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Chapter Text

"We have a concept study for our stand in Busan. You have a conference call with Mr. Gumin and his partners in fifteen minutes, —They are also waiting to hear from you about the sponsorship meeting."

Taehyung's footsteps echo in the company's wide corridor. As every morning, his black suit fits him perfectly—not a single wrinkle. His assistant follows him hurriedly, out of breath, continuing to speak while looking at the notepad in her hand. The sound of the young woman's high heels creates an anxious rhythm behind Taehyung's determined steps.

Employees in the corridor immediately move aside when they see Taehyung. Some try to greet him, but he continues to walk looking ahead with an expressionless face, as if he doesn't see any of them. There is a tense atmosphere in the air—just like every morning.

When his assistant finishes speaking, he extends his hand back with a single movement. "Water." This single word is not a command but seems like an unchanging routine of the day.

The assistant immediately reaches into her bag and takes out the water bottle. She has repeated this movement so often that it has become a reflex now. As Taehyung takes the water, his eye catches the messy drawings on one of the side desks. His steps, moving with perfect rhythm, suddenly hesitate. His assistant almost bumps into him, barely managing to collect herself at the last moment.

"What is this?" His voice is ice-cold, possibly lowering the room temperature by a few degrees. While running his long fingers over the scattered papers, his facial expression doesn't change, but the displeasure in his eyes is evident.

The young designer who owns the desk jumps up nervously. His chair slides backward, its metal legs making a sharp sound on the floor. "What, what, Mr. Kim? I don't understand?" His voice trembles.

"Why are these drawings all over the place?" Taehyung's question hangs in the air. "Respect your work." Each word is as sharp as a knife.

The color drains from the young designer's face as if his blood has been drawn. Taehyung's gaze is like ice crystals. The employee's hands shake uncontrollably as he gathers the drawings. Other employees in the office pretend to focus on their own work with their heads bowed, but they are all listening to this scene.

Taehyung continues to walk with quick steps, disregarding the tense atmosphere he leaves behind. His assistant tries to catch up with him, stumbling on her high heels. While shuttling between her tablet and notepad, she gathers courage to share new information.

"By the way, your uncle's husband, Mr. Park, called four times yesterday."

Taehyung's face shows no change at all, as if he hasn't heard this information. He hesitates again when he sees the small kettle in the corridor. Even his reflection on the metal surface seems to emphasize his perfection. "Put a proper machine here already." His voice is low but his authority is indisputable.

"Because Mr. Jung didn't approve—" His assistant swallows her sentence under Taehyung's icy gaze. She knows those look very good—no explanation is required.

"Hoseok doesn't even drink coffee," says Taehyung, frowning with incomprehension. This illogicality bothers him. As he continues walking, he suddenly adds, "I'm going to Milan this week; get me a ticket."

The assistant, running after him, asks anxiously, "Will you stay?"

Taehyung sighs wearily, tilting his head slightly to the side. "No, I won't." His voice is sharp and clear, as always. As he moves toward his office at the end of the wide corridor, he continues, "I'll give you a name. Go research that place. I need to examine it."

Just then, the sound of a phone rings through the corridor. Taehyung continues to walk without hesitation, as if the ringing phone is in another universe. His assistant looks at her watch with concern.

"Your conference call?"

"There are still eight minutes," Taehyung says, his eyes never leaving the path ahead of him. As always, he plans his day with millimetric precision.

The assistant, holding her notepad against her chest, is out of breath from running around since morning. A strand of her hair has fallen on her face, but she doesn't even have time to fix it. When she looks at the phone screen, her shoulders drop. The fatigue and desperation in her voice is now too obvious to hide.

"Mr. Park is calling again..."

Taehyung's broad shoulders tense for a moment, but his steps never falter. The morning light filtering through the giant glass windows ahead of them shines on his dark suit. This corridor on the top floor of the company lies Seoul's skyscrapers at their feet, just as Taehyung controls fashion.

* * *

Jimin angrily throws the phone onto the coffee table, where it bounces several times on the soft cushion. "He doesn't answer my calls. As if we're calling just for fun."

Yoongi, perched on the edge of the wide sofa, looks at his husband trying to reach their nephew. As the morning sun pours like gold over the antique furniture in the living room, the worry lines on Jimin's face become even more pronounced. His sigh fills the room as he nervously runs his fingers through his hair.

"Just like my father," Yoongi says, his eyes drifting to the large family portrait on the wall. His father's usual serious expression seems to approve of his son's words. "That's why they don't get along. They're both too similar to each other."

Jimin throws himself back on the couch, tilting his head back and fixing his eyes on the sparkle of the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. "It annoys me when he doesn't answer the calls."

Just then, hurried footsteps are heard from the corridor. Miyeon, one of the maids, bursts into the living room breathlessly, her face flushed, her eyes shining with excitement. "Sir! Your father is here!"

Jimin and Yoongi jump to their feet simultaneously. Soomin, another maid following behind Miyeon, adds anxiously, "We saw his car, he's entering through the main gate now!"

As Yoongi quickly adjusts his tie, Jimin looks worriedly at his home clothes. They both hurry toward the entrance hall. While waiting before the large wooden door, Jimin whispers, "Without any notice, at this hour—I wonder if something happened?"

When the door opens, Mr. Hajoon's imposing silhouette appears. Instead of his usual formal suit, he wears casual clothes— which is strange in itself. He scans first Yoongi, then Jimin with his sharp gaze. His face bears that distant expression they always see.

"Welcome, dad!" Yoongi immediately steps forward, genuine warmth in his voice despite his father's typically distant posture.

"Welcome!" Jimin repeats, trying to read the expression on his father-in-law's face. The casual clothes on Mr. Hajoon make him even more nervous.

After examining both of them from head to toe, Mr. Hajoon pauses as if making an assessment. Then, with his usual deep voice, he says, "Thank you."

After the sudden visit, they go out to the garden. While the assistants prepare the table, Jimin has already settled into his chair, crossing his legs. His energy remains high even in the morning coolness.

"Dad, would you like some tea?" asks Yoongi, in his usual grave manner.

Before Hajoon can open his mouth, Jimin jumps in, "Oh dad, I had it specially brewed this morning, you must drink it. I had it imported from India!" He leans forward in his chair excitedly, his eyes shining.

"I'll get straight to the point," says Hajoon, maintaining his usual serious demeanor despite his son-in-law's enthusiasm. "I'm selling the mansion."

"What!" Jimin nearly knocks over the teacup. He straightens up, jumping in his chair. "Oh my God! Where will you stay? I got so scared for a moment. I mean, think about it, I can't imagine you in an apartment or something!"

"Not my own," Hajoon explains, rolling his eyes slightly at Jimin's dramatic reaction. "The mansion in Gangnam. Someone offered one billion dollars."

Yoongi frowns. "Where did this come from all of a sudden?"

Hajoon takes a sip of his tea. "Didn't I tell you? Get Taehyung married, let him have children, and that mansion is yours, didn't I say that?"

"Ah!" Jimin suddenly claps his hands, his eyes sparkling. "Believe me, I'm doing my best! That girl I introduced last week—studied fashion design in Paris..." He pauses, puckers his lips. "But according to Taehyung, her nose is too big. The one before that 'laughs too loudly.' The one before that was 'too perfectionist'—as if he isn't!"

As Yoongi bites his lips to keep from laughing at his husband's imitation, Jimin continues, "Last month I arranged thirteen girls. Thirteen! One Harvard graduate, one former Miss Korea... But no! He doesn't like any of them!"

Jimin blinks, looking carefully at Hajoon's face. For the first time, he sees him looking so... tired. His voice is as harsh as usual, but there's a shadow in his eyes.

"Aren't you his uncles?" Hajoon repeated, slowly placing his hand on the table. "He has no father, no mother. And he doesn't talk to me anymore." A slight sadness is detectable in his tone, but it lasts very briefly. He maintains his steel-like posture.

Jimin and Yoongi exchange a glance. Yoongi's face turns serious.

Hajoon takes a deep breath. "Listen to me," he says. "He needs to get married. Otherwise, I'll die with my eyes open."

Yoongi immediately interjects, raising his hand slightly, "Dad, don't talk like that!" he says anxiously.

Hajoon continues without averting his gaze. "If you get Taehyung married, good; if not..." He slowly puts his teacup on the table, his voice deep and determined. "I'll sell the mansion, I'll sell this place, I'll sell the house in the city, I'll sell everything!"

Jimin doesn't know what to say for a moment, then quickly collects himself and sits up straight in his chair. He places his hands on the table and leans forward confidently. "Dad, don't you worry at all!" he says. "Leave it to me. I'll come with good news; I'll take care of it."

Hajoon looks at Jimin's face. It's as if he's weighing how much of his words to believe. Then he slightly narrows his eyes and nods.

"I give you six months," he says with cold clarity. "Just six months. Not one day more, not one day less. Within six months, Taehyung will be married."

As the weight of these words hangs in the air, Hajoon gets up with heavy steps. He buttons his jacket, gives one more brief look, then turns around and leaves the garden.

Jimin and Yoongi stare at each other. When their eyes met, both their faces showed the same thing: Surprise, worry, and a slightly growing panic.

Jimin was the first to break the silence.

"Six months..." he says in a low voice. "Six months..." Then he suddenly jumps to his feet. "Quick! We need to call Taehyung!"

* * *

"Good morning, South Korea's most charismatic fashion designer."

Yejin's voice echoes in Taehyung's office. She leans against the edge of Taehyung's desk with her long legs crossed, grinning at him with coffee in hand. Her eyes sparkle as always, but with a hint of playfulness in them.

Taehyung puts down the pen in his hand and looks up. He looks at Yejin, wondering where she finds this energy so early in the morning. "Good morning," he says in a friendly manner.

Puckering her lips, Yejin asks, "Why didn't you come to Seokjin's party last night? I wish you had come. It was so much fun! We even had a dance contest at one point, which I won, of course."

Taehyung blinks, then turns his attention back to the fabric sketches in front of him. "I was working," he says briefly.

Yejin rolls her eyes and sighs. "Oh, come on! One night of fun wouldn't kill you, Taehyung." Then she moves a little closer to the desk and tilts her head to the side. "I waited for you all night," she adds, her voice a little softer and more inviting.

Taehyung twirls the pen in his hand but doesn't raise his gaze to Yejin. "How was the party at least?" he asks, completely ignoring her flirtation.

Yejin pouts, but she's not ready to give up just yet. "It was great! I won the dance contest, people loved my energy, Seokjin had special drinks prepared for us..." She winks slightly. "But, you weren't there."

Taehyung nods, but still doesn't put down his pen. "Is that so?" he says indifferently.

Yejin raises her eyebrows. "I feel sorry for you, you missed a lot."

Taehyung finally puts down the pen and gives her a brief look. He smiles slightly but doesn't respond. Then he stands up, straightens the piece of fabric in his hand, and heads to the sewing machine at the edge of his office.

Meanwhile, Hoseok's extremely energetic voice comes from outside; he had probably just arrived at the office and was greeting employees on the go.

" Buenos Dias, good morning!"

Taehyung knows that Hoseok will soon burst in, and just as he predicted, Hoseok enters and knocks on the door after he's already inside. The moment he enters, the room lights up, Taehyung feels this every time.

As Taehyung sits back at his desk, Hoseok moves toward him, "What's up, my handsome business partner!" he says energetically.

Taehyung looks at his friend with a slight smile. "Good," he says as he sits in his chair.

By that time, Hoseok's attention has already shifted from Taehyung to Yejin. "Ms. Kang," he says flirtatiously. "You look great again," he says before kissing her hand. "Just like a perfect design."

Yejin smiles at Hoseok's flirtatious manner. "Thank you for your compliment."

"This is not a compliment, this is a confession!" says Hoseok, dramatically opening his hands to both sides, but Taehyung is very bored with this flirting situation and wants to get back to work as soon as possible. Hoseok's flirtatious attitude toward almost every woman surprises him each time.

"Catch your breath," he mutters to Hoseok while twirling the pen in his hand. "We have an issue with the new stand in Busan, sit down and let's talk."

"No way," Hoseok whines as he sits in the chair. "Let's talk then. But afterward, let's go eat something, I didn't have breakfast."

While shuffling through the drawing papers in front of him, Taehyung responds to Hoseok. "I can't go anywhere, Uncle Jimin is coming at 12 o'clock."

Although Hoseok smiles sweetly, Yejin rolls her eyes and looks at Hoseok. "Mr. Park never takes his hand off us," she says, discontentedly.

Hoseok immediately straightens up in his seat, "Oh, don't say that, Taehyung loves his uncle," he says jokingly. He really does love him. "Don't mind him running away from him, their relationship is just like that," he says, laughing with pleasure.

* * *

When the clock shows 12, just as Taehyung said, the couple Yoongi and Jimin drop by their office.

As Jimin opens the door and glides in, he says, "My Taehyung!" while Yoongi enters with a smile behind him. He frowns as he thinks about what his father said in the morning – the mansion issue doesn't leave his mind.

Taehyung raises his head, gives a brief greeting, and then focuses on the sketches before him. Jimin's eyes sparkle as he approaches the desk. "Why are you so busy? You're going to that dinner today, right? We arranged everything so nicely."

"Uncle..." Taehyung sighs and leans back. "I will go, okay."

"What?" Jimin jumps in place, his eyes wide open. "Say that again! What did you say? Yoongi, did you hear that too?" He excitedly tugs on his husband's arm. "For the first time, he didn't object at all!"

Taehyung couldn't help but laugh at his uncle's dramatic and excited manner.

Jimin almost jumps on the desk. "Look, she's such a, —Yoongi, tell him!"

Yoongi clears his throat, his father's serious morning gaze comes to mind. "She is from a good family-"

"You'll be married within six months," Jimin interrupts again. The mansion issue in Gangnam really worries him. "Just imagine how nice it would be!"

Taehyung finally raises his head, with slight weariness on his face, and can't help but grin at the absurdity of the idea. "Come on, aren't you exaggerating?"

"Am I exaggerating?" Jimin spreads his hands as he collapses into the chair. "How old are you now, my Taehyung? You're twenty-eight, approaching thirty. All day in this office... Look at how I find such nice girls, and you never give them a chance!"

Yoongi looks at his husband, his father's words from the morning, Didn't I tell you?, echo in his ears. Things get more difficult with each passing day.

"Fine, I'm going," says Taehyung, trying to calm his uncle's excitement. "I told you already,"

"Oh, I'm so excited!" Jimin's eyes sparkle as he gets up from his chair. "Let's get going then, your uncle is going to play golf," he says, referring to Yoongi.

Just then, the door opens and Yejin enters. The expression on Jimin's face changes instantly, the sparkle in his eyes gives way to an icy look. Yejin also purses her lips upon seeing Jimin, with a forced smile.

Jimin doesn't like this woman at all.

"Ah, Mr. Park," she says with fake politeness. "Are you here to marry off your nephew again?" She thinks she's being funny.

Jimin tilts his head slightly, the sarcastic tone in his voice is unmistakable, "Yes, Yejin dear. This time there's a really great candidate. She isn’t like you... well... how should I say..." He pauses, glancing at Yoongi. "Anyway."

"If you had come to my room, I would have offered you coffee," Yejin says with a fake smile.

Jimin lets out a big laugh. "Darling, the company belongs to my nephew. Let me treat you," he says, mirroring Yejin's smiling face and then winking at her.

While Yoongi listens to all this conversation with curiosity and attention, Taehyung doesn't care at all. He focuses on the drawing papers in front of him. He can't make sense of this strange competition between Yejin and his uncle Jimin.

Then Jimin turns to Taehyung and kisses his nephew on the cheeks. "See you, my Taehyung. Don't forget to go to dinner on time."

After the door closes, the office sinks into silence. Taehyung leans back and looks out the window, Seoul's skyscrapers shine under the midday sun.

He sighs. He's really tired of these 'introduction dinners' now. Every time the same scenario: a 'perfect' girl that Uncle Jimin praised, an expensive restaurant, forced conversations, and ultimately inevitable disappointment.

He scans the sketches on his desk. At least he can find himself in his work—fabrics, patterns, colors... They never disappoint him. But people are complicated.

"I don't think I can find someone suitable for me," he mutters to himself. Maybe the problem is with him. Maybe he's too much of a perfectionist, just as Uncle Jimin says.

As he turns in his chair, his eye catches the clock on the wall. There's little time left for dinner, and he already feels tired. On the other hand, he doesn't want to upset Uncle Jimin—he knows that behind these efforts is love. After his parents died, Uncle Yoongi and Uncle Jimin always took care of him; they had a significant influence on him.

