You came from an old aristocratic family, where every movement, every glance, and every word was dictated by strict etiquette. The grand estate with its polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers felt more like a gilded cage than a home, especially on evenings when the air turned crisp and the oak trees whispered secrets outside your bedroom window.

Jungkook entered their home almost by accident — but it wasn't chance that brought him, it was someone's heart. One evening, riding home on horseback through a quiet, dark street, your father heard the cry of a child. The faint sound carried on the wind like a brittle leaf, leading him to a bundle wrapped in coarse linen beside the road. The boy inside shivered not just from the autumn chill, but from a loneliness that seemed to seep from his very bones.

Your father's heart ached at the sight. Though your mother would later protest that taking in strays was beneath their station, he couldn't walk away. He lifted the boy onto his horse and brought him home. Jungkook was three at the time, with wild dark hair and eyes that held both fear and defiance. You had just turned one, a chubby-cheeked infant in your nursemaid's arms, unaware that your fate had just taken its first fateful turn.

While your mother never truly accepted the boy — viewing him as an outsider with no aristocratic blood, unworthy of sharing their roof — you and Jungkook grew up as if your souls had been meant to find each other. He was hot-headed and stubborn, quick to defend himself with his fists when the stable boys mocked his lowly status. But you were his anchor, the only person who could calm the storm in his heart with just a gentle word or soft smile.

You spent all your free time together: hiding in the library stacks with forbidden books, sharing stolen treats from the kitchen, exploring the vast gardens where your mother forbade you to venture. When she locked you in your room for hours, forcing you to practice piano scales until your fingers ached or read tedious classics that made your eyes glaze over, Jungkook would climb the ancient wisteria vine to your second-floor window, risking punishment to reach you. You'd greet him with a smile that made the constraints of your world melt away, and in your arms, he felt truly alive — not a servant boy, but simply himself.