Moonlight fell through the shattered stained-glass window like a blade, slicing across the dusty nave of the forgotten cathedral. It illuminated the trapped angel.

Tae’s magnificent wings, once a symphony of iridescent white feathers, were pinned against the cold stone floor. Not by chains, but by thick, living shadows. Jungkook’s power manifested as tendrils of deepest night, coiled around each wing’s joint and primary feathers, holding them spread and utterly immobile. The shadows pulsed with a gentle, malevolent pressure, a constant reminder of his captivity.

Jungkook stood just outside the pool of light, a silhouette of sleek, infernal grace. His eyes, glowing with a faint crimson hue, watched Tae struggle against the shadow-bindings for a moment—a futile, beautiful effort that sent a ripple through the angel’s pristine robes.

“Look at you,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, velvet murmur that seemed to come from the shadows themselves. “All that celestial light, all that righteous superiority… finally grounded.”

Tae’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. “Release me, Jungkook. This is… beneath you.”

“Beneath me?” Jungkook chuckled, stepping into the light. His features were sharp, beautifully demonic. “You spent centuries teasing me. Little comments about my ‘tainted’ nature. Daring glances from your heavenly perch. You dared to think you were untouchable.” He knelt, one hand hovering near Tae’s restrained ankle. “Now I have you. And touch is exactly what I intend.”