Chapter Text
“People disappear all the time.
Teenagers run away from home.
Children drift away from their parents and are never seen again.
Housewives reach the limit of patience, grab the shopping money, and take a taxi to the train station.
International bankers change their names and vanish into the smoke of their imported cigars.
Eventually, most of these people end up being found. Alive or dead.
Disappearances, after all, can be explained.
Almost always."
When Jungkook woke up that morning, Jeonghan wasn't beside him in bed.
He got up, wearing just a simple dark blue boxer, and walked around the room feeling the cold floor against his toes.
Maybe if it were somewhere else, he'd already be shivering with cold.
But they were in Inverness, a small Scottish village in the British Isles. And it was summer. Everything revolved around light clothes and classic hats.
Jungkook went to the small bathroom they had in that inn room and stood in front of the mirror.
The dark circles were still there. Symbol of a poorly slept night and not for the reasons Jungkook would prefer.
They were nightmares.
He'd been having them since he saw his first patient having a seizure after having part of his leg torn off on the battlefield.
War sucked.
He turned on the tap and splashed some cold water, running it over his face.
He felt his skin slightly numb from the cold contact, but soon his eyes were wide open and the sleepiness vanished.
He opened the small cabinet behind the mirror and took out a brush, starting to comb his black hair.
Jeonghan said it was time to cut it. After all, it wasn't well seen by people an omega with hair too long.
But Jungkook didn't want to cut it. He liked it this way. And, in his humble opinion, it wasn't even that long.
He sighed when all his knots were gone and put the brush aside.
He ran his slender fingers through his hair, feeling it slipping through them, and pulled it back, removing the bangs from his forehead.
He spent the next few minutes staring at himself in the mirror.
Twenty-seven years old.
Almost thirty.
Almost the age his parents were when they died in a car accident, on a dirt road in a small town in France.
He wasn't getting that old, was he?
Before his existential crisis thoughts could extend throughout the Tuesday morning, someone knocked on his room door.
"Mr. Yoon?" called the sweet Mrs. Baird, the innkeeper where they were staying. "Are you awake?"
"I am," Jungkook replied from the bathroom.
"Breakfast is ready, sir," she said. "Your husband has already left to meet with the vicar and asked me to wake you up if necessary."
Jungkook sighed and forced a smile, even though she couldn't see him.
"Thank you," he said. "I'll be down for breakfast as soon as I finish here."
"Alright. Have a good day, sir."
And everything went quiet again.
Jungkook leaned on the sink and looked down, feeling slightly tired of it all.
Even though the war had ended a few months ago and he, now, was finally moving towards having a stable life with his husband, Jungkook knew he wasn't raised for this.
Junghyun might even be disappointed to know that, as soon as their honeymoon was over, he would leave for England, where Jeonghan would take up the position of History professor at Oxford University.
Since his parents died when he was only five years old, Jungkook had lived with his older brother, going from historical exhibition to historical exhibition. From country to country.
China, the Middle East, Congo, Honduras, and all those where his brother was called to lecture.
After all, Junghyun had been a great archaeologist and an excellent professor of sociology and anthropology before dying at forty defending a fallen soldier on the front line of his infantry.
Jungkook wished he could have said sweet things to him when they parted ways on the day they enlisted in the army.
And thinking about those things hurt. But it wasn't something he could avoid.
The thoughts just came.
He closed his eyes and, sighing once again, moved away from the sink and opened the mirror cabinet again, taking out his toothbrush.
He was used to changes. To new people and new situations.
A simple life as just the omega husband of the History professor wasn't exactly what Jungkook wished for the rest of his life.
However, he would never let Jeonghan know that.
Their marriage was already having serious problems without this additional reason being involved.
₩
The living room was filled with history books.
They occupied the chairs, small tables, spaces that were once empty on the shelves, and even the floor.
Jungkook wondered how Jeonghan had managed to convince Mrs. Baird to let his research materials spread throughout the inn.
