#s&s

From Chapter 3 of Sunshine and Saccharine :)

(I'm somehow only just realizing that I can draw for my own fic. Who would have thought lol)

A little doodle that is also from chapter 3.

the devil

⤷sypnosis: Kim Taehyung's worldview relies on three absolute truths: the law is malleable, his Tom Ford suits are impeccable, and every woman in the city wants him. Then he gets hijacked by a stranger who forces him to pay a luxury-car-sized vet bill for a stray puppy and looks at him like he's an annoying fly. He thinks your "mysterious intuition" is just a high-effort tactical play to get into his bed. You're just trying to survive your day job while your tarot deck screams that this idiot's logic is about to violently implode. It's fine. Everything is fine.

⤷pairing: kim taehyung x f!reader

⤷genre: lawyer!taehyung, witch!reader, rom-com, urban fantasy, workplace/legal!au, fast-paced flirtation, one-sided slowburn.

⤷warnings: corporate arrogance, heavy wealth flexing, swearing, mild supernatural peril later on, taehyung getting completely humbled. also features some highly unprofessional legal counseling that eventually violates several workspace boundaries (yes, there is smut, he's a womanizer, what did you expect?).

⤷word count: 7,6k

a/n: hello!! first off, the tag list for this is ever growing :') i’m so happy. thank you for everyone who tunes in to read, it really means a lot.

i cannot get enough of their banter it’s so fucking delicious. i know things are starting to pick up the pace but omg he’s still the same and i just find that so amusing. it’s really fun to write so i hope it’s just as fun to read!

enjoy <3

—

Th relentless rain stopped.

It’s sunny now. Almost agressive sunny, which is weird. It always rained.

You were at home, curled up on the sofa with Freya purring like a tiny engine against your chest, when your phone began to buzz.

Taehyung was already pestering you about the car pickup for your visit to his apartment today.

Taehyung [12:14 pm] : Marcus is free at five. He’ll drop you straight to the lobby.

Taehyung [1:30 PM]: Don't make me force him to park outside your shop. He’s very obedient, Hex. He’ll wait all day.

Taehyung [3:45 PM]: Sending the car. Yes or yes?

You tapped out a flat, aggressive no. Marcus already drove the man enough as it was; the poor driver didn't need to be drafted into Taehyung's stubborn attempts to micromanage your arrival.

You stared blankly at your open bag on the coffee table, racking your mind over what you should actually take with you. Sage, maybe? Or did you need something much stronger?

The energy from the reading yesterday was just so fucking weird. It felt heavy and stagnant.

A sensible voice in the back of your head whispered that you should probably listen to your mother.

But mother didn't know you were actually going through with this. In fact, if you tried your very best to recall her frantic words on the phone, she had specifically told you not to interact.

To throw his ass somewhere far away from your life and lock the door.

Yet, here you were, preparing to walk right into his house like an absolute idiot who had never read Witch Safety 101.

Except you had. You read it when you were 8 years old. You knew better. You knew exactly what happened when you willingly crossed into the territory of a dormant, parasitic force.

"I'm just doing a sweep," you muttered to Freya, who gave a low, judgmental meow in response. "Science reasons."

Gently nudging the protesting little feline's head, you tossed a bundle of dried rosemary, a brass dowsing pendulum, and a solid chunk of black tourmaline into your bag. You zipped it shut, slung it over your shoulder, and headed out to catch a cab.

The ride through the city was a jarring, stop-and-go headache. Watching the concrete and glass buildings blur past the cab window under the unnaturally harsh sunlight, you couldn't help but think about back home.

You had never lived in such a massive, suffocatingly large city before. Back home, the world had a rhythm you could actually track.

The trees breathed, the soil held memories, and because everyone knew everyone, it was infinitely easier to assume intentions. You could see a person coming from a mile away and know exactly what kind of energy they carried. There were fewer walls, fewer secrets, and, most importantly, far fewer chaotic energies to clog your mind.

Here, the city was a saturated swamp of human noise. The psychic static was almost deafening if you didn't keep your own shields up. Nearly everyone you passed was either desperately money-thirsty, blissfully dumb, or... Taehyung.

