🎙: Kim Taehyung, CEO of South Korea’s nationally treasured airline, Mugunghwa Air. Charming. Polished. Courteous. He left no one suspecting the bloody monster lurking inside of him.

In an effort to lure from the shadows the serial killer preying on women of Seoul, the city’s Chief of Police hires Park Jiyeon; a naive college student majoring in journalism, dying for any opportunity to put her foot in the door.

Always 2 steps ahead, the plan goes ary. Leaving Jiyeon forever trapped in Taehyung’s web.

“Taehyung?” Jiyeon whispered as she turned to her side, noticing the empty spot next to her. At first, she didn’t move, simply assuming that he went downstairs for some water, to his office for some unfinished work, or to the bathroom, thus she closed her eyes, knowing he’d return to her side soon.

But then, in the far distance, she could hear it.

A woman’s voice.

Jiyeon’s chest tightens as she pushed herself to sit up. She scooted closer to the edge of the bed and stood.

No… that couldn’t be right. Her taehyung? No, they were supposed to get married, so why…

Against her better judgement Jiyeon snuck out of the bedroom, and that’s when she heard it it, it wasn’t just any woman, it was Sohee, the secretary she had briefly met at his place of work.

‘You can’t marry Jiyeon...’

Jiyeon took a few steps down the stairs.

‘She’s not who you think she is…’

She could hear the rustling of papers, but she didn’t understand. What was going on here? But either way, whatever the older woman had shown Taehyung, seemed to have enraged him.

‘Sohee… you need to leave, now.’

Jiyeon finally reached the end of the stairs, and she stood at the door opening, head peeking out as she tried to catch a glimpse of the scene.

Just in time for the coat to pool around Sohee’s legs and reveal her body to him. She leapt forward, a desperate confession coming from her lips as she moved in dangerously close.

Then, even unexpected to Jiyeon, something in Taehyung’s expression went empty, his eyes darkening into something dark and lethal. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and he gripped Sohee by the hair as his other hand shot to the knives on the kitchen counter.

To any normal person, the scene that unfolded in front of her, would’ve been enough to send them running, screaming, sick with horror as they wouldn’t believe what they had just witnessed but…

Jiyeon watched.

She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the gruesome sight. Her body responded to it, butterflies swarming in her lower stomach as she felt heat pool between her legs.

Something that had laid dormant awakened inside of her.

A shaky moan escaped her lips, at which Jiyeon quickly retreated.

Oh god, what if he heard that? She stood still, holding her breath, her face flushed with embarrassment.

Jiyeon closed her eyes for a brief second, inhaling shakily. What.. was this feeling?

What was wrong with her?

‘I know you’re there, sweetheart. I heard you. Come here.’

He had already noticed her, of course he did.

Jiyeon peeled herself away from the wall and moved forward, her gaze set on the floor as she moved closer to him, picking at the hem of the dress before she stood still in front of him, not daring to look at him.

Was she in trouble?

He lifted her face with the tip of the knife and Jiyeon met his eyes, they were still filled with darkness, but it was starting to make place for something else…

I…” The girl’s voice came out as a whisper first, as she thought about the answer, what her true feelings were.

“It wasn’t sure what I felt at first…” Jiyeon admitted, her hands reaching out, resting against his chest as she looked up at him. “But when I saw you, how hot you looked doing… that… my heart wouldn’t stop racing and my mind felt hazy.” Jiyeon rambled, going quiet when Taehyung picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and buried her face into his neck.

‘Such a dark girl, getting turned on by such a sight. All for me…’ He said with a roll of his hips, Jiyeon spread her legs in response, wanting— no, needing to feel more of him. The friction was enough to make her desperate for more, have her imagination run wild with what he’d do to her…

She took in every single of his words, each causing her body to respond more. A series of gasps and moans escaping her lips at his touches.

At his command, she took her night gown off— she took everything off that she was wearing until she was completely naked in front of him.

Jiyeon turned into putty in his hands, her mind was hazy, her body leaning into his touches, he was the only one on her mind. Taehyung brought her to the sofa, giving her what her body was craving for since the moment the night had started.

Tonight was different from all the times before. The usual tenderness was replaced with raw intensity, as if seeing that darkness in her had unleashed something within him. His touches were rougher, more possessive. He knew exactly how to unravel her— where to touch, how much pressure to apply, what words to whisper in her ear to have her trembling and pleading beneath him…

“Please,” Jiyeon gasped, her body aching with need. “Taehyung, please…”

Every time she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he proved her wrong, wringing pleasure from her body until she was completely spent. Her words dissolved into incoherent cries as pleasure crashed over her again, and he followed her over the edge moments later.

—

The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains as Jiyeon sat on the chair in front of a large mirror. Aunts and female cousins of Taehyung were busy around her, smoothing her dress, working on the last decor, making sure everything was perfect.

Hayoung stood behind Jiyeon, brushing her locks back to pull into a bun, only leaving some locks to frame her face. The older woman hummed softly, a smile on her face.

“You make such a beautiful bride, Jiyeon.” Hayoung smiled, her tone warm.

“Thank you, ma’am…” Jiyeon was flustered by the comment. Would Taehyung feel the same way? Was she really a beautiful bride?

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting your parents as well. They must be thrilled for today.”

Jiyeon froze for a moment. She forced a smile, the words catching in her throat. “Oh… um…” Her voice faltered. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “Actually… they won’t be coming.”

Hayoung’s hands stilled, and her brows furrowed with concern. “Oh… I’m so sorry. Have they passed?”

Jiyeon shook her head slightly, not wanting to ruin her hair. “No… I’m… I’m no contact with both of them. It’s… complicated.” Her gaze stayed fixed on her fingers.

“I see…” Hayoung picked up the flower pin. “I understand. Still, especially your mother… she must be heartbroken. I hope you’ve thought carefully about this… my mother wasn’t always the easiest, I would do anything to see her again.”

“…maybe.” Jiyeon replied.

Hayoung could sense the tension in jiyeon’s shoulders. “I won’t push you, my dear. I only say this because I just don’t want you to make any mistakes you’ll regret, you’re still young.”

Jiyeon nodded. “I understand, ma’am. I’ll talk with Taehyung about it…”

“You know,” Hayoung suddenly said. “You don’t need to be so formal with me anymore.” She gave Jiyeon’s hand a gentle squeeze. “After today… you can call me Halmeoni.”

[🎙️]

It was finally time.

The day he had been waiting for so long. Meticulously planned since the beginning of their love story.

“Taehyung?”

A voice caught his attention. Jiyeon’s grandparents. Now his in-laws. He tore his gaze away from the spring view outside. The altar that was waiting.

“Mr. Park, Mrs. Park,” he greeted politely. Bowing slightly.

“Please don’t be so formal.” Her grandfather spoke. “We are family now.”

Her grandmother smiled, grasping his hand. “I just wanted to say… thank you for saving our Jiyeon. You are the best thing that could’ve ever happened to her. We are so proud to have you in our family, to call you our grandson.”

Taehyung smiled in return. Warm and genuine. But inside? Their words struck a dangerous cord.

Yes, he was.

He was meant for her… and she was meant for him. They were bound by fate. And after today, no one could ever separate them.

No laws. Not even death itself.

“I have to disagree, grandmother.” His voice was smooth as silk. As charming as always. “She is the best thing to happen to me, I couldn’t imagine my life without her.”

Their wedding was a blur straight out of a fairytale. Only the closest family and friends. Vows shared under a scene of flowers. Private. Intimidate.

Perfect.

Everything was perfect.

“I love you, jagiya” Taehyung murmured against her hair as they swayed along to the violinist. He pulled away, just enough to tilt her chin up with a push of his finger. “Your heart belongs to me.” His lips brushed against hers. “And mine belongs to you.” Then he kissed her, pouring every ounce of tender emotion into the rhythm of their lips.

Petals soon threw in the air, cascading around them like confetti as they walked to the waiting limousine. Ready to take them to the airport.

“Please be safe.” Voices of their family called as the door shut.

Taehyung pulled her closer until she was flush against him, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “My beautiful bride,” he whispered. Kisses peppered across her jaw. “So perfect.” Down her neck. “Mine.”

He captured her lips again. This time in a deep kiss. His tongue pushing past her lips, exploring every inch of his wife. Her soft skin beneath his finger tips. The sweet lingering taste of cake and champagne. The soft scent of her perfume. An intoxicating combination.

And it was all his. She was all his.

Until a knock at the window interrupted.

He stifled a low growl, forcing himself to pull away.

“We have arrived, Mr. Kim.”

The limo had stopped, parked at the airport. A few feet away from where his private jet waited to take them to their first honeymoon destination.

Taehyung stepped out first before scooping Jiyeon into his arms. Their wedding night wasn’t over yet. “Are you ready, Mrs. Kim?”

The door to the private jet slowly shut behind them. Leaving behind their old life to finally start their new chapter.

Forever together.

—

The first weeks of their honeymoon blinked by faster than he would’ve liked.

Cafes. Sight seeing. Shops. Museums. Their bodies constantly intertwined, hand unable to stay off one another.

He never wanted this to end, but now that they were married… it never had to. It never would.

The sun slowly set beyond the horizon, painting dark streaks of oranges and purples across the sky.

The gondola came to a stop, rocking slightly.

“Sir, madam.” The gondolier smiled, bowing his head politely.

Taehyung stopped out first, taking Jiyeon’s hand and helping her back onto the cobblestone street. When suddenly, she swayed. Her face paler than normal.

“Sweetheart?” He caught her against his chest instantly, keeping her stable on her feet. “Are you feeling alright?” His hand cupped her cheek, his wedding ring cool against her skin. “Let’s get you back to our suite, hm?”

When Namjoon declined her request regarding her family, the underlying edge to his tone was not lost on her. She returned a faint polite nod, not pushing the topic further, knowing it was best to remain calm and compliant.

As soon as there will be an opening, she would make a run for it. She just had to be patient.

Namjoon soon left the table and presumably went back to working on something, leaving his guest by herself at the table. Yume sighed before she took another sip of the tea, this was all just temporary, right?

“I hope the meal was to your liking, Miss.” A voice sounded.

Yume frowned, looking over at the butler who cleared the table.

“You… speak Japanese?” Yume questioned, surprised.

“Ah, yes.” Gwangsu replied. “I worked at a seaside resort near Okinawa for a couple of years.” He explained while arranging the dishes onto his cart. “I needed the language for my job, so I studied diligently.”

“I see.” Yume replied, before clearing her throat. “Apologies, my throat’s dry. May I trouble you and ask for a bottle of water? I’m extremely thirsty.”

“Certainly. I’ll bring one right away.”

While he was gone, Yume rehearsed what she wanted to say next. Should she beat around the bush? Be more direct? Give it some more time?

The butler soon returned with a bottle of water.

“Thank you.” Yume took a sip of the water, not stopping until it was halfway gone.

They spoke a little longer, about Japanese food, about the sea, about the differences between Koreans and Japanese.

“I should let you rest.” Butler Lee said, gathering the last remaining cutlery. “If you need anything, simply ask.”

Yume set the bottle down. This might be her only opportunity.

“Actually, there is a favor I need to ask.” She said with lowered voice.

Gwansu paused. “Yes?”

“Could you please call the police for me?” Yume directly asked, deciding it was best to be blunt. “I believe I am here against my will. I would be very grateful for your help.”

The man paused for a moment before he shook his head.

“No, Miss. My duty is to the mayor only. Matters of outside authorities are beyond my role.” He offered a small bow. “I hope you have a great rest of your day, I will be taking my leave now.”

With that, the butler stepped out of the conversation, leaving Yume by herself.

Shit. There was no way he wouldn’t tell Namjoon about this. Did she blow her cover that easily? The game had barely started.

She had to think of a believable excuse if Namjoon would confront her.

With nothing else to do, Yume stood from the table and wandered towards the living room. Her attention was drawn immediately to the large bookshelf along the wall. Yume approached it, scanning the orderly rows of titles. Most were in Korean, a few in English and then she noticed a single book in Japanese tucked between them.

Yume carried the book to the sofa and sat down, hoping to lose herself in its pages.

For several minutes she tried to read.

But focus refused to come. The words blurred together, her thoughts drifting again and again to her parents, her siblings, her friends, and the mayor who now controlled when she might see them again.

At last she let out a quiet sigh. “I cannot focus like this.”

Yume closed the book, set it aside, and leaned back against the cushions.

Maybe watching some TV will help.

Yume picked up the remote, going through many Korean channels until she found a Japanese one.

20 minutes passed with Yume lost in the show. When it ended, she was brought back to reality again and she got up from the sofa and wandered thorough the hallway before she snuck into his bedroom.

Opening his closet, she searched for something simple to wear, and thankfully, she found a neatly folded plain T-shirt. Yume took it and changed into it, she glanced at herself in the mirror and sighed out in relief.

“That’s so much better…”

[🗝️]

Morning slowly turned to afternoon.

Namjoon spent the time in his study. Paperwork, spreadsheets, and letters scattered across the desk in front of him. His tie became loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, brows furrowed.

Eventually, there was a knock on the double office doors.

Gwangsu.

“My shift is over, sir. I’ll be leaving now.” The butler paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “Before I go, Mayor Kim, there is something I need to share with you.”

“Hm?” The mayor hummed, keeping his eyes on the files in his hand.

“Miss Machida asked for my help, sir, in calling the police. I refused of course.”

Finally, Namjoon looked up. His focus broken like shattered glass. “I see.” Slowly, he set the files down. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Have a good day, Mr. Lee.”

The butler bowed before taking his leave.

Calling the police.

His hunch was turning out correct after all…

—

Eventually, Namjoon gave up on the piling documents decorating his desk.

His mind was too preoccupied with other matters.

On his screen, he switched over to the security feed one last time, and a grin curled on his lips.

“How bold…” He muttered to himself while standing.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, but before Yume could move, the door to his bedroom already opened catching her like a deer in headlights.

“I see you’ve helped yourself.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He stood like a block between her and the only exit out.

His shirt hung loosely around Yume’s frame, stretching down to her mid thighs. More like a nightgown than a shirt on her. There wasn’t anger, but other emotions The Kim Namjoon for once couldn’t place bubbling under the surface. Agitation? Intrigue? Annoyance? Amusement? Whatever it was.

Finally, he closed the distance between them in a few strides.

“What’s your size?” His eyes caught hers. “I can’t get you anything to wear that actually fits you unless I know, Miss Machida.”

His gaze dragged down her frame towards her bare legs. Something about her skin looked… soft to the touch—

Namjoon quickly shoved it aside before it could take root. He moved to one of the drawers, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and tossing them in her direction without sparing another glance.

“Now if you’re done your snooping.” He stepped to the side, gesturing to the door. “Leave my bedroom.”

Back in the living room, Namjoon grabbed two wine glasses.

Time to discuss the matter brought to his attention earlier…

“Are you still having trouble remembering anything?” He asked with his back facing her, keeping his voice deceptively smooth.

At her answer, he let out a simple hum. “Mm.” Unconvinced. When he finally spoke, the word came out in his native tongue.

“Geojitmalljaengi.” Liar.

He handed her a glass of red wine before taking a seat, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You’re quite the talented liar, gongju.” Princess. “Are you going to keep lying to me, or did you not ask Mr. Lee to call the police?”

Jiyeon really didn’t understand how her life turned out like this; to be soon married to Taehyung, and have her happily ever after. Back when she was a college student, she never would’ve imagined that this would be her life.

“You do?” Jiyeon’s eyes widened, her face lighting up with genuine happiness. “We can spend the whole day together?” Her voice was soft, filled with excitement. “Then… maybe we could go to that new opera exhibit…Or maybe a cafe for breakfast or—“

Before she could share more, his phone buzzed sharply on the coffee table. Jiyeon noticed immediately, her gaze flicking to him.

Jiyeon’s stomach turned at his words. He had to go? She clung to him instinctively, arms wrapping around his chest as if holding him in place could make him stay. “Do you really have to go…? I thought— but— we fixed it, didn’t we? Can’t we just.. let it go?” She suggested but Taehyung was resolute in his decision and she reluctantly let him go.

Jiyeon sank back into the sofa, hugging one of the sofa pillows after Taehyung left. She sighed, wondering what she could do to keep her mind off him. But first, she searched for the remote and clicked the tv off, not interested in hearing the mayor’s grand speech.

—

Jiyeon stood in the kitchen, humming softly as she tied another knot, smoothing the bow on one of the boxes before she continued with the next.

She reached for another favour box when the front door opened, but before she could respond, a loud crash sounded throughout the home.

Jiyeon’s hands paused and she headed to the source of the noise. “Taehyung… are you okay?” She asked, glancing down at the fallen vase. Her gaze then lingered on his shirt, noticing it was blotchy with red. She was about to ask him if it was his blood, but he asked her a question first.

“I thought.. I could get a headstart on our wedding favors.” Jiyeon replied. “I already finished all of the boxes and the ribbons..” she smiled at him, looking up at him when he reached her. She leaned in for the kiss, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she kissed him back, taking in every second.

"I couldn’t sleep…" She admitted, her arms sliding down from his shoulders. Instead, she started to unbutton his shirt, one by one. “I’ll put it in the washing but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get it all out…” Jiyeon admitted, deciding against asking him further about what had happened this night. She assumed, hoped, that their problem had been taken care of.

