting.
Jungkook watched the boy carefully now.
Watched him crumble.
“This is what happens,” Jungkook said calmly, loud enough for everyone to hear, “when people forget their place.”
He tightened his arm around Iris’s waist.
The boy’s heart shattered completely when Jungkook leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t shy.
It was deliberate.
Possessive.
Jungkook’s hand slid to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair as he pulled her closer, kissing her deeply in front of everyone—claiming her, marking territory without saying a word. Iris melted into it willingly, her hands gripping his jacket, her body relaxed, unashamed.
Gasps echoed softly.
Some students looked away.
Others stared, frozen.
The boy sobbed openly now, humiliation burning through him like acid. Every sound, every second of that kiss felt like punishment carved into his soul. He wished he could tear his eyes away—but he couldn’t. It was as if Jungkook wanted him to see it. To understand.
Jungkook finally pulled back, resting his forehead briefly against Iris’s.
Then he looked at the boy.
“No one,” he said quietly, “looks at what’“looks at what’s mine.”
His voice hardened.
“No one touches. No one dreams. No one even thinks.”
He paused.
“Remember that.”
Iris smiled down at the boy, cruel and satisfied. “You should be grateful,” she added softly. “At least you learned early.”
The Followers laughed.
The canteen remained silent.
And the boy—broken, humiliated, crushed beneath a world he never should have touched—understood the truth at last.
Some mistakes don’t cost you pride.
They cost you everything.
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