The Encounter ¹

📖 Reborn in Your Shadow

Part 1 –

The sound of rain was the first thing he heard when his eyes opened again.

Jeon Jungkook’s breath came ragged, lungs burning with an unfamiliar weight. For a moment, he thought he was still dying—that this was just another cruel illusion before death dragged him away. But when he sat up, panting, his body wasn’t broken. His chest wasn’t bleeding. There were no bullet holes tearing through his flesh.

Instead, he was in a dimly lit hospital room, the antiseptic smell sharp, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor steady beside him.

Jungkook blinked, confusion clawing at his mind. His hands looked younger—smoother, unscarred, nothing like the bloodstained fingers that had killed and commanded. He stumbled to the mirror on the far wall, each step heavy with disbelief.

The reflection that stared back at him wasn’t the scarred man who had died in betrayal. It was a younger Jungkook, maybe twenty again. Wide, dark eyes. Sharp jawline. No tattoos. No bullet wounds. Just… life.

His lips parted, a disbelieving laugh spilling out.

“Reborn…? That voice wasn’t lying.”

Memories of his last moments flashed before his eyes—blood, fire, betrayal, the echo of his vow: I’ll come back. I’ll never lose Taehyung again.

Taehyung.

The name pulsed through him like a heartbeat. Jungkook’s fists clenched against the sink as a dangerous smile curved his lips. Fate had granted him another chance. And this time, he would not let destiny play its cruel trick. He would protect Taehyung. Possess him. Keep him. No matter what.

---

Two Weeks Later

The city was alive with neon lights and restless people. Jungkook had adjusted quickly to his new reality. He wasn’t the same Jeon Jungkook who had died betrayed—he was younger, sharper, and more dangerous, because this time he had foresight. He knew enemies before they would become enemies. He knew lies before they would be spoken.

But most importantly, he knew where to find him.

Kim Taehyung.

Jungkook had spent days tracking, digging through university records and public files, until finally—he saw him.

It was a quiet evening in a small art gallery tucked in one of Seoul’s narrow streets. The place smelled of oil paint and varnish, the silence broken only by the soft rain tapping against the windows. Jungkook entered, his steps measured, his aura dark enough to turn heads even in such a calm place.

And then he saw him.

Taehyung stood by a large canvas, a paintbrush in hand, his expression soft with concentration. His loose shirt hung off one shoulder, his hair falling messily into his eyes, his lips slightly parted as he studied his work.

Jungkook froze.

His heart, which had been hardened by blood and betrayal, stuttered. This was no illusion. No dream. It was him. Flesh and blood. Alive. Breathing.

The same Taehyung from his past life—untouched by tragedy, unknowing of the heartbreak that had once bound them.

Jungkook’s chest tightened. He doesn’t remember…

But Jungkook did. He remembered Taehyung’s soft laughter. His gentle touches. His terrified screams the night everything was taken from them.

And Jungkook had sworn—this time, nothing would take Taehyung from him.

---

Taehyung noticed him then. His eyes lifted, meeting Jungkook’s across the gallery. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop.

A strange chill ran down Taehyung’s spine as he stared at the stranger. There was something about those eyes—dark, intense, consuming—that made his stomach twist. He had never seen this man before, and yet… something about him felt hauntingly familiar, as if he had seen him in a dream, in a nightmare, in some forgotten memory.

Jungkook smirked faintly, walking closer. “You paint beautifully.”

Taehyung blinked, startled by the deep timbre of his voice. He hesitated, gripping his brush tighter. “T-Thank you. I… don’t usually get strangers commenting.”

“I’m not a stranger,” Jungkook murmured, eyes locked onto him. “You’ll know me soon.”

The words sent a shiver down Taehyung’s spine. He should have felt uneasy, maybe even walked away—but instead, he felt rooted, drawn to this man’s presence.

“What’s your name?” Taehyung asked, his voice softer than he intended.

“Jungkook,” he answered without hesitation. “And you’re Taehyung.”

Taehyung blinked again, confused. “Do we… know each other?”

Jungkook’s lips curled into something between a smile and a warning. “Not yet. But we will.”

---

The Pull

From that day on, Jungkook made sure to be everywhere Taehyung was. In the library, sitting two tables away. At the café, in the corner seat, eyes never leaving him. On the quiet evening walks Taehyung took along the Han River, Jungkook’s shadow followed.

At first, Taehyung tried to ignore it. The man was mysterious, intimidating, but also strangely protective. Once, when a drunk stranger tried to harass Taehyung outside the café, Jungkook appeared out of nowhere—his fist slamming into the man’s jaw, his voice sharp like steel:

“Don’t ever touch what isn’t yours.”