The couple soon headed upstairs, and after a spontaneous hot bath, Jiyeon curled against Taehyung the moment they reached the bed. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, her head resting against his chest as she closed her eyes, murmuring softly about ideas for how to spend the day tomorrow. The conversation drifted effortlessly toward the wedding.

“And I thought maybe we could…” she began, before her words gave way to steady, even breathing. Sleep claimed her, and Jiyeon remained soundly asleep even after Taehyung quietly slipped away.

But atleast they could spend the day together tomorrow.

[🎙️]

A low hum vibrated in his throat as Jiyeon fell asleep on him like a pillow. His fingers traced her cheek, brushing away a few strands of her that fell into her face.

“Sleep well, my love.” The words left his lips no louder than a whisper. “Tomorrow is all ours.”

Just then, there was a soft buzz from his phone.

A text, sent from Kim Seokjin. Location coordinates, nothing else. It didn’t need anything else, he understood perfectly.

It was time to finally bury the soul who was dumb enough to interfere with his love.

Taehyung slipped out of bed. With a kiss pressed against her forehead, he left like a shadow.

—

A week passed since.

In the dead of night, a chime rang out through the home.

A groan rumbled from Taehyung’s chest. His arms were coiled around Jiyeon’s waist, her back pressed into his chest with his nose buried in her hair.

Who could possibly be bothering them at this hour?

He took a deep breath in, inhaling her scent before untangling her from his arms and finally stepping away. Whoever, whatever, it was, it had to be an emergency.

“Mr. Kim.” The last person he expected stood on the doorstep, barely illuminated by the lights outside. Sohee. His secretary.

“I…” Her eyes dragged down his frame from his sleep tousled hair to the pants that hung loosely on his hips, lingering on his bare chest for a second too long to be professional.

A sight she’s never gotten before.

“What are you doing here?” Taehyung asked. His voice was rough, clearly displeased, but cautious about her sudden appearance.

She smoothed her hands over the long, dark coat tied securely around her waist. “I’m sorry to wake you, but…” The hard look in his eyes made the confidence in her voice waiver ever so slightly, but she knew she needed to push on. It was the only way to save their future. “There are papers that have to be signed before tomorrow morning, it’s urgent.” A lie, but the perfect ticket into his home.

Taehyung let out a sigh, stepping aside. “Very well.” He lead her down the corridor to the kitchen, taking the papers from Sohee.

“So… you have a fiancé?” She began slowly. “Everyone has been buzzing at the news.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed as he read through the document. “This didn’t need to be signed until the middle of next week.”

The rouse was up.

Sohee stepped closer, all professionalities thrown away. “Taehyung, I came here tonight for something important. I needed to see you. You… You can’t marry Jiyeon. She’s not who you think she is.”

A folder was handed to him this time. And inside? Photographs, images of his Jiyeon with another man, the CEO of a rival airline. Kissing, touching, exposed.

He could feel a burn starting to simmer underneath his skin.

Amongst the pictures was messages between the two, conversations of seducing him, marrying him for his money, his business, then divorcing him, taking what he has to runaway together.

It was almost laughable how well the secretary’s plan could’ve worked. If only the pictures didn’t have KORA’s signature glare. If only Sohee knew the full truth behind his and Jiyeon’s love story.

Then maybe she would’ve pulled the wool over his eyes.

“Sohee,” his voice was calm, but laced with clear warning. His hand clenched into a fist, barely containing the burn inside. “You need to leave.

She was crossing bounds, too many lines, but he would give her one last chance to take it all back, to leave before he snapped completely.

“Now.”

Instead, she ignored the warning.

“Please, Taehyung, I know it’s a lot to take in, but Jiyeon is not good enough for you. She’s nothing but a lying dropout, she’s taking advantage of you.” Her hands moved to the tie around her waist. The coat fell to the floor, revealing a black lingerie set, stockings that weaved up her legs, dark lace left nothing to the imagination. “I only want what’s best for you. I… I love you, Taehyung. I want you. I can be the perfect one for you.”

Her manicured hands desperately clung to his arm. Just as they started to wander… he snapped.

What came next was a blur.

A scream as he grabbed her hair. The scraping of metal as he grabbed a kitchen knife from its block.

“Keep my name out of your mouth.” The words left his throat in an animalistic growl. “No one comes to our home and disrespects my wife in such a way. Fabricating lies, adultery…”

“Taehyung, don’t. What are you doing? Taehyung, please, I love you—”

His final words were cold as ice. “Did you truly believe I would ever love you over her? Pathetic.”

Screams and cries filled the first floor, only stopping when a crimson pool grew across the marble tile.

By the end, his chest was heaving from the effort, from the burn still running through his veins.

Then he heard it.

A hitch of a breath, dangerously close to a moan.

Taehyung slowly turned on his heel. “I know you’re there, sweetheart. I heard you. Come here.”

His stormy eyes immediately locked onto her when she came out from hiding, watching her every step closer until the distance between them was gone. Blood dripped from the blade as the tip moved under her chin, using it as leverage to make her hold his gaze.

“Did you like what you saw, Jiyeonnie?” He leaned in closer, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “I know all your sounds like they’re my favourite song, jagiya.”

The knife moved from her chin, across her collarbone, down her side…

His lips began to pepper kisses along her jaw. “It made you excited to see your husband like that, hm?” Taehyung began to pepper kissed along her jaw. “Defending you, protecting you, getting his hands dirty for you…”

Suddenly, the blade was forgotten. His hands grasped her thighs, lifting her up, wrapping her legs around his waist while he pressed her into the kitchen counter.

“Such a dark girl, getting turned on by such a sight. All for me…” His hips started to roll against her in the slow rhythm he knew made her thoughts scatter. His lips reached her neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along the sensitive skin.

“You want me just as much as I want you. Every part of me.” His voice came out horse, strained with barely contained desire. “My good girl…” Biting down a moan, he forced his hips to stop moving.

“Take this off for me.” His fingers moved to the hem of her silk nightdress.

This was the type of person Namjoon really was.

Not the charming mayor that had won the hearts of so many.

The man of last night and this man right here, were one and the same.

She barely registered his words about her father, only nodding faintly. Her head lolled slightly to the side as exhaustion washed over her, and tears welled again despite her effort to hold them back. She stayed quiet, not being able to do anything but listen.

“I can’t…” She protested weakly at his order to get back onto the bed. “I really can’t.” Yume insisted, her body not doing what she wanted.

The room spun, and she felt the weight of her own body pressing down, making movements feel impossible.

“Good morning, Namjoon. I apologize for reaching out to you this early, however, this is not a matter for delay,” Hiroshi sighed. “My precious daughter, Yume, she’s been taken. Unfortunately, due to the incompetence of her former friend, I do not have all details, atleast, not as much as I would’ve liked…” He shot a glare at the young girl who was trembling in the corner of the room.

“I need your assistance,” Hiroshi continued. “I know you have the skill and discretion required. Your time will be compensated, of course. I simply want my daughter back home. Do what must be done, nothing is too much to find my daughter back.” He assured him.

The call soon ended.

“Wa—wait…” Yume whispered, watching him approach, pausing in front of her. He hovered over her, his presence threatening. “Please—“ His warning lingered on her mind.

His hand closed around her arm, firm and unrelenting, and he lifted her as though she weighed nothing. The next second, her body hit the mattress, breath knocking out of her in a small gasp.

Yume stayed where she landed, not having energy to move an inch. The sheets felt cool beneath her cheek, and her eyelids slowly shut.

She was exhausted.

—

It must have been at least a few hours before her eyes fluttered open again. Yume let out a soft groan. The sharp, pounding headache from earlier had made place for a dull lingering ache at the back of her head. For a moment she stared blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts slow to catch up.

Yume pushed herself upright, blinking at the unfamiliar room. Then the memory hit her.

Right, this is where she was taken.

Yume swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Namjoon was nowhere in sight. The home sounded silent, so she moved carefully, drifting around the room in cautious steps. She paused at the window, pulling the curtains aside— only to find rooftops far, far below her.

No escape that way.

Unless she wanted to end her life.

Yume sighed, feeling defeated, and tried the door next. But of course, it was locked and she stepped back, mind scrambling to think of any possible way out.

That was when she heard them— footsteps approaching, Namjoon or someone was coming to this room.

Yume’s heart skipped a beat. She hurried back to the bed and laid down with her back turned towards the door as it unlocked. Namjoon entered and informed her about lunch arrangements.

She followed him out of the room, she had no choice but to.

Yume followed Namjoon through the house, taking in the sight of the place he had called home. The space felt moody, and it was obvious with the tasteful design and quality pieces, he had spent a lot of time on the home. Shelves lined with books caught her eye, and she realized he must be an avid reader. Her gaze drifted to a shelf, where a photograph of two young boys was framed. Below it, a crayon drawing labeled Seungmin was neat and careful, while another, scribbled messily and barely recognizable, was signed Yoohan.

At the table, she took a seat, still processing all that had happened.

“…I suppose my father has been made aware that I went missing last night,” she said, lifting the spoon but not yet having the food. “He must have called you because he trusts you. My father has always been fond of you.”

Her lips tightened slightly. If only he knew what kind of man Kim Namjoon truly was.

“…But you spoke to him as though you hadn’t located me at that pl— the streets, at all.” Yume took a sip of the beverage, it felt refreshing. “I am of no use to you, so why did you not inform him of my whereabouts? I fail to understand.”

She set the spoon down and let out a soft sigh. “I really appreciate your hospitality, Kim-San, but… I would really like to be reunited with my family.”

[🗝️]

Daylight poured in through the living room windows.

Namjoon sat with an ankle crossed over his knee, a pen bouncing in his hand.

He had important things to focus on — deadlines, paperwork, reports, news interviews, but one thing kept stealing his focus. One spoiled, pampered woman.

Namjoon rolled his neck, trying to push her from his thoughts. The sound of her voice, the way her raven hair splayed across the pillows when he threw her back onto the bed, the sight of her tears.

He shouldn’t care — he didn’t care. She was merely a chip to further his career. The perfect chip. So why won’t she get out of his fucking—

“Mayor Kim?” A voice called from behind. It belonged to his butler, Lee Gwangsu, an older man in his mid to late forties. Always quiet and professional.

“Lunch is prepared, and…” Gwangsu cleared his throat politely. “I heard soft movements down the hall. I believe she is awake, sir.”

Namjoon nodded. “Thank you, Mr Lee.”

She was awake.

The butler nodded, bowing firmly before retreating back into the kitchen.

Namjoon closed his briefcase before striding to the guest room.

“You’re awake.” He called into room, spotting Yume on the bed. An observation, not a question. “Lunch has been prepared in the dining room. Come.”

Leaving her with no other choice, he stepped aside, waiting for her to walk first.

As they sat down, Mr Lee poured them each a cup of herbal tea before leaving them to privately enjoy their lunch.

Namjoon picked up his cup just as Yume spoke. He hid a grin behind the rim.

Her blunt curiosity was amusing. She somehow managed to teeter the edge, yet always remaining polite and respectful. It was intriguing, fascinating.

“You suppose correct,” he hummed, setting the cup back into its saucer with a clink. “Oh, is that so?” Her father has always been fond of him? That works out wonderfully in his favour…

Namjoon stole a glance at her, lingering a second longer than he wanted to, before focusing back on his lunch while she continued to speak.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards for a flicker of a second. Gone as soon as it happened. He caught the stutter, the small slip up. It seems as though she was trying to play him for a fool, pretending she didn’t remember, doesn’t realize the gravity of the situation she found herself in, but fine. Games are more fun when more people play.

Namjoon stood from his spot, buttoning his suit jacket. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. It’s simply… not the right moment.” He played into her act, but there was a hint to his tone. Underlying threat. “When I decide it’s the right time, you’ll be reunited with your family.”

He took a step towards the doorway, looking back at her over his shoulder. “In the meantime, Miss Machida, make yourself comfortable.”

With that, he disappeared down the hallway to his study.

—

The door shut behind him.

“KORA, dim the lights 28%.”

An automated voice softly echoed from the ceiling, “Dimming office lights 28%…”

Leather whined as Namjoon sat down behind his desk. After an encrypted password and a few clicks, live security feed illuminated the computer screen.

The mayor leaned back, the small grin finally daring to tug at the corners of his lips when his eyes found what he was looking for. Yume.

He let out a breath and simply waited. Hands folded. Curious to see what the young woman would dare to do when she thought he wasn’t looking…

The moment Jiyeon’s shoes touched the ground, the sound of crunching gravel felt like a flashback from the past; the countless of times she had heard this sound growing up.

Before her lay the same little farm she had once called home… It was as if time had paused the day she left. The modest house with its peeling white paint, the bicycle leaning against the fence, even the tools her grandfather always kept neatly hung along the shed wall, the slightly crooked mailbox— everything was exactly where it had always been.

A gentle brush of fingers brought her back to the present. Taehyung stood beside her, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before adjusting her jacket.

‘Do you remember everything we talked about?’

“We are here to comfort my grandparents,” she recited quietly, eyes meeting his. “To tell them I’m doing okay. That I left because the pressure of being a student became too much… I met you, we fell in love, and I want them to know I’m safe, and that we’re getting married soon.”

When he kissed her, it was soft and short, just enough to make her heart flutter.

As he pulled back, Jiyeon’s eyes lingered on his face. A thought crossing her mind: Would he look down on it all— the modesty of their home, the unassuming rural neighborhood, the weather-worn fences? Would he see her differently once he saw where she came from?

Before doubt could fully form, a shaky voice called out from the porch. "Jiyeon! Oh, Jiyeon, is that really you?!"

Jiyeon looked over and saw her grandmother. Her grandmother stood at the top of the steps, one trembling hand clutching the doorframe. Yeonhee looked smaller than Jiyeon remembered, more pale as well.

“Grandma! Be careful, it’s slippery…” She moved towards the young woman whom pulled her into a tight embrace.

“My sweet girl…” Yeonhee’s words came out between sobs. “You’re really here. I thought I’d never—”

“Grandma, it’s okay,” Jiyeon whispered, tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “I’m home.”

Her grandfather appeared in the doorway then, his face softening as he took in the sight of her. Jiyeon hugged him too, burying her face against his shoulder.

Moments later, they were ushered inside. Inside, warmth enveloped them. The same floral curtains hung over the windows, and the ticking clock above the kitchen counter still filled the silence between words. Jiyeon’s throat tightened— every detail was so painfully familiar it almost hurt to look at.

Yeonhee fussed over them, pouring tea and cutting slices of banana bread and making them a bowl of mixed fruits.

They talked for what felt like hours— about what had happened, about Taehyung and his work, the city, about the past, about everything Jiyeon could safely share.

“Oh, Jiyeon,” Yeonhee finally murmured, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter to us. We’re just so happy you’re home.”

As the afternoon faded into gold, the inevitable goodbye crept in. Outside, the air felt a bit colder, snow beginning to fall in soft flakes.

“Oh, grandma, grandpa. This is for you.” Jiyeon handed them the wedding invite. “It’s for our wedding. I’d love it if you could come too.” And with that, they left the home and headed back to the car.

At the car, Yeonhee’s hand caught Jiyeon’s.

"This isn’t a goodbye, right, Jiyeon?" Her grandmother cautiously asked.

Jiyeon smiled, then shook her head. “No, it’s not. I promise. I’ll see you at the wedding and after that, we will make sure to visit more often.” And with one last hug of both grandparents, Jiyeon had left with her soon to be husband.

—

The moment was here.

They had rehearsed it so many times that Jiyeon could almost recite every word in her sleep. But now, standing behind the curtain with her heart hammering against her ribs, the reality hit.

Beyond the stage, a wall of noise rose and fell — reporters chatting, cameras adjusting, and the sound of the crowd muttering among themselves. When the stage manager gave the cue, Namjoon nodded.

“It’s time.” Namjoon said.

Namjoon had been meticulous in his preparation— nothing could appear out of place. No expensive clothes, no jewelry, nothing that could invite doubt or resentment. Instead, Jiyeon wore a simple baseball jacket bearing her former university’s crest. Her hair was tied back in a modest ponytail, her face dosed in light make up. “We want them to see a student who made a mistake,” Namjoon had said.

After a glance at Taehyung, Jiyeon stepped into the light.

All eyes were on her. Every movement she made was watched, dissected, judged.

“She will be fine.” Namjoon placed a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “You have trained her well, trust your expertise.”

“Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Park Jiyeon.”

“First, I would like to thank the authorities and everyone who has expressed concern over the past months. I’m deeply sorry for the worry and confusion I’ve caused.”

“I want to clarify that I was not in danger. I left home by my own decision. At the time, I was overwhelmed by the pressures of university life… the expectations, the exhaustion, and my own inability to handle everything properly. Instead of asking for help, I ran away. It was immature, irresponsible, and deeply selfish of me.”

“I never intended to hurt anyone, but I understand that my actions caused pain and distress to my family, my professors, and to those who care about me. For that, I am truly sorry.”

She paused, taking a deep breath. Namjoon had told her to wait here, let the silence linger, let the audience feel her regret.

“During this time away, I was able to reflect and take a step back from everything. I met someone who gave me peace and clarity, who helped me understand myself again. I’ve spent these past months getting to know him and through that, I’ve realized the kind of person, and the kind of partner, I want to become. I hope to live more responsibly moving forward.”

“Once again, I’m deeply sorry to everyone I’ve disappointed. I know my disappearance caused unnecessary worry and trouble for so many. I can only ask for your understanding and your forgiveness.”

“Thank you.”

The damage control had gone as planned.