He looks at the sketch in front of him one last time. At least he can find the perfection he seeks in his designs. But in his heart? That emptiness still remains, and it doesn't seem like any 'perfect candidate' can fill it.

* * *

Taehyung knows that this dinner will end in disaster like the others. That's why, as he gets out of the car, he tells his driver, "Wait for me, I won't stay long."

When he enters the restaurant, the staff at the entrance directs him to his table; since this is a place he frequently visits, he is now recognized by the employees. At the table he is directed to, sits a woman with blonde hair falling on her shoulders, facial features enhanced with botox, and perfect makeup. Her tight-fitting, low-cut dress and high-heeled shoes clearly show the importance she gives to her appearance.

As Taehyung approaches the table, he briefly examines the woman with a professional smile on his face. "Sorry I'm late," he says as he sits in his chair.

The woman smiles, slightly curving her red-lipsticked lips. "It's no problem, I just arrived anyway."

The woman looks at Taehyung with an exaggerated smile on her face. As if there is a famous star in front of her, she doesn't take her eyes off him and follows his every move. Taehyung doesn't like this situation at all. He crosses his legs and leans back, with an indifferent expression on his face.

"So, how are you?" he asks in a monotone voice. His tone clearly shows that he asks this question only because he has to.

The woman, without taking her eyes off Taehyung's face, says excitedly, "I'm good, how are you?"

Taehyung, looking around as if searching for an escape route, quickly dismisses with, "I'm good too, work and stuff." Even while giving this answer, he diverts his attention elsewhere, scanning the interior of the restaurant.

When he realizes that the conversation cannot continue from the woman across from him, he is forced to take the reins. "So what do you do for work? My uncle mentioned you, but he doesn't really care about what people do for a living."

The woman, pursing her lips with a childishness quite contrary to her age, "I'm very busy but I don't work."

Taehyung can't help but laugh as he lowers his head. He lifts his head and looks at the woman. "You don't work but you're busy," he repeats.

"Yes," the woman says, pursing her lips again.

Taehyung starts to get really annoyed, but at the same time, he can't ignore that he's also amused. The existence of such people makes him laugh. "I don't understand," he says flatly.

The woman leans forward with an overly confident manner. "Not to brag, but," she says with a wink, "I'm a style icon. I have a lot of followers on social media, I constantly post photos for them. Whether it's parties or invitations... That's already considered a full-time job."

Taehyung presses his lips together for a moment. He knows that if he laughs after this sentence, he won't be able to contain himself. As someone who spends most of his days in the fashion and design world, he knows very well how far the woman in front of him is from the definition of a 'style icon'. But still, trying to be polite, he just says, "Yes, your face looked familiar. I think I've seen you in a few magazines—," trying to suppress the sarcastic tone in his voice.

The woman's face lights up at what she hears and her smile widens.

"—with your boyfriend," he adds without wasting time.

The woman sighs with annoyance. "Oh yes! You know, relationships are very difficult these days. Let's just say I've kissed a few wrong frogs."

Taehyung nods sarcastically. "Yes, kissing the wrong frog... An interesting analogy."

The woman smiles meaningfully. "But I think I'm at a very right place right now."

Taehyung immediately pulls back, straightening in his chair, his expression seems alarmed. Raising his eyebrows, "Like what?" he asks, his voice suddenly cold and distant.

The woman, completely misinterpreting Taehyung's reaction, continues even more enthusiastically. "We are both very picky people, and we have a big place in society." She continues, excitedly clapping her hands together. "We'll be a perfect power couple!"

"Power of what?" says Taehyung, his voice now clearly sarcastic.

"The power of Taehyung and Chaeya, of course!" the woman says, as if talking about the most natural thing in the world.

Taehyung slowly runs his tongue over his lips, grinning as he shakes his head, with an incredulous expression in his eyes. The confidence and imagination of the woman in front of him surprise him. But the woman, misinterpreting his reaction again, continues enthusiastically.

"We'll be the couple of the year!" Chaeya's eyes sparkle with the beauty of her dreams as she dramatically raises her hands in the air. "Everyone will talk about us at all the events. The most popular couple in social life... The unchanging faces of the magazine pages... You with your designs, me with my style icon status..."

Taehyung feels more and more suffocated with each sentence from the woman. He feels the need to loosen his tie; as if something is knotted in his throat. This woman has already planned their non-existent relationship, even arranging their places in the magazine pages. His eyes drift to the exit door of the restaurant, he remembers what he told his driver, " I won't stay long. " This dinner seems like it will be even shorter than planned.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, his patience is about to run out. "Chaeya, I don't know where to start, or how to explain, but..." He pauses for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully, but then gives up. "Life for me is not here . I don't care how you look, how many followers you have. I'm looking for something real. Something that can still be real when you close the door of the house. Did I make myself clear?"

His tone is far from polite, almost harsh. He looks the woman up and down with his eyes. "Your outfit is so... Giving off the image of a woman ready to marry, capable of being a housewife. On the other hand, it's expensive, giving the message 'my standards are high.'" A sarcastic smile appears on his lips. "You've chosen your dress from us anyway. Is it for today?"

Chaeya jumps in excitedly, "Yes! I researched and bought it for today!"

Taehyung's sarcastic smile deepens as he shakes his head. "It's obvious," he just says. Then he leans forward, his voice low but sharp. "And you come here and propose a relationship to me like a job offer. I'm sorry, but I'd have to be really stupid to fall for this." In the face of Taehyung's harsh outburst, Chaeya's face immediately falls, the artificial smile on her lips disappears. Taehyung leans back and asks, "Do you think I am?"

Chaeya, pouting, says immediately, "No, of course not! I'm talking about a real relationship."

Taehyung takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm sorry, I might have gone too far." While thinking to himself, ' Okay, now she'll probably leave me alone ,' he freezes with the woman's next words.

"Actually, I've been thinking... Look, we're even fighting like a couple! It's as if we've already started a relationship," Chaeya says excitedly. "Shall we go somewhere else from here? I brought a lot of clothes with me. After all, I'm a fashion icon!"

Taehyung starts laughing from annoyance. "This must be a joke," he mutters through his teeth. His eyes desperately roam around. An escape route, an excuse, anything... At that moment, what he wouldn't give to see a familiar face in the restaurant—

"Welcome, what would you like to order? Have you had a chance to look at the menu?"

Taehyung looks at the red-haired waiter's face for a moment and his eyes light up as if he's found a life-saving buoy. While focusing on the "Jeongguk" writing on his name tag, a plan quickly forms in his mind. Although he doesn't like involving someone he doesn't know in this situation, he is now desperate.

"Jeongguk?" he says, pretending to be surprised and as if he's genuinely caught. He stands up, with both a surprised expression on his face. "Love, were you working today?" he says with panic. He is acting very well. Maybe he should have been an actor.

"Huh?" Jeongguk can't understand why this customer, whom he has never met, is talking like this.

"You know, just dinner," Taehyung says this time. "Work and stuff."

The expression on Chaeya's face is worth seeing. Suddenly, she starts shouting, "What's going on? What's happening?"

Meanwhile, Taehyung has already grabbed Jeongguk by the arm and started moving away from where they are.

Jeongguk has never felt so confused before. While the handsome and well-dressed man in front of him is holding him by the arm and dragging him, his brain is still trying to process the events. One moment he has come as a waiter to take an order, how has he now found himself in such a situation?

While Chaeya shouts after them, Taehyung is also trying to hold onto the waiter beside him. Turning to Chaeya one last time, he tries to say, "I didn't know I would run into my boyfriend here—" but his words are constantly interrupted because of the waiter boy next to him, trying to break free from his grip.

"Wait a minute—"

"Just a second, darling!" Taehyung says this time, trying to cover Jeongguk's mouth with his hand, and turns to Chaeya again. "The brutality I've done is unforgivable, —darling, just wait, —and you would never forgive this brutality in life." Everyone around them is looking at them. "I wish it hadn't been like this, but oh well, have a good day." After saying this, he proceeds rapidly towards the exit, dragging the waiter he introduced as his 'boyfriend' behind him.

"You lunatic, let go of me!" Jeongguk shouts as the man in front of him holds him by the arm and pulls.

"You're overreacting," Taehyung says, quickening his steps, "Don't give it away, just get me outside, that's enough."

Jeongguk is now thoroughly angry. This man, whom he doesn't even know, is dragging him like a toy doll. Moreover, he has the audacity to say " you're overreacting"! And at the same time, he is saying "don't give it away, just get me outside, that's enough ." As if Jeongguk is his personal chauffeur!

"What do you mean overreacting?" Jeongguk hisses, trying to free his arm from the man's grip. His face is red with anger. Just like his hair. "Who do you think you are? Am I your toy? You're keeping me from my job for no reason!"

He has just started working a month ago and now he is facing such an incident. What if he gets fired? What if the manager hears about this? All these thoughts are passing through his mind and his anger is growing even more. He won't allow a customer, —anyone to use him like this.

"Let go of me!" he says when they have already left the restaurant. He can hear the voice of the woman coming after them as he tries to free his arm from the man's hand.

"Taehyungie! Taehyungie!"

"Let go of my arm!"

"I'll let go in a minute!"

Taehyung finally lets go of Jeongguk's arm, taking a deep breath, "I needed to get away from her," he says, as if this explains everything.

Just then, Chaeya's voice comes from behind them, "Taehyungie! Taehyungie!"

Jeongguk turns to Taehyung in anger, then points to Chaeya coming after them. "Look at her! Isn't it a pity? How dare you pull such tricks? And on top of that, you're using me!"

Taehyung nervously ruffles his hair, his eyes constantly drifting behind him. Chaeya can join them at any moment. He is in a state of not knowing what to do from stress.

"You're such a dirty, disgusting pers-"

Jeongguk's sentence is cut off when Taehyung suddenly leans in. But instead of letting their lips meet, Taehyung presses a finger gently against Jeongguk’s mouth, hovering close enough to mimic a kiss.

Jeongguk feels his brain stop. Everything is suddenly overwhelming - the man in front of him suddenly getting so close to him, the pressure on his lips, the sharp scent of perfume... His anger has turned into shock for a moment, his body has become rigid.

Taehyung lowers his face close enough to make it look like a kiss, his other hand braced firmly on the side of Jeongguk’s face. The young waiter has literally frozen under this staged intimacy. Behind them, the sound of heels comes to an abrupt halt—Chaeya has probably seen them and stopped in shock. A moment later, the clicking of high heels starts again, fading as she moves away.

Even though seconds pass, Jeongguk can't even breathe. While his heart is beating wildly in his chest, there is only one thought in his mind: How could this stranger, this man he doesn't know...

When Jeongguk's brain starts working again, the anger inside him also revives. As soon as he comes to his senses, he places his hands on Taehyung's chest and pushes him with all his might. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His face is red with anger. He is sure his face is the same color as his hair.

Jeongguk raises his hand and without thinking, he slaps Taehyung hard on the face. The slap sound echoes around.

After Jeongguk slaps him, they both freeze for a moment. A tense silence stretches between Taehyung's stunned expression and Jeongguk's angry gaze. Taehyung only wipes the corner of his lip with his finger, then turns around without saying a word and walks away with quick steps.

Jeongguk remains where he is. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as if he has run for kilometers. His fists clench, his whole body tenses, irregular breaths come from his lips trembling with anger. The warmth remaining on his face and the strange feeling on his lips confuse his mind, fueling his anger even more.

"How dare he..." he mutters to himself, his fingers still throbbing with the pain of the hand he has just slapped with. A few people nearby give him curious looks, but he doesn't even notice. All his attention is captured by the storm of anger within him.

Jeongguk wipes his mouth with the back of his hand once more. As if he can completely erase that man's touch, as if nothing has happened… But the strange tingling on his lips won't go away.

"Damn it!" he hisses through his teeth. "Who does this man think he is? Abusive creep."

He knows he has to return to work, but his feet won't carry him forward. He stands there for another minute, trying to calm down by taking deep breaths. When he finally gathers some control, he returns to the restaurant, but his mind is still on that moment.

At that time, there is only one person who watches this whole scene from beginning to end: Jimin.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

* * *

When Jimin comes home, he practically rushes in and throws himself on the couch. His eyes are shining with excitement. Yoongi comes out of the kitchen with two cups of tea and sits next to him.

"What happened to you? You look very excited," Yoongi says with surprise.

"Yoongi, you won't believe what happened!" Jimin shouts, pounding the couch with his hands. "I've never seen anything like this in my life! I'm literally going crazy!"

"Calm down, what happened?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows curiously.

"Taehyung! Do you know what our Taehyung did?" Jimin is practically jumping in his seat. "No, no, you can't even guess! I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!"

"What on earth did he do? Tell me," Yoongi laughs.

Jimin begins to explain breathlessly: "You know, we've known Taehyung for so many years. He's never brought someone along, has he? He's always been alone, always distant."

"Yes, that's right," Yoongi confirms.

"Well, today," Jimin opens his eyes wide, "He kissed a waiter boy in front of everyone! Just like that! A red curly-haired boy he didn't even know! On the lips! Just like that!"

Yoongi puts his tea down on the table in shock. "What? Taehyung? Our Taehyung? You can't be serious!"

"Believe me! I saw it with my own eyes!" Jimin claps his hands excitedly. "The waiter came to take their order, and Taehyung suddenly stood up and said, 'Love, were you working today?' and things like that. The poor boy didn't even understand what was happening!"

"Wow," Yoongi says with astonishment. "Then what?"

"Then he grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him outside. The girl at the table ran after them. As the boy yelled at him outside, Taehyung suddenly kissed him! That cold Taehyung who never gets close to anyone! I still can't believe it!"

"What did the boy do?" asks Yoongi, now completely caught up in the story.

"He slapped him!" Jimin almost screams with laughter. "The sound echoed through the street! Smack ! Such a slap that..."

"This Taehyung, really..." Yoongi says, shaking his head. "But why did he do such a thing?"

"It must have been to get rid of the girl. He must have been desperate. But I don't understand why he chose a random waiter. And to kiss him... This isn't like him at all."

Yoongi suddenly smiles thoughtfully. "Oh, forget it, maybe he saw something in the boy. You know Taehyung, he doesn't approach people easily. He wouldn't choose someone randomly like that."

Jimin pauses for a moment, his eyes lighting up. "That's exactly what I'm saying! Taehyung isn't the type to kiss someone like that. He must have seen something in that boy."

"Maybe..." Yoongi starts.

"We need to make a plan!" Jimin interrupts excitedly. "We need to find out who this waiter is, where he lives, and what he does."

"Are you starting again, Jimin?" Yoongi shakes his head, laughing.

"But think about it, Taehyung, who hasn't looked at anyone for years, suddenly kisses a waiter boy! This can't be a coincidence!" Jimin moves to sit on the other couch. He rests his chin in his palm and begins to think. "I need to make a plan."

And this plan doesn't take long.

The next day, Jimin springs into action before the sun rises. He jumps out of bed, reaches for his phone, and calls Hoseok. After the phone rings several times, a sleepy voice is heard on the other end.

"Hello? Jimin hyung? It's only seven, what happened?"

"Hoseok! There's an emergency, come to our house right away! You can have breakfast with us!" Jimin says, his voice so frantic that Hoseok thinks for a moment that there's a serious problem.

"What happened? Is it about Taehyung?" Hoseok asks worriedly, sitting up in bed.

"Yes, yes, it's about Taehyung! But it's nothing bad. I'll tell you when you get here, it's essential! Come on, we're waiting!"

After hearing Jimin's early morning phone conversation, Yoongi shakes his head. "Couldn't you have waited to bother Hoseok so early?" he asks while preparing the breakfast table.

"No!" Jimin shouts, cutting the air with his hand. "This is the opportunity we've been waiting for years!"

Yoongi smiles and shrugs. He'd known Jimin's excitement for years; there was no point in trying to stop him.

One hour later, there's a knock at the door. Jimin rushes so quickly that he almost knocks over the coffee table. As soon as he opens the door, he grabs Hoseok's arm and pulls him inside.

"Welcome! The coffee's ready, come sit down! I've also put out some of Yoongi's pastries; I know you like them!"

Hoseok, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, enters with a still confused expression on his face. His hair was slightly messy; clearly, he had hurriedly prepared after Jimin's urgent call. Yoongi is waiting in the living room with three steaming cups of coffee, alongside a plate of fresh pastries and fruits.

"Good morning, Hoseok," Yoongi says in a calm voice, unlike Jimin. "Come, sit. Jimin may be exaggerating a bit, don't worry."

Hoseok sighs and sits on the couch with a tired but curious expression on his face.

"So, are you going to tell me why you called me here?" Hoseok asks, sipping his coffee. "What's this big mystery?"