Taehyung’s heart raced, not only from fear but from the way Jungkook’s hand lingered at the small of his back, firm and possessive, as if claiming him without permission.

“Why do you keep showing up?” Taehyung asked one night, frustration breaking through.

Jungkook’s eyes softened just slightly, though his smile was still dangerous.

“Because I can’t let you out of my sight.”

Taehyung swallowed hard. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Jungkook whispered, stepping closer, his breath brushing against Taehyung’s ear. “I know you belong to me.”

Taehyung froze, his pulse hammering. He should have pushed him away, but something inside him—something unexplainable—ached at those words, as if they weren’t new at all. As if he had heard them before, in another time, in another life.

---

Nightmare

That night, Taehyung dreamed.

He was standing in a room of fire and blood. A man’s body fell before him, riddled with bullets, eyes still open, still burning with love and pain. He reached out, screaming, “Jungkook!”

And the man whispered with his last breath: Don’t leave me, Tae.

Taehyung jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his heart racing. His hands trembled as he pressed them to his chest.

“What… what was that…?”

But deep down, some part of him already knew.

---

Jungkook’s Vow

Outside Taehyung’s apartment, in the shadows of the night, Jungkook stood, watching the light in Taehyung’s window. His lips curved in a possessive smile.

“You felt it, didn’t you, Taehyung?” he murmured. “The bond. The truth trying to break through.”

His eyes darkened, voice low and dangerous.

“This time, I won’t let fate steal you. I won’t let anyone touch you. You’re mine, Taehyung. In this life… and every life to come.”

The rain began to fall again, just like the night he had died. But this time, Jungkook wasn’t the one bleeding. This time, he was the predator, and he would protect his prey at all costs.

Even if it meant killing all over again.

------

---

The rain never stopped that week.

It poured over Seoul like a warning, filling the nights with restless thunder. Taehyung sat by his window, sketchbook open but forgotten, his pen trembling in his hand. He hadn’t slept properly in days.

The dream wouldn’t leave him. The blood, the fire, the dying man whispering his name—it replayed in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

But what haunted him more was the face in that dream.

It was Jungkook.

---

The Pull of Fear and Desire

Taehyung tried to avoid him after their strange encounters. He skipped the café, walked different paths home, even pretended to be busy at the gallery. But it was useless.

Jungkook was always there. Not in an obvious, chasing way—but in shadows, in silence, watching. He didn’t demand attention. He didn’t even speak much. But the weight of his presence clung to Taehyung like a second skin.

And Taehyung hated to admit it—he wasn’t only afraid. He was… drawn.

Every time Jungkook’s dark eyes found him across a street, across a crowded room, Taehyung’s pulse spiked. He should’ve run, should’ve called the police, should’ve done something—but he never did. Instead, he kept searching for him, too, like a moth that couldn’t stop circling the flame.

---

One evening, Taehyung left his part-time shift at the gallery. The streets were nearly empty, wet with the day’s rainfall, neon signs flickering. As he walked, he felt it again—that prickle on the back of his neck, the certainty that he was being followed.

He quickened his pace. His breathing hitched.

“Taehyung.”

The voice slid through the air, low, dark, and unmistakable.

Taehyung spun, heart leaping. Jungkook stood beneath a streetlamp, half his face in shadow, raindrops glistening against his hair.

Taehyung swallowed. “You—You can’t keep following me like this.”

Jungkook stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. His gaze locked onto Taehyung, sharp enough to slice through the night. “I told you. I can’t let you out of my sight.”

Taehyung’s hands curled into fists. “Why? You don’t even know me!”

“I know you better than anyone,” Jungkook murmured, his voice almost tender despite the darkness in his eyes. “Even if you’ve forgotten me.”

Taehyung blinked, stunned. “Forgotten…? What are you talking about?”

Jungkook stopped just a step away, close enough that Taehyung could feel the heat radiating from his body despite the rain. His lips hovered dangerously near Taehyung’s ear as he whispered, “Do you dream of me, Taehyung?”

Taehyung’s chest tightened, his breath stuttering. The memory of that nightmare clawed back instantly, Jungkook’s face bloodied, whispering his name. He staggered back, shaking his head. “How—how do you know about that?”

Jungkook’s smirk was sharp, but his eyes burned with something far deeper. “Because I was there. I lived it. And so did you.”

---

Fragments of Memory

That night, Taehyung tossed in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. Sleep dragged him back into visions, sharper this time.

He saw flashes of another world—grand halls filled with men in black suits, whispers of betrayal, the sound of gunfire. And through it all, Jungkook. His hands on Taehyung’s face. His voice begging, promising, swearing.