"Oh, look how dapper you are, Mr. Yoon," the woman said, appearing from the staircase and smiling from ear to ear.
She wore a simple floral silk dress, which suited her well on her chubby frame.
"Yes," said Jungkook. "I know."
Elegance was one of the many criteria he took seriously when assessing a person's character.
Therefore, he always wore the best clothes.
The finest suits, the best ties, the finest dress shirts, the best hats, and the finest dark shoes.
Yoon Jeon Jungkook did not allow himself to be classless.
The woman laughed, probably finding amusement in what he had said, and as soon as she finished descending the stairs, she signaled for them to walk down a corridor that he knew would end in the dining room.
Jungkook followed her, admiring the paintings hanging on the walls.
They were paintings of some of the beautiful landscapes of the Highlands.
His favorite was the one of the beautiful Leoch Castle, already in ruins after the Jacobite Revolution, representing the seat of the Namikaze, one of the greatest Scottish clans of the 18th century.
Jungkook only knew these things because of Jeonghan, who never tired of talking about an ancient ancestor of his, a certain captain of the English dragoons known by the affectionate codename "Black Jack."
That was one of the reasons they chose to spend their first honeymoon there. Jeonghan wanted to learn more about this illustrious grandfather of his great-great-grandfather.
And now, seven years later and to try to have a moment just for themselves after being separated by the war, they were there in Inverness again. On a second honeymoon.
As Mrs. Baird opened the door at the end of the corridor, Jungkook found himself in a room illuminated by the light coming from the open windows.
The table was small and circular, and it was filled with various types of food more than necessary for a breakfast.
"Make yourself at home, Mr. Yoon," said the woman, stepping away to go to the kitchen.
And Jungkook walked around the room, smelling the sweet scent of the countryside that not even the war had been able to take away from that small village.
He sat at the table, seeing that the place his husband usually occupied since they arrived, a week ago, was empty.
Jungkook wondered if it was good that things were so strange and yet so normal between them.
And, reflecting on the moment he and Jeonghan had met, he began to drink his coffee. Alone.
Walking through Inverness unaccompanied was, in a way, embarrassing for some people. Especially if you're an unmarked omega of twenty-seven years (almost thirty).
But for Jungkook, it made no difference at all.
He enjoyed walking alone through the cobblestone streets and feeling the refreshing wind tousling his hair.
He looked at the shop windows, admiring the floral porcelain dishes, the simple clothes that the locals usually wore in the warmer seasons, and also the funny souvenirs of small stereotyped sculptures of a Scottish man: tall, red-haired, strong, freckled, with light eyes, and wearing a kilt.
The first time he went there, Jungkook couldn't hide his disappointment upon discovering that the kilt hadn't been worn since the Jacobite Revolution, where all the clans were decimated by the English crown.
He even made a joke about it with Jeonghan (who didn't find it funny at all, it's worth remembering).
He could hear some people whispering when they saw him passing by, walking freely on the sidewalks with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
They murmured something like sassenach, and Jungkook just held back a smile.
After all, sassenach meant "outsider" in Scottish Gaelic, as Jeonghan had taught him the few times Jungkook had devoted himself to listening to his long narratives on the subject.
The locals tended to have a certain prejudice against foreigners, especially if they were English.
He turned right, into an old and tall building with a cross in the center (the local church), and walked down the slope that followed.
In the distance, he could see the green mountains almost disappearing into the bright blue sky.
There was no noise of cars, and the sound of his calm footsteps echoed along with the wind.
This post-war calmness was good.
Jungkook didn't feel tense or anxious, or with adrenaline levels so high that his vision became blurry at times.
It was just him and the world, without shattered soldiers bursting through the door of his makeshift medical cabin or the fear of when he knew his cycle was about to start and his husband was thousands of kilometers away, fighting the Germans.
During those seven years of war, Jungkook had to find controlled partners to survive amidst the cycle without being bitten.