Jimin and Yoongi exchange meaningful glances. Jimin's face has a conspiratorial child-like smile, while Yoongi's face shows slight reservation. Then Jimin leans forward, rests his arms on his knees, and begins to speak excitedly.

"We need to get our Taehyung married." Jimin says, his eyes gleaming. He seems as if he's made the most significant discovery of the century.

Hoseok freezes for a moment, his cup suspended in front of his lips. Then he suddenly bursts out laughing, so hard that his coffee almost spills. He puts the cup on the table and slaps his knees with his hands.

"Again with the same topic? We talk about the same thing every meeting, gathering, and opportunity," he says, continuing to laugh. "Did you call me at the crack of dawn for this? For four years, you've been dreaming of getting Taehyung married, Jimin hyung, but we're as far from the North Pole as Taehyung is from the idea of marriage."

Jimin gets up from Yoongi's side and sits right next to Hoseok. His eyes have a determined expression, almost like a commander preparing a battle plan.

"This time, it's different, Hoseok," says Jimin, lowering his voice to a mysterious tone. "I've found that boy."

"What?" Hoseok raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yes, I didn't sleep at all last night. I thought about everything, Hoseok," Jimin says, drawing circles in the air with his hand. "Until now, we've brought a thousand girls to Taehyung, and we couldn't get him to like any of them. Every time, he escaped with excuses like 'I have work,' 'I have a meeting,' 'the collection isn't finished.'"

Yoongi chimes in from behind. "He really did escape from all of them."

"But this time..." Jimin lowers his voice even more, almost whispering, "This time, we're going to train the boy according to Taehyung's preferences."

"What?" Hoseok puts his cup on the table with an incredulous expression on his face.

"Think about it! We'll teach him Taehyung's favorite music, movies, books. We'll change his style of dress. His way of speaking... Maybe even—"

Hoseok raises his hand to interrupt Jimin. "So you're saying," he says slowly, as if carefully choosing his words, "That we're going to create a girl Taehyung will fall in love with and put them in front of him, is that it?"

Jimin excitedly nods his head. "Yes! Exactly!"

"It's a boy, by the way, not a girl," Yoongi corrects, taking a sip of his tea.

Hoseok takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and opens them again. "Well, I don't find it convincing," he says, shaking his head. "It's not ethical at all."

Jimin continues regardless, his eyes shining with excitement. "The whole trick is to put the boy right under Taehyung's nose," Jimin says, drawing shapes in the air with his hands. "Every day, every moment, he should appear before him. Not by chance, but in a planned way."

"You know Taehyung is a workaholic, an introvert," Yoongi interjects, putting his cup on the table. "He has no social life. He goes to work in the morning and leaves at midnight. The boy should be there even when he lifts his head from his desk to drink water."

"In fact, the boy should be the one giving him the water!" Jimin jumps in excitedly, almost leaping from his seat.

"Ah, I understand! You're saying he should be his assistant," Hoseok says, raising his eyebrows. "Because his assistant takes care of everything from breakfast to water. He takes care of him, makes his schedule, goes everywhere with him. Wherever he goes, his assistant is with him."

"Well done, Hoseok!" Jimin shouts excitedly, clapping his hands together. "We'll place the boy as his assistant. After that, we'll plan the moves individually to make Taehyung fall in love with the boy. Then, the wedding!"

Yoongi shakes his head laughing, but the expression on Hoseok's face becomes increasingly severe. He narrows his eyes, picks up his cup, and looks at the coffee inside.

"Jimin hyung," Hoseok slowly says, "this plan doesn't feel right to me at all. Aren't you thinking about Taehyung?"

"What's wrong?" Jimin asks, looking confused. "He'll be happy in the end."

"What if he's not?" Hoseok frowns. "What if he falls in love with the boy but then finds out that everyone, his family and best friend, has been manipulating his life? Think about it, how would he feel? You know Taehyung, trust is more important to him than anything."

The excitement on Jimin's face fades for a moment, but he quickly recovers. He raises his hands in the air and continues speaking.

"Hoseok, think about it! Taehyung has been alone for years. He doesn't think about anything but work. Maybe he's unhappy because he can't see happiness," Jimin says, with extra effort in his voice to be convincing. "We're just helping him. We're clearing the path. It's not like we're forcing him to get married!"

It didn't make sense no matter how much Hoseok thought about it.

"This isn't a game; it's just a small intervention to cross the paths of two people. The rest is up to them."

Hoseok raised one eyebrow, looking at Jimin with an incredulous expression. "A small intervention? You're talking about creating a person from scratch, Jimin hyung."

"Don't exaggerate! We'll just make the boy behave in a way that will catch Taehyung's attention," Jimin says.

Hoseok sighs, takes his pastry, bites into it, and mumbles with his mouth full. "I don't know... It still doesn't feel right."

"Just hire the boy, that's enough," Jimin says, smiling as if he's won a victory. "I'll take care of the rest."

While Yoongi and Jimin continue to make their plans, Hoseok listens silently. His face looks calm, but there's a restlessness inside him. As Taehyung's closest friend and business partner, Hoseok knows him better than anyone. Even if this plan succeeds, someone will get hurt—probably both Taehyung and the waiter boy.

As his restlessness grows, Hoseok continues to drink his coffee. Maybe he should make more effort to stop Jimin, but on the other hand, the idea of bringing some color into the life of Taehyung, who has buried himself in work for years, isn't so bad. Deep in his heart, Hoseok wants his friend to be happy; he's just not sure if this is the right way.

* * *

Jeongguk thinks today cannot get any worse after the landlord shows up at the door in the morning saying, “Your hyung hasn’t paid the rent for three months,” and tells them to move out, after some lunatic at work uses him, and after he gets fired because of it.

But there is always worse.

After he finds out that his hyung is kidnapped by loan sharks and that he owes them a hundred thousand dollars, he learns he should never say something like “It can’t get worse.”

Standing in the middle of the street, tears in his eyes, he looks in the direction the loan sharks take his hyung and thinks about what he will say to his grandmother and little sister when he gets home.

That night, he does not sleep a single minute.

The next morning, after telling Goeun and Namjoon about the situation, they all try to find a solution together, but they fail. The banks never give him a loan anyway; he just loses his job. Because of that idiot who kisses him. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets, his cheeks turning the same colour as his hair.

When he sits in his usual spot where he always comes when he wants to be alone, thinking hard about what to do, he hears his little sister Hana calling him. When he turns his head toward the voice, he sees Hana standing next to a man he has never seen before—extremely handsome, well-dressed, and clearly someone who does not belong to their neighborhood.

With his eyebrows furrowed, he gets up and pulls his sister by the arm toward him, trying to figure out what is going on. The man is still a few steps away. Hana has run over to him.

“This man is looking for you,” Hana says, as if she hears her brother’s thoughts.

The handsome, well-dressed man walks over to them, takes off his sunglasses, and smiles politely. Leaning toward Hana, he says, “Thank you. Now, would you leave me alone with your brother for a bit? I want to talk to him.”

Hana looks at Jeongguk for approval. When he gives a small nod, she runs back the way she came.

Jeongguk does not take his eyes off her until she is far enough. Then he turns to the man, who is already sitting on the bench with his legs crossed, and gives him a thorough look. The class difference between them is painfully obvious. What could someone like him possibly want to talk about with Jeongguk, enough to come all the way here?

“Come, sit,” the handsome, well-dressed man says. His face looks like it is carved from marble.

Jeongguk hesitates but sits down next to the man on the bench, avoiding his eyes and looking at the trees instead.

“So, do you come here often?” the stranger asks.

Jeongguk frowns in confusion. Where is he going with this?

The handsome stranger sighs. “When I was your age, I also had a secret spot like this. I used to go there and just sit, thinking about everything… but then I realized it was nonsense.”

“Sorry?” Jeongguk says. He thinks maybe the stranger is also talking about him.

But the man continues without paying attention to Jeongguk. “The solution to your problems is always in other people, Jeongguk. You can’t create miracles for yourself. People create them for you. And when the time comes, all you can do is choose whether to live that miracle or not.”

Jeongguk cannot understand how a stranger he has never seen before knows his name. “Who are you?” he asks, frowning and scooting a little away from him.

The stranger smiles as if he has been waiting for this question all along. Pointing at Jeongguk with his sunglasses, “I have a job offer for you.” he says. Then he starts speaking quickly, like a machine gun. “It’s a nice, fun job. There is a man —don’t ask who he is. I need someone to make this man fall in love and marry him. In return, you get a lot of money.”

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk asks. He cannot possibly be offering this to him.

“I mean, the person has to be poor.” The man’s smile does not fade, but his expression shifts slightly, as if he is a bit annoyed.

Jeongguk also starts to get annoyed. “Excuse me?”

This time, the stranger rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, “A bit slow, too.”

Jeongguk snaps. “Are you talking about me?!”

The handsome stranger quickly recovers and goes back to his previous demeanor. “I mean polite, like you. So yes, the person is you. You make him fall in love with you and then marry him.” He says this with excitement, as if he has been waiting for this moment for years.

It is pure nonsense. There is no way Jeongguk accepts something like this.

As if he senses Jeongguk’s doubts, the stranger quickly speaks again. “Don’t worry, it’s all just a game. Trust me.” He also seems to be running out of patience.

Jeongguk thinks for a second. His hyung is kidnapped and the loan sharks want $100k. He looks at the man again. Would someone like him really give that much money for a game like this?

“The guy has a big company. If you accept my offer, you will start working there as his assistant, —his personal assistant. You will handle everything for him.”

Jeongguk’s face scrunches up. “Why? Does he like assistants or something?”

The handsome stranger loses patience. He sighs loudly and raises his voice. “You’ll be his assistant to get close to him, sweetheart!”

Jeongguk is startled by the sudden outburst. Until now, he has been speaking so calmly.

So Jeongguk will work as a personal assistant for some rich man, make him fall in love, and then marry him? No, it is ridiculous.

He starts to get up from the bench and, with a mischievous and mocking tone, says, “I’ve had enough adventure in the past two days. I don’t need more. Thank you very much, have a nice day.” Then he turns and starts walking.

He takes his third step when he hears the handsome stranger say, “Two hundred thousand dollars. I’ll give you exactly two hundred thousand.”

And suddenly, he finds himself sitting next to this stranger again. He has to save his hyung. Otherwise, his funeral will come home. The loan sharks have said so.

Jimin keeps speaking with excitement. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do. You’ll make him fall in love and marry him. That’s the plan; simple and flawless.” He snaps his fingers with satisfaction.

“And then?” There has to be an “after” to this plan.

“After you marry him, you disappear. Pack your things and vanish. Finito !”

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. There are still things that don’t make sense to him. “Why me? I’m sure you have plenty of beautiful men and women around you. Why me?

Jimin rolls his eyes again. “I have my reasons. Think about it and decide. If you want, I’ll drop the advance into your account tomorrow, just like that. This is the chance of your life. Don’t miss it.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen. How much is the advance for $200k? If it’s half, he can save his hyung immediately.

“Who’s the guy?” he asks.

Jimin smiles. “You can’t know until you accept the offer and start working as his assistant.” He pulls out a business card from his bag and hands it to Jeongguk. In big letters, it says PARK JIMIN. “My time’s up. I’m waiting for your answer.” Then he puts on his sunglasses and walks back the way he came.

* * *

“Accept it!”

“What’s he like? Old? Ugly? Rich?”

These are the voices Jeongguk hears while his head is buried in his hands. As soon as Namjoon hears the story, he practically screams, “Accept it!” and Goeun bombards him with questions.

“I don’t know what to do!” Jeongguk groans, completely overwhelmed.

Namjoon grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. “What are you still thinking about? Just accept it! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“The worst?” Jeongguk snaps, finally irritated. “There are a thousand possible worsts. You never know which one you’ll get.”

“One of those worsts already happened to you,” Goeun cuts in. “Your brother’s been kidnapped by loan sharks, and if you don’t pay them a hundred thousand dollars in a week, they say they’ll kill him.”

“If they point a gun at your brother’s head, you’ll think, I should’ve taken that offer, Jeongguk,” Namjoon says.

“Stop,” Jeongguk mutters, chewing at his nails in worry. His mind is full of his brother.

“Friends tell the hard truths,” Goeun says gently, taking his hand to stop him from biting his nails.

“You’re the one who said you need a miracle,” Namjoon reminds him. “Well, here it is.”

Jeongguk hears their voices, but inside his head there’s a different kind of noise. He pictures the last time he saw his brother—those terrified eyes, those shaking hands. Don’t worry, Gguk, everything will be fine, he’d said, but even then, the fear in his voice was obvious.

A hundred thousand dollars. The thought of it makes Jeongguk’s chest tighten. Normally, he’d never even see that kind of money in his life. But now someone is offering him double, —just to make a person fall in love with him and marry him.

Make him fall in love and marry him. The words keep spinning in his mind. How hard could it be? People fall in love every day. Maybe he could do it too.

His brother’s face flashes again in his mind. If he refuses, if he can’t find the money in a week… he can’t even bear to think about it.

He takes a deep breath. He also has his grandmother and little sister to think about. If he doesn’t do something, they’ll all be out on the street.

“Okay,” he says quietly, then louder, “Okay. I think I’ll do it.”

Namjoon and Goeun exchange a look, then turn to him.

“Are you sure?” Goeun asks softly.

Jeongguk nods. He isn’t sure, but he has no choice.

Namjoon cups his cheeks. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, —you go to that Jimin guy’s house, tell him you accept, and you ask for the hundred thousand upfront. Okay?”

Jeongguk gives a half-hearted nod, and Namjoon pulls him into a hug. “It’s gonna be fine, don’t worry,” he murmurs.

Jeongguk hopes so.

When Goeun joins in the hug, the three of them end up giggling together.

At least he still has his friends.

* * *

Jeongguk gets out of the taxi and cannot believe his eyes. Calling the building in front of him a house feels unfair — it is a full-on palace. It has three floors, is made of white stone, with massive columns and a perfect garden, looking like it comes straight out of a movie set. Even the fountain in the garden looks bigger than any place Jeongguk has ever lived in.

When he climbs the marble steps and approaches the door, he feels like turning back and running away. The huge door opens on its own and a middle-aged, well-dressed maid appears in front of him. The woman looks him up and down — his worn black jeans, oversized hoodie, ripped Converse sneakers, and messy red hair. Her expression is as if she has to let in someone they picked up from the street.

“I’m Jeon Jeongguk,” Jeongguk says, running a hand through his hair to try and fix it, but only making it messier. “I’m here for Park Jimin. He knows I’m coming.”

The maid looks him over again, as if she thinks he might be at the wrong address. “Please, come in.”

Jeongguk glances at his shoes and swallows. He tries to remember if there are holes in his socks.

“Mr. Park is in the garden for his Pilates class,” the maid says as she lets Jeongguk in. “I will take you there.”

The moment Jeongguk steps inside, his breath catches. The entrance hall alone is the size of an apartment. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, making the light dance on the marble floor. The walls are covered in light-colored marble, with expensive-looking paintings hanging on them.

As he follows the maid, the living room they pass is even more impressive. Cream leather sofas, glass coffee tables, vases that look like art pieces… Jeongguk has never been in a place like this. Even the echo of his footsteps on the marble makes him uneasy.

When they pass the kitchen, the wooden details next to the marble catch his eye. Everything is flawless, without a single speck of dust. As the maid leads him down a wide corridor, his eyes catch the photos on the walls — most are black-and-white and look professional.

“This way,” the maid says, heading towards the large glass doors. When she opens them, an incredible garden appears before Jeongguk.

The garden is truly breathtaking. Perfectly arranged flower beds, a small pool, and in the middle, a wide grassy area with a Pilates mat spread out.

When Jimin notices Jeongguk, his face instantly lights up. He jumps to his feet from the mat.

“Oh, it’s you!” he shouts, with a huge smile on his face. His eyes sparkle, as if he is genuinely happy to see Jeongguk.

Jeongguk clears his throat, still in shock. “I… I came for the job offer…”

“Shhh!” Jimin quickly puts a finger to his lips, silencing him. He turns to the Pilates instructor and the other people working in the garden. “You can all go, leave me alone with Jeongguk.”

Jimin walks towards some stylish garden furniture in the corner. The white sofas are decorated with soft cushion pillows. When they sit across from each other, a glass coffee table stays between them.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and clasps his hands on his knees. “I accept your offer,” he says, his voice slightly trembling. Then he quickly adds, “But a hundred thousand dollars is enough for me.”

He lifts his head to see Jimin’s expression.

