It was June 11, 2025. Seoul was warm that evening, soft light painting golden streaks across the skyline.

Inside Jungkook’s penthouse, the air was still—almost reverent. The curtains swayed lightly from the open balcony doors, and faint music played from a speaker in the corner, barely louder than a whisper. The apartment had been cleaned, rearranged, loved. A small cake sat on the counter that read “어서 와, 정국아 — Welcome Home, Jungkook.”
Tiny fairy lights flickered like stars, and the scent of lavender and vanilla lingered in the air.

Everything was ready.