After all, Jeonghan was a beta, and Jungkook preferred it that way. At least, if separation were necessary, there wouldn't be too many complications.
At the end of the street, there was a huge, old, well-kept building, three stories tall, with a beautiful front garden.
Another woman, very similar to Mrs. Baird (according to Jungkook's concept, who never paid much attention to women), was squatting near a thistle plantation.
As soon as she heard his approach, she lifted her head to look at him.
"Ah, Mr. Yoon!" she exclaimed, smiling broadly. "Good afternoon. How are you?"
Jungkook merely nodded in greeting, walking along the stone path that would lead him to the house's door.
The woman got up awkwardly and put her hands on her hips, observing the flowers.
"What do you think?" she asked, turning to Jungkook. "I remember you mentioned that you also had some knowledge of plants."
He did.
Jeonghan had encouraged him to read botany books to help keep his mind occupied after the war.
And now, Jungkook had developed a certain admiration for plants and considered it even a hobby; where, whenever he found an interesting specimen, he would collect it to admire later, next to his books.
"They're beautiful," he said, standing beside her.
And they were. Jungkook loved thistles.
Her smile seemed to widen.
"Yes, indeed they are," she said, then turning to him, she said, "Came to take your husband away from here once again? The other Mr. Yoon always seems to forget that time exists when he comes to see the vicar."
Jungkook found himself forced to smile again.
"Yes," was his simple reply.
The woman laughed, as if that had been very funny.
He wondered if all Scottish women had this strange habit of finding humor in things that, in his opinion, didn't have any.
"Well, they're inside, in the library, as always," she said, once she stopped laughing. "But before you go, wouldn't you like to have a cup of tea with me? It's chamomile."
Jungkook had already been warned about this by the vicar on one of his first visits to the house.
He, an old, widowed man now linked to the Catholic Church, had said that his housekeeper had the habit of rambling about ancient Nordic and Scandinavian customs, always inviting people to have tea and, soon after, read their past and predict their future.
The vicar thought she was crazy and said he only kept her as a housekeeper because of her wonderful cooking skills.
And Jungkook was sure he should say that he preferred not to have tea. After all, he didn't believe in these future prediction craziness.
But honestly, he wasn't in the mood to enter that library and have to endure Jeonghan talking about their famous ancestor's likely life.
He knew he would be ignored and would have to spend hours waiting for his husband and the vicar to finally tire of reading records after records so they could finally return to Mrs. Baird's inn. Where, again, they would spend the night discussing their historical findings and nothing else.
Or, if they did, it wouldn't be like it used to be.
So, even anticipating future disappointment, Jungkook nodded when he said yes, he would accept a cup of tea.
The vicar's house kitchen was huge. Very well planned and with furniture so old that Jungkook sometimes found himself admiring them and wondering if Junghyun would know how many years they had.
"You two got married before the War, didn't you?" asked the woman Jungkook now remembered was called Mrs. Graham.
"Yes. It was a very simple thing," he said.
Because it had been.
They just went to the registry office, carried away by the spirit of rebellion, and signed the necessary documents with witnesses they didn't even know.
Mrs. Graham smiled as she took the boiling kettle off her stove.
"Well, he's a very handsome beta," she said, approaching the table where Jungkook was sitting.
He handed her the cup already with the chamomile sachet, and she served him.
After a few minutes, both were sitting at the table, drinking their teas in silence.
"You know, Mr. Yoon..." she suddenly said, looking out the window.
Outside, the sun was starting to set.
Jungkook didn't encourage her to continue, taking another sip of his porcelain cup.
"I felt a good vibe coming from you, you know?" she said. "I've always had a tendency to get involved with things... you know... a little... from beyond, understand?"
"Paranormal?" Jungkook said, already knowing very well where that conversation would lead.
Mrs. Graham grimaced when she looked at him.
"I hate this term," she said.
He shrugged.