Taehyung was singlehandedly the most problems you had dealt with in years.

As the cab crawled past a towering billboard, you stared at your reflection in the glass. Is he really the one? The terrifying alignment from the foretold reading kept looping in your head. If he was indeed the centerpiece of that looming disaster, the irony was almost laughable.

He didn't know it. Hell, he didn't even believe in any of this.

He was walking directly toward a cliff with his eyes wide open, mocking the gravity of the drop.

When the cab finally pulled up to the curb of his modern high-rise downtown, you paid the driver and stepped out, steeling yourself.

The penthouse elevator ride was whisper-quiet, the numbers ticking upward so fast your ears popped. When the doors finally slid open directly into his foyer, the bright afternoon vanished, replaced by a dense drop in atmospheric pressure. The air in Taehyung's penthouse felt incredibly dry—almost metallic—buzzing with that exact, dormant frequency that had made your blood run cold during the reading.

Exactly as the cards had warned. His shadow was holding its breath, and you had just stepped right into it.

"Look who finally decided to show up," his deep baritone cut through the quiet.

Taehyung was leaning against his marble kitchen island, holding a glass of iced water. He had shed his suit jacket and vest, wearing only a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top two buttons undone

"I told you I'd get here on my own," you said, letting your bag slide onto the sleek console table.

He set his glass down, a slow, amused smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you unzip your bag. "No 'hello'? No appreciation for the view? I had Marcus on standby for three hours, Hex. You’re incredibly stubborn."

"Marcus deserves a raise," you muttered, pulling your brass dowsing pendulum out of your bag and letting it dangle from its chain. "And I'm not here for the view. Show me where you sleep. We're doing a full sweep."

"Rest assured, he’s paid quite well," Taehyung said, taking a slow sip of his water, his eyes tracking the way you held the brass pendulum. "Probably more than you, actually."

You didn't even look up from your bag. "I highly doubt that."

"Oh, really?" He chuckled a rich sound that vibrated effortlessly in the quiet of the penthouse. He raised his left hand, tapping the face of the ridiculously expensive Audemars Piguet Royal Oak hugging his wrist. "My driver wears a watch like this that could fund your entire apothecary for a year, Hex. Trust me, he’s doing just fine. All paid out from my personal salary."

You let out a sharp scoff. "Right. Because a glittering piece of metal is the ultimate metric of a well-lived life. Typical corporate brain rot."

"It’s a very practical metric," he retorted smoothly.

He set his glass down on the island with a soft clink. He straightened up, his tall frame suddenly closing the distance between you. He moved with the slow grace of a predator who knew exactly how devastating he looked in a half-unbuttoned white shirt with his sleeves pushed up.

Stopping just a foot away, he leaned down slightly, bringing himself into your personal space. The scent of his cologne and warm cedar washed over you, instantly competing with the cool, dry air of the penthouse.

"But let’s talk about your metrics," he murmured, his voice dropping into a teasing tone that sent an annoying shiver straight down your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before locking back onto your eyes. "Why do you want to be in my bedroom so bad? You’ve been here for less than five minutes, and you’re already demanding to see where I sleep."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he stepped closer, his shadow completely enveloping yours.

"If you wanted an invitation to my bed, Hex, you really didn't have to invent a phantom curse to get it," he whispered, a wicked flirty smirk playing on his lips. "We can just go... together. I'll gladly show you the layout. No ropes required. Unless, of course, you change your mind about the silk."

"You are a dog," you flatly stated, staring him down with skepticism.

Without skipping a beat, Taehyung let out a low, playful, "Woof, woof."

You rolled your eyes so hard you were fairly certain you could see the inside of your own skull. Deciding to ignore his absolute lack of shame, you adjusted the strap of your bag. "Speaking of dogs, where is Tort?"

"He's at the groomer's," Taehyung said.

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"He needed a bath, a haircut, and a nail treatment," he replied, his face dropping into complete deadpan seriousness.

"A nail treatment?" you repeated, incredulous. "He's a dog, Taehyung."

"Yes, a nail on his left front paw had a small crack in it from his run at the park the other day, and I was worried," he said, not a single trace of irony in his voice.

