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The Devil's Softest Touch

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The Devil's Softest Touch

prologue

🌑 The Devil’s Softest Touch

Prologue

They called him The Devil.

A name whispered in alleys and carved into the fears of men who thought themselves untouchable.

Jeon Jungkook ruled a kingdom of shadows—blood, money, and silence bent to his will. His reputation was not built on kindness, nor on mercy. It was built on the countless lives that fell under his gun, the empires that burned when he snapped his fingers, and the men who bowed at his feet or bled in the dirt for refusing.

To the world, he was untouchable. Unshakable. A monster.

And he accepted it.

Because monsters don’t feel. Monsters don’t break. Monsters don’t crave.

Or so he thought.

Until his gaze fell on him.

Kim Taehyung.

A boy with starlit eyes and a voice that carried softness Jungkook hadn’t heard in years. A boy who didn’t tremble when Jungkook’s shadow touched him. A boy who looked at the Devil not with fear, but with… defiance. With curiosity.

And just like that, the Devil—the man who could crush entire kingdoms with a glance—found himself crumbling inside.

No bullet, no betrayal, no blood had ever weakened Jeon Jungkook.

But the brush of Taehyung’s hand against his skin… that was his undoing.

They say the Devil can’t be tamed.

But maybe… he can be touched.

And maybe that touch, softer than a whisper, could either save him—

—or destroy him completely.

---

Introduction

The rain was heavy that night, drowning the city in a chorus of thunder and flashing lights. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, swallowed quickly by the growl of engines and the roar of gunfire.

Jungkook leaned against the leather seat of his black car, eyes as cold as the barrel of the pistol resting loosely in his hand. Another deal gone bloody. Another group of men who thought they could cheat The Devil and live to tell the tale.

They were wrong.

His suit jacket was stained with someone else’s blood, his lip ring glinting under the dim glow of the streetlamp. To anyone who dared look his way, he was terrifying—dark hair plastered to his forehead, veins bulging against his tattooed arms, jaw set in a way that promised death.

But Jungkook didn’t care. Fear was currency, and tonight he was the richest man alive.

“Boss, we should move. The cops will sweep this area soon,” his right-hand man muttered from the driver’s seat.

Jungkook didn’t answer. His gaze had wandered—pulled by something, or someone—towards the lone figure standing at the corner of the street.

A boy.

Umbrella broken, shirt clinging to his frame from the rain, eyes wide but not in fear. Instead, there was something unsettling in the way he stared at Jungkook. Not recognition. Not terror. But something softer. Like he saw through the blood and the gun and the Devil himself… straight into the man buried beneath.

Their eyes locked. For a second—just a second—the world fell quiet.

Jungkook’s grip on his pistol loosened.

“Boss?” the driver pressed again.

The boy moved then—turning away, walking into the blur of neon and storm. But the impression remained, burning into Jungkook’s memory.

Jeon Jungkook, the man who feared nothing, felt his chest tighten in a way no bullet had ever managed.

---

Two Weeks Later

“Kim Taehyung,” the professor called, snapping him out of his daydream.

“Yes, sir,” Taehyung replied, adjusting the strap of his bag as he stood to leave class. His friends often teased him for zoning out, but how could he explain? He wasn’t thinking about assignments or exams. No—his thoughts wandered back to that night in the rain.

To those dark eyes that had found his across the storm.

To the man who looked like sin wrapped in silk.

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t even remember. Whoever that man was, he screamed danger. But the truth was, Taehyung couldn’t forget.

Every time he closed his eyes, he felt that strange chill down his spine—the weight of a gaze that had seen him, really seen him, in a way no one else ever had.

Shaking his head, Taehyung shoved the memory aside. He had a life to live, a future to plan. And dangerous strangers with guns didn’t belong in it.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

What Taehyung didn’t know was that the Devil himself had already carved his name into his fate.

And once the Devil decides you’re his…

There is no escape.

___

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