"As you wish."
"What I mean, Mr. Yoon, is that you have something special," she continued. "I don't know, maybe it's a positive vibe. But I feel... I feel... that great things are about to happen to you."
"Really?" he said, unable to hide his skepticism.
"Yes," her dark eyes seemed to gleam. "Absolutely."
And Jungkook smiled, amused, as he took another sip of his tea.
That visit wasn't as bad as he had imagined.
Mrs. Graham left her cup on the table and reached out her hand towards him.
"Give me your hand," she said. "I would very much like to read it."
Oh, this was new.
Jungkook looked at her carefully before also placing his cup on the table and doing as asked.
Mrs. Graham's hand was rough for an old omega woman, but perhaps it was related to the fact that she spent a lot of time in the front garden of the vicar's house.
She fell silent and began to examine Jungkook's hand, tracing its lines with her fingers and assuming a concentrated expression.
If he didn't know that it was all an act, he could easily have been convinced that she knew what she was doing.
"Do you see this line here, near the thumb?" she said, leaning over the table so that Jungkook could see. "It's the line of changes. And, in your hand, it's very turbulent. You must be someone who likes to experience new things, although you appreciate having your moments of peace from time to time."
Jungkook didn't let it affect him, even though she had hit the mark.
Anyone could notice that kind of thing.
Mrs. Graham then raised his hand to make it more visible under the sunlight streaming in through the window.
The kitchen fell into a strange silence, and Jungkook pretended to try to understand what she was doing.
"Anything about future children?" he asked, in jest.
But deep down, it weighed a little on his chest.
Jeonghan wanted children.
And they had already had serious discussions about it. Because, as it seemed and according to the doctors they had visited, Jungkook had difficulties getting pregnant.
Something normal for many. However, even so, sometimes it was tough for them to accept this reality.
"No," Mrs. Graham said. "The line of children usually takes time to appear and often is inaccurate."
"So, what else do you see?"
She bit her lower lip, seeming to reflect.
"You have a certain anomaly that I've never seen before," she said.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Here. See?" She pointed to a line right in the middle of his palm. "This is the marriage line. And you..." she paused. "Understand, Mr. Yoon: when there are signs of a separation and a new future marriage, this line breaks for a while before continuing forward, you know?"
Jungkook nodded slowly, finding it all somewhat amusing.
"But you..." she lowered his hand again, leaning even further over the table. "In your line, there's no break. Which means you'll remain married until you die. But... there's a fork. At one point, your line splits into two, and both continue without stopping."
"And what does that mean? That I'll be in two marriages at the same time?"
Mrs. Graham agreed, looking alarmed by her realization.
"Yes. Exactly that."
"But it's not allowed for someone to be married to two people," Jungkook said.
"I know," and then she smiled. "Incredible, isn't it? I told you I had felt that you were destined for extraordinary things."
And he just nodded, pretending to agree as he reached for his tea cup again.
That just made him believe that the vicar was probably right about Mrs. Graham.
She was definitely crazy.
₩
"How was your day?" Jeonghan asked as Jungkook emerged from the bathroom, already dressed in his satin pajamas.
"Good," he said. "I met that man Mrs. Baird recommended to me, remember? The plant expert? We're planning to go on a mountain hike tomorrow. He's going to teach me some things."
Jeonghan nodded, near the closet, and began to take off his suit.
"Very good. Maybe now you'll stop putting flowers in my books," his tone was serious, but Jungkook knew he was joking.
"They're not flowers. They're specimens," he countered. "And it was you who suggested that I take an interest in botany. Don't complain."
Jungkook walked over to the vanity and sat in the padded chair, picking up a hairbrush and carefully combing his hair.
He always did this before bed. It was a habit he had acquired since he had seen Junghyun brushing his long black hair at five years old.
"It's true," Jeonghan continued speaking, opening the door of one of the cabinets and taking a hanger for his suit. "But I didn't know I'd have twigs and leaves falling into my lap every time I opened a reference book."