A breathy laugh escaped your lips. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know the dog you allegedly 'don't care about' was getting full-blown spa treatments."

Taehyung crossed his arms, defending his honor with an offended glare.

"First of all, he is alright. Second, I am fully stepping into the single father role ever since his mother decided to ditch him."

You raised an eyebrow, pausing. "Who's the mom?"

"You."

"That would imply—"

"Yes, exactly, you depraved mother," Taehyung cut you off, a smug grin returning to his face.

He raised one hand to press his fingers against his temple like a fraudulent psychic, pointing his other hand dramatically into the air. "I'm sensing... yes, I'm sensing a deeply passionate, making-up sexual endeavor between two divorced parents with an infant dog. We should really settle this in bed."

You swatted his arm, hard enough to make a satisfying smack against his sleeve. "You're a fucking idiot."

Taehyung didn't even flinch. If anything, his grin only widened, his eyes flashing with a instantaneous spark. "And are you fucking an idiot?"

"Taehyung."

"Hex."

"Taehyung."

"Hex."

You closed your eyes, taking a breath, and actively chose to ignore him. Engaging with him when he was like this was like throwing kerosene on a wildfire—fun, maybe, but entirely destructive.

Instead, you tuned out his chuckling and focused entirely on the room.

You let your vision soften, shifting your focus away from the physical luxury of the penthouse—the polished concrete floors, the minimalist italian furniture, the floor-to-ceiling glass—and onto the unseen currents humming beneath it all.

You took a slow step forward, holding the chain of your brass pendulum steady.

Almost immediately, the pendulum began to behave erratically. Instead of a clean, circular motion or a straight line, it shivered. The heavy brass tip vibrated in mid-air, twitching as if it were trying to point in five different directions at once. The static in the room was dense. It felt like walking through invisible, cold spiderwebs that clung to your bare skin.

"What are you doing?" Taehyung asked, his voice losing a bit of its playful edge as he watched you walk a slow perimeter around his living room. He followed a few paces behind, his hands slipped casually into his pockets, but his eyes were sharp, tracking your every movement.

"I'm looking for the leak," you murmured, keeping your voice low. "Dark energy doesn't just sit in a vacuum, Taehyung. It needs an anchor. A physical conduit to bind itself to this plane, otherwise, the natural currents of the earth would sweep it away."

You walked toward a sleek, dark-wood bookshelf displaying a collection of vintage books, high-end whiskey decanters, and modern art pieces. As you drew closer, a sudden, localized drop in temperature hit you. The air near the bottom shelf was freezing—unnatural, bone-chilling cold that didn't match the climate-controlled warmth of the rest of the penthouse.

"Did you receive any gifts recently?" you asked, your eyes scanning the shelves.

"Antiques? Art pieces? Strange packages from business associates?"

Taehyung frowned slightly, leaning against the side of the shelf, looking at the objects. "I get sent things constantly. Contracts, bottles of wine, expensive trinkets from clients trying to stay on my good side. My assistant filters most of it, but some of the more... unique pieces end up here."

You extended your hand, letting the pendulum hover over a small, geometric hematite sculpture. The brass weight instantly jerked, spinning in violent, tight counter-clockwise circles.

"This," you whispered.

But as you peered closer, you noticed something else. Carved subtly into the very bottom of the hematite base—disguised as part of the angular design—was a faint, scratched rune.

It was a binding sigil, but it had been inverted. A classic mark used to trap and compress energy, keeping it dormant until a specific catalyst broke the seal.

You reached out, your fingers hovering just millimeters away from the stone. The air coming off it felt heavy and wet, smelling faintly of stagnant pond water and burnt copper.

"Someone didn't just hex you on a whim, Taehyung," you said softly, your heart quickening as you looked up at him. "This is highly deliberate. They placed a dormant curse right in the center of your home, and you've been living with it on your shelf like a decorative paperweight."

Taehyung practically collapsed onto a nearby sleek leather chair, taking a lazy sip of his ice water. He glanced over at the hematite sculpture with a thoroughly bored expression. "That old thing? I've had it since I was like six."

