"Beneath Their Names"_TAEKOOK_ NAMJIN_ YOONMIN.... JackHope... Novel PDF Free Download

Chapter 1: Shadows and Spotlights

Haneul University was more than just a prestigious institution—it was a world built on names, legacy, and influence. A breeding ground for the next generation of elites. Politicians’ heirs. CEOs’ protégés. Future idols and industry disruptors. The halls whispered stories of scandal and success. And within that world walked the one name everyone recognized without needing an introduction:

Jeon Jungkook. He was the only son of Jeon Iu and Jeon Jong Suk, the formidable power couple that stood at the top of Asia’s business empire. Jeon Iu—the media queen with the soft smile and sharp mind behind every major broadcast network. Jeon Jong Suk—the man who built and destroyed corporate empires with a single meeting. Together, they didn’t just lead—they owned.

And Jungkook? He inherited all of it. The face, the talent, the pressure. A perfect student on paper. A feared opponent on the court. Captain of Haneul’s basketball team and the youngest athlete to make it to South Korea’s national training roster. But everyone knew Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just talented. He was untouchable. Silent. Cold. Disinterested.

People admired him, feared him, obsessed over him—but no one truly knew him. He didn’t attend parties. He didn’t entertain flings. He moved through campus like a ghost made of muscle and intensity, eyes sharp and guarded. His words were few, his expectations high, and his smile—nonexistent.

He wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to win. To perfect. To rise. That’s what was expected of him. And Jungkook never let anyone expect less.

But no one expected Kim Taehyung. No one knew the boy with soft brown eyes, who slipped quietly into classes and sat near the windows. The boy who clutched his books a little too tightly. Who answered questions perfectly but never raised his hand. Who wore sweaters two sizes too big and walked with his head down like he didn’t want the world to see him.

What the students of Haneul didn’t know was that Kim Taehyung was hiding in plain sight. He wasn’t just the newest transfer. He was the secret son of the President of South Korea. Born in secrecy. Raised in silence. Known only by a few within the Blue House. He had no official title, no public photo, and no future in politics—just the freedom his father gave him

"You don’t have to live my life, Taehyung," the President had told him once. "I’ll keep your name hidden. Do what makes you feel alive. The world is too cruel to take your dreams, too."

So Taehyung chose Haneul. Not because he wanted to be around the rich or powerful. But because it offered him one thing he craved most: anonymity. Here, no one looked at him like he was special. No one expected anything from him. He could just be a student. A face in the crowd. A boy who loved art, music, and the smell of books. He was a straight-A student, but never boastful. Gentle, thoughtful, painfully shy. He avoided attention like it burned him.

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At Haneul University, there were three names that dominated the power structure on campus: Jeon, Min, and Kim. While the Jeons ruled the business and sports world, and the Mins dominated the music and arts empire, the Kim family, specifically Kim Namjoon, ruled with intellect and precision. Kim Namjoon was not just the student council president—he was the student council president. Respected, admired, occasionally feared, and always listened to. The only son of the CEO of KNR Group, South Korea’s second-largest tech conglomerate next to the Jeon Empire, Namjoon grew up surrounded by private tutors, top universities, and an expectation of excellence that could crush an ordinary person. But Namjoon didn’t just meet expectations—he exceeded them. With IQ awards under his belt, flawless speeches, and a strategic mind that could outplay most CEOs, he was often called the youngest adult in any room. Tall, composed, and dressed in pressed uniforms and minimalist watches, Namjoon walked through campus like a storm made of logic—planned, precise, and impossible to avoid.

Kim Seokjin, son of two of Korea’s most celebrated surgeons, had no interest in being in anyone’s shadow. He wasn’t just “handsome”—he was devastatingly stunning. With rose-pink lips, honey-smooth skin, and a voice that could silence a room with just one sentence (usually sarcastic), Seokjin was one of the most brilliant medical students at Haneul. And he knew it. He wore designer lab coats, filed his notes in color-coded folders, and spoke with a dramatic flair that made even professors pause mid-lecture. He wasn’t rude—he was honest. Brutally. Unapologetically. And somehow, it only made people love him more. People whispered about how he turned down Ivy League offers just to stay in Korea. How his parents had performed surgery on royalty. How he once called a professor’s theory “cute” during a debate—and still got a perfect grade.

