The makeshift medical wing on the uppermost secure floor of Eclipse Headquarters was not a hospital. Hospitals were for ordinary people who bled and broke and hoped insurance would cover the cost of staying alive. This place was a temple built for one god only — Jeon Jungkook — and money had bent the world to make it so. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft golden light over sterile white marble floors that gleamed like fresh snow. State-of-the-art machines hummed quietly in the background, monitors displaying vital signs with the kind of precision that cost more than most men earned in a lifetime. The air smelled faintly of expensive antiseptics mixed with the subtle notes of aged leather and oud from the private recovery suite adjacent to the operating room. Doctors — the best in the continent, flown in under Eclipse’s private jets — moved with hushed efficiency, their voices low and reverent as they adjusted IV drips and checked the bandages wrapped around their king’s shoulder.