Jimin suddenly starts laughing. Clearly, he is amused. “Oh, so you even give me a discount, huh?”

Jeongguk’s face turns red. “I normally never get into these kinds of things, but I urgently need a hundred thousand dollars. You can keep the rest.”

Smiling, Jimin looks Jeongguk up and down again.

“So, I accept your offer.”

“Nothing after Pilates can make me feel this good,” Jimin says, taking a sip of his water.

Jeongguk gathers his courage and continues. “But I have some conditions,” he says, making his voice a little harder. “I don’t get into anyone’s bed, and no one touches me. I’m saying it now.” He tries his best to look determined.

Jimin freezes as if he still has water in his mouth, then swallows. He waves his hand in the air with a mocking gesture and puts on a tired expression. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he says, with a slightly annoyed tone.

Jeongguk feels a bit relieved but still speaks carefully. “Since we agree, what do we do now? How do I make the guy fall in love with me?”

Jimin looks him up and down — this time with a longer and more evaluative gaze. He focuses on the worn black hoodie, the old jeans, and the messy red hair. His face takes on an exaggerated “thinking deeply” expression.

“This way, it never works,” Jimin says, putting a hand on his chin with a theatrical air. “We need to change you completely from head to toe.”

Jeongguk looks confused. When he feels Jimin’s strange stares, he panics and looks down at himself — is something on him? Is there pasta sauce? He rubs his hoodie, then tries to fix his hair, but only makes it worse. His hair is always stubborn.

“What do you mean?” he asks, still looking confused.

Jimin jumps to his feet, as if making a big discovery. “I mean, how will you impress him looking like a street kid? Your clothes, your hair, even your walk needs to change!” Then he stops and looks at Jeongguk. “By the way, how old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Jeongguk says, still puzzled.

“You’re two years younger… Anyway, we go shopping tomorrow!”

He really is not sure what he is getting himself into.

* * *

"A man is all about technique and tactics. And technique and tactics start with clothing. Our guy likes people with good taste," Jimin says while pulling Jeongguk by the arm into the brightest store in the luxury shopping mall.

Jeongguk’s head pounds. At nine in the morning, Jimin shows up at his door, then drags him here without letting him catch his breath. Now, he finds himself in a store where there are no price tags on the display windows, but the clothes probably cost ten times his salary.

"Does it really have to be—"

"Shh! First, your posture!" Jimin suddenly steps behind him and grabs his shoulders. Jeongguk’s body stiffens. "Why do you always slouch? Push your chest out, open your shoulders!"

Jeongguk feels like a puppet. "I stand normally."

"This is not normal, this is collapsing!" Jimin forces him upright. "Now walk like this. Keep your head up."

Jeongguk starts walking like a robot, feeling the stares of people around him. "This feels so weird—"

"You get used to it," Jimin says while pushing him into the store. "Minho! I need your help!"

The next two hours are pure torture for Jeongguk. He keeps changing clothes over and over, and every time Jimin says, " No, this one doesn’t work, " and brings new outfits. Every time, he fixes his posture and shouts, "Walk with confidence!"

"How many clothes have I tried on?" Jeongguk groans, adjusting the burgundy shirt he has on.

"I don’t count. But this one looks good." Jimin squints. "Only your hair needs to look neater..."

Jeongguk looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t recognize himself.

A few hours later, they leave the store with more than twenty shopping bags. Not a single item is something Jeongguk picks himself; Jimin chooses them all. When Jimin drops him off in front of his house, he says, "Be at my place tomorrow at 10 a.m." Then he drives away.

The next day, Jeongguk is at Jimin's house again at the crack of dawn. When he meets a man named Whan, Jimin says, "Whan is my guy at the company. He teaches you everything about office work." Then Jimin goes to sit in the garden with his coffee while Jeongguk and Whan are left alone at the desk with the computer.

While Jeongguk works with Whan on office tasks, he thinks, maybe this is the last of it. But as the hours go by, he realizes how wrong that thought is.

"He drinks only a specific type of coffee," Jimin says, sipping his coffee. "He wants it ready as soon as he wakes up. Be careful about that."

Jeongguk frowns. "How different can a coffee be?" He starts taking notes. This is more complicated than he expects.

"Each day has a separate meal schedule," Jimin continues. "On Thursdays, he always eats eggs, no carbs at all. And the eggs have to be soft-boiled — not too cooked, not undercooked."

"What does soft-boiled mean?"

"You have to practice a lot," Jimin sighs. "Perfect timing is exactly six minutes and thirty seconds."

Jeongguk nods. "So who usually makes his breakfast?"

"You do, because he doesn’t have a live-in housekeeper. He doesn’t like people underfoot. And he hates crowds." Jimin thinks for a second. "Oh, and every month, he wants to see every fashion magazine on the market. Don’t forget, he gets really angry if you do."

"How many magazines are there?"

"At least fifteen." Jimin nods. "Clothing is also very important. On weekdays, he wears dark suits. On weekends, he prefers light-colored, casual clothes. You have to plan the dry cleaner traffic accordingly."

Jeongguk notices his hand hurts from writing. "Anything else?"

"Tie choice is very critical," Jimin says seriously. "He always starts the week with a light-colored tie. But if he chooses navy, it means he’s in a bad mood. Then you should be very careful and stay quiet."

Jeongguk closes his notebook and looks up. "How do you memorize all this?"

"I’m his uncle, of course I know," Jimin says proudly, then holds out his hand. "Give me your phone."

Jeongguk hesitates but gives him his phone anyway. Luckily, Jimin doesn’t leave him wondering.

"I’m loading his favourite music so your ringtone will be it, and he’ll think you have common tastes." He types something on the screen while talking.

"I see," Jeongguk mutters. "What music?"

"Bambina. Mango. You wouldn’t understand." He hands the phone back.

Jeongguk gives a strained smile, tired of being belittled. "Thank you, how kind of you," he says sarcastically.

Jimin doesn’t even hear him. "Ah, we also have to get you books by Dostoevsky and Henry James. Let him see you reading them sometimes. He loves both."

With everything piling up, Jeongguk feels his patience wearing thin. "Won’t this guy just say, ‘You haven’t read these until now? Ignorant.’? Or something?"

"Don’t overthink it, sweetie," Jimin says. "Thinking too much is bad, it causes wrinkles. And life doesn’t pass that way."

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. "Whatever you say," he replies. "Anything else?" he adds with exhaustion.

"There is."

Jeongguk wants to scream.

"He eats one whole pomegranate before breakfast. You have to prepare it right on time. He is the most punctual person in the world."

"Fine," Jeongguk says tiredly. "If that’s all, I’m leaving."

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a hair salon, sitting in front of the mirror.

"Hair is our last step," Jimin says, standing behind him and squeezing his shoulders. He meets his eyes in the mirror. "Hair makes up more than half of your image. Messy, shabby hair won’t do. While you work beside him, your hair must never be messy, not even once," he says while touching Jeongguk’s long, messy hair.

It’s not his fault his hair is messy, really. His hair has been curly and frizzy since he was little, and when he realizes he can’t tame it, he leaves it alone. Unfortunately, their Asian hair genes never seem to have applied to his stubborn hair.

Half an hour later, he looks at his new, neatly cut, straight, soft hair and doesn’t recognize himself.

All he wants is not to regret this choice.

* * *

It is the first day of work. Jeongguk stands in front of the house of his new boss, whom he still hasn’t seen, swallowing hard as he tries to unlock the door with the key he gets from Mr. Kim's driver—he has finally managed to learn his name; Kim Taehyung.

The house is not as big as Jimin’s palace-like house, but it is still one of the most stylish houses Jeongguk has ever seen. It is a two-story, modern building —a perfect harmony of glass and black-painted wood. Dark colors dominate the house overall. The most eye-catching colors are red and black. In the front yard, there is neatly trimmed grass and a few large pots with flowers. It is the ideal size for one person —not too big, not too small.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees that everything is in its place. On the marble counter, there is not a single item —Jimin is not wrong when he calls him “a neat freak,” Jeongguk thinks to himself. There is not even a single magnet on the fridge.

In the living room, there is a large gray sofa set, and across from it, a giant TV that covers the entire wall. On the walls hang a few abstract paintings —probably expensive ones.

Through the glass door, he can see the backyard. It is small but well-kept. In one corner, there is a barbecue area; in the other corner, there is a wooden table with chairs.

“Okay, Jeongguk,” he mutters to himself, “Now it’s time to make that perfect coffee.”

He does everything just as Jimin says; he makes the coffee the way he likes it, boils the eggs soft, and has even already picked the pomegranates. Breakfast is ready; all that is left is to wait for him to come downstairs.

There is no chance anything can go wrong, none at all.

He keeps telling himself that; everything will be fine.

That thought disappears the moment he sees the man coming down the stairs.

This is him. Even though he didn't technically kiss him, the guy who kissed him, the pervert .

He is shirtless, and his fit body looks almost like a statue in the morning light. He is muscular, but not in an exaggerated way —as if he is just naturally built like this. His shoulders are broad, and his abs are faintly defined.

Sunlight dances on his smooth, bronze skin. His dark brown hair is slightly messy, a natural result of just waking up. His eyes still carry the weight of sleep, but he still looks good.

But the man doesn’t seem to recognize him.

“Good morning..?” he says in confusion. “Are you the new assistant?”

“Yes, that’s me, but you…” The rest doesn’t come. What is he supposed to say? I’m the waiter you forced a kiss on at that restaurant?

“I, what?” Taehyung asks, raising one eyebrow.

He needs to think of something to say. Something, something, something…

“You are naked!” Jeongguk blurts out in shock. He can’t think of anything else to say.

Taehyung looks at himself. He seems embarrassed. “Sorry. I’ll go put something on.”

When Jeongguk is alone in the kitchen again, he mutters to himself, “Is this real?” To be sure, he pinches himself and earns a hiss of pain in return.

He wishes with all his heart that all of this is nothing more than a bad joke.

* * *

“This is our workplace,” Taehyung says as he walks into the company building. He walks quickly and doesn’t even look to see if Jeongguk follows him. “The others help you with the general information.”

The company is not very big. Jeongguk doesn’t think more than twenty people work here.

While he looks around, he accidentally bumps into Taehyung and gets a cold look from his boss. He swallows hard. “Sorry.”

When Taehyung turns back to the front, he speaks to the girl next to him. “I said we need to get a proper coffee machine here,” he says seriously.

The girl immediately straightens her posture. “It arrives this afternoon, Mr. Kim.”

When Taehyung gets the answer, he keeps walking. “Tomorrow there’s a catalog shoot. Before that, I want to meet with Seokjin. Yejin should come for the concept too. I’m still not sure about those red candlesticks,” he says, frowning, then holds out his hand toward Jeongguk. “My water.”

Jeongguk quickly takes the glass bottle of water from the large bag on his shoulder and hands it to Taehyung. While handing it over, he drops his notebook and keys to the floor. As he bends down to pick them up, he hopes Taehyung doesn’t silently curse his clumsiness.

As soon as Jeongguk stands up, Taehyung says, “I need to go to choose fabrics today, make a note and free up some time.”

Jeongguk quickly opens his notebook with his pen and looks at today’s schedule. “It looks like you don’t have any free time today,” he says, looking up at Taehyung.

Taehyung smiles slightly. “Then make time. Make today twenty-six hours.”

Jeongguk already feels his breathing getting tighter. “Okay,” he says, burying himself in the notebook. Writing while standing is so hard.

“Taehyung,”

When they both hear a sweet, flirty voice, they look toward the sound. A tall, blonde woman, almost as tall as Taehyung and Jeongguk, and beautiful, walks up to them and touches Taehyung’s arm. She doesn’t even look at Jeongguk. It’s like he doesn’t exist at that moment.

“Where are you? Didn’t we say we’d check the shoot location this morning?”

Taehyung takes a deep, annoyed breath. He turns to Jeongguk. “Did we?” he asks.

Now they both look at Jeongguk, and Jeongguk is more nervous and confused than ever. He stops chewing the end of his pen. “What?”

“Was there something we had to do before coming here this morning?” Taehyung asks again. His voice is serious, cold, and intimidating. His eyes, too.

Jeongguk looks at the notebook again. “I don’t know… I don’t have anything like that here.”

Taehyung hands the glass water bottle back to Jeongguk. “Changes drive me crazy,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his face with both hands. Even though he mutters, both Jeongguk and Yejin hear him. “Where is Hoseok? Tell him to come to my office,” he says loudly, walking away quickly.

Jeongguk is about to follow him when he feels a hand on his arm. It’s Yejin.

“You stay here. You already annoyed him on your first day,” she says, then follows Taehyung.

Jeongguk feels really upset. He can’t help but sulk. Even though he tries his best, the attitude he gets is hurtful. Couldn’t his boss at least be a little more understanding or polite because it’s his first day? Apparently the answer is no. This man called Taehyung doesn’t even have the “k” of kindness. All he has is the ability to throw cold looks around.

Just as he’s lost in these thoughts, he hears an energetic voice behind him.

“Who’s this new face?”

Jeongguk turns around and finds himself face to face with a tall man with a bright smile. His hair is a blondish tone and there’s this endless energy around him.

“No sulking allowed in this workplace!” the man says, clapping his hands. “Cheer up a bit! What’s bothering you? Whatever it is, I think we can fix it,” he says, playfully imitating Jeongguk’s sulky face.

Jeongguk stares at the man in surprise, then can’t help but smile. “It’s my first day…” he mumbles. “I’m Mr. Kim’s new assistant.”

“Oh, so you’re the one! I’m Hoseok.” He reaches out his hand for Jeongguk to shake. “I get it. You’re having first-day trauma. It’s normal, everyone has it. Taehyung is… a bit difficult. He’s not a bad person, just very picky and a perfectionist about his work. You’ll get used to it in a few days.”

“I hope so,” Jeongguk says, smiling. Mr. Jung is sweet and kind. He asks how he’s doing, then even buys him coffee, and even introduces him to the people in the office.

A few people start asking questions when they hear he’s Taehyung’s new assistant. “Is it true Mr. Kim and the photographer Seokjin argued?”

While chewing the bite in his mouth, Jeongguk says, “I don’t think it’s right for me to answer that.”

“Mr. Kim is very detail-oriented. That’s why he and Seokjin fight at almost every shoot. Well, more like Mr. Kim says what he wants to say, and Seokjin has a meltdown in the back,” one of them says, imitating him, and her friend laughs along. Jeongguk can’t quite remember either of their names.

Then he notices Hoseok talking on the phone. “So Mr. Jung is a co-owner?”

“Yes, he mostly takes care of administrative work. Mr. Kim handles the creative side. Things like management and marketing are with Mr. Jung.”

“And Yejin?”

One of the girls rolls her eyes. “She’s the concept consultant. She transferred here about six months ago, but she’s the favourite of both partners.”

“No way,” the other one jumps in. “Yejin flirts with Mr. Kim, and Mr. Jung flirts with Yejin. That's it.”

“Mr. Jung is a bit of a flirt,” they both add.

Jeongguk is surprised. “Really? He doesn’t seem like that at all — he seems like an amazing guy. Very polite too.”

“He’s polite, that’s true,” they say, agreeing with him.

“I mean, I think being polite is really important. Just because you’re in a higher position doesn’t mean you can look down on people. Of course you can’t.”

He notices the two girls making faces at each other but doesn’t think much of it. He’s on a roll now. The way Taehyung treated him this morning flashes in his mind, and he gets even more heated.

“I just don’t get why people act like that. Okay, you can be the boss, but does that give you the right to be rude? No, it doesn’t! You treat people like humans, you show respect. Everyone’s human, not a robot!”

The girls open their eyes wide and try to point behind him, but Jeongguk doesn’t notice.

“And then they give you these cold stares, like you’re nothing. Well, we work here too, we put in effort. Is it so hard to show a little kindness? No, they’d rather stand there like ice statues.”

Right then, a familiar voice comes from behind.

“Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk freezes. He slowly turns around and finds Taehyung standing there.

“I…” he stammers, his face turning bright red.

But Taehyung only says, “We’re leaving,” then turns and walks toward the exit.

The car ride is completely silent. Neither Jeongguk, Taehyung, nor the driver, Dongmin, says a word. When they arrive at the fabric store, Taehyung tells Jeongguk, “Wait in the car,” and goes in alone.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. He’s glad he won’t have to spend another half hour with Kim Taehyung. But that relief doesn’t last long. When the driver steps out to smoke and Jeongguk is left alone in the car, the questions in his head grow heavier.

Is the man who used me that day really Mr. Kim? How could it be? Is all this a coincidence? Could it be? Or is it that the person who kissed him wasn’t Mr. Kim at all, and his mind is playing tricks on him?

