Two people, one only soul.

ּ ֶָ֢.

Jeon Jungkook, the youngest Daejang in the history of the Republic of Korea Army, carried on his shoulders not only the weight of his rank, but also the weight of the whispers and speculation that surrounded him. Coming from a military background, his childhood was marked by iron discipline and demands that far exceeded those of any child his age. These experiences shaped him, toughened him, and transformed him into General Jeon Jungkook, a man of steel, a relentless warrior who never hesitated to pull the trigger. On the battlefield, hesitation meant death, a lesson seared into his soul from an early age. His father, a decorated general, instilled in him the precision, strategy, and coolness necessary to survive in a world where life hung by a thread. The long training days, the handling of weapons from childhood, and the constant pressure to excel all contributed to forging his unbreakable character. Years of rigorous physical and mental preparation had transformed him into a war machine, a born leader capable of making split-second decisions, decisions that meant the difference between victory and defeat, between life and death.

Now, after three years of relative calm, tension on the border between South and North Korea had reached a critical point. The usual silence of the demilitarized zone, a precarious and deceptive silence, was shattered by the roar of bullets. The air was filled with the dull echo of gunfire, a sound that chilled the blood and heralded chaos. The South Korean soldiers, taken by surprise, desperately sought cover among the trees and bushes, trying to escape the hail of lead that descended upon them. The North Korean ambush had been executed with surgical precision. The North Koreans, superior in number and strategically positioned, had launched a brutal and unexpected offensive. They had anticipated every move, every defense, every possible reaction of the South Korean troops.

Jungkook, leading his unit, returned fire with his trademark lethal precision. His rifle, an extension of his own body, spat out bullets with a relentless cadence. In his cold, calculating eyes, there was no trace of fear, only the unwavering determination to protect his men and his country. Every bullet he fired was an act of survival, a declaration of war against the enemy that threatened the peace. There was no time for regret, no time for second thoughts. In that hell of fire and steel, every decision was a matter of life or death.

With swift, precise movements, Jungkook slipped through the rubble, assessing the situation, anticipating the enemy's moves. His mind, trained for war, analyzed every detail of the attack, searching for a way to break the siege and repel the offensive. He wasn't just a soldier; he was a strategist, a leader who inspired his men with his courage and determination. He was born to battle, to defend his homeland, to lead his men to victory.

However, the ambush was too precise, too well planned. The suspicion of betrayal hung over them like an ominous shadow. Someone, somewhere, had leaked crucial information, handing them over to the enemy. The sound of a sniper rifle echoed in the darkness, followed by the muffled scream of a soldier. One of Jungkook's men fell beside him, a bullet hole in his forehead. The enemy sniper, hidden in the shadows, was picking them off one by one, forcing them to retreat.

Despite the adversity, Jungkook refused to give up. He rose amidst the chaos, rallying his men, urging them to keep fighting. Death lurked at every turn, but he would not give in to fear. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he led the counteroffensive, pushing his men forward, fighting for every inch of ground. Then, the impact. Two accurate shots hit him, one in the side, one in the left arm. A burning pain coursed through his body, but Jungkook refused to fall. His iron will kept him standing, but his body, for the first time, was beginning to weaken. His men, seeing their leader wounded, carried him out of the firing zone, covering him with their own bodies as they retreated from the demilitarized zone. The bullets continued to fall like a relentless rain, but Jungkook only felt the warmth of his own blood soaking his uniform. Darkness closed in on him, slowly swallowing him. He didn't know when his legs gave way,

He didn't know when everything went black...

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