Then questions fired like bullets, one after another. Camera flashes stung her eyes as dozens of microphones were thrust forward.

Namjoon appeared on stage, his calm presence cutting through the chaos. He placed a hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder, guiding her gently away from the podium, towards Taehyung.

“Taehyung…” Jiyeon breathed, her voice trembling, half from nerves, half from relief.

Before he could respond, Jiyeon rushed forward and threw her arms around him. His body was warm, grounding— everything the stage wasn’t.

“I–I did it,” she stammered into his chest, her voice muffled. Then she pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes wide and searching. “Did I… do a good job? I didn’t.. forget anything, right?”

At his words, Jiyeon’s shoulders loosened with a relieved sigh, she pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. “My heart’s beating so fast,” she admitted in a whisper. “I thought it was going to explode up there…”

Around them, people moved busily backstage, cables and papers rustling.

“Can we go home now…? I’m tired.. and hungry.” Jiyeon admitted, her cheek still resting against his chest as she clung onto him.

—

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Namjoon began, his voice amplified over the noise, “we appreciate your cooperation today, but due to tight time restraints, there will be no questions at this time.”

A wave of protest followed, reporters shouting for comment, but Namjoon remained composed, gesturing for them to lower their voices.

“I understand there are many questions,” he continued. “But what’s important now is that Jiyeon is safe, and she has taken responsibility by addressing the public directly. We ask that you respect her privacy moving forward.”

He paused, letting the silence settle before speaking again.

“I know today’s press conference has raised many emotions and concerns,” he continued, his voice carrying across the room. “This incident reminded all of us how much pressure young people face in today’s world.”

“Too often,” Namjoon started, his tone firm yet empathetic, “students struggle in silence, overwhelmed by expectations and pressure. No one should ever feel that disappearing is their only option.”

“In light of this, I’ve made the decision to allocate part of our annual social responsibility budget to create a new initiative, the campus care program.”

He let the name hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

“This program will partner directly with universities across the country to provide mental health support. Students will have access to round-the-clock support and professional guidance, at no cost. We’ll also fund training for professors and faculty to recognize early warning signs of burnout and depression.”

Namjoon’s tone deepened, more personal now.

“No student should ever feel so overwhelmed that disappearing feels like the only escape. If even one life can be changed — or saved — by this program, it will be worth every effort.”

“Let’s take this as an opportunity to do better, for our students and for the next generation. Thank you for your time. We’ll share more details about the Campus Care Program in the coming weeks.” [🎙️]

A tense silence filled the room as the crowd listened to the young woman’s speech.

Flashes of white went off from photographers. Cameras pointed in her direction, recording every word she spoke, every little movement she made. Jiyeon stood under centre spotlight, speaking for the whole city to hear.

Taehyung grinned as he watched from back stage. Arms loosely crossed over his chest, head tilted slightly.

She was perfect. Reciting every line from memory just like they practiced. Her eyes never darted towards exits, she didn’t try to take advantage of the opportunity…

Pride swelled in his chest as he watched his bride-to-be.

When Namjoon took her place at the podium, she ran into his arms before he had a chance to say or do anything. Taehyung responded instantly, his arms wrapping tight around her back.

“You did it,” he affirmed, placing a kiss against her forehead. One hand moved to her hair, combing through the short locks. “You did a perfect job. You were such a good girl for me tonight. You didn’t forget a thing.”

Holding her chin gently, he tilted Jiyeon’s face to meet his. This time, he captured her lips in a kiss shielded behind the stage curtain.

He could feel her trembling in his arms like a leaf in the wind.

“Shh… Take a deep breath, my love.” Taehyung hushed against her lips to soothe the shiver in her limbs. “Yes, we can go home now. Come.”

Taehyung and Namjoon shared a briefly glance. A silent goodbye. A subtle nod between friends.

Then he led his fiancée to their car.

—

Logs crackled in the fireplace. The living room lit with a warm glow.

The TV was on, playing the latest news cast — Jiyeon’s speech and the mayor’s latest initiative.

Taehyung laid back against the sofa, his fiancé resting against on his chest. His fingers danced up and down her arm as he watched her more than what was on screen.

“Listen to how perfect you were tonight,” he whispered lovingly, his lips purposely skimming the shell of her ear. Her voice played in the background.

A moment passed.

“Sweetheart?” He then called to get her attention solely on him. “I have a day off with you tomorrow…” Taehyung hummed, continuing his dance up her arm. “What should we do tomorrow, hm?”

Then, his phone buzzed.

The text he was waiting for.

“I have to go, sweetheart.” Taehyung stood, leaning down to kiss her. “I need to take care of the person who tried to humiliate us and think they could get away with it.” The ominous threat hung thick in the air. “Don’t wait up for me tonight, understand?”

He gave her another kiss before grabbing his jacket. The front door locked behind him.

—

Close to midnight, Taehyung stumbled through the door. He hissed through clenched teeth, knocking over a vase of red roses on a nearby stand.

Glass shattered against the hardwood.

“Taehyung,” the sound of his rival’s assistant gasping echoed through his memory. “What are you doing here? You’re not my date.”

He dropped his keys with a clang.

“Did you think you wouldn’t get caught? Is that why you did it?”

“No, Mr Kim, I… It was just business—”

“Business? It’s one thing to target me, it’s another to involve someone I deeply care about.”

His side was burning like hot coals were pressed against his skin. Crimson splotches leaked through his white button up.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim. Maybe I did you both a favour. I saw the news segment, your fiancé—”

There was a scuffle.

The assistant struggled free — barely. She scratched his cheeks with her nails, kicked, hit, and cut his side with a broken glass shared.

“Fuck!” Taehyung growled to himself.

She got away.

The first one of his victims whoever got away — that wasn’t by his own choice.

Suddenly, he heard a soft creak. His gaze snapped up with a sharp intensity, finding his wife-to-be.

“What are you still doing awake, sweetheart?” His voice was rougher than he intended, but still sweeter than expected.

He stepped towards her, closing the distance between them. She was supposed to be sound asleep by now, but… just seeing her was calming the storm raging inside him.

He captured her lips in a deep kiss. After a few minutes, he pulled away, his thumb tracing her now swollen bottom lip.

“You should be sleeping.” His voice was still rough around the edges, but softer now.

And then… him.

Namjoon’s face surfaced in her dreams, being so out of place in that chaos. The tone of his voice as he assured her things will be fine. The words she couldn’t quite understand. The way he reached out to her before the world tilted around her and went black.

A faint groan escaped her lips as light filtered through unfamiliar curtains. She slowly opened her eyes. For a few seconds, she simply laid there, the room slowly becoming less blurry as she blinked. Her head throbbed, causing her to flinch.

When Yume finally looked across the room, she froze.

Across the room, seated in an armchair by the fireplace, was Namjoon.

“Kim Namjoon?” Her voice cracked. At the sight of him, she pushed herself up, too quickly, and immediately regretted it— the room spun, and bright flashes zapped across her vision.

Yume winced, holding her head. “Oh, my head…” Yume muttered, massaging her temple in an attempt to ease the pain, but it proved futile.

Before she could ask anything, he promptly redirected her to the water.

Yume’s eyes followed the gaze of Namjoon and she looked at the glass of water that he had left out for her. Her gaze shifted back to his, the pills in his hand and back to the water. Every part of her begged her to drink, yet the logical part of her body cautioned her, whispering that she should be cautious.

He drugged and took her here afterall.

“Thank you, Kim-san… I’ll have some in a moment. I’m just not very thirsty right now.” She forced a small polite smile, as she sat up straight, positioning herself at the edge of the bed.

The pain was killing her.

Yume’s fingers dug into the sheets, quickly stopping herself when she realized what she was doing. She avoided his gaze, glancing down at her lap, but then she noticed something different.

Why was she wearing this dress?

In front of Namjoon nonetheless.

Yume clutched at the blanket, drawing it up to her chest, wrapping the blanket around herself to cover up.

After a moment of silence, Yume spoke up.

“…Kim-san.” Yume began, glancing over at the man. She carefully considered how to ask him the following question, and only when she was sure, she spoke up again. “…All we did last night was dance… right?” She frowned, heat rising to her cheeks. The question was absurd, but what other conclusion could she make? Wouldn’t any woman question this if they’d wake up in a man’s bed?

When he confirmed that nothing had happened — not between them atleast —, she let out a sigh of relief, but then paused.

“Ah, please don’t misunderstand my relief, Kim-san, you are certainly an attractive individual, but I am sure that you’d agree that intercourse would’ve unnecessarily complicated matters between us…”

“Besides,” Yume continued, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “my family has already chosen a suitor for me. They would hardly be pleased if—”

Yume gasped.

“My parents must be worried sick,” Yume sighed, feeling guilt creep up in her chest. “They didn’t even know I was going out. I should call them.” Her eyes darted around the room. “My bag… phone, did I leave them at the club..?” Yume asked out loud, mostly to herself.

—

Aiko stood trembling in the middle of the room. Her breath came in uneven bursts, a mixture of exhaustion and panic, her fingers clutched the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

“Yume… Yume was taken.” Aiko’s voice trembled, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “She was abducted. I—I couldn’t stop them—” She stuttered.

The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Hiroshi stepped toward her slowly, his facial expression was calm, too calm. Aiko’s shoulders hunched as he stopped in front of her, his shadow swallowing hers. She didn’t dare to look at him.

“You are really telling me…” He began, his tone laced with venom, “that my precious daughter is gone?”

Aiko flinched but nodded. “I’m telling the truth, Machida-sama. There were men, a van, they grabbed us— I could get away, I tried to go to the police but they said I was drunk and disruptive and threw me into the cell to sober up, I swear, or I would’ve told you sooner!”

Her words dissolved into sobs.

Hiroshi’s jaw tensed.

And he lashed out.

His hand struck across the girl’s face and he sent her stumbling, Aiko crashed to the floor and stayed down. Her hand rested on the side of her face, feeling the sting underneath her palm. Her eyes were wide with shock as she looked up at the man who towered over her.

“You useless girl,” Hiroshi spat, his voice low and icy. “I should never have allowed her to keep company with someone like you.”

Aiko shook her head desperately, tears streaming down her face. “I-I tried to save her… I tried—”

“You failed.” Hiroshi turned away from her.

Aiko sank to her knees, sobbing as she bowed.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”

But Hiroshi Machida didn’t look back at her.

“If I don’t find my daughter alive…” Hiroshi’s words tapered off as he stepped toward the low shelf, sliding open a drawer. His fingers curled around the heavy clothing iron inside and he set it on the nearest table without looking at Aiko.

“Sir, please, I swear, I tried… I really tried!”

He plugged the device in, waiting for it to heat up, in the meanwhile, he poured himself a glass of wine.

Then Hiroshi turned. The iron hung from his hand, its cord dragging behind him as he inched closer to the trembling girl. “If my daughter isn’t found alive…” He started. “I will take away your life.”

Then, a frightened scream tore through the room.

—

“…I remember being at the club with my friends. They insisted I come along, I usually don’t.” Yume sighed, her words slowing as fragments of memory flickered by. “After that, everything’s blurry. I didn’t even drink that much, but…”

Her sentence trailed off as she looked around the room. The room was tidy, decorated neutrally— it seemed to be a guest room.

Then, an unexpected opening presented itself.

Namjoon’s phone rang, and Yume could spot a very familiar name pop up on the screen.

Her father.

Her body reacted before her mind could: she pushed herself off the bed, her hand stretching desperately toward the phone.

But her body betrayed her.

The room tilted violently, the world spinning in an overwhelming pace. Her vision blurred, black spots flickering at the edges. The pounding in her head intensified, sharp and relentless, as if her skull itself was cracking under the pressure.

Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. Tears stung her eyes as she pressed her palms to the floorboards, trying to anchor herself.

“Please…” Her breath hitched, shoulders shaking. “I need to talk to him. Let me—” She broke into a sob, her locks falling over her face as she cried. “Please, let me speak to my father… please…” Yume begged, barely able to raise her head to look up at him.

It hurt too much.

[🗝️]

Not very thirsty?

How very odd.

Namjoon’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes studied her like she was an anomaly.

She wasn’t crying, screaming, or trying to run… Nothing like he expected from a woman in her situation. Somehow like she didn’t remember anything from the previous night.

He expected a spoiled and terrified princess, instead Yume was collected and poise.

It caught his intrigue like a spark landing on dry leaves.

Was she putting on an act?

His eyes dropped down her frame, dragging across the sight of her — her messy hair, her uncharacteristic dress… until she covered herself more.

His jaw ticked.

“Yes, Miss Machida. All we did last night was dance,” he answered diplomatically, still watching her from his chair.

He simply leaned back against the leather, allowing her to continue rambling.

His jaw ticked again. She has a suitor?

For a split moment, the thought stole his focus. A suitor chosen by her family? He waved off the thought as fast as it came, as though it was insignificant.

Yet it wanted to linger, an incessant curiosity.

As she gasped, amusement flickered in his eyes. Like lightening flashing through the sky, it was gone as soon as it came. “You must’ve,” he answered the question meant for herself. “They weren’t with you.”

But the truth? Her phone and purse were inside the locked office, sitting on his desk.

Namjoon took control of the conversation next.

“What do you remember from last night, Yume?” His head tilted, watching her with the same studious eyes. An obvious test, looking for any crack in her demeanour or flicker in her eyes.

Logs cracked in the fireplace. A unnamed tension settled into the room like a fog.

Then…

Bzz. Bzz.

Mr Machida’s name lit up his phone screen.

Before he could react, Yume did. Exhaustion and lingering effects of the compound dragged her to the ground harder than gravity.

His jaw tightened at the sight of her — eyes glassy with tears, her voice sounding like a pitiful whimper.

“Stop crying. Enough!” Namjoon snapped. His voice held a sharp edge she hadn’t heard before. “Your tears won’t work on me.”

Leather creaked as the mayor stood, eating at the space between them with deliberate steps.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you drank the water like I told you too, princess.” He crouched down to her level, grabbing her face rougher than he intended to, tilting her head up enough push a pull between her lips. “Women, so stubborn…”

Then he grabbed the glass from the nightstand. “Drink.” He pressed the rim against her bottom lip.

After she took a sip, Namjoon finally stood. “You can talk to your father…” He deliberately paused. “When the time is right.”

In the background the ringtone’s melody continued, nearing its end…

The mayor crossed the room, back to the arm chair in the corner. Leather settled under his weight.

“Get back on the bed, Yume. If you make me help you, I can’t promise I’ll be so kind.”

Then on the final ring, Namjoon answered the call.

“Mr Machida, it’s a pleasure. I wasn’t expecting your call, what can I do for you this early?”

As they swayed to the music, Yume’s eyes wandered across the room— noting the layout, the exits, where her parents stood, and which corner she could slip through unnoticed later…

At the edge of the ballroom, Sayuri froze mid-step, her jaw clenched. Her painted lips pressed into a tight line, and her fingers gripped into her gown. There they were: Yume and Namjoon, engaged in a romantic dance. Sayuri’s chest tightened, a venomous jealousy prickling beneath the surface, almost suffocating her.

She thought that she was safe. That he was something Yume couldn’t snatch away from her too, like everything else she had in her life. Yume had Daiki, so her sister assumed that Namjoon would be off limits…

Sayuri did everything right. She had taken up Korean lessons and learned all about their culture, she always greeted Namjoon and complimented him whenever they ran into each other at events, and for tonight, she even had her gown dress custom made to shine at the event… to shine for him.

Only for her chance to dance with him get ripped away from her, by her own sister.

She couldn’t allow it. There was no way that she would sit here and let Namjoon be seduced by her.

Hiroshi, standing nearby with his wife, followed the dance with a father’s pride. “Look at her,” he said softly, voice warm and approving, “such poise… such grace. Yume truly carries herself like a lady. She is a testament to our upbringing.” Their father spoke with so much love that it made Sayuri feel sick.

Sayuri’s lips trembled as she exhaled through her nose, turning on her heel and making her way to the restrooms.

Fucking bitch.

What did Yume have that she didn’t?

“Oh, Korea has been intriguing.” Yume responded. “I find myself noticing the little details everywhere… the architecture, the customs, the way people interact with each other, the rich history of the country…” Yume smiled. “It’s a shame, I will only be here for two more days, my family’s schedule doesn’t allow me to stay longer, but there’s always next time…”

Not long after, their short dance ended as the event continued.

—

“…This is what you meant by the hottest club? Aiko, you can’t be serious! My father will kill me if he finds out I’m attending…” Yume gestured to the male entertainers on the stage. “…this.” Yume yelled, her voice barely reaching over the loud music and the crowd’s cheering.

Kazumi stifled a laugh. “Oh come on, we are here already anyways, better make the most out of it.”

Aiko grabbed Yume by the arm. “Relax! It’s not like anyone knows you’re here. Just… enjoy it!”

“But first… we need to get you out of that dress.” Kazumi nodded her head towards the restrooms. “This is not club appropriate. You’re… like, a walking chandelier!”

Yume glanced down at herself, then back at Kazumi. “What’s wrong with it? It’s elegant.” Yume folded her arms.

Aiko burst out laughing, grabbing Yume’s arm. “Babe, elegant is not what you want in a place like this. You’ll stand out, and not in a good way. Clubs are all about looking sexy.”

“We’re going to fix this,” Kazumi said with a sly grin, tugging her into the women’s restroom. “Trust us.”

