He's the keeper of his mind, the ruler of his soul, and the very cause of his own downfall. Jeon Jungkook, once the honourable student at the top of his class now reduced to the supposed poisoner of sworn blood oaths.

"Once again, I'm not interested," he boredly replies, maintaining a placid expression. It is the same exact face he held the second he was uncuffed, untied, unmasked, and escorted into the Headmasters' office an hour ago by four bodyguards decked in full black uniforms. They would have appeared to be intimidating if he couldn't hear the rapid speed of their heartbeats the entire time they walked him inside. This is also the first time in three months he's been somewhere other than the small enclosed room he was detained in.

After ninety-two days of murky water that should have never passed as being potable as well as terrible mush they called food, Jungkook is craving a meal to fill his perpetually empty stomach. He doubts he’ll be getting it here though. Judging by the detached and solemn look on the Headmaster's face, it seems rather unlikely he'll be given any sympathy regarding his appetite.

Truthfully, Jungkook thinks that making a break for it would not be the worst idea, getting by the guards planted outside the door and inside the room would be the hardest task. The bullets are also a little problematic to deal with. But really, perhaps some people would consider death as a lesser sentence, but he values his life too much to let it wither and perish in his own hands. The precise reason why when he was finally taken outside, he did not beg for mercy and do their every word as they had hoped him to do.

"You, frankly, don't have much of a choice. You've been expelled from Honesta School of the Defense Arts, well-known for their hand-on-hand combat skills and might I add famous for their forgiving nature." The Headmaster sternly crosses his hands together, once more trying to successfully convince him to be more compliant to his fate. "Mr. Jeon, this is an act of pure good faith that I'm willing to extend my kindness to even remotely allow you to be on our sacred ground much less to become a student."

The Headmaster dons an old-fashioned navy suit, covering every inch of his body. It practically spells the word expensive and upperclass. A striking contrast to his own ripped and worn out tee shirt and fraying blue jeans. Jungkook's gaze drops down for a brief second. He still vaguely recalls the saying, the man was the one who makes the clothes, not the other way around. They would be so disappointed in him right now if he hadn't already reached their maximum capacity.

Shifting his gaze to his setting, the entire room describes elegance with simplistic cabinets, empty space, and new leather armchairs while still managing to be rather daunting and barren. It gives him an unsettling feeling down in the pits of his stomach. Familiarity.  

"You violated the number one rule which is enough for permanent exile from warrior schools in this country. You would have been well attending juvie if your former classmates haven't already killed you or at least organized a hit-man to off you for them," the Headmaster points out in a clearly rehearsed speech. Of course, he would have seen the documents on what had occurred according to the few witnesses.

Jungkook would have enjoyed watching them attempt to murder him, but they all lacked the detachness to their souls and fierce mindset to carry out with that plan. Their clear love for ignorance should be admired. They called him a shadow of his previous existence while ice-cold crystal tears streamed down their red flushed faces. They are all dead wrong.

"There is no mercy for traitors yet you're still being given a second chance. You're still young, therefore you have an excuse to screw up once now. What will occur in another year when you're a fully-fledged adult? If you're lucky, you'd be kept in a prison or a psychiatric ward for what you did,” he reasons with Jungkook.

"Don't accept my tainted hands then." And Jungkook strongly resists the urge to snort. It isn’t like there isn't a clear solution in front of them. This isn't them trying to unsuccessfully prove String Theory. Well, his life was quite complicated to the point where the school board had to hold various meetings that spanned over three months to decide what they were going to do with him, but it was their own fault to be unable to comprehend simple reasoning.

Perhaps his parents have intervened, him being dead would have put a wrench in their plans and bloodline. The group he calls family. The ones who have partaked in condemning him to this end.

"Some people believe that there's a pos