Crimson Heirs

Episode 1

The rain poured over Florence that night, heavy and insistent, drumming against the cobblestone streets. Inside the small airport terminal, a woman carried a fragile bundle close to her chest. She pressed the baby’s face against her shoulder, whispering in Italian: Kim Valen Isabella

Kim Valen Isabella

Ti amo… my little one. I’ll come back for you, I promise.

By morning, she was gone. All that remained was a folded note pinned to the blanket: Forgive us. The baby, unaware of what had happened, cried into the chill of a stranger’s hands. That child was Taehyung.

Life in the orphanage was quiet but hard. Taehyung learned quickly that the world did not cater to abandoned children. The other kids stared at him — sometimes with envy, sometimes with cruelty — but he didn’t mind. He had no family. Not really. The people who gave him life were strangers now. No love. No hate. Just absence.

Girl

He’s… unusual *whispered* Too beautiful to be normal.

Taehyung only listened, storing the words somewhere deep in himself. He learned to move like a shadow, quiet and precise. No one would notice him if he chose not to be noticed, and sometimes, that was enough.

As he grew, his awareness of the world sharpened. He noticed things others didn’t: the way sunlight hit his hair, the way shadows moved, the subtle expressions on people’s faces. Beauty, he realized, could be both a shield and a curse. People stared, whispered, and sometimes tried to manipulate him because of it. By the time he was ten, Taehyung had understood something fundamental: he had only himself. No one else mattered. Not the strangers who had abandoned him. Not the children who teased him. Not the world that often looked at him like he was some fragile treasure. Only himself. And that was enough.

Evenings were the hardest. Alone in the small room assigned to him in the orphanage, he would sit by the window, watching the city glow beneath the rain-soaked streets. Sometimes he traced the lines of his hands, wondering who had made him, where he came from. But he never longed for them. They were strangers, irrelevant to his life.

Baby Taehyung

They left. That’s it. No more questions.

Instead, he studied himself. He learned to control his expressions, his voice, his movements. He learned that people responded to confidence, to beauty, to poise — and if he could master these, he could survive.

The rain poured over Florence, drumming on the cobblestone streets. Inside a small orphanage, a boy sat on the steps, tracing patterns on the cold stone floor. His silver-brown eyes reflected the soft morning light, and even at eleven, he looked older than his age, like he carried more than a decade of life in them.

Sister Lucia

Taehyung, lunch is ready!

He glanced up, nodded, and followed her quietly. No complaints. No fuss. Taehyung had learned that in this world, silence was safer than words.

He had been abandoned by his parents at birth. A note pinned to his blanket simply said: Forgive us. They were strangers. He did not hate them. He did not miss them. They were irrelevant to his life.

That day changed everything. A soft voice spoke behind him in the orphanage garden.

Jung Haein

Hello, little one. Are you Taehyung?

He turned. A woman stood there, middle-aged, dressed simply, with a warm smile and hands slightly stained with soil. Around her, the faint scent of roses lingered.

Baby Taehyung

I… yes *cautiously*

Jung Haein

I’m Madam Jung. I own a small flower shop in the city. I’ve come to take you with me, if you want.

Baby Taehyung

*Blinked* (Take him? Away from the orphanage? Away from the life he had known?)

Baby Taehyung

Why… me? *asked, voice small*

Jung Haein

Because you deserve someone who sees you. And because you’re special *said simply*

He thought about it for a long moment. He had learned not to trust easily. But there was something in her eyes — quiet, unwavering warmth — that made him nod.

Baby Taehyung

I’ll go with you *said softly*

And so, at eleven, Taehyung was adopted. The florist gave him a name to call his own: Taehyung Jung.

Life with Madam Jung was gentle. Her small apartment smelled of roses and soil, and she taught him how to care for the flowers, how to make something beautiful grow.

Jung Haein

See, Taehyung *said one afternoon* even the smallest seeds can bloom if you give them care and patience. You’re like that too.

Baby Taehyung

*Smiled faintly, touching a rose* I… like that

Jung Haein

Good. Remember it.

Madam Jung didn’t care about his beauty, his silence, or his unusual presence. She only cared about the boy he was becoming. And in her care, Taehyung began to believe in simple things: trust, warmth… even love that didn’t demand anything in return.