At Haneul University, some names were etched in glass and gold. The Jeons ruled empire. The Kims ruled order. And the Mins? The Mins ruled art, music, and silence.

Min Yoongi was the heir to the Min Group, South Korea’s cultural powerhouse. Music labels, film studios, international art auctions, elite academies—the Min family’s influence wasn’t loud, but it was everywhere. They didn’t boast. They didn’t need to. Their signature was in every elegant score and timeless melody the country exported. And Min Yoongi, their only son, was the crown jewel of sound. A piano prodigy. A composer by twelve. A silent genius who had graced the world’s grandest concert halls but turned his back on the spotlight. Instead, Yoongi chose Haneul University—not because he needed it, but because he wanted anonymity. Here, he wasn’t the Min heir. He was just Yoongi—the quiet, sharp-eyed Music Production major who always had headphones around his neck and ink smudged on his fingers.

Park Jimin was a mystery wrapped in honey and laughter. He was vibrant, bubbly, full of laughter that made people stop and smile—even if they didn’t know why. He talked too much, complimented strangers, cried at music, and believed in fairytales. What no one knew—what no one could know—was that Jimin was the only son of the Chairman of Haneul University. Yes, the very man who owned the land beneath their feet, the classrooms they studied in, the halls they walked. But Jimin had grown up suffocated by wealth, eyes, and obligation. His father had given him the choice to hide if he wished—and Jimin took it. No press. No headlines. No privileges. He didn’t want to lead. He wanted to sing. He enrolled under a different last name. Chose the vocal program. Ate lunch on the lawn like everyone else. The only people who knew the truth were his father… and Taehyung. Because Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin were more than friends—they were soul-deep bonded. Not by blood, but by secrets. Two boys from the shadows of power, trying to live their dreams without being devoured by them.

"A Soft Start for the Secret Prince"

A Beautiful Morning in the Jeon Estate

The sun had just begun to spill light over the private hills of Gangnam, casting a warm, amber glow over the Jeon family’s grand estate. From the outside, the mansion looked like something plucked out of a dream—tall arched windows, ivy curling over white stone walls, and a garden so precisely maintained that even the roses bloomed on schedule. It was a beautiful morning. But in the Jeon household, beauty had always been choreographed.

Down in the glass-walled garden room, the air was filled with the faint scent of blooming jasmine and fresh linen. The staff moved in silence, setting the breakfast table: imported fruits sliced to perfection, eggs from a private farm, and pastries no one really ate but always looked exquisite on fine china. Jeon Iu, regal and poised, sat already at the head of the table, wrapped in a pale lavender robe with her long hair swept into a loose knot. She sipped her tea like a ballet—every gesture elegant, unhurried. She didn’t need to speak to control a room. She was born with grace and had perfected silence as a weapon. At exactly 7:00 a.m., her son appeared.

Jeon Jungkook, still in his post-workout hoodie, hair slightly damp from the shower, stepped into the sunlight like a shadow refusing to fade. His features were sharp, unreadable—an expression carved from years of discipline. Even in stillness, he held the kind of presence that made others shrink back or lean closer.

Jeon Jungkook

“Morning, Mama,” he said, bowing slightly, his voice deep but soft

Jeon Iu

Iu offered a gentle nod. “Your espresso’s ready. And your protein toast.”

She always remembered. He sat across from her in silence.

The air shifted a moment later when the doors opened again. Jeon Jong Suk, commanding in his three-piece suit, entered like a quiet storm. His presence filled the room with precision—no wasted words, no unnecessary movements. A self-made empire in the shape of a man.

Jeon IU

Jeon Jong Suk

“Jungkook,” he greeted without looking. “We’ve confirmed the Milan offer. If you take the national title this year, the contract will be yours.”