Jungkook decided not to say anything else.
He looked at himself in the mirror and thought about telling his husband about Mrs. Graham's "shocking" news about his double marriage.
However, before he could say anything, Jeonghan spoke first, unbuttoning his pants:
"I found out some things about Black Jack."
And here they came.
The new discoveries about his ancestor.
"That captain of the English dragoons?" Jungkook said, trying to show his total disinterest in the subject.
"That's right," said Jeonghan, oblivious to his husband's attempts.
Jungkook sighed, already tired of that subject.
"Seriously?" his tone was unmistakably ironic.
And Jeonghan, once again, seemed not to notice, launching into a monologue about every little thing he had discovered about Black Jack that day.
₩
"Look who's coming!" exclaimed Mr. Crook as soon as he saw Jungkook coming out of the inn.
It was almost seven in the morning, and the sun had just risen.
He was standing in front of the building, wearing a dark suit that was already a bit old (which matched perfectly with his gray hair and white beard), and holding a small picnic basket.
"Good morning," said Jungkook, descending the front steps.
Mr. Crook was one of the few men in the village with whom he felt comfortable conversing. Jungkook had only met him the day before, at Mrs. Baird's recommendation, who said she found him too secluded inside the guest room.
An alpha already sixty years old and widowed, Mr. Crook was a florist with fifty years of experience under his belt and a man who had as much disdain for Scottish culture as Jungkook did.
When they met, a simple sarcastic comment from the old man about the time of year they were passing and their superstitions was enough for Jungkook to consider him the only one in that town with whom he could converse without going insane.
With that, they agreed to hike through the mountains that day, collecting flower samples and discussing the medicinal effects of some of them.
And that's what they did. One of the first days of his honeymoon where Jungkook really felt completely relaxed.
Despite being sixty years old, Mr. Crook seemed to be in good shape for his age, walking alongside Jungkook as they climbed rocks and hills without complaining about fatigue.
They talked a lot about botany, and Jungkook even regretted not bringing a notebook to write down every word the other man said.
And they only took a break when it was already three in the afternoon.
They stopped in a green meadow, sitting on rocks while eating the sandwiches Mr. Crook had brought in the picnic basket.
Jungkook looked around, admiring the trees and the sky, when he noticed a hill ahead, not too far away. Where, in a discreet way, there was an improvised stone staircase leading up to its top.
"What's up there?" he asked, nodding towards it. "It doesn't seem like a very touristy place due to the type of stairs."
"Oh," Mr. Crook looked towards the hill. "That's Craigh na Dun. I was planning to go there after lunch."
Jungkook raised an eyebrow.
"Surprises? Coming from you?"
And he just laughed before shrugging and taking another bite of his ham sandwich.
After eating, they packed up, and Jungkook held the picnic basket as they resumed their hike.
They walked for a few more meters, passing trees and bushes, and ended up finding some buttercups along the way.
When they reached the stone staircase, Jungkook feared that Mr. Crook wouldn't be able to make that climb.
But his concerns proved unfounded when it was the old man himself who reached the top first, smiling and running his hand through his beard.
"There it is," he said, spreading his arms as if he owned it.
Jungkook didn't expect that.
It was a strange kind of megalithic monument. A miniature stone circle that occupied the entire top of the hill.
He and Jeonghan had visited Stonehenge before, on the Salisbury Plain, a few months after getting married.
And Jungkook had to admit that it and Craigh na Dun were very similar, although one was a much larger version.
Archaeologists had always been very interested in Scottish stone circles. Jungkook could even vaguely remember Junghyun murmuring about how he would give anything to know what these monuments were for.
A cemetery. A temple. A market where villagers gathered for trade... There were many suppositions.
Jeonghan believed more in the second option. Junghyun too.
"I confess I hate the mythological customs of my land," Mr. Crook said. "But Craigh na Dun is simply fascinating."