With a resigned sigh, Yume allowed Kazumi to help her out of the extravagant gown and into the tight, sexy dress. When she finally looked at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognized herself— the proper, poised girl had melted away, replaced with someone daring and alive.

Aiko clapped her hands together. “There! Now this is club ready!”

By the time they stepped back onto the club floor, the energy had picked up in the club. Aiko dragged her friends onto the dance floor. “Come on, babes! Don’t just stand there!”

The three of them were spinning and moving with the music, bodies loose, laughter loud enough to cut through the pounding bass. The tension of the banquet, her parents’ expectations, even Daiki’s annoying presence, all melting away. Here, she could be someone else… reckless, alive, and laughing like she hadn’t in years.

Aiko snatched a tray of drinks from a passing server and pressed one into Yume’s hand. “Bottoms up!”

Yume hesitated, glanced at the drink, then laughed. She tilted the glass, letting the cold liquid slide down her throat. It burned pleasantly, warming her from the inside, loosening her hips further.

The three friends danced for hours, weaving through the crowd, cheering at the performers, and jumping to the beat.

By the end of the night, Yume’s cheeks were flushed, her hair messy, her dress slightly crept up, her voice hoarse. She didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to return to the restrictions of her normal life. If only this feeling could last forever…

Aiko nudged her, grinning mischievously. “See? This is what you were missing. You’re officially part of the club scene now.”

The three of them staggered down the dimly lit street, leaning on one another, arms linked, giggling at every little thing.

Then, without warning, a van came screeching around the corner, lights blinding and tires skidding.

“Watch out!” Aiko screamed, but it was too late.

Doors flung open, and several men jumped out, moving with terrifying speed. Yume barely had time to react before rough hands grabbed her and Kazumi from either side. She screamed, thrashing, trying to break free, but the grip was iron-strong.

Yume’s mind raced, panic drumming through her ears as the city lights blurred past. Everything from the night — the club, the laughter, the music — vanished in an instant, replaced by the cold, suffocating terror of the unknown.

—

Yume didn’t understand the nightmare that she had gotten herself into. She and plenty of other women were dragged out of the van and had to wait their turn in long queues as they were sorted like mere products. The beautiful ones were shoved forward, inspected, and taken to another side of the building. Whereas the others, those deemed less desirable, were dragged to rooms as they were prepared for organ harvesting, or producing children for the wealthy.

“Come with us.” One of the men had told Yume, which she didn’t understood, so he yanked her by the arm and dragged her through the halls instead.

“Stooooop! Let… let me gooo!” She’d resist, but there was no point.

Each step through the halls revealed another scene of horror: women shoved around, beaten into submission, shrieks and cries echoing through the halls. Unconscious women were rolled out of sterile rooms, the gaping holes in their bodies laid bare as they were disposed of.

“Stay here until boss gets here.” Yume was shoved into a room, and the door shut.

—

“Sir,” The man started, walking alongside the boss through the hallway. “We have secured Yume Machida, she was part of tonight’s shipment when we patrolled the woman’s club, the facial recognition alerted us. How would you like us to proceed?” He led him towards the building’s office, pausing shortly in front of the door. “We placed her here, it wasn’t necessary to lock her up, she wouldn’t be going anywhere either way… You shall see why, disclaimer, we did not administer anything, she came in like this.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, bowing to him before he left.

Yume frowned when the lights turned on in the once pitch darkness of the office. She looked up, the room being nothing but blurry fragments. She blinked a few times, starting to see a familiar figure, and then heard a familiar voice.

“K-kim Nam… Nam… Namjoon…?” Her mind couldn’t make sense of why he was here— she was too drunk to. “Namjoon, I…” Yume tried to get up, but stumbled back to the floor. “Club… hot guys… Kazumi… need police, trafficking ring, we need—” Her words tumbled over themselves, frantic, half coherent. “My father…” Her words slurred.

But then, Namjoon spoke, and for the first time since the van had appeared, she felt a flicker of safety. Namjoon was here. He was her saving grace. His words assured her that he knew, that he was working on making things okay, and that she was safe with him and that everything would be okay.

And stupid enough, she trusted him.

Once Yume was up, she swayed, falling forward, against him.

“Sorry…” She laughed sheepishly.

[🗝️]

Rocks crunched under the weight of the vehicle.

Namjoon stepped out, buttoning his suit jacket as one of his employees rushed forward to lead him through the warehouse.

“Sir, we have secured Yume Machida…”

The mayor paused.

Yume Machida. The second time he was hearing that name tonight.

Almost like it was a twisted sense of fate…

“Let me see her.” Namjoon said coldly, waiting as the door was unlocked and pushed open.

He stepped into the room, quickly noticing the state of the young woman. She smelled like she brought the club with her, her flushed cheeks only further proved the narrative — she was drunk.

“She was brought in like this?” Namjoon tilted his head to the side as he watched her silently, like a predator curious about his prey.

Utterly unfazed by the words slurring from her lips.

“Yes, sir! She was spotted with friends at the club downtown.”

What a pitiful sight. Just what was he going to do with such a rare jewel like her? An opportunity like this rarely came around twice.

Suddenly, Yume stumbled — rather, stumbled into him. His arms moved to support her own their own as he sighed.

“Sir…?” The man to his left nervously piped in. “Should I take her to one of the rooms we keep our diamonds?”

Finally, Namjoon tore his gaze away from Yume.

“No.” His voice was firm. Final.

Slowly, a dimpled grin pulled on his lips. A plan was forming in his mind, a potential way to further his ambitions, his campaign. A plan Yume would be at the centre of.

“She’s going to come with me. Bring it to me.” He didn’t need to explain what.

Namjoon leaned down, his lips near her ear. “I’m going to help you out of here.” He whispered in Japanese. “Close your eyes.”

Hair brushed away from her neck, her head tilted slightly…

“You just might be of use to me.” Namjoon switched t Korean as his hand moved to her mouth, muffling her whimper as a sharp prick pinched her skin. “Sleep tight, princess.”

Her head rested against the seat on the drive back into the city, her black hair sprawled across the leather. The mayor forced his gaze out the window, but as if there was a magnetic pull, it kept moving back to her.

“Would you like me to carry her inside, sir?” His driver asked once the vehicle stopped.

“No.” The word came faster than he expected. “There isn’t a need,” he corrected himself.

With an arm secured around her back and under her knees, Namjoon scooped up the woman himself. Although, he didn’t know why. Everyone he employed proved their unwavering loyalty to him.

For a moment, he considered bringing her to the room he used to use for a woman named Nara, but Yume Machida wasn’t just any mere jewel. She was a precious diamond — for now at least.

He carried her to the guest room, lying her down on the bed.

“What a pleasant surprise.” He whispered.

—

Hours passed.

Flames snapped and cracked at the logs in the fireplace.

Namjoon sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, looking down at his watch. One leg crossed over the other.

It was just past 6 AM.

She should be waking soon.

Eventually, Yume stirred on the bed.

A grin pulled on his lips once their eyes met.

He didn’t say a word, even if Yume spoke or asked questions, he simply sat and watched her.

After a few minutes, his head cocked to the side like a predator, words finally rumbled from his chest. “Have a drink.” His eyes shifted to the glass of water on the nightstand beside her. “You must be thirsty, am I correct? Drink.”

The sleeping compound came with various side effects: foggy memory, sometimes blurry vision, lingering fatigue, but most of all, dehydration.

In his hand held a pack of painkillers for the headache she surely had, only… he hadn’t given her one yet.

Jiyeon froze on the spot at his words, a knot forming in her stomach as she lowered her gaze to the floor. She knew that tone in his voice, one that warned her that it was in her best interest to comply. Step by step Jiyeon inched closer to her soon to be husband, thoughts circling through her mind: Maybe she should’ve just kept her mouth shut. Why couldn’t she just be submissive and obedient? Why was it as if everytime things were good between the two of them, words slipped out of her mouth without thinking about them clearly?

Jiyeon was forced to look up at him, she scanned his expression, he was tethering on the edge of anger, and she knew it was up to her to push him, or not.

“I… No, no, I am not trying to make you angry.” Jiyeon stammered, not daring to break the eyecontact. “Sometimes… Sometimes I just say things without thinking. I… loved the gift.” She spoke, trying to appeal to the man in front of her.

Cold feet? It wasn’t something Jiyeon had considered before but Taehyung’s suggestion did make her think about that possibility. Was that all there was? Was he right? Was it really just her nerves speaking and did she actually want this as much as he did? Was he really the love of her life? Jiyeon’s eyes gazed over Taehyung’s face, the sight making nervous butterflies swarm around in her body. This man, her first boyfriend, her first husband to be, heck, he might’ve even been her first crush.

The first man who had noticed her in a crowd.

Life with Taehyung has been throwing so many curveballs and twists at her, that she had forgotten all about the first days they’ve met. The way his voice sounded through the other line, the initial impression she had of him when they first met face to face, and how he much he had changed. The cold look in his eyes, the harsh tone in his voice, the intimidating aura that kept her at a distance, those were all gone.

“Yes, you’re right…” Jiyeon answered, instinctively leaning up and closing her eyes when he leaned in for a forehead kiss, light disappointment evident on her face as she opened her eyes again.

‘We belong together. Forever. You’re overwhelmed, I just need to remind you how much you feel for me, isn’t that right?’

Before Jiyeon could answer, he swept her off her feet, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, melting into his hold.

Would anyone love her as much as Taehyung would love her?

Her body responded to his every touch, every touch pulling out a sigh, a moan, a whimper from her lips. The young woman couldn’t help how quickly she’d fold for him, he just did everything so perfectly. The right words, the right touches, the right spots, everything just felt… right.

But, a flash of an uncomfortable feeling shot through her body.

Did he make any other woman feel this way? His question brought her out of her thoughts and she blinked, looking up at him. “Yes… I love you, Taehyung.” She let out a shaky breath, composing herself. “I need you, I really need you in my life.” She replied, thinking that was it, but then another question popped up, which she also answered. “Never ever, I promise…”

–

Everything was going perfect today– from the wedding gift surprise to them cooking breakfast in the kitchen together as if they were newly weds. “The weather is nice today.” Jiyeon mentioned. “Maybe we can go for a walk today?” She suggested, but before he could answer her, the phone rung and Jiyeon’s gaze followed Taehyung’s.

‘Namjoon is calling…’

A pout formed on her lips when Taehyung distanced himself from her and went to answer the call from his close friend, but Jiyeon didn’t say anything, instead focusing on their meal again.

She shouldn’t let Namjoon get in between their relationship anymore.

Then the sudden crash caused her to flinch, the spatula slipped from her hand and clattered against the kitchencounter. Jiyeon's heartbeat thundered in her ears as she turned off the stove, standing still for a moment as she questioned what had just happened or what she did wrong. Things were fine just now, weren’t they? So why… Jiyeon slowly turned around, noticing how the cup exploded against the wall, fragments scattering across the floor. Coffee dripped down the plaster in dark, uneven streaks.

“Taehyung…?” Jiyeon slowly approached, pausing in front of him. Her eyes then turned to the phone screen, the article headliners and the cover photo catching her attention, it was hard to miss. “What..” Her voice trailed, taking the phone from him as she scrolled through the newsfeed.

What the fuck.

A brief flashback brought her back to that time, together, when they were lovingly doing some flower shopping for the beautiful bouquet for the wedding. It was quick, and it was fast, but initially Jiyeon dismissed it as nothing, believing the woman’s startled expression was simply awkwardness or part of her imagination. But now, now the young college student realized that it was no coincidence, but a targeted attack on their life together.

She felt so stupid for not ringing the alarm, for not sharing her suspicions even though small or seemingly irrelevant with her husband to be, now here they were, in a predicament, exposed to the whole world to see.

This was all her fault.

“Honey, it will be okay… just, please calm down, and let’s think about it, together?” Her fingers reached for his arm, cautiously holding onto him. “Breakfast’s ready, how about we sit down together?” Jiyeon suggested, her hand sliding down his arm, wrapping her fingers around his as she led him to the dining table.

Once back at the table, Jiyeon picked at her food, thinking about how or if she should even tell him that she knows exactly who brought them into this situation, but she was torn. He was already on edge, would telling him cause him to lash out? Just like it did back then, where she attempted to surprise him for his birthday and it all went downhill…

But would keeping this to herself not be worse than just telling him?

“Actually…” Jiyeon started, knowing there was no way back from here. “I… I think I know who did it.” She placed her spoon down, her hands resting on her lap as her gaze lawered on her plate. “I’m sorry, Taehyung all of this is my fault, if I’ve told you back then, or even listened to Namjoon’s advice, this wouldn’t have happened.” She went on to explain how she had spotted the woman, who nervously lowered her phone when they made eye-contact, but Jiyeon initially didn’t think much of it back then, waving it off. “She had long black hair, oh, I think she was wearing some sort of uniform, it was dark blue, and there was a logo, I didn’t really get to read it, I am sorry, it said something about an airline…” jiyeon tried to remember any other details, but that was all she could give him. “... But I really didn’t think she was taking a photo of us, or else I would’ve told you, I swear.” Jiyeon sighed and took a sip of her tea before setting the cup back down.

She’d never admit it to the man’s face, but perhaps the plan he proposed wasn’t looking this bad after all.

“Maybe… Maybe we should consider the plan, the one Namjoon proposed to us, perhaps, it’s for the best…” Even though she really opposed to it, even Jiyeon was aware that the current situation was not a good look for Taehyung. What if the police would show up at his residence? What if he’d get hate? What if… they’d tore them apart? [🎙️]

Anger was simmering — boiling over.

Red crept in at the edges of his vision.

Then…

Jiyeon’s touch snapped his attention, her hand softly intertwining with his. Her touch was like a bucket of cold water being splashed on a fire seconds away from running out of control, anotching him back.

Taehyung finally let out a breath. He brought their hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss along her knuckles before allowing her to lead him to the dining table.

Who was the spineless weasel that could’ve done this? Who was following them around?

“Actually…” Jiyeon’s voice cut through his thoughts.

As his fiancé explained the person she saw, the anger from before started to flicker again, like an ember wanting to spark fire.

He knew exactly who she was describing.

Appearance. The logo.

His rival’s wormy little assistant.

“I believe you.” Taehyung finally spoke, his grip tightening on the utensil. Just for a second before he forced himself to relax again.

And he knew exactly how he was going to deal with her.

As she brought up Namjoon, his gaze flickered over to Jiyeon. He nodded. “It will be for the best. Now don’t worry your pretty little head anymore, sweetheart. I know what we need to do to fix this. All you need to do is listen to me, do you understand?”

—

Rocks crunched under the weight of tires as far SUV rolled to a stop.

A little farm sat before them. One warmly familiar to Jiyeon.

Taehyung got out first, circling around to Jiyeon’s side.

“Do you remember everything we discussed?” He checked in with her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before adjusting her jacket. “Repeat it to me.”

When she was done, a smile stretched on his features.

Taehyung leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. Gentle, sweet, but precisely controlled.

A reminder.

His hand trailed down her arm until their fingers laced together. “Are you ready?”

Just then, a door creaked behind them.

“Oh my… Oh my god.” The voice was motherly and warm, but filled with a fragility like it could break easier than glass.

“Sungho! Sungho, get out here!”

Yeonhee stepped out onto the porch, shivering in the cold air. Her knees wobbled like they could give out any second, but her attention stayed glued to the couple — the young woman.

“Jiyeon… Dear God, is that really you? My sweet Jiyeon?”

Tears flowed like a broken dam down her grandmother’s face as she stepped further into the snow until she was close enough to pull her granddaughter back into her arms again.

“Please, tell me it’s really you, that you’re really here.”

“Good boy,” Yume muttered, slowing her horse with a tug of the reins. “Let’s rest here, okay, Ryu?”

She swung off the saddle, leaves crunching underneath her boots. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely hovered over the city as silence and tranquility lingered through the streets.

Life was so boring.

It had always been perfect, extremely so. Since the day she was born, she’d been swaddled in imported silk, fed by private chefs, tutored by the best minds money could buy. She never failed at anything. She never had the chance to. Her parents caught her every time, their hands too quick, too careful.

Yume rested her forehead briefly against Ryu’s neck. “You’re warm,” she whispered, her eyes closing briefly. “I will be back from Japan tomorrow. I’ll even bring you a souvenir. Maybe a nice blanket from that new tack shop in Tokyo.” She climbed back onto the saddle. “Alright, let’s go back home.”

By the time she reached the mansion, the gates were already open. The staff bowed as she passed through the line of precisely timed good morning miss yume’s and well practiced sharp bows.

“Take him back to the stall.” Yume ordered without sparing a glance at the staff, as she made her way back inside.

“Yume, darling! You’re just in time.”

Yume halted in her steps, spotting her parents in the dining room, and…

Tanaka Daiki.

He looked exactly how he did any other time. His hair was slicked back, a custom made suit made for bragging, and his golden jewelry obnoxiously flickered under the chandelier’s lights.

“Good morning.” Daiki flashed her a smile.

“Good morning.” Yume replied back, a rehearsed smile on her face as she gave him a light bow.

The table was overflowing. There were plates of truffle omelets, caviar toast, smoked salmon, fresh fruit carved into perfect geometric shapes. Every dish looked like it belonged on a magazine cover.

“Come, sit down,” her father invited. “Daiki was just telling us about his new ventures.”

“Ah, yes,” Daiki said, sliding seamlessly back into conversation. “We’ve recently secured a partnership in Dubai— luxury real estate. I was the one who closed the deal, of course. Negotiations like that require finesse. You wouldn’t believe how easily people crumble when they sense confidence.”