“Don’t leave me, Tae.”

“Even in death, I’ll find you.”

Taehyung woke gasping, his throat dry, his hands shaking. He stumbled to the mirror, staring at his own reflection.

“Who… who am I to him?” he whispered.

---

The First Attack

The answer came sooner than he expected.

A week later, Taehyung was walking home from the gallery when he noticed the streets were unusually quiet. He wrapped his coat tighter, unease crawling down his spine.

Then—hands grabbed him.

A rough palm covered his mouth, dragging him into a dark alley. His sketchbook hit the wet ground as he struggled, muffled cries escaping. Two men pinned him against the wall, their eyes glinting with malicious intent.

“Well, well,” one sneered. “Boss said the kid’s important. Let’s have a little fun first—”

He didn’t finish.

A figure emerged from the shadows like death itself. Jungkook’s fist slammed into the man’s jaw with a sickening crack. The other barely had time to react before Jungkook’s boot drove into his ribs, sending him crashing into the wall.

Taehyung stumbled free, chest heaving, eyes wide in terror and disbelief.

Jungkook didn’t stop. His fists pounded into the men with lethal precision, each strike fueled by rage that had no end. Blood splattered across the walls. Bones snapped. The men screamed, begged—but Jungkook’s expression never changed. He was silent, merciless, his eyes burning with fury.

When it was over, the alley reeked of blood. The two men groaned on the ground, broken beyond recognition.

Taehyung stared, frozen in shock. He had seen fights before—but nothing like this. Jungkook didn’t just fight. He destroyed.

And then, Jungkook turned to him.

The moment their eyes met, Taehyung flinched, stumbling back. But Jungkook reached him in two strides, his hands surprisingly gentle as they cupped Taehyung’s trembling face.

“You’re safe,” Jungkook whispered, his voice softer than it had any right to be. “I won’t let anyone touch you. Not in this life. Not ever again.”

Taehyung’s lips parted, his heart racing. He wanted to push him away, to scream, to run. But instead, his body betrayed him—leaning into Jungkook’s warmth, his soul aching with a familiarity he couldn’t deny.

---

Enemies in the Dark

Later that night, Jungkook stood over the broken bodies in the alley, his expression cold. He pulled out his phone, dialing a number only he knew.

“They found him,” Jungkook said flatly. “Already. Which means…” His eyes narrowed. “…the bastards from before are still alive.”

On the other end, silence. Then a low voice: “You want us to handle it?”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. His gaze lifted to Taehyung’s apartment window, where the light glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“No,” he said finally. “I’ll handle it myself. They won’t take him from me twice.”

---

The Confrontation

The next day, Taehyung couldn’t concentrate. He paced his small apartment, mind spiraling with questions. Who were those men? Why did they attack him? And why… why did Jungkook’s words feel like truth?

He didn’t want to believe him. He couldn’t. But deep inside, the fragments of memory, the dreams, the way his body responded to Jungkook’s touch—it all screamed of something more.

Finally, he snapped.

When Jungkook appeared outside the gallery that evening, leaning casually against his black car like a shadow waiting for its prey, Taehyung stormed up to him.

“Enough!” he burst out, his voice shaking. “What do you want from me?”

Jungkook’s dark eyes locked onto him, unblinking. “You.”

Taehyung’s throat tightened. “Why? Why me? Who are you really?”

Jungkook stepped forward, his hand brushing Taehyung’s cheek with a tenderness that contradicted the violence in his aura. “I am yours. Always have been. Always will be. Even death couldn’t take me from you.”

Taehyung’s eyes burned. His voice broke. “Stop saying things that don’t make sense—”

“Then explain your dreams,” Jungkook cut in sharply. His gaze pierced through him. “Explain why you see me dying. Explain why you wake up calling my name.”

Taehyung’s breath hitched. He couldn’t answer. Because Jungkook was right.

Jungkook leaned closer, his lips inches from Taehyung’s, his whisper a dark promise:

“You may not remember yet, Taehyung. But your soul knows me. And I’ll make sure this time—you’ll never forget again.”

---

The Beginning of Obsession

That night, Taehyung lay awake, his heart pounding, Jungkook’s words echoing in his head.

Part of him wanted to run far, far away. But another part—a deeper, hidden part—ached to stay.

Jungkook, meanwhile, stood in his apartment, gun in hand, staring at a wall plastered with photographs, names, and connections. The same enemies from his past life still existed here, hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance.

But they didn’t know.

This time, Jungkook was ready.

This time, he was alive first.

This time, he had Taehyung.

And he would burn the world to ash before letting anyone take him away.

-----

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