The “creepy boss” image he had in his mind this morning is already starting to crumble after the moments they spend together throughout the day.

Mr. Kim is not as disturbing as he thought. In fact he doesn’t seem that way at all. He’s quiet, calm, focused on his work. Someone who doesn’t unnecessarily touch people, who doesn’t seem to like touching or being touched, who doesn’t even make people uncomfortable with his looks, who knows his boundaries.

Of course, in terms of work, he’s extremely annoying and make people uncomfortable — strict, detail-oriented, the type who notices even the smallest mistake and never ignores it. But personally? None of what Jeongguk thought this morning (a creep who kisses people without their consent) seems to be true.

Still, the memory of that not-kiss stubbornly stays in a corner of his mind. Sometimes, even when he scolds himself and thinks, “Maybe I was wrong,” he can’t help but question the reality of that moment. Is his memory playing tricks on him? Or, underneath all this calm, cool demeanour, is that man from that day still hiding somewhere?

The sound of the car door opening pulls him from his thoughts. Taehyung gets in, holding a few fabric samples.

As the car moves, Jeongguk tries not to take his eyes off the windshield. But his mind is still stuck on the question: “Was it really him?” No matter how much he thinks, he can’t find a logical answer.

While he’s lost in thought, his eyes wander to the rearview mirror.

Taehyung, sitting in the back seat, leans his head slightly to the side, but his eyes are locked directly on Jeongguk. In his gaze, there’s a weight Jeongguk can’t define, something that knots his stomach.

His heart races. Breathing gets harder.

He wants to look away but can’t. It’s as if Taehyung’s eyes hold him in place with invisible chains. In those chains, there’s the shadow of that moment when their lips touched.

He is sure it’s Taehyung.

When they get out of the car, it’s already dark. As Taehyung takes the fabric samples, Jeongguk puts his bag on his shoulder.

“Let me carry those,” Jeongguk says, reaching for the packages in Taehyung’s hands.

Taehyung gives him a short glance, says nothing, and simply hands him two packages. “Be careful,” he adds.

When they enter Taehyung’s home, Jeongguk can’t help but look around again. It’s modern, tidy, and organised — more than that, it feels cold. As if everything is perfectly lined up, but no one actually lives here.

“Put those on the table,” Taehyung says as he takes off his shoes.

Jeongguk carefully places the fabrics on the dining table. Taehyung opens a few and examines them. From time to time, he looks up and silently gestures for something, and Jeongguk helps quietly.

When they finish arranging the fabrics, Jeongguk slings his bag over his shoulder. “Then I’ll—” he starts, but stops. That question inside him feels even heavier after those looks. This chance might not come again.

He takes a deep breath.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, his voice slightly shaky. “I mean, I should ask or it’ll keep bothering me.”

Taehyung lifts his head and looks at him. “Yes?”

Jeongguk swallows and speaks without looking away. “Actually… we’ve met before.”

If you can call it meeting.

“Do you remember me?”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change, but his gaze hardens for a moment. A short silence falls between them.

Jeongguk can’t drown out the sound of his heartbeat. “A… while ago. But maybe you don’t remember.”

He might not. The Jeongguk from back then and the Jeongguk now don’t look much alike.

Taehyung studies him quietly. His lips part, as if he’s about to say something… but then he changes his mind. On his face, there’s an expression like the answer reached his lips but got swallowed at the last second.

Jeongguk bites his lip and nods. “Okay…. I'll just head out.”

His voice is rushed. He quickly heads for the door, grabs the handle, opens it, and is about to step outside when—

He feels movement behind him.

Suddenly, the door closes from behind.

Jeongguk startles and turns back, finding Taehyung right in front of him. The distance between them is so small that their chests almost touch. His back is against the door; there’s nowhere to go. His heart pounds wildly, as if the sound echoes in that tight space.

Taehyung’s eyes lock on his. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move away.

Jeongguk swallows. For some reason, the muscles in his legs tense slightly, as if half his body wants to run while the other half wants to stay.

Taehyung’s eyes never leave his. The space between them is so small Jeongguk can feel the warmth of his breath.

Then Taehyung speaks, low and measured. “After you walk out this door…” He doesn’t step back even an inch. “…there will be nothing on your mind except work.”

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, his heart beating faster.

“Do you understand?” Taehyung asks, his voice now clearer and a bit harder.

Jeongguk tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I understand,” he says quietly.

Without looking away, Taehyung reaches for the door handle. Jeongguk quickly steps aside as he slowly opens the door.

“Good night, Jeongguk,” he says in a calm but firm tone.

Jeongguk nods slightly. “Good night,”

As he steps outside, his heart still races, and Taehyung’s words echo in his mind:

After you walk out this door, there will be nothing on your mind except work.

He can clearly feel that a boundary has been drawn between them.

So he recognized me and remember, he thinks to himself. That silence, the sudden hardness in his eyes — everything points to it. Then why does he act like this? Is he ashamed? Does he know what he did was disgusting, and does being reminded of it bother him?

“Still, he should have at least apologized,” he mumbles. “I was the one who got used without my consent."

Among all the complicated emotions he feels in that moment, one thing is certain: Taehyung, no matter how distant and cold he seems, hasn’t forgotten that incident.

And the more Jeongguk thinks about it, the more he feels both relieved and deeply uneasy.

* * *

The phrase “his feet are killing him” feels way too weak compared to the exhaustion Jeongguk feels. This isn’t an ordinary tiredness — it’s the kind that seeps deep into his bones, making even breathing hard. It’s like every cell in his body is crushed under weight. He has no idea how he will get out of bed when the alarm goes off tomorrow morning, how he will go to work, or even how he will talk to people.

While he drifts away in these thoughts, the sudden ring of his phone pulls him back to reality. When he sees Jimin’s name on the screen, his heart almost stops.

“I’m in front of your house, come outside,” Jimin says without even saying hello, his voice impatient.

Holding the phone, Jeongguk runs to the window. Jimin is really there, leaning against his luxury car parked under the streetlamp, looking up. When he sees Jeongguk at the window, he quickly motions for him to come down.

As soon as Jeongguk comes down, he’s bombarded with questions.

“Tell me. What happened? What did he do? What did you do? You didn’t mess anything up, right? Did the ringtone catch his attention — tell me!”

Jeongguk stares at the man in front of him in surprise. “Calm down, take a breath — put a comma between your sentences, please. You’re talking too fast.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, I’m quiet. Go ahead, tell me.”

Jeongguk thinks back over the whole day. “He went into meetings, came out of meetings. We went to get fabric. He talked on the phone — he really works a lot.”

“I know. Tell me how he treated you,” Jimin says impatiently.

Jeongguk thinks about whether he should tell Jimin about the last thing that happened with Taehyung. Taehyung clearly draws a line between them; Jimin wouldn’t like that.

So he decides not to tell the latest event. Talking about what happened during the day is enough.

“Well… he didn’t really look at me. He didn’t show any special attention, but he acts like that with everyone in the office anyway.” He’s not sure if he says this to comfort himself or to comfort Jimin. “And there’s this woman named Yejin—”

“Don’t say her name,” Jimin says, rubbing his temples. “I don’t like her at all. So? What else?”

Before saying what he’s about to say, Jeongguk takes a step back. He doesn’t trust Jimin. “Well… they’re kind of close.”

One of Jimin’s eyes starts twitching. No exaggeration — it actually twitches. “What do you mean close? You’re the one who’s supposed to be close to Taehyung. Didn’t I prepare you for this?!” He pauses to catch his breath. “Starting tomorrow, you’re going to take every opportunity. Wherever he looks, you’ll be there — if necessary, you’ll get right in his face, got it?”

“Okay,” Jeongguk says with a sigh.

“I want an update every hour, just so you know,” Jimin says. This is the last thing he says before getting into his car.

Jeongguk sits down on the curb after Jimin leaves. The night air feels heavy, pressing down on his shoulders. He stares at the empty street, not really seeing anything, his thoughts circling the same questions over and over. He wonders why his chest feels so tight, why the day’s events keep replaying in his head, why Taehyung’s indifference bothers him more than it should. He doesn’t know how long he stays there —time blurs until even the sound of his own breathing feels distant.

Chapter Text

The next morning arrives with controlled chaos.

The photoshoot location sits two hours outside Seoul, where the Han River widens and creates a peaceful shoreline perfect for outdoor photography. The early morning sun reflects off the water, casting golden light across the makeshift staging area that the crew has set up on the sandy banks.

Everywhere Jeongguk looks, there's movement.

Hairstylists work on the models with practiced precision, their fingers flying through elaborate braids and waves. Makeup artists dab and blend, creating flawless faces that will photograph perfectly. Seokjin stands near the camera setup, demonstrating poses to a nervous-looking model, his arms sweeping dramatically as he explains the concept. Yejin moves between clothing racks, holding up different shoes against outfits, her face scrunched in concentration.

"Move faster," Taehyung says from beside him.

Jeongguk startles, nearly dropping the water bottle he's been holding. He looks down at his own clothes—the crisp white shirt Jimin insisted on and the deliberately tight black pants that make walking quickly a challenge. He should have worn something more practical, something that wouldn't restrict his movement or make him feel so out of place among the casually dressed crew members.

His eyes drift to Taehyung, who wears a navy t-shirt with thin red stripes and simple jeans. Designer sunglasses shield his eyes from the morning glare.

Jeongguk doesn't even own sunglasses. He squints against the brightness, his eyes already beginning to water.

Taehyung walks over to where Seokjin adjusts his camera lens. "Are the girls tired?" The question carries that professional concern Jeongguk is starting to recognize—not warmth, exactly, but awareness.

Seokjin sets the camera down with a sigh. "Nothing escapes your eye, does it? They'll pull it together, don't worry."

Taehyung removes his sunglasses, his dark eyes focusing on one of the models. After a moment of silent assessment, he turns back to Seokjin. "The second one's shoes are wrong. Change them."

Seokjin's shoulders tense. When he speaks, his voice carries barely contained frustration. "They're perfectly fine shoes, Taehyung."

"We're marketing that dress with a more modern aesthetic," Taehyung says, sliding his sunglasses back on. "Those heels don't work. Change them."

Seokjin rubs his temples, muttering something under his breath that Jeongguk can't quite catch. The tension between them sits heavy in the air.

Without looking, Taehyung extends his hand toward Jeongguk. "Jeongguk, my water."

Jeongguk fumbles with the large work bag on his shoulder, his personal backpack—worn and clearly out of place among all the designer items around him—bouncing against his back as he moves. He manages to extract the glass water bottle, nearly dropping his notebook in the process.

His attention drifts to the photoshoot setup. He's never seen anything like this before—the lighting equipment alone looks more expensive than anything he's ever owned. The models stand like ethereal beings, transformed by the styling team into something otherworldly. The way the morning light hits the water behind them creates an almost dreamlike—

"Water," Taehyung repeats, his tone sharper now.

"Oh!" Jeongguk snaps back to reality, practically shoving the bottle into Taehyung's waiting hand. "Sorry, I just—this is all so—"

"Focus." Taehyung takes a long drink, his throat working as he swallows. "We have a long day ahead."

Yejin appears at Taehyung's side, her hand naturally finding his arm. "The third look might photograph too dark against the water. Should we switch to the cream ensemble instead?"

Taehyung considers this, his head tilting slightly. Jeongguk notices how everyone seems to wait for his decisions, how the entire shoot revolves around his vision. It's intimidating and oddly fascinating at the same time.

"No," Taehyung decides. "The contrast will work."

Yejin nods, though Jeongguk catches a flash of doubt in her eyes before she masks it with a smile. "You're always right about these things."

The possessive way she stands next to Taehyung doesn't escape Jeongguk's notice. He adjusts his backpack straps, suddenly hyperaware of how much of an outsider he is here. Everyone moves with purpose, knows their role, fits into this world of high fashion and artistic vision.

Meanwhile, he can barely remember to have the water ready when needed.

"Jeongguk." Taehyung's voice cuts through his thoughts. "Stop daydreaming. I need you present."

Heat rises to Jeongguk's cheeks. "Yes, Mr Kim. I'm sorry."

Even as he tries to focus on his duties, Jeongguk can't help but steal glances at the scene unfolding around him—and at Taehyung, who commands it all with such natural authority that it's both impressive and slightly terrifying.

"¡Buenos días! Guten Morgen! Good morning, beautiful people!"

They hear Hoseok's voice before they see him, and Jeongguk's face immediately lights up. He genuinely likes Hoseok—the man radiates warmth and kindness in a way that makes everything feel less intimidating.

"How's the team doing?" Hoseok asks, his energy infectious despite the early hour.

Jeongguk raises both fists in the air enthusiastically. "Amazing!"

Hoseok grins at the response while Taehyung and Yejin both turn to stare at Jeongguk with matching expressions of bewilderment.

Jeongguk quickly lowers his hands, clearing his throat. "I mean—we're good. Great, actually. The team, I mean." His face burns.

Hoseok's grin only widens. He moves to Seokjin, taking the photographer's hand and pressing a theatrical kiss to it. "Seokjin, my artistic genius, how are you?"

Seokjin dramatically fans himself with his free hand. "Honestly? I'm suffering. I'm in the prime of my youth, standing under this scorching sun, and I can feel every wrinkle forming as we speak. Please, say something to your grumpy partner before I age a decade in one morning."

Hoseok turns to Taehyung with an exaggerated sigh, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Taehyung actually cracks a small smile as Hoseok laughs.

"What are you doing, Taehyung? He's an artist! Go easy on him."

"An artist with particular opinions," Taehyung adds, though there's fondness in his voice that Jeongguk hasn't heard before.

"How are you doing?" Hoseok asks Taehyung more seriously.

"I'm good. The collection is coming together well."

While they talk, Jeongguk remembers something and starts digging through his personal backpack. His pale skin burns easily—he'll look like a boiled lobster if he's not careful. He always carries sunscreen for this reason. He pulls out the tube, starting to apply it to his arms.

Seokjin's eyes zero in on the sunscreen. "What's that? Oh my god, is that SPF 50?" He practically lunges for it. "Give it here, you beautiful, prepared angel."

"Sure," Jeongguk says, handing it over. Seokjin immediately starts slathering it on his face with theatrical relief.

Yejin watches this exchange with obvious irritation. "Instead of pulling rabbits out of your bag, why don't you go to the trailer and get me a hat?" Her voice is ice-cold.

Before Jeongguk can respond, Taehyung speaks up. He is not her assistant—

"While you're there, change into something more comfortable. Something you can actually move in. Ask the styling team—they should have extras in the trailer."

The words die in hie throat.

"Yes, Mr Kim."

He heads toward the trailer, hyperaware of how his tight pants restrict his movement with every step.

Inside the trailer, Jeongguk changes into a simple button-down shirt and shorts, sighing in relief as he can finally move freely. He decides to go barefoot—the sand is warm but not burning yet. He grabs Yejin's hat and heads for the door.

Just as he's about to step out, Hoseok appears in the doorway, making him jump back with a startled yelp. The older man has two lines of sunscreen streaked across his face like war paint.

"Did I scare you?" Hoseok laughs, clearly pleased with himself. "Don't I look like a football player? Or maybe a warrior?" He strikes a dramatic pose.

Jeongguk clutches his chest, laughing despite his racing heart. "You look ridiculous."

"Ridiculous but protected from UV rays," Hoseok corrects. "Hey, do you know any Latin dances?"

"Actually, yes," Jeongguk admits, remembering the lessons his grandmother insisted on when he was younger.

"Perfect! Give me those." Hoseok takes the backpack and hat from Jeongguk's hands and sets them aside. Before Jeongguk can protest, Hoseok grabs his hand and pulls him into position. "It goes something like... uno, dos, tres..."

He starts humming a Latin melody, leading Jeongguk in an impromptu dance right there in front of the trailer. When crew members need to pass, Hoseok spins them out of the way with a flourish, never missing a beat. Jeongguk can't help but laugh, feeling lighter than he has in days.

For a moment, he forgets about the job, the debt, the pretense—everything except this ridiculous, wonderful moment.

When Hoseok dips him unexpectedly, Jeongguk stumbles, dizzy from the sudden movement.

"Whoa there!" Hoseok catches him, laughing. "Did I make you dizzy?" He pulls out sunscreen from his pocket. "Here, let me put some of this on you—"

"Jeongguk!"

Taehyung's sharp voice cuts through the air like a blade. Both Jeongguk and Hoseok freeze, turning toward the sound. Taehyung stands about twenty meters away, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses.

"Mr Kim! I'm coming!" Jeongguk calls back.

Taehyung makes a curt gesture for him to hurry.