He kept talking. About his companies. His cars. His latest yacht. How journalists always chased him for interviews. Every sentence was another layer of showing off to people what a influential figure he was.

After a while, her mother’s hand touched her father’s wrist, a silent cue. “We’ll give you two some time to talk,” she smiled. “You must have so much to catch up on.”

Daiki leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. “So,” he started, admiring the watch on his wrist. “Tell me, Yume, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”

Yume hesitated, surprised. It must’ve been the first time since they met that he had asked her about her.

“I like riding my horse, Ryu—”

“Ah, horses,” he interrupted instantly, a grin on his face. “I used to ride as a boy. My father bought me a stallion when I was twelve— magnificent animal, worth a fortune. Everyone at the club was jealous. The trainer said I had natural form.” Daiki took a sip of his glass. “I stopped, of course. Busy men rarely have time for hobbies.”

What did she expect?

Yume sighed, disappointment evident on her face as she lifted her teacup, letting the porcelain hide her expression.

“You know, Yume, you’re different from most females I meet. They try too hard to impress me.”

“I bet.” Yume absentmindedly popped some fruits into a bowl.

And he was off, rattling on again about investments, estates, yachts, luxury resorts, and money, his words bouncing endlessly off the walls.

“I can’t wait for us to get married. You would make every man in the room turn, heh, women too. Everyone will be so jealous, can you imagine what they’d be thinking when they see us together?”

She couldn’t handle any more of this.

“…They’d wonder how anyone could stand being married to someone who never listens to anything but himself.”

“H-huh?” Daiki stammered.

“You know what?” Yume said, pushing the bowl to the side, no longer interested in it’s content. Her appetite had disappeared the longer the man in front of her spoke.

“I hate everything about you. Your arrogance, your smugness, your obsession with yourself. You’re insufferable. And yet here I am, giving you the time of day… only because my parents insist I do. That’s the only reason I’m sitting here listening to you.”

“What—“

“I have a trip to Japan to prepare for. Excuse me.” She stood, not allowing him to speak.

—

The hall was a glittering sea of gold and crystal. Chandeliers hung like frozen constellations, reflecting in polished marble floors so flawless they seemed to mirror the sky. Long tables stretched in perfect lines, draped in ivory linens and laden with silver platters of delicacies: oysters on crushed ice, miniature beef Wellington, caviar-topped blinis, and pastel pastries carefully piped and dusted with gold.

Dignitaries, politicians, and socialites moved among the tables, the place was bustling with life. Waiters and staff ran back and forth as they made sure everything was perfect for the people who’d were many ranks above them.

Yume’s gaze swept across the room from her designated seat, her weary eyes taking it all in: the glittering gowns, the tailored suits, the subtle tension lurking beneath polished smiles. Tonight, she didn’t feel like socializing. It was the same shit day in and day out anyway.

A chair pulled up beside her.

Yume’s gaze met his, and recognition flickered in her eyes.

Kim Namjoon.

“Ah, good evening.” Yume rose from the chair, bowing a few times to him. Her body reacted on auto pilot, everything rehearsed and perfect, just like she always did. “I’m Yume Machida, my father often speaks fondly of you. Thank you for treating my family with kindness.” She sat back down after she finished speaking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

‘Go on, brag. Like they always do…’

But to her surprise, Namjoon didn’t instantly boast about his many life achievements, atleast, not yet…

“Your Japanese is excellent. Do you have a Japanese parent? Oh… apologies for the intrusive question, please forgive me, Mr Kim. It’s just… you speak with such a native accent, it’s hard to believe otherwise.”

[🗝️]

The car came to a rolling stop outside of a delicately carved building.

Flashes of light erupted like a storm as the door was opened by staff, a figure emerging from the backseat…

“Mayor Kim!”

“Mayor!”

“Sir!”

Reporters flocked the sidewalks to get a picture for the articles covering Senator Lee’s birthday.

Namjoon smiled politely, stopping for a moment to take a bow.

1. 2. 3. Seconds counted in his head. The perfect amount of exposure.

Then the mayor disappeared inside the building.

Chandeliers shimmered like diamonds overhead, soft hum of conversations buzzed through the room. Socialites and politicians mingled like lifelong friends, sharing gossip or business proposals.

A perfect hub for connections.

Namjoon moved skillfully through the room, smiling when needed, shaking hands, bowing his head when passing someone of a higher title. Until he found his table.

A woman was already seated beside him, her eyes gazing over the crowd almost curiously. Then, they widened once she saw him, quickly moving to her feet…

Namjoon smiled, a double meaning hidden within his grin. Japanese. That must make her…

“Yume Machida.” She formally introduced.

Her father hadn’t spoken much of her, but he was a man who always did his research.

The middle daughter of the Machida family. Studies political science, mastering in international affairs. 26 years old.

“Good evening.” Namjoon held the same dimpled smile. “The pleasure is mine, I’m honoured to meet you.”

He chuckled when her question slipped out, bold, obviously intrusive.

“No apologies are needed, Miss Machida. It’s flattering.”

A server stopped by, setting down a glass of white wine.

“My mother and father are both Korean. I started to learn Japanese on my own while I was young and continued during my studies.”

The mayor flickered his gaze across the room of elites before spotting a particular one.

A widowed aristocrat who always made it her mission to dance with him at every gala, every banquet, or fundraiser. He hardly refused, of course not, always keeping on his perfectly crafted mask — chivalrous, charismatic — but god, he couldn’t tonight.

“I don’t mean to be so bold.” Namjoon abruptly stood, holding his hand towards Yume. “Would you like to share a dance with me?”

The table switched to an open marble floor, couples gliding around under lights that shimmered like diamonds.

She was quiet, yet bold, curious, intelligent… Part of him found it intriguing, but he quickly smothered that part of him, like snuffing out out a flame.

He twirled her around.

“How are you finding Korea? Are you liking it so far?” Namjoon asked. “How long are you staying?”

Perhaps the Machida family could help his upcoming campaign…

—

The night drew on.

One by one, people began to filter out.

Namjoon exhaled a long breath.

Then…

Bzz. Bzz.

The phone in his pocket buzzed with an incoming call.

“Speaking,” Namjoon answered.

“Good evening, sir.” The familiar voice of an assistant murmured on the other end. “Tonight’s shipments of gems is being delivered. It’s mostly rubies…”

Rain began to move in, scattering across the sidewalk.

“…but we found a rare diamond. You’ll want to see.”

The mayor watched through the mist as a sleek black Mercedes pulled up in front of him, a driver getting out to open the door.

“A rare diamond, hm?” Namjoon settled into the leather seat. “I’ll be there soon.”

The call ended with a beep.

Was this a glimpse of what their marriage would be like? Had she misunderstood the way he had taken charge at the florist and the vendors, thinking it was excitement for their wedding, when really it was just a demonstration that, in the end, she would have no choice?

What would her life be like as his wife?

In the past few days, she had been cautiously warming to the idea of marriage but after tonight, uncertainty crept in.

Jiyeon didn’t protest. She didn’t need to. It never seemed to matter—he never listened to her, especially when Namjoon was involved. With slumped shoulders and teary eyes, she followed him into the cold night air. Like him, she remained silent, words lodged somewhere deep in her throat.

—

The next few days crawled by. Jiyeon was left alone with her thoughts while Taehyung immersed himself in work. Suddenly, their home felt like a prison.

Finally, the weekend came. Golden sunlight streamed through the curtains, and the aroma of coffee drifted across the bedroom. Jiyeon stirred from sleep and woke up, noticing Taehyung in the room.

She blinked blearily, shuffling toward him as he beckoned with a curl of his finger. Once she was close enough, he pulled her down onto his lap.

“A surprise?” She spoke up for the first time this morning, still a bit dazed from just waking up. Taehyung then showed his phone and she frowned, no, that surely was not for her, that was his phone.

Of course she’d recognize his phone, she was the one that snooped through it afterall. Her grogginess was replaced with a feeling of guilt, did he ever find out? Should she ever tell him?

Jiyeon was so deep in thoughts that she almost didn’t hear Taehyung reveal the surprise. “Wait.. I can call them?” She questioned, surprised. But instead of excitement, a strange knot of dread tightened in her stomach. Would they even be happy to hear from her? Could this call be the last time they ever spoke?

“Uhm… I think this should be grandma’s number,” she muttered, fumbling with the numbers. It had been so long that she wasn’t even sure she remembered it. After a failed attempt, she tried again, taking a slow, deep breath before connecting the call.

“Grandma?”

“Jiyeon? Is that… really you? Where have you been, child? We were so worried!” Her grandmother’s voice trembled, a mix of relief and fear. “Where are you? Are you safe? Oh my heavens, you scared us half to death!”

Jiyeon’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t explain, not yet. All she managed was a small, shaky whisper: “I… I’m okay, Grandma.” Her grandmother’s sigh was heavy, almost a sob. “Okay? That’s all you can tell me? Jiyeon, please… I need to know where you are.”

“Grandma, please… I just want to speak to you.” And with that, her grandmother understood and dropped her questions and instead engaged in a small conversation, telling Jiyeon what they’ve been up to, how the farm is going, share silly memories of her childhood. And then it was time to end the call. With mixed feelings, Jiyeon hung up the phone. She stayed quiet for a moment, unsure of how to feel— not sure if she should feel anything.

“… Did you have breakfast?” She leaned in against him, staring at the wall. “Should I make us something?” Jiyeon suggested, listening to him speak. “Alright, I’ll get freshened up.” She informed him, standing from his lap and going to the bathroom. Soon, she was done and she lingered at the doorway.

“Uhm… Taehyung,” she began, hesitating. “Maybe… shouldn’t we think about the wedding a little more? I mean, there’s no rush, right? Maybe we should enjoy this time together for a bit longer… perhaps we can marry in a few years…”

Her words were uncertain, careful, but they carried the weight of everything she hadn’t said in the past few days.

[🎙️]

That was unexpected.

Taehyung could hear the other line clearly, and truthfully, he wasn’t expecting Jiyeon’s grandmother to relent so easily.

But he smiled, trailing his fingers up and down his fiancé’s leg absentmindedly as he followed along to their conversation. The sweet words between grandmother and granddaughter, the tender memories he hadn’t heard before.

They took such good care of her until fate brought her to him.

“Breakfast? Not yet.” Taehyung answered as he brushed his fingers through her short locks. “We can make something once you fresh up.”

His eyes lingered, watching her frame disappear into the bathroom.

When Jiyeon returned, Taehyung was putting the book back onto the nearby shelf, his hand resting on the spine when a soft voice caught his attention.

Marry in a few years.

A few years.

A short chuckle rumbled in his chest. Dry and humourless.

A long pause of silence followed. Unsettling. Eerily calm.

At first, Taehyung didn’t glance her way, wasn’t entertaining her idea, like he hadn’t even heard it. He slid the book back into its slot, agonizingly slow.

Then, he turned around.

“Come here, sweetheart.” His voice was still calm, but held an edge, a warning to listen.

When Jiyeon closed the distance between them, his finger and thumb found her chin, tilting her head to look up at him.

A storm raged in his eyes. Perfectly contained, but darkened his chocolate eyes.

“You don’t mean that.” His thumb traced her jaw, eerily gentle. “You’re not trying to make me angry, especially not after the gift I gave you… Are you?”

He was giving her a chance to take it all back.

With a pitiful tsk, Taehyung raised his hand to tuck a rouge strand of hair away from her eyes.

“No, you’re just feeling cold feet, aren’t you? You’re nervous to marry the love of your life so soon.”

His movements stopped.

He needed to hear it from her.

“Aren’t I right, Jiyeonnie?”

A crooked smile curved on his lips when she answered.

He leaned in, placing a kiss against her forehead, dropping his hands to her hips. “Everyone gets cold feet, but we aren’t gonna let that stop us from our happily ever after, now are we? Why postpone what you and I both know to be true, hm?”

His thumbs traced delicate circles.

“We belong together. Forever. You’re overwhelmed, I just need to remind you how much you feel for me, isn’t that right?”

Before she could answer, Taehyung had the ground swept from under her feet, carrying her over to their bed.

“Lay down, sweetheart. I’ll remind you just how much you love me.”

With her back against the ivory sheets, Taehyung trailed kisses down her body.

Along her jaw, trickling down her neck, her stomach…

All while his hands slowly bunched up the fabric of her dress.

“I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

His fingers hooked the edges of her underwear, tracing past the pulse point on her thigh — her femoral pulse.

“Your heart is racing so fast already, sweetheart. Can you feel how excited you are for me? All just from a simple touch…”

The fabric slid down her legs before his lips traced the sensitive skin along her inner thigh.

“Look at me.” His voice was a command.

When she did, he barely stopped a growl from rising in his throat.

God, her obedience lit a fire under his skin.

His fingers dug into her hips for a moment, but he quickly regained control of himself. As fast as a flicker of lightning.

Not now.

Now, he had to stay in complete control. He had to remind his little Jiyeon exactly why they were meant to be married. No postphoning, no slowing down time.

They belonged together.

He was the only one in the world for her.

“Good girl. Keep your eyes on mine, no looking away.”

He wanted to see her expressions, watch every doubt melt from her mind like snow next to an open flame, just from the feeling of his lips.

Remind her again and again, until her legs quivered, cheeks flushed with that delicious shade of red he loved so much, her chest rising and falling with laboured breaths.

When she was on the brink of unravelling, Taehyung pulled away.

“Do you love me, Jiyeon?” His eyes stared into hers with an intensity that would have most paralyzed. “Do you need me?” His fingertips caressed up and down her legs.

“You’re never you going to ever think of another stupid little idea like postponing our wedding again, are you?”

Then, a smile curved.

When he heard the words he wanted, he finally gave her the reward she deserved.

—

Sizzling filled the kitchen.

Jiyeon stood in front of the stove, stirring together ingredients while Taehyung chopped vegetables nearby.

Everything was peaceful. Normal. As if they were like any other cozy couple making breakfast together.

The pan squealed louder as the vegetables added.

Jiyeon mixed them around the pan as Taehyung’s arms came to wrap around her waist. Affectionate and supportive for her legs that surely felt like jelly.

Kisses peppered across her shoulder before his eyes came to settle on her hands — the precious gem on her finger.

His chest filled with a warmth no one else had ever given him before.

Everything was going to be perfect, just like this. For the rest of their lives.

Forever.

A ringtone cut through the serenity of the kitchen, their peace, like a jagged knife.

Namjoon?

Taehyung answered the call, stepping a few feet away.

As the voice on the other end spoke, his expression darkened.

Taehyung checked his emails, finding the one Namjoon had just forwarded.

It was a link to a tabloid site.

The headline instantly caught his attention.

Is one of South Korea’s most eligible bachelors taken?

Mughawa Airlines CEO spotted floral shopping. Who is this woman? Friend or Fiancé?

Taehyung’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the phone until his knuckles turned white.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He spoke to Namjoon on the phone, his breathing struggling to stay even.

Someone found them. Disrupted their privacy for the whole country to see. Plastered her face on a gossip tabloid.

They spoke for another minute before the call finally ended.

And when it did…

Taehyung snapped.

In a rare moment of uncontrolled rage, like a pot boiling over, he grabbed a nearby coffee cup, throwing it at the dining room wall.

Whoever this was, they were going to pay for what they’ve done.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, he had slaughtered the woman Jiyeon had tried to get close to. And now, here they were, curled up together on the sofa in the quiet of their home, as if nothing had happened.

Jiyeon felt herself melting under his touches, eyelids fluttering shut as his lips found hers. She leaned in instinctively, returning the kiss, letting herself get lost in the warmth and weight of him pressing against her. Right now, in this moment, he made her feel safe—like the world outside didn’t exist.

—

Step by step, Taehyung had been giving her more freedom. Namjoon no longer needed to babysit her, and the chains around her wrists and ankles were gone, replaced only by a firm reminder around her ankle, a tether that was a warning.

“Have a good day at work,” she said, smiling softly, leaning in for a quick goodbye kiss before her soon-to-be husband left for the morning.

Today was just like any other day; there was plenty of household tasks to do, so she went through them all one by one. Jiyeon was in the middle of carrying the dry laundry upstairs when she paused at the sound of the door opening.

“Taehyung?” Jiyeon called out, surprised. She placed the basket down when he came closer and she returned the embrace.

“Welcome back.” She said, standing on her toes and pressing her lips against his. Jiyeon was about to ask about why he was home early, but before she could, he had asked a question of his own.

“Not yet…” Jiyeon replied. “Would you like to eat?” She asked, burying her face against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. “An appointment…?” She questioned, looking up at him. But Taehyung didn’t explain, instead he handed her a box, which she took with both hands, carefully opening it.

"Oh, it’s beautiful… I love it, thank you, Taehyung.” She smiled as she hugged it to her chest.

—

“Mayor Kim!” an unfamiliar voice called from behind him.

Namjoon’s hand froze on the door handle, annoyance flickering across his face as he turned to see an elderly couple approaching.

“Yes? How may I help you?” Namjoon questioned, his eyes shielding the annoyance building within. What was it this time? A plea to lower the pensioner age, increase pension benefits, concerns about the aging population, task reduction benefits for pensioners?

The grandmother dipped into a bow that trembled.

“Please forgive us for approaching you like this,” she said. “We’ve written letters. We’ve called. No one will tell us anything. Not the truth that is.”