Years passed. Taehyung grew into a tall, graceful young man. His silver-brown eyes and delicate features became a magnet wherever he went. Cameras noticed. People whispered. Every magazine and runway in Europe wanted him.

scout

He’s unreal *said one day in Milan* Like he walked out of a painting.

Photographer

Yes *adjusting his camera* Perfect lines, perfect posture… but there’s something about his eyes. Almost… untouchable.

Even as the world fawned over him, Taehyung remained quiet. Riches, fame, luxury — all of it was his now, thanks to hard work, Madam Jung’s support, and the small inheritance he received from her family. Yet, he never forgot the loneliness that shaped him.

One rainy evening, sitting in his spacious Milan apartment overlooking the city, he spoke aloud to the empty room.

Jung Taehyung

I don’t miss them… never did. They were strangers. Nothing more.

He traced his hands along the edges of the table, thinking about the boy he once was — abandoned, unloved, and alone. That boy had survived. That boy had become this man.

Jung Taehyung

I have myself. That’s enough *whispered*

Sometimes, he remembered fleeting shadows from the past — warmth, scent, a feeling of being held, a night long ago he could not fully recall. He didn’t know who it was, didn’t know why it mattered. Only that it had left something in him, something waiting.

Jung Taehyung

Who were you? *asked quietly, staring at his reflection in the glass*

Silence, as always, was the only answer.

Even so, he thrived. By twenty, Taehyung Jung had conquered every major city: Milan, Paris, Tokyo, New York. Runways, advertisements, magazine covers — the world adored him. People wanted him. Everyone whispered his name. Yet, in the quiet, away from the flashing cameras, he remained the same boy who had once sat alone on the cold steps of an orphanage.

Jung Taehyung

I don’t need them. I never did.

His past shaped him but did not define him. He had Madam Jung, he had his independence, and he had himself. And for now, that was everything.

On the balcony that night, the city lights reflected in his eyes. He breathed in the cool air.

Jung Taehyung

I survived. I thrived. And I will continue.

Somewhere, far away, threads of destiny had begun moving around him. But for now, Taehyung only cared about the present — about living, about existing, and about finally feeling that he belonged somewhere. And that was enough.

Episode 2

Milan’s gala had long ended. The city streets glistened with recent rain, and the night air was cool against Taehyung’s skin. He had slipped away from the crowd, seeking quiet, yet something — someone — seemed to have followed him.

You’re… beautiful *low, commanding voice murmured behind him*

Jung Taehyung

*froze*

The man stepped closer, eyes dark, intense, and unreadable. There was a heat in his presence that made his chest ache, a magnetic pull Taehyung couldn’t resist.

Jung Taehyung

I… don’t know you *whispered, voice trembling*

You will remember me *said softly, leaning in* I just need… this.

Before Taehyung could respond, he felt sharp warmth on his wrist, then a subtle bite. His heart raced, but strangely, there was no pain — only a heady, intoxicating rush. Blood — his own, mingling with heat, desire, and something darker he didn’t understand.

His knees weakened. The world blurred around him. He was lost in the sensation, in the closeness of the man, in the heat of their shared breath.

Jung Taehyung

Ah… *gasped, shivering, clutching at the man’s shoulders*

Hands moved over him, tender yet urgent, lips brushing, whispers in a language that made no sense but set fire to his veins. He felt dizzy, consumed, lost in lust and desire.

Jung Taehyung

Stop… I… *tried, but his voice was weak, fading under the intensity*

Shh… just be *whispered, voice like silk, drawing him into a moment where nothing else existed*

Hours passed in a haze of heat, whispered words, and fleeting kisses. Taehyung’s senses were alive in ways he had never known. His mind screamed to leave, yet his body betrayed him — lost, trembling, desperate for the warmth, the touch, the rush of the stranger’s power mingling with his own.

When dawn began to seep into the room, Taehyung’s chest still pounded. Sunlight illuminated the man’s face just enough for a brief glance — strong jaw, dark hair, aura of command — but the memory was already hazy, unreal. He dressed quietly, fingers brushing the sheets one last time, leaving a small scrap of paper: I’m sorry. I can’t stay.

And without another word, he left. The streets of Milan were waking around him, but he didn’t look back. Not once.

Walking through the early morning city, the memory of that night haunted him. Not the man’s face. Not his name. Only the heat, the lust, the intimacy, and the way he had been lost in a fire that had consumed him completely.

Jung Taehyung

Who… was that? *murmured aloud, shoulders tense* Why… why do I feel like something is missing?