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook didn't blink. “Noted.”

Jeon Jong Suk

“Don’t just note it. Achieve it.”

Jeon Iu

Jeon Iu placed her cup down, eyes flicking between the two. “Let him eat before we conquer the world, darling.”

Jong Suk allowed a faint chuckle—a rare show of amusement—and sat at the table, unfolding his napkin with the grace of someone who knew the weight of his every movement.

The sun warmed the breakfast room through the tall windows, casting golden light over the Jeon family's pristine dining table. Fresh flowers from the estate’s own greenhouse sat in a crystal vase at the center, and the scent of buttery croissants mingled with Iu’s rose tea. Jeon Iu was the first to notice the rare softness in her husband's eyes as he scanned the table. Jeon Jong Suk had just taken a sip of his black tea when he set it down and glanced between his wife and son, a quiet smirk forming on his usually stern lips.

Jeon Jong Suk

“You know,” he said suddenly, voice calm but playful, “I dreamed last night that Jungkook finally brought someone home.”

Both Jungkook and Iu paused.

Jeon Jong Suk

“A person, not another trophy,” Jong Suk added dryly.

Jeon Iu

Iu chuckled behind her teacup, one perfectly arched brow raised. “Did this person have a name, or was it just another dream of your control issues?”

Jeon Jong Suk

Jong Suk gave her a mock-offended look before continuing, “No, it was a serious dream. Jungkook brought someone in, said, ‘Dad, this is the love of my life.’ And I fainted. Right into the koi pond.”

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook blinked, caught completely off guard. “You fainted?”

Jeon Jong Suk

“Yes,” Jong Suk said solemnly, “because your mother was already floating there in shock. Clutching her pearls.”

Jeon Iu

Iu laughed—a real, warm laugh. “Please. I’d be the one dragging you out of the pond by your tie.”

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him. “You two are ridiculous.”

Jeon Iu

“And you’re too serious,” Iu said, reaching across to fix a stray lock of his hair. “We don’t want a robot for a son, Jungkook. We want you. Just as you are.”

Jeon Jong Suk

Jong Suk smiled quietly, eyes softer now. “Your mother’s right. We may run half of Asia—but this home? It’s run on love.”

Jeon Jungkook

“And sarcasm,” Jungkook muttered, smiling into his espresso.

Jeon Iu

“Don’t forget good looks,” Iu added with a wink. “You got them from me.”

Jeon Jong Suk

“No,” Jong Suk said smoothly, “he got them from both of us. That’s why we’re the perfect family. Looks, brains, and world domination.”

The three of them shared a quiet laugh. And just for that morning—amidst the power, pressure, and plans for the future—there was no weight on Jungkook’s shoulders. Just warmth. And the reminder that beneath the status and silence… His family really was perfect. Because they loved each other—openly, gently, and without question.

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🌸 A Beautiful Morning in the Kim Estate

The soft chime of a crystal chandelier echoed faintly as sunlight poured into the rose-tinted bedroom of the youngest Kim. Pale blush curtains fluttered gently with the morning breeze from the open balcony, the gold accents in the room catching the early glow of dawn. The walls were a delicate shade of pink velvet, adorned with subtle floral motifs, and everything—from the silk bedsheets to the fluffy designer slippers beside the bed—screamed quiet luxury. Nestled under a plush mountain of pale pink duvets was Kim Taehyung, the secret son of the President of South Korea, snuggled into his blankets with only his caramel-brown curls peeking out.

His peace, however, was short-lived. Ding. Ding. Dingdingdingdingding. His phone, somewhere buried in the sea of silk, was vibrating like it had a personal mission to ruin his dreams. With a dramatic groan, Taehyung reached blindly and finally fished out the culprit—his rose gold iPhone, its screen lighting up with the name:

Park Jimin

[JIMIN 🐣💛]🗨️ > “WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP” “It’s our first day, Taetae!! You can’t be late!” “I swear if you oversleep I’m dragging you out in your Gucci PJs.” “I’m serious. I’ll do it. I’ve done worse.” “ALSO WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?? 😳 SEND PIC.”

