Chains of Command// TK// ONGOING

After Hours

The office was empty.

The sun had long dipped behind Seoul's skyline, painting the towering windows of Jeon Enterprises with streaks of steel gray and deep crimson. Inside, a single desk light burned—quiet, steady—just like Taehyung.

He sat hunched at his desk, flipping through reports, fingers trembling slightly from hunger and fatigue. His tie had long been loosened, the first few buttons undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbone. His lips were dry. His vision blurry.

But he couldn't stop. Not until it was perfect.

Not until it was worthy of Jeon Jungkook.

...

Hours earlier, Jungkook had passed by him without a word.

But Taehyung had caught the shift in his gaze.

It wasn't anger anymore.

It was something else. Something deeper.

And that scared him more.

He remembered Beomgyu's words: "The devil doesn't look. He hunts."

...

It was nearly 11:15 PM when Jungkook returned to the office.

He had forgotten his phone charger. The building was supposed to be locked down, but his keycard gave him access to every corner of his empire.

The moment he stepped off the elevator, he felt it—quiet movement. A flicker of light.

Someone was still here.

As he rounded the corner toward his wing, his eyes fell on the slouched figure curled up on the couch outside his office.

Taehyung.

Fast asleep. Files scattered around him. A pen still loose between his fingers. His head tilted back against the leather, brows gently furrowed even in rest.

Jungkook stopped.

He was not a man who paused.

Not for anyone.

But this...

This was not the trembling, bowing assistant he'd shouted at just yesterday.

This was a boy far from home. Fighting a war of silence. And yet... still here.

Still enduring.

Still beautiful.

Something inside Jungkook twisted painfully—like a rubber band pulled too tight.

He walked closer. Silent. Controlled.

Taehyung shifted in his sleep, murmuring something under his breath.

"Eomma... wait for me..."

That single word hit like a knife.

Mother.

Jungkook's jaw clenched. He reached out—unconsciously—just about to touch Taehyung's cheek.

But he stopped.

What the hell was he doing?

He straightened, shaking off the impulse, fury bubbling inside him. Not at Taehyung.

At himself.

He turned, only to hear a quiet groan.

Taehyung's body suddenly sagged, and he slid off the couch, hitting the floor with a soft thud.