You froze, your hand hovering over the stone as the cold air radiating from it suddenly felt like a bucket of ice water dumping over your head. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes," he said, setting his glass on the side table. "It’s been in my family for years."

You whipped your head around to stare at him, your chest tightening. "Say that again."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, clearly amused by your sudden panic. "It's been in my family for years—"

"Shit," you breathed out, the word slipping past your lips before you could filter it. "What do you fucking mean—"

"I just fucking told you—"

"Who gave you thi—"

"Why are you cutting me off consistently with your witchy woo-woo?" Taehyung demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation. A flicker of genuine frustration crossed his face, cutting through his usual smug facade. He leaned forward in the chair, staring at you like you had completely lost your mind. "It’s a block of carved rock, Hex. It sat on my father's desk after my aunt died, then it sat on my dresser, and now it sits here. It’s like a family heirloom, not a tracking device from the underworld."

You began to say something, but the words tangled in your throat. You stammered, shaking your head, your fingers twitching away from the hematite.

"Wait," you breathed, pointing a finger at him. "Say that again."

Taehyung sighed, leaning back and gesturing to the shelf. "It’s a piece of rock. A carved boulder. A heavy paperweight—"

"Not that," you interrupted sharply. "The dresser thing."

"It sat on my dresser," he said slowly, as if explaining something to a child.

"Before that, idiot."

He glared at you. "Rude. I said it was on my dad's desk."

"After that."

Taehyung’s brow furrowed, his patience visibly wearing thin as he tried to piece together his own sentence. "After my aunt died?"

"It was your aunt's?" The temperature in the room felt like it dropped another five degrees.

"I assume so?" He shrugged, taking another sip of his water, though his tone was losing its mocking edge. "During the funeral, some man gave it to my mom. Said it was 'for me when I grow up,' from my aunt."

"Did you know the man?" You leaned over the console, your gaze drilling into him.

"Hex, I was six," Taehyung said, throwing his free hand in the air with a dry, humorless chuckle. "I didn't even know my family fully back then, let alone some random guest at a funeral."

The cold weight in your stomach dropped straight to your feet.

An ancestral curse. A generational, bloodline-tied anchor disguised as a childhood keepsake and handed over at a funeral by a nameless stranger.

This wasn't some petty, modern corporate sabotage cooked up by a jealous rival in a boardroom. This was old, deeply rooted, and incredibly serious. The kind of dark craft that didn't just ruin a career—it altered the fates of entire lineages.

It was life-and-death, soul-bindingly serious.

Your face contorted, a mixture of mounting horror, sheer disbelief, and exponential stress twisting your features as you stared at the hematite block.

Taehyung paused mid-sip, his eyes narrowing as he watched your expression completely fall apart. "What’s with the face? You look like you just watched your favorite potion explode."

"Can I speak with your mom?" you asked, your voice urgent and devoid of your usual sharp sarcasm.

Taehyung blinked slowly, a wicked smirk instantly replacing his temporary confusion.

He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing one leg over the other, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I’m sorry? You want to talk to your mother-in-law already? We haven't even had a first date yet, and you’re already trying to get family approval. So eager, Hexy."

You stared at him, absolutely deadpan. "Hexy?"

"What? It’s cute," he said, offering a casual shrug as if he hadn't just coined the most ridiculous nickname on the spot.

"I am trying to save your stubborn, oblivious life, and you are sitting there making up pet names," you snapped, rubbing your temples to ward off the throbbing headache building behind your eyes. "I need to talk to your mother. She was the one who was handed the anchor. She might remember who the man was, or at least what your aunt was involved in before she died."

"First of all, my mother is currently in Paris, likely drinking wine that costs more than my driver's watch, and she doesn't do 'witchy woo-woo' phone calls," Taehyung said, his voice dropping into a smooth patronizing tone.

"Second, even if I did call her, what am I supposed to say? 'Hey Mom, remember that rock from twenty-four years ago? The gorgeous, terrifying woman currently occupying my living room thinks it’s a cursed tracking device, so please tell her who handed it to you.' She’d have me committed."

