Jungkook sat back on the couch, elbow resting on the armrest, eyes glazed over—not at the TV playing aimlessly, but at the memory clawing its way in.
His ex.
The voice. The manipulation. The way she clung to him like a lifeline but bled him dry in return.
"You need me," she had said once, venom wrapped in silk. "You're nothing without me. You just don't see it yet."
She was demanding. Possessive. Constantly accusing. Yet played the victim in public. JungKook remembered the exhaustion—the way his smile had turned into a mask, the way he second-guessed every word, every move. She had clipped his wings while convincing him it was love.
But Ivory...
Ivory didn't need him.
Hell, she was the most self-reliant woman he had ever met. A woman born into privilege, yet untouched by arrogance. An heiress who built her own life, carved her own name, and thrived outside the shadow of her family's empire. She didn't crave the spotlight—didn't even want it. She didn't fall at his feet when she learned who he was. Didn't even flinch. Instead, she looked him in the eye and told him he owed her pasta.
She challenged him. Grounded him. Helped him without needing recognition.
And it terrified him.
Because for the first time, he wasn't needed. Not to complete someone, not to fix someone, not to be anyone but himself. And still—she chose him. Not because she needed a savior, but because she saw him and stayed.
That kind of love—the kind without control, without expectations—was foreign. And it shook something loose inside him.
He stood abruptly.
Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was survival. Or maybe... it was the first time in years he wanted to fight for someone who didn't need saving.
His feet led him down the hallway, knocking gently on her door.
The door cracked open. Warm light spilled into the hallway—and there she was. Ivory, standing in front of her mirror, blow dryer in one hand, a soft white robe wrapped around her, hair damp, curls wild and natural.
She paused when she saw him.
"Hey..." he said, a little breathless, almost shy. "Can I come in?"
She blinked, then nodded, stepping aside.
He walked in slowly, then gently took the blow dryer from her hand.
Ivory raised a brow but smiled at him through the mirror. "You know how to use that?"
He grinned, flicking it on. "I think so, years of being styled on I think I can survive this one."
He began drying her hair carefully, one hand fluffing it up so the warm air could reach the roots. She sat still, the mirror catching the flicker of his eyes as he focused, the closeness between them humming like low voltage.
"I'm starving," she murmured with a teasing pout. "And we haven't ordered anything."
"I already did," he said, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "It's on the way."
Ivory's lips curled. "Of course you did."
He chuckled, switching the dryer off and setting it down. "But... I was wondering," he added, stepping around her slowly, "if you'd like to go out for ice cream?"
She tilted her head. "Right now?"
"There's a convenience store downstairs. It's not glamorous, but..." he rubbed the back of his neck, "it sounds kinda perfect with you."
Ivory laughed softly, standing up. "Let me change. I'm not going down in a robe, Jake."
He smirked. "Fair enough."
As she moved to her closet, he lingered at the doorway, already picturing them walking the aisles of a dim-lit store, barefoot in their hearts but full of something warm and growing.
The doorbell chimed.
"I'll get it," Jake called as Ivory was zipping up her hoodie.
He returned seconds later with two large bags, the smell already making her stomach growl. "What's that? Black spaghetti?" she said with a dramatic sniff as she peered into the containers.
He laughed, setting the table. "It's called jajangmyeon, not black spaghetti."
"Same thing," she teased, plopping down and grabbing her chopsticks. "What's this one?"
"Tangsuyuk—sweet and sour pork. You dip it in the sauce, not pour it. Trust me, it's a national debate."
"Oh, are we about to start a war?"
Jake mock glared at her. "Please respect Korea's sacred food customs."
She grinned and took a bite. "Okay, this is damn good."
Jake watched her enjoy the meal with sparkles in his eyes. There was something comforting about sharing this ordinary moment with her—eating takeout in sweats, no pressure, no cameras, just them.
Bundled up in hoodies and caps, they strolled down to the convenience store.
"Wait, hold up," Ivory said as they entered, eyes immediately scanning the aisles. "Why does this look like an entire mini-mart dreamland?"
Jake chuckled. "Welcome to Korean convenience stores. You could basically live here."
"I feel like I could."
They headed toward the frozen section.
"Pick your poison," he said, pulling open the freezer.
She peered in. "Okay... Strawberry cheesecake bar? Melona? What's this fish-looking one?"
"That's bungeoppang ice cream. Vanilla inside. Total classic."
He grabbed one and then reached for a green tub.
"No," she said, eyes narrowing. "Tell me that's not—"
"Mint chocolate. The superior flavor," Jake declared proudly.
Ivory gasped. "You monster."
He opened the tub right there, scooping a bite with the plastic spoon. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."
She snatched it, took a dramatic taste, and groaned. "It tastes like toothpaste!"
"You're just uncultured," he teased, taking it back and cradling it like a wounded child.
She picked out a coffee-flavored bar and poked at his ribs. "You're lucky you're cute, toothpaste boy."
They walked through the aisles, Ivory pointing at odd snack names and random beauty items stacked near ramen bowls. At one point, she grabbed a banana milk and held it up like a trophy. "I've seen this in K-dramas!"
Jake laughed so hard he nearly dropped his ice cream. "You're a tourist and a fangirl. I knew it."
They paid, walked back hand in hand, still bickering about mint chocolate and banana milk, but the kind of bickering that comes with warmth and comfort.
Ivory looked up at him as they reached the elevator.
"You really like your normal life, don't you?" she asked softly.
He looked down at her, gentle smile tugging at his lips.
"Only when you're in it."
They returned to the penthouse, warm from laughter and full of sugar. The city lights glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows like stars had fallen just for them.
Ivory kicked off her shoes and stretched with a happy sigh. "That was fun. Might make mint choco tolerable just by association."
"Victory," Jake grinned, tossing his hoodie onto the back of the couch.
She plopped down, curling into the throw pillows. "We should do that more often."
He dropped beside her, not even hesitating before pulling her into his chest. "Let's do it every night."
She chuckled, resting her head against his shoulder. "You're clingy."
"Yup," he mumbled into her hair. "You're stuck with me now."
They laid in silence for a while. Just the sound of the city below and their soft breathing.
Ivory shifted a little, looking up at him. "You're different here."
"Because you're here."
Her heart skipped. He kissed her forehead, then buried his face into the crook of her neck, holding her tighter. She smiled, slowly closing her eyes. For a moment, it felt like nothing could touch them.
***
A black luxury car cruised through Gangnam's quieter evening streets. Inside, JungKook's ex scrolled through her phone, half-bored until—
She glanced out the tinted window.
Her eyes narrowed.
There he was. Walking on the sidewalk. Laughing.
With someone. A woman. Hoodie covering her head—his hoodie. Hand in hand. Ice cream in hand. Like he was just a normal guy without the entire country watching him, like they weren't at war.
Her jaw clenched.
She leaned forward. "Stop the car."
It slowed just enough for her to get a better look.
She pulled out her phone. Click.
The photo showed him in mid-laugh, head tilted slightly toward the girl beside him. His smile—the real one.
Her lips curled. "Let's give the media something to talk about."
She opened her social app and posted the picture without hesitation, captioned in sharp-edged words:
"Guess scandal season isn't over yet. Caught in the middle of it all and he's out with her? So much for reflection and remorse. Must be nice pretending."
She pressed "post."
And watched the chaos begin.