Jeongguk quickly grabs his backpack and the hat. "I have to go."

"Wait, open your hand," Hoseok says, squeezing sunscreen into Jeongguk's palm.

"I just put some on—"

"You're as pale as milk. You need to reapply every hour or you'll burn to a crisp. Take it."

"Jeongguk!" Taehyung's voice is even sharper now.

Jeongguk smiles gratefully at Hoseok and starts jogging toward Taehyung, sand kicking up behind him.

"Run, run! The boss is angry!" Hoseok shouts after him, laughing. "Run before he fires us both!"

As Jeongguk approaches, he can't read Taehyung's expression, but something in his posture suggests irritation. He wonders if it's because he took too long, or if it's something else entirely.

* * *

The rest of the morning finds Jeongguk running constantly from one end of the shoot to the other. Right to left, left to right, his bare feet leaving prints in the sand that get washed away by the tide before he can even notice them.

"The bag needs to be changed!" Seokjin shouts after finishing a shot with one of the models. "Am I talking to myself here? Someone change the bag!"

Jeongguk sprints over, nearly tripping over lighting equipment. "I've got it! I'll handle it!"

He grabs the designer bag from the model, reaching for the replacement with his other hand. But the sand shifts under his feet, his balance wavers, and suddenly—

"Oh no—!"

The model tumbles backward into the shallow water with a splash, her perfectly styled hair and makeup instantly ruined. Gasps and cries of "Oh!" echo from the crew.

Jeongguk immediately wades in after her, trying to help her up. "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry—"

But his foot catches on something underwater—maybe a rock, maybe driftwood—and he goes down hard. His ankle twists, a sharp bolt of pain shooting up his leg that makes his vision white out for a second. The cold water shocks his system, and he gasps, the sound half-sob, half-wheeze.

Everyone rushes to help the model, pulling her from the water and wrapping her in towels. Jeongguk sits alone in the water, his ankle throbbing, watching the chaos he's caused. The cold water numbs some of the pain, but the embarrassment burns hotter.

Then suddenly Taehyung appears, kneeling in the wet sand beside him, his probably-expensive jeans getting soaked.

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asks, his hands hovering near Jeongguk's ankle but not quite touching.

"I think... I think it might be broken," Jeongguk gasps, trying not to cry from the pain.

Taehyung's eyebrows furrow. "Let me see—can you get up?"

Jeongguk tries to push himself up, but the moment he puts weight on his ankle, agony lances through him and he nearly collapses again. Before he can fall, Taehyung catches him and, in one smooth motion, lifts him into his arms.

"Mr Kim, you don't have to—" Jeongguk protests, his face burning with embarrassment as the entire crew watches.

"Be quiet," Taehyung says firmly, already carrying him toward the staging area. "You're dripping wet and injured. Stop arguing."

Jeongguk's heart pounds—from pain, from embarrassment, and from something else he doesn't want to examine too closely. Taehyung's arms are steady and strong around him, and he can smell his cologne, something clean and expensive that makes his head spin.

"It wasn't on purpose, Mr Kim. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine. Don't worry about that," Taehyung says, his voice surprisingly calm. "Does it hurt?"

"It's broken, it's definitely broken," Jeongguk insists, his voice rising slightly in distress.

"Someone bring the first aid kit!" Taehyung calls out sharply, carrying Jeongguk to a shaded area and setting him down carefully on one of the equipment boxes. He kneels in front of him, gently examining the ankle.

Jeongguk can't stop babbling. "Mr Kim, I'm so sorry. I don't even know what happened. My foot caught on something and then I looked and the model had fallen—"

Taehyung pours bottled water over the ankle, washing away the sand to get a better look at the injury. He doesn't acknowledge Jeongguk's rambling at all. His fingers probe gently, and Jeongguk hisses at the touch.

"Is someone going to bring that first aid kit, or am I supposed to stand here shouting to myself?" Taehyung snaps at the crew, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Finally, someone runs over with the medical supplies. Taehyung takes it without looking up, his focus entirely on Jeongguk's ankle. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as he examines the swelling, turning the joint carefully, watching Jeongguk's face for reactions.

Jeongguk bites his lip, trying to stop the words tumbling out of him.

"Mr Kim, when you don't say anything—when you don't react at all—I just feel terrible. I swear I didn't do it on purpose. I'm really sorry."

Taehyung doesn't respond. His brows draw together slightly as he continues tending to Jeongguk's ankle, wrapping the bandage with careful precision. The only sound is the faint rush of the river nearby and the distant chatter of the crew resuming their work.

When Jeongguk hisses in pain again, Taehyung finally looks up. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," Jeongguk admits, his voice small.

"Don't worry," Taehyung says, checking the tightness of the bandage. "It's not broken—just a sprain. You'll be fine in a few days. But today, you're not putting any weight on it. Just rest. Understand?"

Jeongguk watches, mesmerized despite his embarrassment, as Taehyung efficiently wraps his ankle with practiced movements. It occurs to him that this is the most Taehyung has touched him—or anyone, really—since he started working for him.

Jeongguk nods quickly. "Mm-hm."

"Good." Taehyung stands up, brushing sand off his now-soaked and ruined jeans. The word sounds almost like praise, and something warm spreads through Jeongguk's chest, momentarily dulling the throb in his ankle.

Taehyung's professional focus snaps back into place. He turns to the crew, his voice sharp once more. "We've lost enough time. Seokjin, get the model cleaned up. Yejin, prepare the next look. Someone get Jeongguk a different shirt and find him a chair. He's staying put."

Before anyone can move to follow his instructions, a new voice cuts through the residual tension of the accident.

"Taehyung! My baby!"

Jeongguk's blood runs cold. He freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He knows that voice. He would know that bright, impossibly cheerful voice anywhere.

Park Jimin.

Before Taehyung can even react, the man with bright silver-blond hair rushes past the startled crew members, bee-lining straight for him. Jimin throws his arms around Taehyung in a tight hug, squeezing him enthusiastically.

"Look at you, working so hard! We came to see our darling boy!"

Taehyung stiffens, his entire body rigid with surprise, before he awkwardly pats Jimin's back. "Uncle? What are you doing here?"

Yoongi follows at a more sedate pace, offering a small, gummy smile. "We were just... in the area. Heard you had a shoot today, so we thought we'd drop by."

Taehyung raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. The sunglasses are off now, revealing the skepticism in his dark eyes. "In the area?" he repeats, his voice flat. He gestures to the remote shoreline. "You were just 'hanging out' two hours outside of Seoul?"

Jimin lets out a laugh that sounds a fraction too high-pitched. "Oh, you know us! We just love the countryside! So refreshing!"

Taehyung doesn't look convinced, but before he can press them further, Jimin's eyes land on Jeongguk, who is still sitting awkwardly on the equipment box, his ankle propped up.

Jimin's smile widens, and he gasps dramatically, playing the part perfectly. "Oh my! Taehyung, who is this? Did you hurt yourself, sweetie?"

Jeongguk's pulse hammers in his ears. He forces his expression to remain neutral, to look like a polite, slightly intimidated employee—not like the man Jimin hired last week.

Taehyung sighs, running a hand through his hair. "This is Jeongguk. My new assistant. He had an accident."

"Ah, I get it!" Jimin claps his hands together, his eyes lighting up as he looks back and forth between Jeongguk and Taehyung. He walks over to Jeongguk, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Jeongguk takes the offered hand. His own is slightly clammy. He clears his throat, trying to sound normal. "It's nice to meet you, too, Mr Park Jimin."

The words are out before he can stop them.

The air crackles. Jimin's smile tightens just a fraction of an inch. Behind him, Jeongguk sees Yoongi sigh, almost imperceptibly, and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Taehyung's head snaps toward him. His gaze sharpens, all skepticism returning, now directed fully at Jeongguk.

"How do you know his name?"

Oh, shit. Jeongguk's mind goes completely blank, scrambling for an excuse. He's been here less than a day, and he's already ruined everything. Think! Think!

"I... I mean..." he stammers.

"From the magazines, Taehyung," Yoongi says, his voice bored, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Jimin immediately brightens, latching onto the lifeline. He strikes a pose, placing a hand on his hip. "Exactly! Really, who doesn't know me? I'm practically a national treasure. You must have seen my spread in Vogue last month, right?" He beams at Jeongguk, silently commanding him to play along.

Jeongguk lets out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him so fast it almost makes him dizzy. "Ah, yes! That's it. The magazines." He nods, maybe too enthusiastically. "I see you in them all the time. It's an honour, sir."

Taehyung looks between the three of them, his expression still unconvinced, but the moment of immediate suspicion seems to pass because Jimin immediately claps his hands together, diverting the attention.

"Anyway!" Jimin chirps, looping his arm through Yoongi's. "Taehyung, baby, look at your poor uncle. He's so bored. Why don't you show him around? Show him the pretty water or something."

Yoongi grunts in agreement, playing his part. "So much... sand."

Taehyung sighs, the frustration returning.

"Five minutes," Jimin insists, pushing them slightly. "He looks like he's about to fall asleep standing up. Go. We'll be fine here. We'll chat with your new assistant."

Taehyung hesitates, his gaze flicking back to the set, then landing heavily on Jeongguk. He walks the few steps back to where Jeongguk is sitting on the equipment box.

"Do not get up," Taehyung orders, his voice low and firm. Jeongguk looks up, surprised by the direct attention. "Don't put any weight on that ankle. Just rest. Understand?"

Jeongguk nods quickly, his throat dry. "Yes, Mr Kim."

Taehyung gives him one last assessing look before turning and walking away with Yoongi, pointing toward the far end of the shoreline.

Jimin watches them go, his bright smile plastered on his face. He even waves.

The moment they're out of earshot, the smile drops.

"Are you dense?" Jimin hisses, whirling on Jeongguk. "What was that? 'Mr Park'? You were supposed to act like you don't know me!"

Jeongguk flinches, huddling in on himself. "I'm sorry! You surprised me. I didn't know you were coming, I just... I panicked."

"I get that," Jimin snaps, his eyes raking over Jeongguk's dishevelled state. "But that's not all. You knock a model into the water. You sprain your ankle." He leans in closer, his voice dropping. "Your job is to get Taehyung's attention, Jeongguk, not the entire world's!"

Jeongguk's face burns with shame. "I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I just tripped. It was an accident."

Jimin stares at him for a hard second, then his expression changes, becoming calculating. "Fine. This... this actually works." He suddenly straightens up, his smile returning. "Come on, I'll help you to the trailer. You need ice."

He grabs Jeongguk's arm, trying to pull him up from the box.

"What? No, wait!" Jeongguk yelps, trying to keep his balance and avoid putting weight on his injured foot. "Mr Park, wait!"

He's halfway to his feet, leaning heavily on Jimin, when he looks past Jimin's shoulder.

Down the beach, Taehyung has stopped walking. He's looking right back at them, his posture rigid.

Even from this distance, Jeongguk can see the displeasure on his face. Taehyung lifts a hand and makes a sharp, clear gesture: Sit. Down.

Jeongguk freezes. He immediately pulls his arm back from Jimin's grasp, wincing as his foot accidentally taps the ground, and flops back down onto the box.

"No," Jeongguk says, his voice suddenly firm. "I can't. I'm not moving."

Jimin looks annoyed, his smile faltering. "What are you talking about? I'm helping you."

"No," Jeongguk repeats, shaking his head and looking pointedly toward Taehyung, who is still watching them. "Mr Kim said... He told me to stay here. To rest. I'm not supposed to get up."

Jimin's eyes narrow at Jeongguk's quiet defiance, but his bright, fake smile returns instantly as Taehyung and Yoongi start walking back toward them.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

Jeongguk lets out a shaky breath, the adrenaline from the confrontation fading, replaced by the sharp, throbbing ache in his ankle and a wave of pure exhaustion. He slumps back against the equipment case, wincing as he adjusts his leg.

He reaches for his personal backpack, which Hoseok had set down nearby. As he pulls it onto his lap, his stomach drops.

The main strap is hanging by a single thread, the heavy canvas torn clean away from the top seam. It must have ripped when he fell into the water.

A sharp, unexpected sting of sadness hits him—surprisingly stronger than the pain in his ankle.

It's just an old bag, but it was his bag. His grandmother had bought it for him for his high school graduation. It was faded and worn, but it was faithful—it had held his entire life for years.

He presses his lips together, feeling a ridiculous urge to cry over a backpack.

* * *

The rest of the shoot passes in a blur. Jeongguk stays put, as ordered, feeling useless while the crew works around him. Hours later, they finally pack up, and the long, quiet drive back to Seoul begins.

Back at the company, the silence of Taehyung's office is almost deafening. Jeongguk limps to the doorway, his ruined backpack clutched in one hand, his weight heavily favoring his good leg. Taehyung is already at his desk, focused on a digital tablet, his stylus moving in short, precise strokes.

"Mr Kim?"

Taehyung hums, not looking up.

"I've finished the reports from the shoot. Can I go home now?"

This makes Taehyung pause. He looks up, and his gaze immediately drops to Jeongguk's bandaged ankle, then travels back up to his pale, exhausted face.

"Go home? Why didn't you go home straight from the set?" Taehyung asks, his voice flat. "You're exhausted. Look at you, you can barely stand."

"No, I had work..." Jeongguk protests weakly. "Things to finish. But... I'm finished now."

Taehyung leans back in his chair, setting the stylus down. He studies Jeongguk for a long moment, his eyes sharp, as if he's trying to solve a puzzle.

"You have a problem, Jeongguk," he states. It's not a question. "What is it?"

Jeongguk hesitates. It feels so stupid. After costing the company time and money, after injuring himself, he's going to complain about a bag? But Taehyung is waiting, his gaze insistent.

"It's..." Jeongguk swallows. "When I fell. My backpak ripped." He gestures uselessly with the broken item in his hand. "I've had it for a long time. My grandmother bought it for me."

He feels his cheeks heat up, embarrassed by the confession. "It was a good bag. Faithful. But... it's not that important. I'll just buy a new one when I get my salary." He tries to smile.

Taehyung doesn't respond. His expression is unreadable, his brows drawn together in thought. He picks up the stylus again, tapping it against the desk, his focus seemingly far away.

The silence stretches, becoming awkward. Jeongguk shifts, his ankle screaming in protest.

"Um... Can I leave?"

Taehyung flinches, snapping back to the present. "What? Oh. Yes, yes." He waves a hand dismissively. "Go home. Rest that ankle."

* * *

Later that evening, the squeak of sneakers on polished wood echoes in the basketball court. Taehyung stretches his arms wide, rotating his shoulders, while Hoseok dribbles a basketball, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud filling the quiet space. They're just about to start their usual game.

"Where did you find him?" Taehyung asks, his voice flat, cutting cleanly through the sound of the ball.

Hoseok stops bouncing. The sudden silence is sharp. "Find who?"

Taehyung levels him with a look—who else would I be talking about?

"Jeongguk," Taehyung says. "My new assistant."

"Oh!" Hoseok laughs, a beat too late. He resumes dribbling, a little faster this time, his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. "Him. He applied. Through the usual channels, you know. His CV was interesting."

Taehyung narrows his eyes.

"Funny," Taehyung says, walking over and smoothly taking the ball from Hoseok. He begins to dribble it himself, slow and controlled. "I seem to remember him working as a waiter. At Manu."

Hoseok freezes. "Manu?" he repeats, his voice going up half an octave.

Taehyung stops the ball, holding it firmly under his arm. He stares Hoseok down. "Yes. Manu."

"Oh, right! Manu!" Hoseok forces another laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I saw that. But his CV is great. He just... needed money for a while, did some waiting on the side. The guy's versatile, clearly willing to do any kind of work."

Taehyung just hums, unconvinced. "You're usually more thorough. Did you even look into him? Who is he? His family?"

Hoseok stops, his demeanor shifting from nervous to theatrically annoyed. "Yes, Taehyung, of course I checked his full lineage. Turns out they're royalty, seven generations back." He rolls his eyes, taking the ball back. "What does it matter? Am I hiring his family? Did they come in for a group interview? I hired him."

Taehyung remains silent, his expression still pensive. Something feels off.

Hoseok's expression softens, turning mischievous. He steps closer, nudging Taehyung's shoulder. "Hey. Why do you suddenly care about his family, anyway?" A wide grin spreads across his face. "What's the plan? Gonna marry the guy?"

Taehyung doesn't rise to the bait. He just looks at Hoseok, his face unreadable.

Hoseok laughs, backing away with his hands up. "Okay, okay, boss. I don't know anything about his family. But I know this: the guy has great energy."

Taehyung looks away, toward the basket. "Great energy," he repeats quietly, the words tasting strange. He gestures to the hoop. "We'll see."

