An hour passed in complete, suffocating quiet. Downstairs, you finished your meal at a leisurely pace, letting the psychological weight of the isolation sink deep into his bones.

When you finally opened the bedroom door again, the heavy atmosphere in the room was palpable. Jungkook was still pinned to the headboard, his chest heaving in tiny, shallow rasps. Sweat had mapped a dark line down the center of his chest, and his hands, locked tightly above his head, were trembling from the prolonged strain. He had kept his promise this time-he hadn't moved an inch, and he hadn't made a sound. But the sheer physical and mental toll was obvious; he was pushing himself to his absolute limit just to prove his loyalty.