"She should have had you committed a long time ago," you muttered, stepping away from the bookshelf because the stagnant energy radiating from the hematite was starting to make your skin itch. "Taehyung, I am not joking. The fact that this has been in your space since you were six means the 'trigger' is likely tied to a specific milestone. Your age, your succession to the company, or..."

He paused, holding his glass halfway to his mouth. "Or what?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking," you snapped, pressing your palm against your forehead.

"Fine."

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

Nothing. Your mind was spinning in empty circles. The magical physics of a blood-bound generational catalyst were too complex to solve on the fly, especially with him staring at you like you were performing an impromptu stand-up routine.

You dropped your hand, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. You needed a starting point. A timeline. "Tell me about yourself."

Taehyung’s smirk stretched so wide you felt a deeply physical urge to hit him. He leaned back, pleased with the sudden shift in focus. "Okay. Well, I’m a lawyer, but you obviously knew that. What you didn’t know is that I have the highest personal settlement rate in—"

"Not your resume," you cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. "About yourself as in... your childhood. Your teenage years. Major events. Things like that."

He didn't even hesitate. "I lost my virginity at 15."

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open, completely flatlined by his lack of a filter. "I am trying to map out a spiritual timeline of your life to save you from a potentially lethal curse, and your first instinct is to tell me when you first got laid?"

"You asked about my teenage years, Hex. That was a pretty major milestone," he said shameless as he took another sip of his water.

His eyes glinted with mischief. "Unless you want details? I can give you details, though I usually charge a consulting fee for those kind of stories. Or, you know, we could skip the storytelling and just recreate it."

"If you don't start taking this seriously, I am going to let whatever is in that rock eat your soul," you threatened, though the heat in your face was probably betraying you. "I need to know about anomalies. Did you have weird illnesses as a kid? Unexplained accidents? Did people around you suddenly have strings of terrible luck?"

Taehyung's playful expression softened just a fraction, a weird look crossing his features as he actually searched his memory. "No. Nothing like that. My life has been incredibly boring, spiritually speaking of course. I went to school, I got my degree, I climbed the firm. No ghosts, no sudden plagues of locusts."

"And your aunt?" you pressed, taking a step closer to his chair. "How did she die?"

He went quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass. "A sudden illness. It was fast. One week she was fine, the next... gone. The doctors called it rapid organ failure, but they never really found a concrete cause."

Your stomach twisted. "And she left you the stone."

"She didn't leave it to me," he corrected softly, his voice losing its tease entirely.

"Like I said, some man handed it to my mother at the funeral. He said my aunt wanted me to have it when I was ready."

"Which means," you murmured, looking back at the hematite sitting innocently on the shelf, "the curse wasn't meant for her. She was just the carrier. It was always meant for you."

"What are you even saying?" Taehyung asked, his brow furrowing as he set his glass down on the side table with a slightly heavier thud. "That my aunt cursed me?"

"No," you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

"Then?"

"I don't know! I’m trying to map out a spiritual sequence here and you’re being entirely unhelpful," you snapped, gesturing wildly at him. "Tell me more about you. Real things."

Taehyung leaned back, his lips twitching as that lazy smirk crawled right back onto his face. "I have crazy stamina."

You blinked, completely flatlining. "Sorry?"

"I’m just putting it out there," he murmured, his voice dropping as he tilted his head to look up at you. "In case you wanted to test that particular hypothesis. Strictly for scientific reasons, of course."

"You are actually insufferable," you groaned, resisting the intense urge to throw your brass pendulum right at his perfect forehead. "I am talking about your energy levels, your physical constitution as a child, your vulnerabilities. Not your... bedroom statistics."

"Both require a strong heart and excellent breath control, Hex," he pointed out as his eyes darkled with amusement. "And honestly, my physical constitution is flawless. I don't get sick. I don't get fatigued. If there’s a parasite living off my energy, it's probably starving to death because I simply don't have the time to be vulnerable."

"That's exactly the problem," you muttered, stepping closer to him, your focus shifting to the way his shadow seemed to cling tightly to his frame, almost like a second skin. "A dormant curse doesn't drain you right away. It feeds on your strengths. It waits until you are at your absolute peak—wealthy, powerful, completely secure—and then it uses your own momentum to pull you off the cliff."

