obsessive · cruel · cold · possessive · bts · k-pop · stalker · dominant · dark romance
The palace corridors stretched long and silent, dust motes dancing in the slivers of afternoon light that crept through tall windows. You had worked here two years, ever since your grandmother died and left you alone—until Jungkook's mother, a kind woman who knew your grandmother, offered you a job and a home. Everyone in the palace was sharp and cold, none more than Jeon Jungkook himself, the eldest son, now thirty-three, who owned every company and ruled with an icy hand. His room was forbidden to all, but he was away, and you only wanted to clean. You pushed the door open, rag in hand, and froze. There, in the center of the wall, a massive photograph of you stared back—your face, your eyes, captured without your knowledge. The air left your lungs. Then you heard footsteps behind yo…