The answer was silence, as always.

By the time he returned to his apartment, Taehyung’s pulse still thundered. The city below stirred to life, but his mind replayed the night in fragments — every whisper, every touch, every bite.

Jung Taehyung

*Shivered at the memory, flushed and dizzy, and whispered to himself* It’s over. Just one night. Nothing more.

But deep inside, he knew the night had changed him. A thread had been pulled, a seed planted — one that would grow and shape his body, his cravings, and his life in ways he could not yet understand. The man — the stranger — was gone. And yet, the memory of his heat, his power, his dominance, and the lust that had consumed him lingered, haunting Taehyung in ways no one could see.

Episode 3~

The days after that night were a blur. Milan’s city lights, the endless appointments, the flashing cameras — none of it mattered. All Taehyung could feel was the lingering warmth, the pull of the stranger, and something else he couldn’t yet name. --- At first, he thought it was just memory. But then came the cravings. Not hunger, exactly. A strange, insistent desire for iron-rich foods. The taste of blood, even a hint in rare steaks or red wine, made his stomach flutter in ways he didn’t understand.

Jung Taehyung

What… is happening to me *whispered one evening, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the city below*

He tried to push it aside. He had survived abandonment. He had become rich, independent, and untouchable. A fleeting night with a stranger shouldn’t change that. But it did.

A week later, Taehyung noticed another change. His body shifted subtly — exhaustion after minor exertion, sudden waves of dizziness, a pulse that seemed to echo through his veins. He forced himself to eat, to sleep, to keep living the life he had built. Yet the cravings and the strange, hot flushes persisted.

Jung Taehyung

I can’t tell anyone *muttered, voice trembling* Not Mamma . Not my manager. No one…

He spent hours pacing his apartment, fingers pressed to his abdomen as if the answer lay there. The thought that he might have been changed by that night — by the stranger who had touched him, bitten him — made his pulse quicken with fear.

Then came the discovery. It was subtle at first. A missed cycle. A faint sense of fullness he couldn’t explain. The panic that followed was immediate, sharp. Taehyung sank to the floor of his bathroom, staring at his reflection.

Jung Taehyung

No… it can’t be… it’s impossible *whispered, hands trembling over his face*

Impossible? Perhaps. But deep down, he knew. Something inside him had shifted forever that night. That fleeting encounter, that one night of heat, lust, and blood — had left more than memories. --- He spent the following days in quiet observation, hiding his growing body from the public eye. Not a single photo, not a single comment. Milan’s media was relentless, but Taehyung navigated it with practiced calm. Inside, however, he was terrified. Not of the baby, not yet, but of the consequences — the unknown.

Jung Taehyung

I have to figure this out *murmured, tracing the edge of the bed* I can’t… can’t let anyone know.

He had survived being abandoned once. He could survive this too. --- Through it all, memories of that night haunted him — the heat, the whispers, the touch of lips, the taste of blood mingling with his own. He tried to push them away, but every pang of hunger, every flush of heat, every moment of dizziness reminded him.

Jung Taehyung

It wasn’t just lust… it was something else.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t even know the man’s name, only that his body, his mind, and now his life had been irrevocably changed. --- By the end of the week, Taehyung made a decision. He would prepare for what was coming, alone. There would be no one to lean on. He would protect the life inside him, shield it from the world, and from the man he couldn’t even remember clearly. He imagined the child — or children — growing inside him. Already, he felt a deep connection, a pull he could not deny.

Jung Taehyung

I don’t know who you are *whispered, hands pressed to his stomach* But I will protect you. Always.

Even as he said it, a strange, protective warmth filled him. He didn’t yet know how many lives he carried, or the powers they would inherit. But he swore to himself that no one would ever hurt them like he had been hurt, abandoned, or left alone.

That night, Milan’s rain returned. Taehyung stood by the window, watching the city lights ripple across the wet streets. His body ached, his mind raced, and his heart… his heart was full of conflicting emotions — fear, desire, confusion, and a burgeoning love he didn’t yet understand.

Jung Taehyung

You’re coming into this world *whispered softly* And I will make sure you are safe. No one… no one will hurt you.

He didn’t know it yet, but the child — or children — growing inside him would not only inherit his strength and beauty, but the mysterious legacy of the stranger who had ignited something in him that night. And the world, oblivious to Milan’s quiet apartment, had no idea that something extraordinary had begun. Something that would change everything.

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