He catches the ball mid-bounce, spins, and shoots. The ball arcs through the air and swishes through the net with satisfying precision.

"Still got it," Hoseok calls out, jogging to retrieve the ball.

They fall into an easy rhythm—passing, blocking, the comfortable silence of two people who've done this a hundred times before. Taehyung's movements are fluid, practiced. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead on his forehead. He pauses, breathing hard, and pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it to the sideline.

Hoseok wolf-whistles dramatically. "Show-off."

Taehyung doesn't dignify that with a response. He just extends his hand for the ball.

They resume playing, the intensity picking up. Hoseok drives toward the basket, and Taehyung moves to block him, their bodies colliding as they both focus on the ball. Hoseok manages to get around him, but Taehyung's longer reach intercepts the pass.

"Hoseok," Taehyung says suddenly, still dribbling.

"Hm?" Hoseok turns, slightly out of breath.

Taehyung glances back at him, his expression thoughtful, almost troubled. "This stand thing... It's making me think."

Hoseok tilts his head. "Why?"

Taehyung takes his shot. The ball bounces off the rim, but he catches the rebound smoothly. "Our brand value. I don't want it to drop."

Hoseok intercepts the ball, grinning as he dribbles away. "Dude, we're in the same segment as global brands. What, are you scared because it's outside the city?" He shoots, and the ball goes cleanly through the net. "Don't worry. I'm here."

Taehyung catches the ball as it falls, turning to move toward the basket. Hoseok immediately steps in to block him, still grinning, but there's something knowing in his expression now.

"What's going on, by the way?" Hoseok asks casually, arms spread wide to guard.

Taehyung stops, turning to look at him, brows furrowing. "What do you mean, 'what's going on'?"

Hoseok winks, stepping closer. "Oh, come on. Don't play dumb." He slaps the ball out of Taehyung's hands, stealing it smoothly. "Carrying Jeongguk in your arms and all that?"

Taehyung's jaw tightens slightly. He moves to reclaim the ball, holding it firmly between his hand and hip. "He couldn't walk. What was I supposed to do?"

Hoseok bounces on his heels, still grinning. "No, no, I'm just saying—you treat him differently. That's all I'm saying."

Taehyung's grip on the ball tightens, his knuckles whitening slightly. "I don't treat him differently. I treat him the same way I treat all my other assistants."

Hoseok snatches the ball away, dribbling it lazily as he circles Taehyung. "Yeah? Well, I don't remember you ever carrying Mina in your arms like that." He tosses the ball back to Taehyung, the movement almost challenging.

Taehyung catches it, and for a moment, his jaw visibly clenches. His dark eyes flash with something sharp—irritation, maybe defensiveness. He pivots and throws the ball hard at Hoseok.

Hoseok stumbles back, barely catching it, his eyes widening in surprise.

"That's because Mina never sprained her ankle while working for me," Taehyung says flatly, his voice cold and controlled. He steps forward, his posture tense. "Now, are we playing or not?"

Before Hoseok can respond, Taehyung moves in fast, stealing the ball back with a sharp, aggressive movement. He turns, drives toward the basket, and shoots.

The ball slams through the net.

* * *

The next morning, Taehyung wakes up with a strange, uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest.

It's ridiculous, really. Completely absurd.

He stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, the early morning light filtering through the blinds, and the first thing—the very first thing—that crosses his mind is Jeongguk.

More specifically: Jeongguk and his ankle.

Is it better? Does it still hurt? Did he ice it properly when he got home?

Taehyung frowns, turning onto his side. Why does he care? It's not like he doesn't have a hundred other things to think about—the upcoming collection, the stand designs, the budget meeting with the board. But no. His brain decides to fixate on his assistant's sprained ankle.

Weird.

Very weird.

He drags himself out of bed, moving through his morning routine on autopilot. Rowing. Shower. But even as he buttons his shirt, even as he checks his emails, Jeongguk keeps drifting back into his thoughts. Uninvited. Unwelcome.

It's annoying.

He pulls out his phone and types a quick message to Jeongguk.

Assistant Jeongguk

Go straight to the office when you're ready.

You don't need to come to my house today

By the time he's in the car heading to the office, Taehyung feels unsettled in a way he can't quite name. His chest feels tight. His thoughts feel scattered. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like feeling out of control.

He stares at the message for a moment. It's practical. Logical. The guy's ankle is injured—why make him come?

Taehyung tells himself it's just common sense.

Nothing more.

* * *

The office is quiet when Taehyung arrives. He settles into his workspace, trying to focus on the sketches laid out in front of him, but his eyes keep drifting.

Their offices are side by side, separated only by a glass wall. Taehyung can see directly into Jeongguk's space if he just glances up.

Which he does.

More than once.

More than he should.

When Jeongguk finally arrives, Taehyung's gaze lingers without meaning to. Jeongguk is wearing a bright blue shirt today—crisp, neatly tucked into black trousers. The color suits him. It really does. The blue brings out the warmth in his skin, makes his dark eyes look even brighter. There's something almost striking about it, the way the fabric catches the light when he moves.

Taehyung's pen stills on the paper.

Jeongguk's build is interesting. He's fit, clearly takes care of himself, but he's not overly muscular. Not bulky. He has that lean, balanced physique—strong but not imposing. Shoulders broad enough to fill out a jacket properly, waist tapered in a way that would make tailoring easy. The kind of body that would photograph well. The kind of body that could carry clothes with ease.

Actually, Taehyung thinks, tilting his head slightly, Jeongguk would be perfect for their neutral gender line. The proportions are right. The presence is there. He could model their designs easily—especially the more androgynous pieces they've been developing for the new campaign. The oversized blazers would hang just right on those shoulders. The fitted trousers would—

Taehyung catches himself staring and looks back down at his sketches, frowning.

What is he doing?

He forces his attention back to his work. He has a meeting in an hour. He needs to finalize these designs. He doesn't have time to sit here analyzing his assistant's body proportions like he's scouting models for a runway show.

Focus.

He picks up his pen again, dragging his attention back to the sketch in front of him. A jacket. Clean lines. Minimalist buttons. He adds a detail to the collar, then another to the—

A flash of movement catches his eye.

Against his better judgment, Taehyung's gaze lifts.

Hoseok walks into Jeongguk's office, grinning as always, and Jeongguk looks up from his desk. His whole face lights up—eyes crinkling, lips curving into that wide, genuine smile. They start talking—Hoseok gestures animatedly, and Jeongguk laughs at something, his shoulders shaking, his head tilting back slightly.

Taehyung's jaw tightens.

He doesn't know what they're talking about. It's none of his business, really. Why would it be? Hoseok is the HR director. He probably just has some paperwork to go over. Or maybe he's checking in on Jeongguk's ankle. That makes sense.

That makes perfect sense.

Taehyung's eyes stay glued to the scene anyway.

Hoseok leans against Jeongguk's desk now, clearly comfortable, and Jeongguk tilts his head, listening intently. He smiles again—softer this time, almost shy—and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

Something twists uncomfortably in Taehyung's chest.

Why does Jeongguk smile at Hoseok like that? So easily. So openly. Like they've known each other for years instead of days. And why does Hoseok look so—so comfortable there, leaning on Jeongguk's desk like he belongs in that space?

Taehyung's pen taps against his notebook. Once. Twice.

They look close. Friendly.

Too friendly.

No.

Taehyung stops himself, blinking hard. What is he even thinking? This is Hoseok. His friend. His business partner. And Jeongguk is just—he's just doing his job. Being polite. Professional.

Except he's laughing again, and the sound is muffled by the glass but Taehyung can see it, can see the way Jeongguk's eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his lips part, the way he looks so—

So what?

Taehyung's fingers tighten around his pen.

Beautiful.

The thought slams into him like a freight train, and he immediately shoves it away, his pulse quickening inexplicably.

No.

Absolutely not.

This is stupid. He has work to do. Important work. He doesn't have time to sit here watching his assistant chat with—

He stands abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Before he can second-guess himself, Taehyung walks out of his office and across the short distance to Jeongguk's door. He doesn't knock. He just opens it, the door swinging wide.

"Jeongguk," Taehyung says flatly. "My office. Now."

Both Hoseok and Jeongguk turn to look at him. Hoseok straightens up, that knowing grin spreading across his face. "Oh, wow, okay. Guess that's my cue." He pats Jeongguk on the shoulder—too familiar, too casual—and winks. "Good luck with the grumpy boss."

Jeongguk nods quickly, already reaching for his notebook and pen, and follows Taehyung.

Taehyung doesn't look back. He can feel Hoseok's eyes on him, can practically hear the smirk in his silence, but he ignores it.

Inside Taehyung's office, Jeongguk stands near the door, notebook open, pen poised. His posture is alert, professional. "Yes, Mr Kim?"

Taehyung sits down at his desk, leaning back in his chair. He looks at Jeongguk for a long moment, his expression carefully neutral. Jeongguk shifts his weight slightly—barely noticeable, but Taehyung catches it. Is he favoring his good ankle?

"What were you and Hoseok talking about?" Taehyung asks, his voice coming out sharper than he intends.

Jeongguk blinks, clearly surprised by the question. "Oh. Um—"

"Not that I care," Taehyung cuts in quickly, too quickly. He clears his throat, looking away briefly. "I just mean... it was work-related, right?"

Jeongguk hesitates, his pen hovering over the page. "Uh, yes. Mostly. He was just checking in on my ankle and—"

"Right." Taehyung nods curtly, as if that settles it. Good. Fine. That's fine. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, forcing himself to focus. "I need you to prepare a PowerPoint presentation for me."

Jeongguk straightens immediately, pen ready.

"I want data on our brand's designs over the last five years," Taehyung continues, his voice steady. "How many units were produced. How many were sold. Which products performed the best. Access the network, pull the yearly reports, and compile everything."

Jeongguk scribbles frantically, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's clearly trying to keep up. There's a small crease between his eyebrows, and Taehyung finds himself momentarily distracted by it before snapping his attention back.

"And I don't just want it digitally," Taehyung adds, his tone deliberate. "I want a hard copy as well. Printed on A3."

Jeongguk pauses mid-sentence. He looks up, confusion flickering across his face. "A3? Hard copy?"

Taehyung nods once. "Yes. A3. Hard copy."

"Right," Jeongguk says slowly, writing it down again, his lips moving slightly as he repeats the words to himself. "A3. Hard copy."

Taehyung watches him for a moment—watches the way Jeongguk's tongue pokes out slightly in concentration, the way his fingers grip the pen just a little too tightly—then leans back in his chair.

"It would be great if I had it by morning."

Jeongguk's pen freezes.

His head snaps up, eyes widening. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Yes," Taehyung says evenly, raising one eyebrow as if daring Jeongguk to challenge him. "Why? Do you have other plans?"

There's a slight edge to his voice now—subtle, but present. It's not quite a challenge, but it's close. His eyebrow arches higher, and he holds Jeongguk's gaze steadily.

Do you? Do you have plans?

Taehyung immediately hates that the thought even crosses his mind.

Jeongguk lets out a nervous laugh, shaking his head quickly, almost frantically. "No! No, of course not. I'll have it ready. It's all in the network anyway, right? So... yeah. No problem."

His voice pitches slightly higher at the end, and Taehyung can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his grip tightens even more on the pen.

Taehyung studies him for a beat longer—notes the pale cast to Jeongguk's face, the exhaustion still lingering around his eyes—then nods slowly. "Good."

There's a pause. Taehyung should let him go. The conversation is over. But instead, he finds himself speaking again.

"Also," he says, and Jeongguk looks up expectantly, almost warily. "Today, Uncle Jimin needs pieces from the gender-neutral and menswear collections sent over. Don't forget."

Jeongguk nods rapidly, his hair falling into his eyes. "Yes. Okay. Absolutely. I'll take care of it."

"Good," Taehyung repeats.

Jeongguk lingers for just a second, as if waiting for something else—a dismissal, maybe, or further instructions—then bows slightly and turns to leave.

The door clicks shut behind him.

Taehyung sits alone in his office, staring at the closed door.

Through the glass wall, he can see Jeongguk return to his desk, immediately opening his laptop and pulling up files. His fingers fly across the keyboard, and even from here, Taehyung can see the determination in the set of his jaw, the focus in his posture.

Taehyung's chest still feels tight.

He doesn't understand it.

He looks back down at his sketches, but the lines blur together, meaningless.

All he can think about is bright blue fabric and the way someone laughs when Hoseok tells a joke.

* * *

The afternoon sun filters through the lush greenery of Jimin's private garden, casting dappled shadows across the perfectly manicured lawn. Two massage tables sit side by side on the stone terrace, and Jimin and Seokjin lie face-down, cucumber slices over their eyes, while aestheticians work on their shoulders with practiced precision.

"Ah, thank you, sweetheart," Jimin sighs contentedly as one of the staff members adjusts the towel around his shoulders.

"Yes, you're an angel," Seokjin adds dreamily, his voice muffled by the face cradle.

The staff members bow politely and retreat back into the house, leaving the two men alone in peaceful silence. Birds chirp somewhere in the distance. A light breeze rustles the leaves overhead.

Jimin shifts slightly, getting more comfortable. "So," he says casually, though there's a calculated edge to his tone. "How are things at the company? The new assistant and all that."

Seokjin doesn't move, but his lips curve into a knowing smile. "Oh, please. Like you don't have ten people at the company giving you updates every five minutes. Why are you asking me?"

"Seokjin—"

"You know I hate gossip," Seokjin continues, his voice dripping with false virtue. "I'm above such things. I'm a professional. An artist."

Jimin reaches over blindly, patting around until he finds Seokjin's arm and swats it. "You're my best friend. It's different hearing it from you. And honestly?" He adjusts his cucumber slices. "You're the only person whose judgment I actually trust."

Seokjin preens slightly, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. He can't help the grin spreading across his face, even though Jimin can't see it. "Well," he says, drawing out the word. "When you put it like that..."

"So?" Jimin prompts eagerly.

Seokjin sighs, as if he's being forced to divulge state secrets. "Fine. I'll be honest with you—the boy's a bit clumsy. Accident-prone. A little... how do I put this nicely... inexperienced." He pauses for dramatic effect. "But."

"But?" Jimin echoes, lifting one cucumber slice to peek at Seokjin.

"But," Seokjin continues, clearly enjoying himself now, "there's something about him. Like... he has this charm, you know? This little devil's touch. He's sweet. Endearing. The kind of person who makes you want to help them even when they're tripping over their own feet." He chuckles. "He grows on you. Like a very cute, very clumsy fungus."

Jimin sits up fully now, both cucumber slices falling onto his lap, his face breaking into a delighted grin. "Really?"

"Really," Seokjin confirms, also sitting up and stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. "You did well, Jiminie."

Jimin throws his head back and laughs, the sound bright and triumphant. "What did you expect, darling? I know what I'm doing! This is going to work."

Seokjin picks up his glass of cucumber water from the side table, taking a leisurely sip. "Well," he sets his glass down, leaning forward conspiratorially. "He carried him. Like, bridal style. And I've worked with Taehyung for three years, Jimin. Three years. I've never seen him touch anyone like that. He barely shakes hands."

"Perfect," Jimin purrs, clapping his hands together.

Seokjin eyes him skeptically. "You're terrifying when you're scheming, you know that?"

"I prefer the term 'strategically brilliant,'" Jimin corrects, lying back down on the massage table with a satisfied sigh. "But thank you anyway."

Seokjin chuckles, settling back down on his own table and replacing the cucumber slices over his eyes. "Hiring someone to make your nephew fall in love so he'll get married... You're insane, but I love you."

"I know," Jimin replies smugly, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he closes his eyes.

The garden falls quiet again, save for the distant sound of water trickling from the fountain and the rustled whisper of leaves in the breeze—a peaceful contrast to the chaos Jimin is so carefully orchestrating.

* * *

Jeongguk drives through the Seoul streets with Taehyung's carefully packaged garments sitting in the passenger seat, but his mind is elsewhere entirely.

The presentation.

Five years of data. Production numbers. Sales figures. Top-performing products. All compiled, analyzed, and formatted into a PowerPoint—and printed on A3 paper as a hard copy.

By tomorrow morning.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

How is he supposed to do all of that? Even if he works through the night, even if he doesn't sleep at all, can he realistically finish everything? He's still learning the company's systems, still figuring out where everything is stored in the network. And the printing alone will take hours if he wants it to look professional.

He'll have to stay at the office overnight. There's no other way.

But why? Why does Taehyung give him such an impossible task? Is this some kind of test? Is he trying to see if Jeongguk will break under pressure?

Or worse—is this punishment?

