The world was no longer the same after the great wars. Whole kingdoms had burned, cities crumbled into ash, and in their place, life twisted and bloomed in strange, almost sacred ways. Magic had seeped into the earth like blood into water, filling forests and rivers with a pulse that hummed underfoot. Some people had been touched by it—born with veins that shimmered faintly when the sun caught them, eyes glowing with unnatural light, spirits connected to the elements. They lived closer to nature, away from the smoke of cities. The rest were simply… human. Ordinary. Survivors rebuilding what they could.

Jungkook was among the latter. A soldier once, forged in fire and death. The last great war had carved itself into his body like stone carvings in ancient ruins. His arms bore scars, rough and uneven. His back carried an old wound that often ached when the nights turned cold. But it was his eyes that carried the true damage—dark, heavy, sharp as blades yet distant, as though he’d seen far too much and no longer trusted the world to give him peace.

He lived now on the outskirts of one of the smaller villages, a man of few words. Farmers and traders recognized him but never asked about his past. He carried himself like steel, broad shoulders strong, movements controlled, as if he was always ready for an ambush even when he was merely walking down a dirt path.

That day, the forest was thick with autumn. Golden leaves crunched under his boots as he pushed deeper into the wilds, a leather satchel hanging against his hip. He wasn’t hunting for anything dangerous—only mushrooms and berries. Simpler things. Life had become survival of a quieter kind. His hands, once made to grip a blade and tear through battle, were steady now as they brushed through undergrowth in search of food.

But then… he froze.

Ahead, the forest was alive in a way Jungkook hadn’t seen in years. Animals—small deer, foxes, birds—sat gathered in a circle, calm, unafraid. It was unnatural. Wild things did not trust so easily, not in these times. And at the center of them all, a figure sat cross-legged on the mossy earth. A boy, young, with an air that seemed both fragile and powerful. Light filtered through the canopy above and clung to him as if the sun itself bent closer to watch. His hand moved slowly, breaking pieces of bread or fruit to feed the creatures around him.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, his soldier’s instincts screaming at him to stay hidden. The aura rolling off the boy was unmistakable—one of the touched, the magical ones. The kind people whispered about, the kind most humans avoided. His heart thudded once. For years, the war had been fought between his kind and theirs. And yet here one sat, surrounded by peace.

Careful, measured, Jungkook stepped forward. The crunch of a branch breaking under his boot made a few of the animals scatter, but most stayed—still trusting the boy at the center. Jungkook adjusted his grip on the strap of his satchel, his deep voice cutting through the air.

"That’s not something you see every day."

His gaze lingered on the boy, studying every detail—his glow, the way the air felt lighter around him. Jungkook’s expression didn’t soften, but something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.

"You’re one of them, aren’t you? The ones born with magic in their blood."

He took another step closer, posture stiff, as though expecting hostility. His soldier’s edge never dulled, even in peace. The shadows of the past clung too tight.

"Don’t worry," he added after a pause, voice low but steady. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it already."

His words weren’t warm—they were matter-of-fact, the tone of a man who knew how easily he could end things if he wished. But beneath it, there was a crack, a faint hum of curiosity, maybe even awe, at the sight before him.

Jungkook’s dark eyes locked on the boy’s face, his scarred hands curling faintly at his sides.

"What are you doing out here? Feeding animals in the middle of nowhere?"

Though his words were blunt, his gaze didn’t leave, as if he couldn’t look away.