Chapter Text
Author’s POV: The Setting Sun
The Goryeo mountains were painted in the bruised purples and burnt oranges of a dying sun. Along the narrow, winding paths of the Silk Road, the air was heavy with the scent of pine needles and the distant, metallic tang of an approaching storm. This land belonged to the Kim Clan—a name whispered with a mixture of reverence and bone-deep terror.
At the heart of the valley lay the village of Seomun, a humble cluster of stone and wood. It was a place where life was measured in harvests and the steady rhythm of the seasons. But today, the rhythm was broken. The thundering of war-horses shattered the peace, their hooves kicking up clouds of dust that tasted of iron.
The Alphas had arrived. Not just any Alphas, but the Black Guard of Lord Kim Taehyung. They moved like shadows given form, their armor polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the fear in the villagers' eyes. At the front of the pack, a massive palisade of black silk and gold trimmings was carried by eight strong men, housing the man whose very name could stop a heart.
Jungkook’s POV: The Fire in the Veins
The smell of fear is acrid. It’s a sharp, sour scent that clings to the back of my throat, and right now, Seomun is drowning in it.
I knelt in the dirt, my fingers stained green from the crushed mugwort I was applying to Mrs. Choi’s swollen ankle. She was shaking so hard her bones rattled. "Hush, Halmeoni," I whispered, my voice a low, steady anchor. "They are just men. Arrogant, overfed men with too much silk and too little heart."
"Jungkook-ah, please," she whimpered, her eyes darting to the village square. "Do not speak so loudly. The Lord is here."
I felt a familiar heat rise in my chest. I’ve hated Alphas since I was old enough to see the way they look at the world—like it’s a feast laid out specifically for them to devour. They think because their voices are louder and their scents are heavier, the rest of us are just scenery.
A loud crack echoed through the square. I looked up. One of the Black Guards had kicked over a basket of grain, the winter stores of the Lee family. A young mother tried to grab the spilled food, and the guard—a hulking Alpha with a sneer that made my blood boil—reached for his whip.
"Thieving rats," the guard growled. "This grain belongs to the Kim Clan as interest for your late taxes."
I didn't think. I never do when my heart starts drumming that particular rhythm of rebellion. I stood up, wiping my stained hands on my rough linen tunic. I grabbed my heavy oak walking staff and marched toward the square.
"Hey! You in the fancy tin suit!" I shouted.
The square went silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. The guard turned, his eyes widening in disbelief that a mere Omega—one who smelled faintly of chamomile and earth rather than submission—was speaking to him.
"You dropped something," I said, pointing to the grain. "Your dignity. Or did you leave that in the capital?"
The guard’s face turned a violent shade of red. "You little brat. Do you know who is in that carriage?"
"I don't care if it's the King of the Underworld,"
I snapped, stepping between him and the mother.
"You’re stealing from people who have nothing. If your Lord is so 'Great,' why is he a common thief?"
Taehyung’s POV: The Ice and the Interest
Boredom is a slow-acting poison.
Inside the palisade, the air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and expensive incense, yet I could still taste the dust of this pathetic village. I leaned my head back against the furs, my fingers idly tracing the jade hilt of my sword. Outside, the world was a blur of grey people with grey lives.
"My Lord," a voice whispered from behind the silk curtain. "The collection is met with... resistance."
I didn't open my eyes. "Handle it. If they cannot pay in grain, they pay in blood. It is a simple equation."
But then, a voice pierced through the monotonous sounds of the village. It wasn't the shrill cry of a woman or the guttural plea of an old man. It was clear. Sharp. It sounded like a bell ringing in a graveyard.
“If your Lord is so 'Great,' why is he a common thief?”
My eyes snapped open. I felt a strange prickle at the back of my neck—a spark of my Alpha instinct that hadn't been triggered in years. Not fear. Curiosity. I reached out a gloved hand and pushed aside the heavy silk curtain.
The sunlight hit my face, and I squinted. In the center of the square stood a boy. He was dressed in rags, his hair a mess of dark waves, and his face smudged with dirt. He looked like a wildflower growing in a crack of stone.
But it was his eyes. They weren't lowered. They were fixed directly on my carriage, burning with a fierce, beautiful hatred.
"Stop," I commanded. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a mountain. The guards froze. The village held its breath.
I stepped out of the carriage. My boots hit the dirt, and I felt the familiar wave of submission ripple through the crowd as Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike bowed their heads. Except for him. He stood his ground, his knuckles white as he gripped a wooden staff.
I walked toward him, my heavy black robes trailing in the dust. I am the Sovereign of the Kim Clan. I have seen the finest beauties of the Southern Courts and the most terrifying warriors of the North. But as I stopped a mere foot away from this boy, I felt a jolt of electricity.
He smelled of chamomile. Underneath that, something deeper—something like the earth after a rainstorm. It was the scent of an Omega, but there was no fear in it.
I tilted my head, looking down at him. I am a head taller, my shadow swallowing him whole. I reached out, using the tip of my scabbard to lift his chin.
"Repeat what you said," I murmured, my voice like silk over gravel. "Look me in the eye and say it again."
Jungkook’s POV: The Standoff
Up close, he was terrifying. He didn't just look like a Lord; he looked like a god made of winter and iron. His eyes were a dark, predatory gold, and his scent—sandalwood and ancient ice—tried to force my knees to buckle.
But I’d rather die than bow to an Alpha who steals bread from children.
I felt the cold metal of his sword sheath under my chin, forcing me to look at him. His face was perfect—too perfect—with a sharp jawline and lips that looked like they had never smiled in his entire life.
"I said," I hissed, my voice trembling only slightly, "that you are a thief. You sit in your gold-leaf carriage while these people starve. Does your silk feel soft, My Lord? Because it smells like blood to me."
I heard the collective gasp of the village. I saw the guards draw their swords. I expected the cold bite of steel against my throat.
Instead, the Lord’s eyes darkened. A slow, terrifying smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a smile of kindness; it was the look of a hunter who had just found a new, fascinating prey.
"A thief?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating in my very marrow. He stepped closer, invading my personal space until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Perhaps you are right. And since I am a thief, I think I shall take something else today."
He turned to his Commander, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Arrest him! He is to be taken to the Black Jade Pavilion. He will serve as my personal physician until I decide his tongue has been sufficiently... tamed."
"You can't do that!" I yelled, swinging my staff.
Before I could land a blow, two guards grabbed my arms, pinning them behind my back. My staff clattered to the ground.
Taehyung leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. His breath was hot, sending a shiver of pure terror—and something else I refused to name—down my spine.
"Watch me, little wildflower," he whispered. "You hate Alphas so much? I’m going to make sure I’m the only Alpha you ever see again."
Author’s POV: The Capture
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the Black Guard moved out. In the center of the procession, no longer in the dirt but bound in soft silk ropes inside the carriage of the Sovereign, was the healer of Seomun.
The village watched in silence as their light was taken away. Lord Kim Taehyung sat in the shadows of his carriage, watching the boy who glared at him from the opposite bench. For the first time in a decade, the King of the Mountains wasn't bored.
The hunt had begun.