The House Maid?

The morning sun slipped lazily through the trees, casting long, golden shadows across the overgrown lawn. Birds chirped in the distance, but the mansion still felt heavy, like it hadn’t fully woken up yet.

Jungkook rubbed his face with tired hands, the weight of the dream clinging to his skin like sweat. He hadn't slept much after that. Every creak in the walls, every shifting shadow, had kept him on edge. His wife was still upstairs—he didn’t know if she had come to bed, or just stayed locked in that cold, silent room.

The doorbell rang.

Jungkook flinched.

Who the hell…?

The mansion was too deep in the woods for visitors.

He approached the door slowly, fingers wrapping cautiously around the antique brass handle. It creaked open.

A young man stood on the porch.

He looked... out of place. Dressed in plain clothes—neat, but not modern. Faded linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, dark trousers, soft curls framing his delicate face. There was something old-fashioned in the way he stood, hands behind his back, gaze lowered slightly.

Jungkook blinked.

The dream. The boy.

Not quite the same—but something in the eyes...

The stranger looked up, startled too, like he hadn’t expected to see anyone.

“Oh,” the young man said. “I didn’t know there were... guests.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?”

The man hesitated, then smiled—gentle, polite, practiced.

“I was told the mansion needed staff again. Housekeeping. I worked here before... long ago.”

Jungkook frowned. “By who?”

No one had called for help. Not him. Not his wife.

“I just felt... I should return,” the man replied softly. “Is that alright?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away.

There was something odd about the way he spoke. Calm, like he belonged here more than Jungkook did. Like he’d never left.

But he couldn’t explain why he felt relief seeing him there.

Like this stranger brought warmth the house had forgotten.

Finally, Jungkook stepped aside.

“Yeah. Sure. Come in.”

The young man walked past him with a quiet nod, eyes scanning the dusty entryway with something that looked too much like nostalgia.

As he walked toward the staircase, Jungkook asked, “What’s your name?”

The young man paused mid-step.

Then turned with a soft, shy smile.

“They used to call me Tae.”

As taehyung come in,

Tae moved through the mansion as if he’d never left it.

He walked with quiet confidence, fingers brushing along the stair rail like he knew every groove, every scar in the wood. Jungkook followed at a distance, arms crossed, his gaze trailing over the back of the boy who had arrived uninvited... and yet, somehow, belonged.

Without asking, Tae stepped into the main living room and opened the tall velvet curtains. Dust danced in the sudden sunlight like startled spirits. He opened windows next—one by one—letting the scent of forest and earth spill inside.

Jungkook leaned against the doorframe.

“You act like you’ve lived here,” he muttered.

Tae looked over his shoulder, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It just... feels familiar.”

He picked up a vase from the mantle. Wiped it clean. Put it back in the exact same spot.

“I used to dream of this place,” Tae continued. “Even after I left. The scent of the wood. The way the floors creak in the afternoon. The light in this room after ten a.m... it’s all still here.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t even sure why he was letting a stranger clean his house without proof of employment—or identity.

But something about Tae quieted the usual tension in his chest. His presence was... warm. Strange, but warm.

Tae turned to him, brushing his hands on a folded cloth.

“Is it just the two of you staying here?” he asked lightly.

Jungkook stiffened.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Me and my wife.”

There was a flicker of something in Tae’s eyes, but it was gone before Jungkook could place it.

“I can start with the kitchen,” Tae offered. “Then the guest rooms. I’ll stay out of your way.”

He headed down the hall again, disappearing around the corner like he knew exactly where to go.

Jungkook stood there a moment longer, arms still crossed.

Who the hell are you really, Tae?

Then his eyes drifted to the mantle.