Forbidden Reign
1 The Prince Hunts the Ghost
The palace glimmered under the silver wash of moonlight, its golden spires stretching toward the heavens as if demanding the stars bow. From the outside, it was flawless—like a jewel cradled in the crown of the kingdom. But inside, shadows coiled in silence.
Prince Kim Taehyung stood before a towering window in his private chamber, the glass cool beneath his palm. His reflection was sharp, regal, untouchable. Yet his chest rose with uneven breaths, a faint tremor betraying what he fought so hard to conceal.
The kingdom called him their perfect prince. They did not see the truth—the curse beneath the crown, the sickness eating at him from within. And Taehyung intended to keep it that way.
“Your Highness,” his advisor murmured, bowing so low the parchment in his hands nearly brushed the marble floor. “The reports have arrived. Another deal. Another death.”
Taehyung’s voice was calm, steady, but his eyes darkened.
“The same. They call him… No.1.”
The name slithered through the chamber like poison. No.1—the faceless ruler of the underworld, a man feared even by those who claimed no fear. He was legend and phantom, a crownless king of shadows.
Taehyung’s jaw tightened, his gloved fingers curling against the glass.
Kim Taehyung
“Then tonight,”
he said, voice low and dangerous,
Kim Taehyung
“I hunt the ghost.”
The advisor dared to protest, “Your Highness, your health—”
Kim Taehyung
“My illness,”
Kim Taehyung
“is my secret. And it will remain that way. A crown doesn’t bend.”
Silence swallowed the room. Outside, the city stretched in a sea of restless lights, each flickering like prey unaware of the predator’s eyes.
The royal gala bloomed in sound and brilliance. Chandeliers poured golden fire across marble floors, jewels glittered like scattered stars on silks and gowns, and the air hummed with the harmony of violins. Nobles laughed, whispered, schemed—all under the watch of the crown.
When Prince Taehyung descended the staircase, all eyes turned as though the night itself bowed to him. His robes trailed in immaculate precision, his face carved from stone and beauty, his presence commanding silence. To the world, he was untouchable.
But midway down, his vision blurred. The world tilted, the polished steps threatening to swallow him whole. For a single heartbeat, the mask cracked.
Then a hand—steady, firm—caught his arm.
Taehyung looked up sharply.
The man before him was no courtier. He stood tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black suit that carried effortless power. His gaze was dark, unreadable, and endless. There was no bow, no reverence—only quiet dominance.
Taehyung’s lips curved into a faint frown.
......
“A fall doesn’t suit a prince,”
the stranger said simply.
The ballroom’s laughter and music seemed to dull, as though the world itself bent to make space for him. Taehyung drew himself upright, his composure sliding back like steel.
Kim Taehyung
"You speak boldly for someone uninvited.”
the man countered with the faintest trace of a smirk,
......
"maybe I’m not a stranger at all.”
Later, from the corner of the hall, Taehyung’s advisor leaned close, voice sharp with unease.
“Your Highness… that man. He is Jeon Jungkook.”
“The CEO of JK Fashion. A self-made magnate who rose faster than noble houses build their legacies. They say his rivals vanish without a trace."
Taehyung’s eyes slid across the ballroom. Jungkook stood apart from the glittering nobles, a glass of champagne untouched in his hand, his presence commanding even in silence. He looked like he belonged nowhere—yet everywhere.
The name stirred something deep, something old. A memory scratching at the locked doors of Taehyung’s past.
The prince sought the cold air of the balcony, escaping the weight of velvet eyes and hungry whispers. The night wrapped around him, sharp and merciless. Below, the city glittered, a labyrinth of light concealing sins. His chest tightened, pain threatening to claw through his ribs.
Not now. Not here. His illness could not win—not before the wolves.
Footsteps echoed softly behind him. He turned.
Jeon Jungkook
“You escape your own gala, Prince?”
Jungkook’s voice slid into the night like velvet over steel.
Moonlight framed his face, sharp jawline kissed with silver, his figure blending into shadow as though he was carved from it.
Kim Taehyung
“You again,” Taehyung muttered.
Jeon Jungkook
“Did you follow me?” Jungkook asked, stepping closer.
Kim Taehyung
“A prince doesn’t follow strangers.”
Jeon Jungkook
“Then perhaps fate followed you to me.”
The words hung, charged and forbidden. For the first time in years, Taehyung felt the weight of his walls tremble.
Kim Taehyung
“Smooth words for a businessman,” he said carefully.
Jeon Jungkook
“Words,” Jungkook replied, “are weapons.”
Kim Taehyung
“You sound like a man who hides daggers.”
Jeon Jungkook
“Maybe. Or maybe I just know danger too well.”
Their gazes locked—unyielding, unblinking. Silence stretched, heavy and electric, until it felt like the air itself would shatter.
A guard approached, bowing low. “Your Highness, the carriage awaits.”
Taehyung straightened, mask sliding back into place. His cloak whispered against the marble as he moved to leave, but Jungkook’s voice followed.
Jeon Jungkook
“Leaving so soon?”
Kim Taehyung
“I don’t linger with strangers.”
Jeon Jungkook
“Then let’s not be strangers.”
Taehyung halted. Slowly, he turned, his eyes narrowing.
Kim Taehyung
“You know my name,” he said flatly.
Jeon Jungkook
“The whole world knows it.”
Kim Taehyung
“Then tell me yours.”
Jeon Jungkook
The stranger’s lips curved faintly. “Jungkook.”
The name fell like a stone into still water. Something inside Taehyung twisted. Recognition brushed his chest like a ghostly hand. That name was not unfamiliar—it was a thread connected to a past he swore to bury.
The carriage door shut behind him, but his gaze lingered on the shadowed man until distance swallowed him whole.
On the balcony, Jungkook’s smile returned, faint but edged with something dangerous, something almost tender.
Still the same, Taehyung, his thoughts whispered. Still the same fire. Still the same pride. Hunt me if you must, chase me through shadows and crowns. But when you finally find me… remember this—the man you seek is the man you once loved.
And the night swallowed his vow.
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