Taehyung watched you, his smirk softening into something a little more curious, a little more grounded. "So you're saying I'm too successful for my own good?"

"I'm saying whoever set this trap knew exactly what kind of man you would grow up to be," you said softly.

"And they made sure the key to unlocking it would be something you'd do willingly."

"Like what?" he asked, his voice dropping a fraction of an octave, the playfulness almost morphing into focus

"I don't know," you replied, crossing your arms and leaning back against the console. "What exactly do you specialize in, corporate?"

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. Taehyung loved talking about his work, especially when he had an audience that pretended to be unimpressed by it.

He liked the way your eyes narrowed, searching his face for any tell.

"Hostile takeovers and high-stakes corporate warfare," he said, his tone dripping with confidence. "When a massive conglomerate is rotting from the inside, or when two parties are tearing each other to pieces over a multi-billion dollar empire, they call me. I cut out the dead weight, rewrite the rules, and take absolute control before anyone even realizes they've lost. I specialize in turning ruin into a profit."

You stared at him, the pieces of the puzzle starting to click together in a way that made your skin crawl. "Of course you do."

"What?" he asked, tilting his head. He watched the way your chest rose and fell as your breathing hitched. He couldn't help but notice how the warm, herbal scent of your shop still clung to your hair.

"Don't you see the irony?" you asked, gesturing between him and the hematite stone.

"No?"

"Your entire career is built on swooping in, finding the structural weakness in a massive entity, and exploiting it until you own it. You are literally a human parasite to corporate systems."

"I prefer the term 'highly-paid consultant,'" he corrected smoothly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "But go on. I like where this is going."

"The curse is doing the exact same thing to you," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a hostile takeover, Taehyung. It's been idling in your system since you were a child, watching you build your empire, waiting for you."

Taehyung stared at you for a long beat, his eyes searching yours.

For a split second, the static in the room seemed to swell, pressing against your eardrums as if the penthouse itself was reacting to your words. But instead of showing fear, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"So, what you're saying is... my curse has excellent taste in strategy," he murmured, standing up from his chair.

He took a step toward you, his body instantly making the spacious foyer feel incredibly small. "And if it's a hostile takeover, Hex... are you here to help me defend my assets, or are you just trying to get a piece of the merger?"

"Don't speak to me in corporate lingo again," you warned, pointing a threatening finger at his chest.

Taehyung raised his hands in mock surrender, the lazy grin on his face spreading even wider. "Aight, ma'am. Tell me more of what to do, it’s sexy."

"Ew. Shut up," you muttered, though the sudden heat prickling at the back of your neck had absolutely nothing to do with the dormant curse.

You began pacing the length of the living room, your boots clicking softly against the polished concrete. You ignored his soft, amused chuckling, forcing your brain to work through the static in the air.

If this curse was tailored to his life, his bloodline, and specifically his trajectory... then a simple bookshelf in the living room wasn't the end of it. The hematite stone was just an anchor, a physical receiver.

Where would the signal actually be strongest?

Your mind raced. Taehyung's entire life was built on high-stakes deals, corporate destruction, and ruthless calculation. That kind of sharp intent generated a massive amount of personal energy. If an entity or a dormant hex was waiting to feed on him, it wouldn't just hang out by his whiskey decanters.

It would be exactly where he was at his most ruthless.

A cold dread pooled in your chest. Or worse.

The entity itself is already nesting there. Waiting in the dark corners of his files, feeding off every cutthroat contract he signed, growing stronger with every corporate throat he slit.

You stopped pacing abruptly and spun on your heel to face him.

"I need to see your workspace," you said, your tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Take me to your home office. Now."

Taehyung let out an amused hum, leaning his hip back against a counter. "You’re quite demanding, Hexy"

You blissfully ignored him, turning on your heel and heading straight for the elevator before he could attempt another insufferable line.

A few minutes later, you were walking out of the cool lobby and sliding into the plush, leather interior of his black sedan.

The sudden transition back into the bright afternoon made you squint, but the car’s climate control instantly shielded you. As you settled into the backseat, your mind flashed back to the stone.