“We… we just don’t understand,” the grandfather added, voice low, almost breaking. “They told us… we buried her. But… something doesn’t feel right. None of it adds up.”

“I apologize, I am afraid I am not following.”

“Of course, it was not our intention to ramble on…” Yeonhee sighed. “I am Yeonhee, this is my husband, Sungho. We are the grandparents of Park Jiyeon. Are you familiar with her case?”

“I have heard about it. I am so sorry for your loss—“

“We think there’s more to this.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened, instinctively wanting to shut the conversation down, but he forced a mask of concern.

“What makes you say so?”

The couple exchanged anxious glances.

“We were told to accept the findings,” the grandfather went on. “They said identification had been confirmed. We were told to sign. The mortuary would not let us see — ‘for our sake.’ But we beg you, we ask you to reopen the case just one more time.” Sungho pleaded.

“I will see what I can do. Please understand that despite my role, I might run into limitations of what I can do for you.”

They thanked him and lingered a moment, hesitant to leave. Once they had turned down the street, Namjoon pulled out his phone, staying in the shadows of his car.

He rang his close friend’s number once and upon no response, he texted instead.

Namjoon: Are you available to meet for dinner?

Namjoon: I’d like to have a chat about the stray cat you took in

—

Jiyeon’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she followed Taehyung into the restaurant, still smiling from their perfect day of shopping and chatter. But the smile faltered the instant her eyes landed on the figure at the table.

Namjoon.

Why was he here? No, no this didn’t make sense.

Her stomach turned, and her hand tightened on Taehyung’s sleeve, her heart pounding in her chest. Every ounce of joy from the day drained away, replaced by the icy dread that Namjoon’s presence always brought. She wanted to retreat, to run, but she forced herself to step forward, trying to hide the tremor in her voice as she whispered, “Taehyung…?” Jiyeon looked up to him. “Why…” Her voice trailed off. “I thought it was just going to be us…” She whispered.

“Taehyung.” Namjoon stood from the table, extending a hand. “Apologizes for intruding on your wedding preparations today, Jiyeon, I’m extending my apologies to you as well.” He didn’t shake her hand, instead offered a smile as he took the wine glass. “Also…” He set a wrapped bottle on the table. “A small toast to the happy couple.”

His gaze flicked to Jiyeon, then back to Taehyung. “Two visitors cornered me outside City Hall— Yeonhee and Sungho Park.”

This caught Jiyeon’s attention, and her eyes widened, anxiety sinking in. “Grandma and grandpa?” Jiyeon whispered. “But why—“

“They want the case reopened.”

Jiyeon could only imagine how desperate they must be. Even after everything, they were still searching for her.

“They’re convinced something’s off,” Namjoon went on, voice low as he leaned back in the seat. “They’re persistent, Tae. The kind of persistent that is a pain in the ass.” He slid a college photo of Jiyeon across the table, which he received from the worried couple. “Their appearance made me think however, this situation with Jiyeon is unstainable, if someone misunderstands what the two of you have after she was presumed dead, it will be hard to dig yourself out of this misunderstanding.”

Jiyeon’s gaze lingered on the photo, heart sinking. Where was he going with this?

“However, there’s a way to take the heat off...” He outlined it like a script: a press release, Jiyeon presented as a young student who’d been overwhelmed and stepped away to clear her head, a short Q&A at City Hall, then the launch of a mayor-led initiative for overworked college students.

“You become the face of a cause; I lead the policy. Taehyung keeps his image clean. Everyone wins.” Namjoon concluded, taking a sip from the wine to take a break from speaking.

Jiyeon felt smaller with every sentence. “You want me to be some poster child for your initiative?” The idea of smiling under flashbulbs while her name was reshaped into a slogan made something cold and furious rise in her chest. “You want me to stand in front of cameras and say I ran away because of stress?” Little by little, she tested the waters, the tone in her voicing growing more hostile with each sentence and a bit louder. “You want me to smile at the cameras while you spin my life into a press stunt?” Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, the girl wasn’t sure whether it was out of sadness or anger.

Namjoon’s expression turned almost sympathetic. “Oh, don’t be afraid Jiyeon. You won’t be doing this on your own. We’ll coach you.” He offered her a dimpled smile. “You’ll get to shape the message about students’ welfare— get current and future students real help and funding. This helps you, too.”

“But…” Jiyeon whimpered.

“The world will think you chose this moment yourself, that you bravely faced the pressure and stress that wore you down. They’ll empathize with your burnout, admire your bravery… all while believing it’s their own choice to admire you.”

"…No, no, I don’t want this…" Jiyeon’s gaze lingered on her lap.

Namjoon stood, adjusting his cufflinks. “I won’t keep you two long tonight,” He said as he reached out first to Taehyung, giving his friend a firm, lingering handshake, then extended a hand toward Jiyeon. She shook her head, her gaze locked on her lap, refusing the gesture.

Namjoon sighed, retracting his hand: “Tae, don’t feel like you need to decide anything right now. Think it over. I just wanted to lay out the opportunity.”

And like that, Namjoon left.

Jiyeon’s voice cracked, her hands twisting in her lap as she leaned toward Taehyung. “Taehyung… he doesn’t care about me at all! He just wants to use me, to make himself look good. Namjoon is a selfish narcissist who only cares about himself! I can’t… I won’t be part of this. I’ll stay home, I’ll be quiet, just—please, we don’t have to go out, I can hide, I’ll be good, I promise, it’s too much!” Her chest heaved, words spilling over, eyes fixed on her lap, unable to meet his gaze.

[🎙️]

“It’s will be just us.” Taehyung answered smoothly, leading Jiyeon towards the table with a palm on her lower back. “Afterwards.”

The chair pulled out for her before he took a seat beside her.

White wine swirled in Taehyung’s glass while he listened to Namjoon proposition unfolding, a crooked smile growing. An arm wrapped around Jiyeon’s waist, his thumb rubbing absentminded circles on her hip.

A private touch of affection. A silent claim.

The idea itself was quite intriguing — his stray cat coming back from the dead…

With a brow raised, Taehyung took a sip of his wine while he silently observed the interaction between his friend and wife to be.

A frown was tight on her lips, her gaze glued to her lap.

“Of course, Namjoon. Thank you.” He replied simply, offering a smile before the mayor left.

“Taehyung…” Jiyeon’s voice then got his attention.

And not just his.

Her frantic tone, pleading voice raised ever so slightly, caught a few glances from nearby tables.

“Jiyeon.” Taehyung cut in, his voice tight. Firm. Leaving no room for any other arguments. “That’s enough.”

In one movement, he stood, holding a hand towards his fiancé stoically.

When she took it, Taehyung lead her out of the restaurant.

He didn’t say anything further. Didn’t need to.

His eyes told her everything. The storm that darkened them, the same storm that brewed whenever she disrespected Namjoon, caused a scene.

Taehyung helped her put her jacket on before stepping out into the cold air, kept their fingers intertwined the entire walk back, opened the car door for her — but he didn’t say another word until they were home.

—

A couple days ticked by.

The week stretched into the weekend.

Golden rays of morning sun filtered through the bedroom curtains.

Taehyung sat in his leather arm chair, sipping a cup of coffee while he read a book. Waiting. Soon enough, he heard his fiancee stirring on the bed nearby.

His book closed with an audible poof.

“Good morning, jagiya.” He wore a smile on his face, one that whispered he had something up his sleeve. “Did you sleep well?”

The leather creaked as Taehyung leaned back in his chair.

“Come here.” He beckoned her over with a wave of a finger.

Once Jiyeon was close enough, Taehyung pulled her down to sit on lap.

“I have a surprise for you.” He rasped, his nose skimming her ear as he took in the way she still smelled like their sheets.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“A wedding gift. It’s tradition for a groom to gift his bride something before the wedding.”

Before Jiyeon’s mind could race with possible ideas, Taehyung grinned. “Call your grandparents, sweetheart. It’s been too long since we’ve talked to them, don’t you think so?”

He put the device in her hands, curling her fingers around it before he trailed his hands down to the exposed skin of her thigh, tracing his fingertips sweetly up and down her soft skin.

And yet… this morning, he kissed her forehead. Told her to get dressed. Took her to breakfast like they were any ordinary couple.

Jiyeon sat quietly across from him, fingers grazing the edge of her crystal glass. Her body still tense from last night.

The waitress approached their table, cheerful and far too friendly. Jiyeon’s gaze flickered toward her instinctively, catching the way the girl’s smile stretched a little too wide, how she brushed at her skirt with nervous, girlish energy. And then her words: “I’ve missed your face around here.”

Taehyung didn’t even acknowledge her. His eyes were already on Jiyeon, his voice warm, possessive.

“Order anything you want, sweetheart. Today is a treat.”

Who was she? A pang of jealousy shot through her as she second guessed the girl’s intention, and even after she was long gone, Jiyeon couldn’t shake the feeling off.

“She seems to know you well… You must come here often.” Her voice lingered, biting back another comment, as she sipped her drink slowly, feeling his gaze trace her every movement.

When Taehyung reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb across the ring on her finger, butterflies circled through her chest.

“Let me see your beautiful smile, sweetheart.”

Jiyeon smiled, lips curving obediently, even as something inside her remained restless and alert.

After breakfast, as they stepped out into the open air, Jiyeon barely had time to breathe in the crisp breeze before a voice called her name.

“Oh my god, Jiyeon? Is that really you?”

Jiyeon froze. That voice… Sumin?

An old classmate. From a time when Jiyeon was still just a girl with big dreams and journalism books tucked under her arm. Before she belonged to anyone. Before she belonged to him.

Sumin reached for a hug, but Taehyung’s arm immediately tightened around Jiyeon’s waist, halting her with a gentle but unmistakable pull.

“Sweetheart, who’s this?”

From the outside, one would think it was an innocent question but Jiyeon knew better. She felt the pressure of his hand, the tension beneath the surface.

Taehyung looked down at her then. His girl. His fiancée. His property. There was something unreadable in his eyes. Something cold.

She understood.

A warning.

Wrap it up. Now.

Ji­yeon forced a smile. “It’s really good to see you,” she said, her voice light, practiced. “But we’re in a bit of a rush. Let’s catch up soon?”

—

The door clicked softly behind them as they stepped inside.

Jiyeon slipped off her shoes, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the morning’s tension. She hesitated, then spoke softly, “Can we just sit and watch some TV? Together?”

Once taehyung gave her the okay, she settled onto the couch, folding her hands in her lap as Taehyung joined her. They decided to watch some romcom episode that just started.

Suddenly, the screen switched to breaking news.

“Breaking news tonight: Former mayor Kang has been found dead under suspicious circumstances…” The reporter’s voice was calm but urgent, the images of the crime scene flashed by.

“Investigators are looking into possible ties between the mayor’s campaign and a powerful underground organization led by a man named Jeon Jungkook, the leading mafia leader of Korea. It is alleged the mayor borrowed significant funds from this group, sparking speculation about motives behind his death.”

“The investigation continues,” the reporter concluded, “but authorities are not ruling out foul play connected to unpaid debts and organized crime.”

“Wow, I thought mafia stuff only happened in the movies…” Jiyeon rested her head against his shoulder. “That’s scary.” The screen then shifted back to the romcom.

[🎙️]

Jeon Jungkook. That name sounded awfully familiar.

Taehyung’s thoughts drifted back to shortly before he met the love of his life, before fate wrote their story stone.

Namjoon was hosting a banquet, a celebration as he decided to pursue his mayoral ambitions. A mix of people gathered under the chandeliers, surrounded by champagne. Doctors, lawyers, officers, other influential figures from all around the city.

And someone that stuck out almost like a sore thumb.

Even as classy and elegant as the event was, women still glued to the man’s arms like flies stuck to a trap.

“That’s Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke up beside him that night, “He’s an.. acquaintance of sorts. Harmless to us, I made sure of that.”

Jiyeon’s voice pulled his attention away from the TV. Her words pulling a chuckle from his chest.

“That scares you, hm?” Taehyung mused, pulling the girl closer. Until her legs gently draped across his thighs. “You’ve been surrounded by worst monsters than him, sweetheart…”

His lips grazed hers before he stole a kiss. Tender. Deep. A kiss that poured all his emotions from the last 24 hours.

Frustration from Nara, the boiling anger that she had tried to take Jiyeon away from him, then the swelling pride when Jiyeon chose him over her. Someone recognizing her. After all this time.

“You’re safe from anything, as long as you’re with me.” He gave another kiss, a peck this time. “And only with me.”

His hand trailed to her thigh, drawing delicate circles up and down her skin, sometimes dipping beneath the hem of her dress.

His thoughts dared to wander, but he shook them off. He promised his fiancee they could watch a movie, so he’ll hold his end of the conversation.

For now.

—

Almost a week later, the front door fell shut. The sound echoing through the quiet home.

“Jagiya?” Taehyung called out.

In the early hours of the afternoon, just past lunch, he was home early. Unexpectedly so.

When Jiyeon came into view, he smiled.

“Surprise, I’m home early.” Taehyung mused. “Where’s my kiss?”

His arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her into his frame once he felt her soft lips on his, humming into the kiss.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, murmuring against her lips. “We have an appointment today. Put on something nice, like the white dress I bought you last month.” He peppered a few light kisses along the top of her shoulder. “Wear this too, sweetheart. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Pulling a small velvet box from his coat pocket, he handed it to Jiyeon. Inside was a dainty diamond necklace. A small treasure he found looking around the city for the perfect floral shop.

“Go on, we don’t want to be late.” With one last kiss, Taehyung let her go, letting her get ready.

—

The metal chime above the door jingled as Taehyung held it open, letting Jiyeon step inside first. The scent of fresh lilies and crushed eucalyptus greeted them like a soft sigh.

The florist, a bright eyed woman in her late 30s, welcomed them with a practiced warmth. “Mr. Kim, welcome. Congratulations on your engagement.” With a smile as bright as her teeth, she gestured them further inside.

Already waiting for them was a few booklets along with a few sample bouquets and swatches of ribbon. “Shall we begin with bridal bouquet ideas?”

Taehyung didn’t answer right away. He simply placed a guiding hand at Jiyeon’s lower back as they moved towards the counter. His fingers lingering even after they stopped walking.

His touch wasn’t overly obvious to anyone, but it was intimate. A silent claim. His thumb brushing her spine.

“I’ve pulled a few examples for you.” The florist continued, lifting a bouquet of pale peonies and white gardenias. “These symbolize prosperity and beauty. Very classic. Or perhaps something like these soft violets? They represent modesty—”

“Not those.” Taehyung interrupted. Eyes glancing at Jiyeon. Fixated. “I want flowers that mean something real. Love. Passion. Loyalty.” His eyes finally shifted to the florist, gaze cool but polite. “Not modesty. Not prosperity. This isn’t about aesthetics. It’s about devotion.”

The florist nodded quickly. “Of course. Perhaps red ranunculus? They symbolize being spellbound by someone. And white camellias for faithfulness—”

Taehyung’s lips curved faintly. He nodded once. “That’s better.”

The assistant brought over the suggested arrangements.

No one else existed for him in the moment. Only Jiyeon. His sweet fiancé. The centre of his world.

But someone else was watching.

Across the boutique, near a half wall lined with dried arrangements, a woman with a sleek phone in hand pretended to browse through samples. Her eyes flicked up every few seconds

Not at the flowers, but at them.

Kang Mirae, personal assistant to Taehyung’s corporate rival. A smaller, less popular airport run on the other side of the city. She had been on her own errand when she’d spotted him.

At first, she thought she was mistaken. Kim Taehyung, spotted in public with a woman on his arm? Heading into a flower shop?

She watched with eagle eyes as his hand slid briefly over the inside of Jiyeon’s wrist. Saw how he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. Saw how Jiyeon leaned into it.

This was the scandal they’d all been looking for. A rumour. Anything. Her boss would surely promote her if she could get proof.

Slowly, Mirae held up her phone, disguising herself into a shelf of flowers. Angling it discreetly, she tried to frame the two of them in perfectly. Taehyung’s arm around her waist. Both of them picking out a bouquet —

But just as she tapped the focus, Jiyeon’s eyes flicked up, and Mirae swore their eyes briefly connected.

The rival assistant gasped, dropping her phone down as she ducked behind the pile of flowers.

Had she really seen her?

Mirae looked at her phone screen, at the phone she snapped. Blurry. Completely blurry. Only 2 fuzzy blobs stared back at her.

“Goddamn it.” She grumbled.

Would she be lucky enough to try a second shot?

“Which do you like, hm?” Taehyung murmured to Jiyeon, bringing her gaze back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Taehyung’s rage cut through the air, but everything around her blurred and faded to lifeless shades of gray. Her heart pounded so loud she thought it might burst, yet at the same time, she felt like she was somewhere else, outside her own body, helplessly watching the horror play out.

Taehyung’s grip on Nara, the brutal blows, the glowing poker held above the flames— it all played out like a grotesque scene in a horror movie.

Jiyeon’s ears filled with high-pitched ringing, drowning out every sound except the pounding of her own pulse.

As Taehyung stepped toward her, Jiyeon pulled her knees tighter to her chest where she sat curled on the sofa. Her arms wrapped around herself like a barrier, though it offered no protection against the blood still dripping from his knuckles, or the madness that still flickered behind his eyes.

Jiyeon’s eyelids fluttered rapidly, an anxious, uncontrollable response, like her body was trying to shield her from the image of what she’d just witnessed. Her chest heaved with shallow, panicked breaths, and her entire frame trembled violently. She couldn’t stop it. No matter how hard she tried.

