The next morning, Taehyung woke early, slipping into his servant’s attire—a soft beige dress with a white apron tied around his waist. The dress, though modest, still hugged his wide hips and accentuated his soft chest, something he had grown used to over the years. His fingers combed through his silky hair before tying it into a loose braid.

Today, he would serve the Duke again.

A part of him still replayed last night’s dinner—Jungkook’s deep voice filled with self-loathing, his refusal to meet Taehyung’s eyes, and the way he harshly told him to leave. It left a bitter ache in Taehyung’s heart.

Why did the Duke hate himself so much?

After gathering his tray, Taehyung made his way to the Duke’s chamber, balancing a breakfast tray of warm bread, fresh fruit, and tea. His heart hammered as he approached the large wooden door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked gently.

“Come in.”

Taehyung pushed the door open and stepped inside. His breath hitched at the sight of Jungkook sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, his large belly slightly exposed. His hair was disheveled, and the thick scars that marred his broad chest and arms were on full display. Taehyung quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks burning.

Jungkook noticed. His body tensed. “I… apologize for my appearance,” he mumbled, reaching for his robe to cover himself. “You should not have to see this.”

Taehyung blinked. “It’s alright, Your Grace. I’ve seen worse.”

Jungkook froze, his hand stilling. “Worse?”

Taehyung mentally cursed himself. “I-I mean… I’ve served wounded soldiers before. Scars do not frighten me.”

Jungkook scoffed bitterly. “These are not war wounds. They are… reminders of my cursed existence.”

Taehyung’s chest tightened. Slowly, he approached the Duke, placing the tray on the nightstand. “Would you like me to help you dress, Your Grace?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not.” His voice was harsh. “You will not touch me.”

Taehyung flinched but quickly recovered. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Silence fell between them. Taehyung busied himself arranging the breakfast tray while Jungkook sat rigidly, his large hands resting on his round belly. Finally, Jungkook spoke, his voice softer. “Why did you come here?”

Taehyung glanced at him. “I was offered a job.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jungkook said bitterly. “A beautiful boy like you… why choose to work in the mansion of a hideous Duke?”

Taehyung hesitated. “I did not come here because of your appearance, Your Grace. I came because I needed work.”

Jungkook laughed harshly. “You will leave within a month. They always do.”

Taehyung’s heart ached at the bitterness in his voice. Gathering his courage, he stepped closer. “And if I don’t?”

Jungkook’s head snapped up. “What?”

Taehyung swallowed thickly, his fingers nervously clutching his apron. “What if I stay?”

The Duke let out a cold laugh, his eyes darkening. “Do not lie to me, boy. I am not a fool.”

Taehyung’s voice trembled. “I’m not lying, Your Grace.”

Jungkook turned away, his large back heaving. “You will leave like the others. I am not a man worthy of company, much less someone as beautiful as you.”

And there it was again. That deep, agonizing self-hatred. Taehyung’s chest tightened painfully. Without thinking, he reached out, his small hand brushing against Jungkook’s broad shoulder. The Duke flinched violently, staggering back.

“Don’t touch me!” Jungkook roared, his voice shaking.

Taehyung froze, eyes wide.

Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, his hands trembling. “I do not deserve your touch,” he choked. “You should not have to dirty your hands on someone like me.”

Taehyung’s heart shattered. Before he could think, the words tumbled out. “You’re not dirty.”

Jungkook stilled.

“You’re not disgusting,” Taehyung whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re not a monster, Your Grace. You’re just… lonely.”

Silence.

Jungkook turned slowly, his eyes bloodshot and filled with disbelief. “You…” His voice cracked. “Why are you saying that?”

Tears stung Taehyung’s eyes. “Because it’s true.”

The Duke stared at him as though he were seeing a ghost. His entire body trembled, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to find words. Finally, he turned away, his voice cold. “Leave me.”

Taehyung didn’t move. “Your Grace—”

“I said leave!” Jungkook’s voice cracked, filled with pain. “Before I start to believe your lies.”

Taehyung’s heart sank, but he said nothing. With trembling hands, he gathered the tray and quietly exited the room, his vision blurred with unshed tears.

And behind the closed door, Duke Jungkook sank to his knees, clutching his chest, wondering for the first time in his miserable life… if someone could truly see him as more than a monster.