Jungkook found himself nodding without saying a word.
He walked through the grass, looking at each of the stones.
They seemed to have been meticulously placed.
There was a stone in the center of the circle, standing upright like the others and very tall. It might have been almost three meters long.
They were vertical and different, each with its imperfection. Some were pointed, and others were speckled with flakes of mica, reflecting the late afternoon sunlight.
Whoever built that must have taken those stones from where? And why?
"Junghyun would love to see this," Jungkook murmured, somewhat impressed.
"Is that your husband's name?" Mr. Crook said behind him. "Mrs. Baird told me he's going to be a History professor at Oxford."
Jungkook didn't correct him.
₩
Once they reached the village, they walked side by side, with Mr. Crook (who, at some point during the descent, complained about the pain in his knees) linking his arm with Jungkook's.
They had a slow pace and talked about plants.
He was truly pleasant company.
It was when, in the middle of one of the parts where Jungkook spoke about his appreciation for elder leaves, they saw a woman open the door of her house and come out, holding an old metal bucket.
She turned and threw whatever material it was inside onto the front porch.
As they got closer, Jungkook could see, somewhat astonished, that it was blood.
Before he could ask the woman any questions, she went back inside and closed the door.
Jungkook stopped walking, a bit shocked.
"What just happened?" he asked, more to himself than to Mr. Crook.
"A sacrifice ritual," the old man replied. "Deplorable, isn't it? They're dirtying the ground with blood!"
"What?"
Jungkook thought he hadn't understood correctly.
Mr. Crook sighed and, with a tug on his arm, indicated that they should keep walking.
After a few seconds, he continued his explanation:
"In the old days, when they built a house, it was customary to kill someone and bury them in the foundation, as an offering to the earth spirits. But as times changed, they don't kill anyone anymore. What you saw was just the blood of any old black rooster."
Jungkook looked ahead, observing the small houses of Inverness and its empty stone streets.
Other people started to come out, carrying buckets and throwing blood on the front porch.
He shook his head, finding it all very antiquated.
"Deplorable," he murmured.
Mr. Crook agreed.
"Indeed, Mr. Yoon. Indeed," he paused, seeming to think of something. "Did you know that many of the local ghosts come from this idiotic custom?"
"Ghosts?"
Jungkook was becoming increasingly perplexed by the creativity of these people.
"Yes, ghosts. Have you heard of Mountgerald, the big house at the end of High Street? They say there's a ghost there. A worker who was murdered by his colleagues to serve as a sacrifice in this ritual. Now, they say he haunts the basement where he was buried."
"How ridiculous," Jungkook said, frowning.
"I know."
₩
Jungkook was sitting at the dressing table, brushing his hair, as he always did.
He hadn't gone to pick up Jeonghan at the vicarage that day, so he was alone in the room.
It was raining. A heavy rain that he hadn't even noticed was coming while he was talking to Mr. Crook and Mrs. Baird late in the afternoon.
He listened to the sound of the water hitting the window and the ceiling lights, which at some point during the storm, stopped working.
Mrs. Baird knocked on his door when that happened, minutes later, bringing candles and some matches.
Now, Jungkook was brushing his hair by candlelight, with the inn room immersed in an unintentionally romantic atmosphere.
When he finished, he set the brush aside and ran his hand through his hair.
He remembered when his brother used to do that. Junghyun had always taken care of his hair, even though it was a rule for any alpha who wanted respect.
So, staring at himself in the mirror, he remained like that, immersed in the memories he still had of his older brother.
Until, interrupting his thoughts, Jeonghan knocked on the door before entering.
Jungkook watched him through the mirror's reflection.
He was drenched, even though he had used a raincoat and an umbrella.
But something was different today.
Jeonghan stopped walking right in the middle of the room and looked at Jungkook in a strange way.
"What's wrong?" he asked, turning in his chair. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
It was a joke. Especially considering his conversation with Mr. Crook that afternoon.