Taehyung blinked blearily at the texts before letting his head flop back on his pillow.

Kim Taehyung

“Park Jimin,” he mumbled into the silk. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Still, a small smile tugged at his lips. This was Jimin. His best of the best friend. His safe place. The only person who knew who he really was—the hidden heir, the soft-spoken son of the nation’s leader, and someone who simply wanted to live freely, study art, and not be treated like a crown. He finally sat up, sheets falling around him like petals.

Kim Taehyung

“First day,” he whispered to himself.

He got up, stretched, and walked barefoot across the heated floor to his closet—which looked more like a designer showroom. Rows of neatly arranged outfits in pastels, creams, and soft browns gleamed in order. He chose a loose ivory sweater, slim beige trousers, and his signature gold-rimmed glasses. Simple. Soft. Unassuming. The opposite of who the world expected him to be. After one last look in the mirror, he grabbed his phone and sent a selfie to Jimin with a caption:

Kim Taehyung

> “Happy now, sunshine?”

Park Jimin

Jimin replied instantly.🗨️ > “ANGEL 😭😩 let’s SLAY day one!! 💅✨” “Want a ride?”

Kim Taehyung

Taehyung smiled. > “I’ll walk. Need some air before reality starts.”

And with that, he slipped out quietly, guards and staff already in position to ensure his privacy. No one greeted him with formal bows. That had been the deal. His father had kept his promise: let Taehyung live as a normal student. No headlines. No flashing cameras. Just… life. The morning was soft and beautiful. And Taehyung didn’t know it yet… But somewhere across the city, a certain cold-eyed basketball captain was starting his day too. And their paths were about to cross.

Chapter 3: The Crowned Ones Arrive

The gates of Haneul University were wide open, sunlight gleaming off their gold trim like a silent fanfare. The first day of college had arrived, and the campus was already buzzing with new energy. Students flooded the pathways, balancing tote bags, coffee cups, and high hopes, as upperclassmen shouted directions to lecture halls and lost freshmen scurried around trying to blend in.

Among the crowd, Taehyung and Jimin stood near the fountain at the entrance plaza—two first-years hoping to remain invisible. Or at least, Taehyung hoped to. Jimin, not so much.

Park Jimin

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out,” Jimin said quickly, tugging on Taehyung’s sleeve. “They’re here.”

Kim Taehyung

Taehyung turned, already knowing who “they” meant. His heartbeat quickened. “Who?” he asked anyway, playing dumb as he adjusted the strap of his beige canvas bag.

Park Jimin

Jimin snorted. “Please. You know exactly who. The Three Princes.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the atmosphere changed—just as it always did when they arrived. First came Kim Namjoon, tall and calm, his signature navy coat fluttering behind him as if it were part of a royal uniform. His silver-rimmed glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose, and his expression was unreadable—focused, precise, and intimidatingly intelligent.

Beside him, Min Yoongi trailed with his usual slouch, hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark jacket. Earbuds in, hoodie half-up, and a face that looked like he hadn't smiled in weeks. But somehow, he carried a kind of quiet gravity that made everyone look twice.

And in the middle—leading them like a shadowed sun—was Jeon Jungkook. He walked with the kind of authority that wasn’t learned but inherited. His black varsity jacket, trimmed with deep crimson, clung to his tall frame as his gaze swept lazily over the crowd. Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Every step purposeful. Every movement silent and powerful.

Park Jimin

“God,” Jimin whispered, practically swooning. “How does someone make walking look expensive?”

Taehyung didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on Jungkook. He had seen him before—on the news, in whispered conversations between their family staff, in photos from charity events he wasn’t allowed to attend. The only son of Jeon Iu and Jeon Jong Suk, owners of the largest conglomerate in Asia. Untouchable. Icy. Brilliant. Dangerous. And here he was, walking into their college campus like he owned it. Which, arguably, he kind of did.