And then Taehyung reached for her.

“How long did you know about her plan?”

Her entire body locked up like a small animal trapped beneath a predator’s paw.

“I-I didn’t…” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”

“Be honest with me. Were you part of it too, Jiyeonnie? Hm? Where did she get that stuff from?”

Once the first words fell from her lips, more followed in a rush.

“I wasn’t part of it. I swear. She told me—in the kitchen. She had the poison, not me. I tried to stop her.”

Jiyeon’s voice wavered with each sentence.

"I— she didn’t tell me where she got it from, I really don’t know— she had it in her pocket when I first seen it—"

Jiyeon closed her eyes tightly, only opening them when his grip eased.

“Did she hurt you anywhere?”

"My head hurts…" Jiyeon whispered.

—

Jiyeon’s fork hovered just above her plate. The smell of roasted potatoes and steak filled the room, but her stomach had turned to stone. Every bite felt impossible.

Taehyung and Namjoon spoke quietly, their voices calm and measured, as if the violence earlier was nothing more than a distant memory. The normalcy of their conversation made the air around her feel more suffocating.

“Miss Jiyeon.”

Jiyeon sat up straight, her heart skipping a beat. “Y-yes?” She stammered.

"You haven’t even had a bite. Is everything alright? Would you prefer something else? Is this meal not to your liking?” Namjoon asked.

"O-oh, I do like it…" Jiyeon spoke softly, feeling her face burning up at the men’’s gaze on her. Under their stares, she forced a bite into her mouth.

“…And you look quite pale, are you feeling sick?” Namjoon asked with feigned concern.

“I’m… I’m fine.” But then an idea popped up in her mind— if she was sick, they’d go back home, right? “Actually… I do feel a bit hot, maybe I’m getting a fever?”

“I see… in that case…” Namjoon lingered, glancing at the window. “If Taehyung wants,” Namjoon continued, swirling the wine in his glass, “you two can stay here tonight. You’re not feeling well, and the weather tonight is awful, please, it’s the least I can do for this horrid night.”

Unfortunately for her, Taehyung accepted the invitation.

—

The rain tapped softly against the window, as the small lamp illuminated the room. Jiyeon laid still under the fluffy blanket, her body tense as her heart beat fast against her chest. Taehyung’s arm was wrapped around her, but it felt distant, whereas she always melted into his touch, she had a hard time tonight.

The evening kept replaying in her mind.

"Taehyung…?" Jiyeon moved from her back to her side, facing him.

“Would you ever… do to me what you did to Nara?”

[🎙️]

“What is it, my love?” Taehyung murmured, stifling a yawn.

All the agitation from the lady couple hours was finally weighing down on him.

He settled into bed after getting Jiyeon water and a painkiller for her head, just about to drift off until her shift voice caught his attention. Buzzing with nerves.

“Would you ever… do to me what you did to Nara?”

There was a small moment of silence.

Then Taehyung chuckled. Dark. Amused.

The arm wrapped around her waist coiled even tighter, pulling her flush to his chest. “Of course not…” He answered while other hand came up to rest against her throat, “You would never misbehave like she did, hm? You would never disrespect me and try to hurt me like that…” He stole her lips in a kiss.

“So I don’t ever have to think about it.” He breathed against her lips once before pulled away. Slightly. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart? Now get some rest. We are going home first thing tomorrow morning.”

—

Typically, Taehyung hated waking up anywhere that wasn’t home, but with Jiyeon was by his side, it made it much, much better.

She stirred beside him on the guestroom mattress, her lashes fluttering before she blinked up at him. She looked warm, soft, vulnerable.

His.

Satin sheets wrapped around her frame, the fabric dropping to expose her bare shoulders.

She was so beautiful, and all for his eyes only.

Only he got to see her like this.

Taehyung brushed her hair behind her ear. “Get dressed.” He murmured. “I’m taking us for breakfast, then we are going home.”

The idea came to him when the golden rays of morning sun first woke him up.

Not caring what she thought of his plan, he was already pulling her up and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Namjoon’s place felt heavy for the moment, still lingering with the sour taste of that woman.

They arrived at one of the city’s most elite rooftop restaurants. Glass walls, velvet seats, and a perfect view of the city’s river. A view that almost rivaled the one across from him.

His dear, sweet fiancee.

Their table sat in the far corner, private but with a clear view. Just how he liked it. Before they’d even opened their menus, the waitress arrived.

Young. Energetic. Grinning ear to ear.

“Mr Kim.” She said sweetly, brushing imaginary lint from her skirt. “It’s so nice to see you again. I’ve missed your face around here.”

Taehyung didn’t smile back, merely nodding in response. Instead, he turned to Jiyeon, completely ignoring the other woman’s presence.

“Order anything what you want, sweetheart.” He said lovingly to her. “Today is a treat.”

She behaved so well, even saving him from Nara’s feeble little plan. As such a good girl, she deserved a reward.

“I’ll have a coffee. Black.” He ordered curtly.

Then with slight flick of his hand dismissed the waitress without even a glance. She hesitated, then left in quiet embarrassment.

Today, Jiyeon sat across from him, her lips wrapped around the edge of a crystal glass, her eyes still a little tired, but glowing. Tae couldn’t stop watching her. Every movement, every breath, every blink. She was like drug pumping through his bloodstream.

Taehyung smiled. Soft and full of something far more dangerous than just affection.

He reached across the table, holding her hand in his, his thumb rubbing across the precious stone on her finger.

“Let me see your beautiful smile, sweetheart. Smile for me. Not for anyone else, just for me.”

—

After their breakfast, they left the restaurant behind.

As they left the elevator, stepping outside into the crisp air, a voice cut through the silence.

“Oh my god, Jiyeon? Is that really you?”

Taehyung froze, his blood running cold.

This was always a gripping possibility whenever he took Jiyeon out of the privacy of their home that she’d be spotted.

“It is! Oh my god, hi!” The girl cheered. She ran over gleaming. “It’s been so long! I have to say, I never expected to see you here at a place like this. It’s stuffy for us journalists.”

The woman went to wrap Jiyeon in a hug, but Taehyung’s arm around her waist stopped her.

He pulled Jiyeon closer to his side, a charming smile feigning his features. “Sweetheart, who’s this?”

The classmate took a step back, but the charismatic smile had her melting. She was utterly oblivious to the dangerous aura laced in his tone, almost staring up at him with heart eyes before turning back to her former classmate.

“I’m Sumin, Jiyeon’s classmate. We were in the same literature studies class.”

When the girl answered, he looked down at his girl. Something dark, unreadable swirling in his eyes. “Ah, I see… An old classmate, hm?” His grip on her hip tightened ever so slightly.

A warning.

Wrap this up. Now.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I thought you graduated early.” She giggled. “Oh! Did you get that internship you were wanting?” Then she turned his attention to Taehyung. “Who is your friend?”

Handsome. Devoted. Providing.

Taehyung watched the fireworks reflected in her eyes, but her gaze kept flicking to his lips, his hand which held the wine glass, to the slight damp locks of his hair…

Jiyeon knew she shouldn’t be feeling this. It was wrong, Nara told her many times, she didn’t forget the things Taehyung did, well except on nights like this…

He was so handsome, and all for her.

Not the secretary. Not the countless of women whom eyed him when they were out. He had eyes for her and her only.

When Taehyung beckoned her over, she lifted from the seat and got onto his lap.

‘You were being such a good girl.’

Jiyeon smiled at his words, butterflies swarming through her stomach when he praised her. “Yes, that’s right…” She whispered with a small nod, her eyes searching his for approval, relieved he understood her intentions. “I just… wanted to make you happy.” Jiyeon admitted.

Jiyeon had tried to make his birthday special. It was clear to her that Taehyung didn’t like celebrating his birthday, but still, she thought… maybe she could rewrite that for him. Maybe she could be the first person who made him feel something good about the day. She cooked his favorite meal, decorated with what she had, and even learned to knit for him.

And for a moment, Jiyeon thought it worked.

Until he said those words.

‘My birthday isn’t something we celebrate. Ever.’

“Oh…” Jiyeon frowned, disappointment evident on her face. “I understand.” She finally said, knowing better than to question him. He simply wanted obedience from her, not interrogations or arguments back and forth.

But still, she wondered why?

Then, out of nowhere, Taehyung spoke. It was short, and it was blunt, a small bit of what he had to endure on his 10th birthday, but it was enough for Jiyeon to understand.

“Oh, Taehyung, I am so so so sorry, I didn’t know, I—“ Jiyeon was then hushed, and Taehyung brushed it off, understanding there was no way for her to know.

But would it have stopped her from celebrating? Would her intentions have changed? Or would she had treated it like he did, pretending as if his birthday didn’t exist? Would she instead be preparing a New Year’s Eve party?

“But despite everything, she was still your mom…”

Jiyeon regretted it the moment she said it. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and she felt the atmosphere shift.

Why did she have to be so stupid and make such a dumb mistake?

“Oh, I— I meant to say…” Jiyeon stammered, growing nervous. Thankfully, Taehyung took them out of the awkward situation and guided her back inside.

Once back in bed, Jiyeon was showered in affection, and the painful day was soon forgotten. “I love you too..” Jiyeon smiled at his kisses, first on her jaw and then along her shoulders.

‘What will you do for me next year?’

Next year? Did that mean that…

Jiyeon turned in his hold, facing him, studying his face.

He meant it.

“Hmm..” Jiyeon thought for a moment with a smile. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you..” She teased, wrapping an arm around him, leaning in for a kiss. And one more. And another one. Until she drifted off to sleep.

—

Jiyeon met his eyes in the mirror, her breath catching just slightly when he clasped the necklace around her neck. The cool metal kissed her skin, but it was his voice, low, deliberate, tinged with something near primal—that sent a deeper shiver down her spine.

‘You look beautiful.’

“Thank you…” She smiled, glancing down at the floor.

It was as if she was floating in the clouds. What was it about him that made her feel.. so in love?

But then he brought her back to the ground with a mention of Nara.

“Yes, Taehyung. I won’t.” She promised.

—

“Hi Namjoon. Yes, it has been quite some time…”

But not enough time according to Jiyeon.

Then, Nara showed up and apologized to them, and she wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Uhm, it’s okay, really…” Her voice trailed off. Soon, Namjoon requested for help in the kitchen and Jiyeon’s gaze flicked instinctively to Taehyung, waiting. His nod was permission and only then did she step forward, only pausing at his whisper.

“Okay.” She barely surpressed a shaky sigh from her lips when he leaned in to kiss her neck.

Nara was already at the counter, pulling out glasses and placing them beside a bottle of red wine. The silence between them was thick—uneasy.

“I can do the drinks,” Jiyeon offered softly. She could still feel the ghost of Taehyung’s kiss on her neck, the echo of his voice in her ear.

Don’t be with her long.

As she reached for the second glass, Nara spoke.

“Add this to his.”

Jiyeon turned, blinking. Nara was holding out a small container.

“What?” Jiyeon’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Her entire body went cold. “No. No, I’m not doing that.”

“You have to,” Nara said, firm but not loud. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. What he’s already done.”

“I—he’s never—he’s never hurt me.” Jiyeon stammered, but even she didn’t believe her own defense fully. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t betray him, nor kill him.

Nara scoffed, stepping closer. “Of course he hasn’t. You’re his pretty little puppet. But don’t you get it, Jiyeon? You are still a prisoner.”

“I won’t do it,” Jiyeon insisted. “I can’t do it, this is wrong—“

But Nara had already moved. In a flash, she poured the wine into a fresh glass, dropped the powder in, and stirred it with a flick of her wrist.

“There. Done,” Nara said coldly, placing the glass on the tray. “You’re going to bring it to him. Just smile and do it. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Jiyeon froze, heart slamming against her chest.

“You only need to do one thing for me. That’s it,” Nara added, voice low and threatening. “And after that, I’m gone. You can stay here, rotting away under his thumb. Because you’re weak, Jiyeon. You’ll never leave him, and I don’t care. I’ll leave you behind. Just go they’ll get suspicious and you will get in trouble too.”

Jiyeon’s mind screamed at her to move, to think, but she couldn’t. She could only obey. Like always.

Jiyeon walked into the dining room, her steps slow. Namjoon was laughing about something—she didn’t hear it. Taehyung looked up, smiling as she approached. His smile. His eyes. That voice that called her beautiful.

She couldn’t do this.

She placed Namjoon’s glass first, then turned to Taehyung—his fingers already reaching.

But then—

“NO!”

Jiyeon slapped the glass out of his hand with a loud crash, red wine splattering across the floor like blood.

“She put something in it!” Jiyeon yelled out, breathing hard, hands shaking. “Nara—she put something in it!”

Something snapped in the other woman.

Jiyeon couldn’t even do one simple task— why? Why was this happening? Was she wrong about Jiyeon? Was she not an ally stuck in the same situation… but part of those two?

Enough was enough.

“You stupid bitch!” Nara shrieked, storming toward Jiyeon and grabbing a fistful of her hair. Jiyeon cried out, stumbling as Nara yanked her back by the roots.

“You ruin everything!” Nara screamed, twisting harder. “I should’ve tried to kill you instead, you’re so useless!”

“Nara, stop, it hurts!” Jiyeon whimpered in pain, hands flying up to try and claw Nara’s grip away—but she didn’t let go.

“I don’t care! Is Taehyung worth it? What? Does he have a golden dick? Is that why you’re riding his dick so much and turn into some spineless doll? Is that it?” The girl’s hands snapped away from her hair and moved with lightening speed to the crying girl’s throat.

[🎙️]

While Taehyung listened to his friend speak about his recent business travels, the behind the scenes of was happening in the city’s “pristine” office, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering astray.

Thinking about the soft shiver that ran down Jiyeon’s back when his lips grazed the sensitive part of her neck. The way her lips pressed together, suppressing a sigh he’s grown to know so well, and love.

Every so many minutes, the killer would glance back towards the kitchen entrance, keeping an eye on his dear fiancee.

Namjoon’s laugh echoed through the air when Jiyeon finally made an appearance.

Taehyung looked in her direction, a smile immediately curling his lips at the sight of her. But he couldn’t help but notice a few minor details, small enough others would’ve easily glazed over.

Her shoulders were knitted as if there was some kind of tension lingering and a nervous expression flickered in her honey brown eyes.

The drinks were set down, first one in front of his friend. As his fingers skimmed his glass, his other hand moving to grab her hip and bring her to sit next to him, Jiyeon’s voice suddenly called out. Desperate. Scared. Beyond worried.

“NO!”

Glass knocked out of his hands, shattering once it crashed to the floor, wine soaking into Namjoon’s imported rug like a crime scene.

The air turned deadly still, as if a bomb had just gone off. Both men briefly glanced at each other, but before either could react, something finally completely broke in the other woman.

“You stupid bitch!”

Things were unfolding fast. Jiyeon’s suspicious behaviour. The shattered glass. The underhanded plan that was just exposed. Nara appearing from the kitchen, pouncing on Jiyeon like a feral cat.

As soon as Jiyeon’s cry filled Taehyung’s ears, he was off the sofa in an instant. A fistful of Nara’s hair in his hand, yanking her away from his precious fiancée.

Like she was nothing more than a rag doll, he threw Nara’s frame back with ease, putting his body between the girls.

The only thing he could see was pure red. A deadly burn pulsed through his veins.

Namjoon stepped in behind him, his hands joining to Jiyeon’s arms to help her off the floor, leading her to the sofa.

Nara’s cries filled the apartment as she was hit with blow after blow.

“You dare touch her!?”

“You dare lay a hand on what’s mine?!”

“You pathetic, stupid girl.”

Taehyung voice bellowed through the air.

“You really thought you could hurt us? That you could win?”

There was a pause, a small break.

“… After all this time, you’ve never been able to learn your lesson.” Taehyung chuckled darkly. He stepped away, towards the fireplace as he grabbed one of the poker’s. “Do you know what the definition of insanity is, Nara?”

He then held the end above the open crackling flame.

Barely unable to move, covered in blood and bruises, Nara sniffled, feebly shaking her head.

“Doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result.”

“Please, please, don’t.” Nara immediately began to cry, as if she could already tell where this was going. “Namjoon, please.” She sobbed, desperately looking his way only to be meant with a stare colder than ice.

Her teary eyes turned to Jiyeon. “Please, Jiyeon! Please, help me. I’m so sorry, I don’t want to die. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please!”

Taehyung glanced back at Namjoon, looking for silent permission for what he was going to do next. When he was given a nod, he turned his attention back towards Nara.

Namjoon put a hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “Don’t turn away now, Miss Jiyeon, you don’t want to miss the best part.”

“You touched her. You went after what’s mine.” Taehyung stalked up to her, slowly. Like a predator taunting its prey. The end of the poker glowed like a sun setting on the horizon.

Nara tried to pull herself away across the floor, her fingers digging into the hard wood for leverage.

A scream cried out as Taehyung pressed his foot down against her ankle, stopping all her movements. “You’re out of second chances.”

Eventually Nara’s screams died out. Her body fell limp, her eyes staring soullessly into the ceiling.

Namjoon finally stood once it was over. His face void of any emotion as his eyes flickered to the corpse. “I’ll call someone to take care of the mess.” He spoke casually, like disposing of Nara’s body was as easy as simply as taking a stained suit to the dry cleaners.

He walked out of the room, calling one of the numbers listed on his contacts.