You mentally noted to keep an eye out for Marcus’ wrist. You had to see this 'expensive watch' for yourself.

"Good afternoon, sir. Miss," Marcus greeted warmly from the driver’s seat, his eyes catching yours in the rearview mirror with a polite nod.

"Afternoon, Marcus," Taehyung said as he slid in next to you, his shoulder brushing yours as he settled into the seat. "Change of plans. Take us to the office."

"Right away, sir."

The car glided away from the curb with effortless grace. As Marcus turned the steering wheel to navigate a corner, his left sleeve shifted slightly under the fabric of his suit.

Right on cue, a glint of polished metal caught the bright, sunlit glare filtering through the windshield.

You leaned slightly to the side, narrowing your eyes to inspect his wrist.

There it was—an incredibly sleek, high-end luxury watch that practically screamed swiss craftsmanship. It was subtle, but to anyone who knew even a fraction about jewelry, it was a small fortune wrapped around a wrist.

Your jaw tightened slightly.

Taehyung was an arrogant, teasing asshole, and he was easily the most annoying man you had encountered in years—but he had not lied. The driver really was wearing a watch that could probably buy your apothecary twice over.

Sitting next to you, Taehyung leaned his head back against the leather headrest, a quiet smirk playing on his lips as he watched you stare. He didn't say a word, but the silent satisfaction radiating off him was loud enough to fill the entire car.

His work building was an towering, architectural monolith of dark glass and brushed steel that seemed to pierce the very sky.

It was the kind of structure designed to make ordinary people feel incredibly small before they even stepped inside. The lobby was an expanse of white marble, sterile and silent save for the rhythmic clicking of your boots and the quiet hum of the security gates.

And on the very far wall?

Kim & Associates in gold plated letters. Typical. Of course it’s his name there.

Taehyung didn't even have to scan a badge. The security guards bowed in unison as he breezed past, his presence instantly shifting the room's gravity.

You followed close behind, keenly aware of how out of place your worn leather bag and herbal scent were in this temple of pure, cold capitalism.

The moment the executive elevator doors opened on the top floor, a young woman in a flawless grey pantsuit stepped forward, holding a tablet like a shield.

"Mr. Kim," she spoke quickly, keeping pace with his long, effortless strides. "The board of the Johnson acquisition wants to push the emergency meeting to tomorrow morning. Also, the compliance team flagged three clauses in the third-party non-disclosure agreement—they’re waiting on your approval before they redraft."

"Tell compliance to reject the third clause entirely. If Johnson doesn't like it, they can find another firm to save them from bankruptcy," Taehyung replied smoothly, not even slowing down. "And clear my schedule for the next two hours. No calls."

"Understood, sir."

As she bowed and retreated back to her desk, you leaned slightly toward him, your eyes tracking her. "Who is that?"

"Minji," he said simply.

You paused, a sudden realization hitting you. "You have a Marcus and a Minji?"

"Mhm," he murmured, nodding as he reached for the double doors of his private office suite.

"Do they need to have an 'M' initial to work for you, or is that just a bizarre branding requirement?"

Taehyung stopped, his hand resting on the handle. He turned his head to look at you, an exasperated twitch at the corner of his lips.

He secretly loved how completely unfazed you were by his empire, finding your sharp, teasing tongue infinitely more entertaining than any of the dry, sycophantic board members he dealt with all day.

"Shut up," he muttered, though the low, smoky warmth in his voice completely gave away his amusement as he pushed the door open.

You step inside, your eyes immediately scanning the vast room.

It is very much... him.

The space is almost loud but in an incredibly tasteful, expensive way. Floor-to-ceiling glass reveals a dizzying view of the city’s concrete veins, while dark, custom oak paneling and heavy leather furniture ground the room.

A massive desk carved from a single slab of black marble sits in the center, flanked by minimalist, abstract art pieces that look like chaotic ink splatters captured in gold frames.

"So," Taehyung says, leaning his hip against the edge of that formidable desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes trace your movements with a lingering curiosity. "What are you looking for exactly?"

"I'll know when I see it," you reply quietly, already moving toward the perimeter of the room.

He tilts his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "Fascinating."