Kim Taehyung

“He looks like a movie character,” Taehyung murmured, his voice barely audible.

Park Jimin

Jimin turned to him with a knowing smirk. “You’re staring again.”

Kim Taehyung

“I’m not."

Park Jimin

“You totally are.”

Kim Taehyung

“Shut up,” Taehyung muttered, cheeks turning pink. He looked away quickly. “Besides, I’m not the one drooling every time Min Yoongi breathes.”

Park Jimin

Jimin gasped. “Okay, first of all, I’m admiring him artistically. Like—look at his vibe. That’s a man with trauma. I want to heal him.”

Kim Taehyung

“Or add to it,” Taehyung teased.

Park Jimin

“You’re one to talk,” Jimin shot back, grinning. “You’ve had a crush on Jeon Jungkook since you were what—sixteen?”

Kim Taehyung

“Fifteen,” Taehyung corrected automatically, then winced. “I mean—no, I haven’t.”

Park Jimin

“Mhm.”

Kim Taehyung

Taehyung sighed. “Can we please just get to class without embarrassing ourselves?”

Park Jimin

“Sure,” Jimin shrugged, flipping his hair dramatically. “As long as you don’t faint when Jeon Jungkook breathes near you.”

Taehyung gave him a gentle shove, laughing under his breath. They made their way slowly through the courtyard, trying not to draw attention, though both of them turned back—just once—to catch one last glimpse of the trio. Taehyung’s gaze lingered on Jungkook, who had just finished speaking with someone from the basketball team. For a second, their eyes met again. Or at least, it felt like they did. But then the moment passed. Jungkook turned, disappearing into the main hall with the others in tow.

Park Jimin

Jimin looped his arm through Taehyung’s. “College is going to be fun, huh?”

Kim Taehyung

Taehyung nodded, heart still racing. “Yeah. Fun.”

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Jungkook, hands in his pockets, walks slightly ahead. His black varsity jacket flutters a bit in the breeze. Namjoon walks with that calm, calculating presence of his, adjusting his glasses. Yoongi trails behind them with headphones around his neck and an unreadable expression on his face.

Kim Namjoon

(glancing at the crowd up ahead) Looks like the freshmen are already swarming the courtyard. It's louder than usual.

Min Yoongi

(low and unimpressed) It's always loud. But I guess first day hype is still a thing for kids.

Jeon Jungkook

(calm, a little disinterested) Let them have their moment. They'll find out soon enough that this place isn’t all glitter and rankings.

Min Yoongi

Says the guy who’s probably on every bulletin board and sports column in this building.

Kim Namjoon

And every club wants him as their "model athlete." Again. (smirks) You sure you don’t wanna be student council vice this year?

Jeon Jungkook

No. (flatly) I already deal with enough people asking for things.

Min Yoongi

Can confirm. Half of them can’t even look him in the eye.

Kim Namjoon

(chuckling softly) It’s not your fault you’re terrifying, Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook

(expression unreadable) I’m not terrifying. I just don’t like wasting time.

Min Yoongi

Right. That’s totally what you told the guy from the debate club last semester when you shut the door in his face.

Jeon Jungkook

He knocked during practice.

Kim Namjoon

Anyway... new year. New students. New chaos. (glances at the fountain plaza) Think anyone interesting showed up this year?

Min Yoongi

Doubt it. Same spoiled kids with different surnames.

Jeon Jungkook

We'll see.

Jeon Jungkook

(He pauses briefly, glancing at the crowd just as a pair of wide eyes—soft, curious—meet his from somewhere near the fountain. Jungkook stares a second too long, but then looks away just as fast.)

Min Yoongi

You see someone?

Jeon Jungkook

...No. Let's go. We’re gonna be late.

Kim Namjoon

(teasingly) Jeon Jungkook? Worried about punctuality?

Jeon Jungkook

I just don’t like wasting time.

(They step forward again, the crowd parting naturally as they pass. The silence around them isn’t fear—it’s awe.)

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