Taehyung finally turned his attention to Jiyeon. He carelessly dropped the poker, turning on his heel and stalking up to his fiancée.

“How long did you know about her plan?” His bloody hand came up to hold her jaw, forcing her to look up into his eyes. “Be honest with me. Were you apart of it too, Jiyeonnie? Hm? Where did she get that stuff from?”

When he was done interrogating her, he let out a slight breath, his grip on her easing. “Did she hurt you anywhere?”

After their shower, Jiyeon pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, the cool night air brushing along her skin. The distant pop of fireworks echoed from the city skyline, followed by a burst of color that lit up the sky in brilliant blues, golds, and reds.

“Wow.” Jiyeon was so mesmerized by the fireworks, that she forgot about the untouched drink and cake resting on the table beside them. “It’s beautiful…” Her voice trailed off and so did her thoughts.

She remembered sitting on her grandparents’ worn wooden porch, bundled up in her grandmother’s knitted shawl, the faint scent of jasmine tea lingering in the air. The night was always chilly, but the warmth from her grandfather’s hand holding hers made her feel safe and loved. Together, they would watch the same bursts of light filling the sky, her small face lit up by the glowing explosions.

Whereas this was suppose to be a happy memory, Jiyeon found unexpected sadness finding its way to her heart. How were her grandparents doing? Would she ever see them again?

What would the new year bring?

‘You can ask them.’

Jiyeon turned her gaze to him, snapping out of her thoughts, the words sinking in. “Questions? Oh, well…” Her fingers nervously twisted the edge of her sleeve as her eyes dropped to her lap. Should she really? Even though Taehyung had invited her to speak, she hesitated. Things were finally calm again… did she have to stir up the past again? “I don’t know…”

Still, Jiyeon decided to test the waters with one cautious question.

“Whose… blood was that? It.. wasn’t yours, right?”

And when Taehyung didn’t snap, she found herself braver and asked another question.

“The decorations… you hated them, right? Is it cause you’re.. used to things with more class?”

And then, quietly, the last one escaped her lips. “Did you hate the surprise? Could I have done anything better?

[🎙️]

How can someone be so perfect for him?

Obedient. Doting. Loving.

As much as Taehyung wanted to keep his attention on the fireworks, his gaze kept glancing towards Jiyeon, watching the colour pop in her eyes. Wide and sparkling.

She was so beautiful, and all for him.

No one else could see what he see’s, no one else could have what was rightfully his.

Jiyeon seemed to hesitate at his offer for a moment, but soon the first question came.

“Whose… blood was that? It… wasn’t yours, right?”

The wine glass paused against Taehyung’s lips. “Of course not.” The woman’s face flashed in his mind, but he couldn’t remember her name. Not that he cared. It would be all over the headlines come morning. “Don’t worry yourself with whose it is, she doesn’t matter.”

He took a sip.

Then came the second question.

“More class?” Taehyung repeated, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Not at all, Jiyeonnie.”

Then finally came the third.

He set his glass down with a sigh, leaning back against his chair. “Come here.” He beckoned her over with 2 fingers. When she came close enough, he guided her onto his lap to face him.

“I didn’t hate your surprise, sweetheart. You were being such a good girl. You put in so much effort in for me. Thought only of me. Isn’t that right? You just wanted my make my day special, hm?” The dessert, his favourite dinner, knitting him a scarf in his favourite colour. She did everything with him in mind. For him and him only.

“My birthday isn’t something we celebrate. Ever.” His fingers found their way to her chin, tilting her head to look at him in the eyes. “Understand?” He continued, but as soon as the words left his lips, he was hit with a pang of regret.

For 13 years hadnt celebrated a single birthday. It didn’t matter if his brother tried. Halmeoni. Namjoon. But maybe there was something that was beginning to write over that… the curiosity of what Jiyeon would do for him next, how she would celebrate him, surprise him, year after year to come.

Taehyung contemplated leaving it there, but there was a look burning in her sweet brown eyes — why?

He was going to be her husband. Forever. She should know about him, her family history.

She was the only one he wanted to know.

“… The morning of my 10th birthday.” He started, but the words felt like needles coming up his throat. “I found my mother dead. My father caught her cheating, trying to tear our family apart, so he killed her. I spent the morning helping him bury her body.”

Immediately, the girl began a flood apologies, pulling a dry chuckle from Taehyung’s chest.

“Shh, I accept your apologies, sweetheart.” He tucked some hair behind her ear, letting his fingers graze across her cheek as he pulled away. “Of course you didn’t know, how could you?”

Then she said something next, something he wasn’t prepared for.

For a moment, Taehyung didn’t say a word. His stare hardened, jaw clenching, but he eased. Slowly. “No.” He shook his head. “She was whore who tried to take us away. There’s nothing to miss.”

But Jiyeon’s words lingered in his mind.

She was still your mom.

The woman who taught him piano, made him soup when he fell sick, read him countless bedtime stories.

“Let’s go inside, we’ll catch a cold.” Even though that wasn’t true, thanks to warm air flooding through the vents around them. He lead Jiyeon off his lap, standing.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung draped the covers overtop of them. His arms snaked around Jiyeon’s waist, pulling her closer until her back was flush against his chest.

“Such a good girl for me today, I love you, my sweet girl.” He planted kisses on her jaw. “What will you do for me next year, hm?” His lips travelled down peppering kisses along her exposed shoulder.

—

“You look beautiful.” Taehyung hummed, voice low, almost primal.

He took a necklace, bringing around her neck to clasp it together in the back. His eyes turned to the girl’s reflection in the mirror, admiring the sight. “I don’t want you spending a lot of time with Nara tonight, she’s a bad influence on you.”

His fingertips grazed down Jiyeon’s arm. “Come, we don’t want to keep Namjoon waiting.”

His dear friend invited them over for a night of dinner and drinks. Considering the woman he held captive still wasn’t welcome to come over to their home.

Taehyung held his hand out, waiting for Jiyeon to interlace their fingers, and when she did, he led them out to the car.

“It’s been too long.” Namjoon’s voice greeted after the ding of the elevator.

Taehyung pulled off the scarf Jiyeon had made him, draping it across the coat rack before adding their jackets.

Nara emerged from the kitchen. Her shoulders were knitted together, already tense and bracing for that this night had in store.

“Hello.” She greeted the guests, but there was a pause to her body language, a hesitation.

“Nara.” The mayor’s voice held a warning.

“I…” Nara nervously glanced between the men before bowing to the couple in front of her, as if they were royalty. “I’m so sorry for my behaviour the last time we saw each other. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

“Jiyeon.” A signature dimpled smile stretched on Namjoon’s expression as he turned his attention to his guest. “Nara’s having trouble in the kitchen, would you mind giving her some guidance?”

Taehyung glanced down at the woman holding his arm, granting her permission with a nod. “Give her some direction then come sit with me, don’t be with her long.” His breath tickled against her skin as he whispered in her ear.

Keeping his eyes dead set on Nara, a glare that screamed if you try anything with her, hurt her in any way, Taehyung leaned in and pressed a kiss against Jiyeon’s neck.

He then let go of his fiancé, letting his hand linger on his waist as she slipped away into the kitchen.

Taehyung’s eyes should’ve lit up with excitement as he laid eyes on the handmade decoration and the scarf that was knitted with love. Her soon to be husband was supposed to have a wide grin on his face, give her a kiss, thank her, tell her how much he loved all of this…

But none of that happened. Matter of fact, it was as if she waved a red cloth in front of an angry bull and triggered a reaction.

Jiyeon was dumbfounded— her heart thumping against her chest as she froze on the spot. There was something about his posture, and the lack of warmth in his eyes that frightened her. Jiyeon had to gather all of her courage to answer him. “No one… told me to do this. I thought… I thought you would like this…” Her voice trailed off softly, the tension in the room becoming suffocating.

What was wrong?

Jiyeon tried to seek eye contact with her fiancee but his gaze was unfocused, staring ahead of him. “Taehyung, I’m s—“ Before she could finish the sentence, he snapped once again, this time ripping down the banner she had made. Jiyeon let out a gasp, not expecting him to hate her surprise so much that he was willing to take it down by himself.

“O-okay…” Jiyeon stammered, tears prickling in her eyes. She didn’t understand what was wrong… what she did wrong. But she obeyed, picking the confetti from the floor, to taking down the decorations, wiping out the existence of there ever being any resemblance to a birthday party in the living room. The handmade decorations that just a few hours ago filled her with pride. Now, they felt ridiculous. Childish. Like she had misunderstood everything. The scarf she had spent time making was dumped into the trash can.

The food was placed into the fridge and Jiyeon did a quick clean up of the living room and kitchen, before she left the scene behind and entered the hallway. Jiyeon paused when she spotted his work bag and a thought came to mind…

Did he leave his phone behind?

Jiyeon picked up the case from the floor and unzipped it, there was some paperwork, a wallet, a notebook… and his phone. Jiyeon scooted it out, placing the bag down before she held the device with both hands.

This must be the first time she held his phone. She had always seen it in his hands, when he smiled at the phone while speaking with halmeoni, checking work emails, or browsing through news articles. Jiyeon never had a reason to have it in her hands.

Jiyeon pressed the button on the side of the phone, noting that she was greeted with the password screen.

His password… she had seen him unlock his phone a couple of times, but Jiyeon wasn’t sure if she’d remember the exact numbers.

Jiyeon’s fingers hesitated before she started tapping the screen. Each time she entered a sequence, the phone rejected it with a quiet buzz. Her heart pounded harder as a warning flashed: You have three attempts remaining. The girl considered giving up, thinking it wasn’t worth the risk, but something told her to keep on trying.

Finally, the phone’s Lock Screen was replaced with the Home Screen, and Jiyeon was in.

“Oh my god, what am I doing?” Guilt settled in, she knew it was wrong to invade his privacy like this… but Jiyeon had to know. The memory of his face tonight, twisted with rage, disgust, rejection… she couldn’t shake it off.

She had to know if there was any other woman in Taehyung’s life.

Jiyeon investigated every nook and cranny; opened every text conversation and scrolled through them, had a look at the emails of the past months, and opened every single app that was downloaded on his phone.

But she couldn’t find a thing. No leads to any other woman, no evidence of Taehyung even thinking of another woman. Which brought her both relief and confusion.

Only after she was content did she lock his phone and put it back into the case, leaving it where he left it before he stormed out of the home.

He wasn’t cheating on her… so what was going on? Did he not like his birthday surprise? Was he used to extravagant and luxurious experiences? Did he find her attempt childish and silly?

Jiyeon went upstairs and got ready for bed, his warning running in the back of her mind, knowing better than to test him. A pillow found itself in her arms, hugging it tightly as she listened to the faint popping of fireworks outside.

Right… it would be new years soon. Her eyes shifted over to the clock, two more hours until it was 12. Would he be back before then? Where did he even go? Should she have done something differently? What had she done wrong? Why did it feel like her love wasn’t enough?

Jiyeon lay curled on her side, trying to ease herself into fall asleep. Her back faced the empty side of the bed— the side that should’ve had his warmth, his breathing, his gentle voice. But there was nothing. Just cold sheets and silence.

Tears slipped down her cheeks one after the other, soaking into the pillow beneath her. Her lips parted, trembling as she tried to breathe through the ache tightening her chest. Sobs slipped from her lips, soft at first, shaky, like her body was trying to hold them in. Then louder, more broken, muffled into the pillow as her shoulders trembled.

She hugged it close, clinging to it like a lifeline, her cries barely audible above the loccasional pop of fireworks in the distance. Eventually, the sobs slowed, tapering into quiet sniffles and the young girl drifted to sleep.

Then, Jiyeon jolted awake— the sharp shatter of glass piercing the silence, followed by the unmistakable sound of his voice, rough and loud. The same man she had cried herself to sleep over. Still half awake, Jiyeon pulled the sheets off her and stood, stumbling over her feet as she rushed to the source of the sound.

“Taehy—“ Jiyeon halted, spotting the broken glass shards on the floor, and worst, the blood on his clothes. “What… what happened?” She lingered at the doorway, frowning at the source of light. “Should… should I call an ambulance? Or Halmeoni?” The young woman suggested, trying to offer her help, but instead she was met with a hardened voice, urging her it was best to turn around and go back to bed.

“But you’re hurt…” She carefully commented, but knew it was better to listen than to disobey, so she simply nodded. “Okay… good night, love you.” And with that, she left.

Jiyeon initially planned to head back to bed , but instead she headed to the closet and collected some clothes, then went back to the bathroom. “Taehyung? I thought… uhm, here, I am sure you’d want to change into something else. I’ll go to sleep now, did you need anything else?” She placed the neatly stacked clothes and towel down. Jiyeon thought this would be it, but to her surprise, he said something that caught her off guard.

“Shower with you?” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to… but it came unexpected, it was so sudden. “Okay.” Jiyeon agreed, a small smile showing.

Once in the shower, Jiyeon was still cautious, her gaze at the shower floor, the blood swirling in the clear water, turning it a muddy red.

She had so many questions… but there was finally some sort of normalcy between them, that she didn’t want to ruin anything by asking invasive questions.

“…If you want, then, uhm, maybe… we can watch the fireworks later? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just fireworks anyway..”

[🎙️]

How was it still haunting him after such a long time?

The last words she ever said to him.

“Good night, my little tiger, sleep well. I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Then the rolled up carpet. His father standing across from him.

“Grab that corner, Taehyung. Don’t disappoint me too, son. Do you want our family to be torn apart?”

His mother acted like a whore. She broke her weddings vows, the vow to his father, their family. She was going to split them up.

So why did any mere mention or memory of her still make his heart ache?

He didn’t care about her anymore. He couldn’t.

“Taehy—“

“What… What happened? Should I call can ambulance? Halmeoni?” Jiyeon’s sweet voice cut through the thick silence.

Taehyung snapped his head towards her. His eyes piercing.

The last thing he wanted was to see her. He was haunted enough today as it was. Having her near him, all he could think of was her face from earlier. The sparkle in her eye dying out like water smothering a flame.

“Go back to bed. Now.” His hands gripped the sink’s counter. Blood still poured from his knuckles.

“But you’re hurt…”

“I mean it, Jiyeon.” He had no patience to argue, no matter how loving she was being to him.

“Okay… good night, love you.” The door closed behind her with a click.

Love you. Her voice kept repeating in his head.

All she wanted to do was take care of him today, celebrate him.

Taehyung let out a deep sigh, all the air deflating from his lungs. His grip on the marble loosened, shoulders dropping.

“Taehyung? I thought… uhm, here, I am sure you’d want to change into something else.” She was back, carrying a stack of clothes in her arms. “I’ll go to sleep now, did you need anything else?”

“No, sweetheart.” His voice was softer. Taehyung watched as she turned around for the door, calling out to stop her. “Come shower with me.”

Taehyung walked over to her, taking Jiyeon’s hand to lead her safely around the shards to the shower.

Steam fogged the glass, filling the air with the mist. The water pooling at their feet ran red, but it didn’t faze the man standing in front of her.

One hand pressed against the wall in front of him while water poured down his back.

“…If you want, then, uhm, maybe… we can watch the fireworks later? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just fireworks anyway..” Jiyeon broke the silence between them first. He could hear the nerves in her voice.

“Fireworks?” Taehyung stepped away, brushing his hair back as he looked at her.

That’s right. New years.

Every year, there was always fireworks that wrapped up the night. He used to go see them, once upon a time ago.

He stared at her for a second. All the things he crushed tonight, her dinner, the cake, her decorations, he could give her this one thing.

“Why not? We can watch from the balcony.” He hid a smile that formed when she visibly eased. “Come here.” He beckoned her over, and once she got closer, he pulled her body against his, stealing her lips in a kiss. Until the lack of oxygen hazed the memories that tried to creep in.

After their shower, they got dressed.

A hiss pulled from Taehyung when fabric brushed against his knuckles. There were still a few small shards of glass left in the cut.

“Bring me the first aid kit, sweetheart.” He took a seat on the chaise inside the bathroom.

When Jiyeon brought it to him, he carefully took out each remaining piece of glass with medical precision, using his darling as his own personal assistant when he needed to, ending it with a bandage.

Then the couple moved outside, setting up a spot on the balcony to watch the upcoming fireworks show.

“Have you eaten anything?” At her answer, Taehyung briefly left her side to go downstairs to the kitchen.

Something caught his attention, even through the dead of nice, he could make out small red strands sticking out from the garbage. Waking over and opening the lid, he spotted the gift Jiyeon made him stuffed on top of what use to be the decorations.

An odd feeling he wasn’t use to tugged at her heart, relentlessly gnawing. Without a word, he took it out, bringing it to his coat where he draped it across to wear the next time he goes to work.

Then he turned his attention back to what he was doing, grabbing the bottle of wine they had yet to finish, 2 glasses, and a slice of cake for them each.

Taehyjng returned back to her side, sitting beside her at the. He poured them each a glass of wine, just in time for colours to start blowing up the sky.

By the end of the firework show, he was on his last bite of cake. Every once in a while, he glanced over to Jiyeon, watching the lights dance in her eyes, studying the expressions that shifted on her face.

She was becoming so easy to read.

“You can ask them.” Taehyung suddenly spoke, rather bluntly. At her confusion he chuckled. “You have questions you want to ask me, don’t you? It’s written all over your face, sweetheart. So, ask them. I won’t bite.” He grinned, leaning back in his chair. His eyes never left her frame.

At least he wouldn’t bite, not right now.