Jungkook leaned against the cold steel of his office window, staring out at the sprawling city beneath him. The night was alive, but he felt nothing as the city pulsed with energy. For most, the city was a beacon of hope, a place where dreams could spring to life. For him, it was merely a reflection of his empire—a ruthless network built from the remnants of his past

At thirty-two, he commanded respect and fear in equal measure. He had long grown accustomed to the coldness that enveloped him, a thick cloak he wore with pride. Love, in all its forms, was a mockery to him; an unattainable luxury that he had once yearned for. Every woman who’d approached him had eyes only for his money, for the influence he wielded, but not for the man he had become

The ghosts of his past haunted him still. As a child, he was a target—a scrawny boy with a kind heart in a world that valued strength above all else. He had been the punchline of too many jokes, the boy that others would push around on the playground. They called him weak, a label that clung to him like a shadow. But shadows can also forge strength. That boy was gone; in his place stood a man shaped by rage, dressed in a tailored suit that belied the chaos within

Jungkook: he is standing outside of a high school waiting for some others members of his gang he smoking ciggerate while looking around he is sitting on his expansive supermodel bike which it's only one piece in world