But Jeonghan nodded slowly, licking the inside of his cheek.
"Maybe..." he murmured.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow.
"A ghost? Are you serious?"
And his husband shrugged, shaking his head.
That seemed to snap him out of his shock, and Jeonghan walked across the room, starting to take off his coat and leaving the umbrella leaning against the wall.
Jungkook watched him carefully.
"Have you been drinking?" he asked.
Jeonghan laughed, facing away from him.
"Yes," he said. "The vicar has an excellent whiskey stash, I have to admit. But I'm not sure what I just saw."
Jungkook fell silent, waiting for him to continue. And Jeonghan did:
"I was running down the street, in the middle of the storm, when I saw a man standing just below our bedroom window." Jeonghan pointed to it, with drops of water running down his face. "And he was watching you comb your hair."
"Holy shit," Jungkook muttered.
And, in an adrenaline rush, he got up from the chair and walked to the window his husband had indicated, looking down.
There was no one there.
"He's gone now," Jeonghan said. "He left."
"Why do you think it was a ghost?"
Jungkook turned to him, a slight chill running down his spine.
It was probably just some weirdo who had an unhealthy habit of watching people through their bedroom window.
His husband bit his lower lip and hung his raincoat, already on its hanger, on the wardrobe doorknob to dry overnight.
"I can't explain it. He..." Jeonghan sighed. "Oh, damn. He was strange, you know? He wore old-fashioned clothes, typical of the 18th-century Scottish clans. He even wore a kilt, can you believe it? A kilt! Who wears a kilt in the rain?"
He ran his hand over his face, and Jungkook noticed that Jeonghan seemed ecstatic.
"And his clothes, Jungkook..." he continued, pacing around the room. "His clothes didn't move. It was so windy that I thought I might lose my umbrella. But even so, his clothes didn't move!"
"It might have been just your imagination," Jungkook said, not believing a word of it.
"I know, I know! But it wasn't just that. His blond hair, Jungkook. His hair wasn't wet. It was messy, with ends sticking out in all directions, as if it had never been combed before. And it was blond. A blond so true it looked golden under the candlelight in our room."
Jeonghan began to gesture with his hands, and Jungkook moved away from the window, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at him.
"And I... There was a moment when I decided to approach him. I wanted to ask what he was doing watching my husband. And I... I called out to him. I shouted in the middle of the rain, but he didn't hear me. So, I went over there, and the man just stood there. He didn't even emit any scent so I could tell if he was alpha, beta, or omega."
Jeonghan stopped pacing and looked down at his own feet, seeming puzzled by something in his mind.
"So, I tried to grab his shoulder. To pull him into a fight if necessary. But..." he shook his head, incredulous with himself. "I felt nothing. It was as if my hand passed through him, Jungkook. And he... he turned around. We were so close that I should have collided with his body somehow. But that didn't happen. The man just walked past me, and when I turned around, he was gone."
The room fell into a tense silence, and the rain against the window seemed to grow stronger.
The candlelight was no longer romantic, taking on a macabre air.
Jungkook didn't know what to say.
Jeonghan took a deep breath before looking at him, his pearlescent eyes looking tired.
"I saw his face, Jungkook. Although I couldn't see his eyes." he said seriously. "He was young. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five. He had scars here." He pointed to his own cheek. "Three on each side. And he... he looked so unhappy, Jungkook. So unhappy..."
Jeonghan paused, and Jungkook saw his eyes welling up.
"I... I don't know how to describe it to you. It was as if, just by looking at his face, a huge sadness consumed me, and I remembered all the German soldiers I killed in the war. It was... horrible."
Jungkook looked back at the window.
And for a split second, he could have sworn he saw a man there, exactly as Jeonghan had described him.
Young, blond, with scars on his cheeks, wearing old Scottish clothes.
Except this time, Jungkook saw his eyes.
And they were blue.