Jeongguk's stomach twists uncomfortably. Is Taehyung punishing him for the accident at the shoot? For knocking the model into the water, for causing delays, for being clumsy and useless and—

He shakes his head, trying to clear the spiraling thoughts, but they cling stubbornly.

His ankle still aches. His torn backpack sits in the backseat, a constant reminder of his failures. And now this.

By the time he pulls up to Jimin's house—a beautiful, sprawling estate with manicured gardens—Jeongguk's mood has sunk completely.

He grabs the garment bags and walks up to the front door, pressing the buzzer.

A staff member lets him in and guides him through to the terrace, where Jimin and Seokjin are lounging in plush outdoor chairs, looking refreshed and glowing from their spa treatments.

"Oh!" Jimin sits up immediately when he sees Jeongguk. "What are you doing here? Why did you leave Taehyung alone?"

Seokjin leans forward as well, squinting at Jeongguk. "Yeah, why did you come here?"

Jeongguk holds up the garment bags. "Mr Kim sent the new season pieces for you. From the gender-neutral and menswear collections."

"Oh, good," Jimin says, waving a hand dismissively. But then he pauses, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes in Jeongguk's expression. "Wait. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Jeongguk says quickly, but his voice wavers.

Jimin stands up, walking over. "You look terrible. What happened?"

Jeongguk's face crumples before he can stop it. His throat tightens, and he feels the horrifying sting of tears building behind his eyes.

"Ah, no, no, no! Don't cry!" Jimin gasps, immediately pulling Jeongguk into a hug. "I can't handle it when people cry! What happened, darling? Tell me!"

Seokjin stands too, concern replacing his earlier amusement. "Okay, seriously, what's going on?"

Jeongguk tries to hold it together, but the exhaustion, the stress, the impossible workload—it all comes crashing down at once. "I—I don't think I can do this job," he admits, his voice thick. "The assistantship, making him fall in love with me, the marriage plan... all of it. I can't do any of it."

Jimin's eyes widen in panic. "Wait, wait, wait—think about this!" He grabs Jeongguk by the shoulders. "I gave you a hundred thousand dollars! If you can't do this job, you'll owe me a hundred thousand dollars!"

The words hang in the air.

Jeongguk stares at him, his eyes growing impossibly wide, tears now spilling over and streaming down his cheeks. His mouth opens slightly in horror, and his eyes get even bigger, like he's just realized the full magnitude of his doom.

Jimin immediately realizes his mistake. "Oh my god—no, that's not—"

Seokjin covers his face with both hands. "Jimin, you're terrible at this."

Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically. "Ugh, okay, fine. Come here, sit down, sit down." He pulls Jeongguk over to the seating area, practically shoving him onto the couch between himself and Seokjin. "Forget I said that. Just tell us what happened. From the beginning."

Jeongguk takes a shaky breath and explains—the presentation, the data compilation, the hard copy on A3 paper, the impossible deadline of tomorrow morning. He talks about feeling useless, about wondering if Taehyung is punishing him on purpose.

By the time he finishes, Jimin and Seokjin exchange a long look.

"Okay," Jimin says firmly, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling Hoseok. He'll help you."

"What?" Jeongguk looks up, startled. "No, I can't—Mr Kim gave me the assignment, I have to—"

"Jeongguk," Jimin interrupts gently, scrolling through his contacts. "Hoseok knows that system inside and out. He can walk you through it, show you where everything is. You're not cheating—you're being smart and asking for help when you need it." He presses the call button. "Trust me. This is what people do in the real world."

Jeongguk sniffles, wiping at his eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so," Jimin says firmly as the phone rings. "Now go back to the office. Hoseok will meet you there."

* * *

Back at the company, Jeongguk paces back and forth in his small office, his footsteps wearing an invisible path in the carpet. Taehyung left hours ago—the main floor is dark and silent except for the hum of the air conditioning and Jeongguk's anxious breathing.

He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair. How is he supposed to—

"Knock knock!"

Jeongguk spins around to find Hoseok standing in the doorway, grinning widely despite the late hour. He's changed into comfortable clothes—a hoodie and joggers—and carries two iced coffees.

"What happened?" Hoseok asks cheerfully, stepping inside and setting one coffee on Jeongguk's desk. "Did Taehyung drop a presentation bomb on you?"

Jeongguk lets out a weak laugh, his shoulders sagging with relief at seeing a friendly face. "Yes, Mr Jung. Something like that. I'm so sorry for pulling you away from your evening. I feel terrible taking up your personal time."

"Ah, please," Hoseok waves a hand dismissively, dropping into the desk chair and rolling it over to the computer. "What personal time? I was just at home watching cooking shows and judging people's knife skills." He boots up the system, his fingers already flying across the keyboard. "Besides, this is way more fun. We're in this together until morning, Jeongguk."

"Until morning," Jeongguk repeats weakly, sitting down in the extra chair. "I just want to finish this. I don't want anything else. Just to finish."

Hoseok pauses, turning to look at Jeongguk properly. His expression softens, becoming more serious. "Hey. Relax a little, yeah? You're smart."

Jeongguk blinks, a surprised smile tugging at his lips despite everything. He points at himself. "Me? Smart?"

"Yes, you, smart." Hoseok laughs, his grin returning. "Well, smart and maybe a little bit clueless. But that's a good combination." He reaches over and taps Jeongguk's forehead gently. "Just stay calm. There's no task you can't handle if you approach it right. And keep smiling!" He demonstrates with an exaggerated beam. "See? Much better. Now—" He turns back to the computer, cracking his knuckles theatrically. "Let's get to work."

Hours pass in a blur of spreadsheets, graphs, and data compilations.

Jeongguk pulls his chair closer to Hoseok's, watching as the older man navigates through the company's internal network with practiced ease. The screen displays the VANNERI logo—sleek, minimalist, elegant in its simplicity.

"Okay, and... there," Hoseok clicks a few more times, then hits print. The printer in the corner whirs to life, and large A3 sheets begin to emerge. "Yes! We got our printouts. We're done."

Jeongguk's eyes widen, disbelief and relief flooding through him in equal measure.

"Wait, really? We're done? Oh my god, it looks amazing!" He leans forward, watching the pages stack up. The presentation is clean, professional, exactly what Taehyung asked for. "This is incredible. I can't believe we actually finished. Thank you so much!"

Hoseok stretches his arms above his head, groaning. "Told you. Nothing you can't handle." He grins, reaching over to ruffle Jeongguk's hair. "See? You did great."

Jeongguk's smile lingers as he looks back at the screen, at the VANNERI logo still displayed prominently. "Where does the name VANNERI come from?" Jeongguk tilts his head curiously. "You're one of the founders, right? Did you choose it?"

Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. "Taehyung came up with it. He's our creative genius. The head designer. I just... present things. Make them happen. But the vision? That's all him."

"But where does it come from?" Jeongguk presses. "The word itself?"

"It's from Italian," Hoseok explains, leaning back in his chair. "Or inspired by it, anyway. Vane means 'vain' or 'empty' in Italian, but Taehyung liked the sound of it—he said fashion is about filling the emptiness with meaning, with identity. And vanneri just... felt right. Like it represented both the void and what we create to fill it." He shrugs. "Honestly, I think he just thought it sounded cool. But he gave it meaning, you know? That's what he does. He makes things matter."

Jeongguk stares at the logo for a long moment, something warm and complicated settling in his chest.

"Actually," Hoseok says, his voice softer now, "Taehyung isn't as cold as he seems. I've known him since Italian high school. We were on the basketball team together."

Jeongguk's eyebrows shoot up. "Wait—basketball? Does he still play?"

"Taehyung loves sports," Hoseok confirms with a nostalgic smile. "Well, let's say he loves pushing himself. Physically, mentally—he's always challenging himself somehow."

Jeongguk falls silent, processing this. It's hard to reconcile the image of the controlled, distant Taehyung he knows with someone who plays basketball, who sweats and laughs and—

"Jeongguk."

Hoseok's voice cuts through his thoughts. When Jeongguk looks up, Hoseok is sitting on the edge of the desk now, facing him directly. The usual cheerful warmth in his expression has faded, replaced by something more serious, more weighted.

"Taehyung is a good person," Hoseok says quietly. "A very honest person."

Jeongguk's stomach drops. The air in the room suddenly feels heavier. He knows exactly what Hoseok is talking about—the arrangement, the plan, the deception. Making Taehyung fall in love. The marriage scheme.

His throat tightens with guilt.

"I'm not..." Jeongguk starts, his voice strained. He looks down at his hands. "I'm not a bad person either. I mean, I accepted Mr Park's offer, but..." He trails off, struggling to find the right words. "I wouldn't normally do something like this. I just... I want you to know that. I'm not—this isn't who I am."

The confession hangs between them, raw and uncomfortable.

Hoseok's expression softens. He stands up from the desk, a gentle smile returning to his face. "I understand," he says simply. He starts gathering the printed materials, stacking them neatly. "We worked hard tonight. How about we grab some tteokbokki and gimbap? My treat."

Jeongguk's face lights up immediately, relief and gratitude washing over him. "Really? Yes! That sounds perfect."

"Come on then," Hoseok says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I know a place that's open 24 hours. Best tteokbokki in the area."

* * *

The late-night streets are nearly empty as they walk to the 24-hour restaurant Hoseok knows. The neon sign flickers invitingly, and the warm smell of spices hits them as soon as they enter.

They settle into a corner booth, and Hoseok orders for both of them—extra spicy tteokbokki and several types of gimbap. When the food arrives, steaming and fragrant, Jeongguk's stomach growls audibly.

"Eat up," Hoseok says, pushing the plates toward him. "You earned it."

As they dig in, Jeongguk suddenly pauses mid-bite, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He clears his throat dramatically.

"Oh, Taehyung, you're being impossible again!" he says in an exaggerated voice, waving his chopsticks in the air. "The lighting is all wrong! The models look tired! Everything must be perfect or I simply cannot work!"

Hoseok nearly chokes on his rice cake. "Oh my god—is that Seokjin?"

Jeongguk grins, warming to his performance. He tosses his head back dramatically. "I am an artist! Do you know how many awards I've won? And yet here I am, suffering under this scorching sun, my beautiful skin wrinkling by the second!"

"That's him! That's exactly him!" Hoseok gasps between laughs, slapping the table. "How do you—the voice is perfect!"

They both dissolve into giggles, and Jeongguk takes a bow from his seated position.

"We talk about him sometimes," Hoseok admits, wiping tears from his eyes. "Not in a mean way! He's brilliant, just... dramatic."

"Very dramatic," Jeongguk agrees, still grinning as he picks up another rice cake.

Hoseok leans forward conspiratorially. "Okay, now do Yejin."

Jeongguk's smile falters. "Oh, no. I can't."

"Please?" Hoseok puts his hands together in a begging gesture. "Look, as your boss, I'm making a formal request. And I promise—this stays between us. Our secret."

Jeongguk hesitates, then sighs. "Fine. But only because you asked so nicely."

He stands up from the booth, shaking his head as if he has long hair to toss over his shoulder. Then, in a high, breathy voice:

"Taehyuuung~" He draws out the name, making it sound like honey dripping. "You promised to take me to dinner, remember? You can't keep working all the time."

Hoseok immediately presses his lips together, covering his face with both hands, but his shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

Encouraged, Jeongguk continues, swaying slightly as if trying to be seductive. "Don't you think we'd look perfect together?"

Hoseok completely loses it, laughing so hard he has to lean against the wall of the booth. His face turns red, and he gasps for air.

Jeongguk drops back into his seat, grinning. "Please don't tell anyone I did that."

"Never," Hoseok wheezes, still catching his breath. "Our secret. But wow—you really notice everything, don't you?"

Jeongguk shrugs, suddenly a bit shy. "I guess I just pay attention."

They fall into comfortable conversation, the warmth of the food and shared laughter creating a cozy bubble in the empty restaurant. Hoseok talks about some random client story, hands moving as he speaks, and Jeongguk just listens—the sound of his boss's voice oddly grounding.

For the first time since this "make your boss fall in love with you and marry him" game began, Jeongguk feels light.

Almost good.

* * *

The laughter from the night before feels like a distant memory. The morning rush in his family's apartment is chaos—his grandmother shouting about breakfast, his younger sister complaining about a lost textbook, and his brother taking too long in the bathroom.

Jeongguk escapes the noise, tying his tie as he jogs down the three flights of stairs from their house. His sprained ankle, now fully healed, takes the impact without a single twinge of protest. Instead of heading straight for the bus stop, he takes a sharp right, jogging down the familiar street to Namjoon's house just two blocks away.

He buzzes the flat, and Namjoon's sleepy voice crackles over the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Hyung, it's me. Open up, it's an emergency!"

The lock clicks, and Jeongguk takes the stairs two at a time, meeting Namjoon in the hallway. Namjoon is shirtless, wearing old sweatpants, his hair a mess.

"What? What's wrong?" Namjoon asks, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Did your grandma lock you out again? What time is it anyway?"

"No, I..." Jeongguk pushes past him into the quiet apartment, the contrast to his own home sharp and immediate. "I have to get to work, but I had to tell you something. We haven't had a chance to really talk."

Namjoon's expression softens. He closes the door, leaning against it. "Yeah, I know. How's the job? Is it as crazy as it looked?"

Jeongguk lets out a short, hollow laugh. "You have no idea." He paces the small entryway, too agitated to stand still. "Hyung... you know my new boss, right? Kim Taehyung?"

Namjoon nods, alert now. "Yeah? The designer guy. The one you're supposed to..." He wisely lets the sentence die.

"Do you know who he really is?"

Namjoon tenses, seeing the panic in Jeongguk's eyes. "Who?"

Jeongguk stops pacing and looks at him, his voice dropping. "He's the guy from the restaurant. The one who... who 'kissed-not-kissed' me."

Namjoon stares. His brain seems to buffer, trying to connect the two pieces of information. Then, his eyes go wide.

"He—What?!"

Namjoon's voice cracks, loud in the quiet apartment. "Wait. Hold on. The random, ridiculously handsome guy from Manu? The one who grabbed you and pretended to kiss you to save himself from his awful date... that's Kim Taehyung? Your boss?"

Jeongguk nods miserably, running his hands through his hair. "Yes."

"Oh, shit." Namjoon steps forward, his mind clearly racing. "Jeongguk. That's... that's not a coincidence. That cannot be a coincidence."

"That's what I'm saying!"

"That means..." Namjoon grabs his arm. "Park Jimin found you. He looked for you after that day. This whole job offer..."

"Yeah..." All these things make him feel sick. "Hyung," he whispers, his voice cracking. "What am I going to do? He's... he's not what I expected. He's confusing. He's intense, but then he's... gentle. And Hoseok—his partner—he's so nice. He told me last night that Taehyung is a good person. An honest person, hyung. I am... deceiving him."

The full weight of the lie settles on him.

Namjoon sees the spiral starting. He puts his hands firmly on Jeongguk's shoulders. "Hey. Stop. There's no problem, alright? Pull yourself together."

"But, hyung—"

"No more buts," Namjoon says firmly. "You have a job, and you have a goal. We'll figure it out. We always do."

He gives Jeongguk's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Look, your ankle is healed. You're back on your feet. You're fine. You can handle this."

He glances at the clock on the wall. "Now, look at the time. You're going to be late. The 'great and honest' Mr Kim doesn't seem like the type to appreciate tardiness."

Jeongguk pales again for a different reason. "Oh god, you're right."

"Exactly. Go." Namjoon steers him to the door. "Go to work. Be the best damn assistant he's ever had. We'll talk later. Properly. Go now!"

Jeongguk sprints from Namjoon's building, his mind racing faster than his feet. The bus ride to Taehyung's affluent neighborhood is a blur of passing scenery and intense internal debate.

He shakes his head, gripping the bus railing. No. He took this deal for one reason. The money. The crippling debt that was threatening to drown his family. If he hadn't...

He cuts the thought off, his jaw tightening. His brother's situation had been a matter of life and death, literally. This isn't about feelings; it's about survival. He doesn't have the luxury of feeling guilty. He's here to do a job.

By the time he keys in the code to Taehyung's silent, sprawling house, his resolve has hardened. He takes a deep breath in the foyer, setting his still-broken backpack down.

Okay. Nothing is going to ruin my mood today. I can do this.

His first task of the day is always breakfast. Taehyung is usually gone by this hour, already on the Han River, rowing with a dedication Jeongguk finds both admirable and terrifying.

The house is his own in the mornings, a quiet space where he can prepare the simple, healthy breakfast Taehyung requires.

He rounds the corner into the main living area and stops dead.

Taehyung is there.

He's asleep on the massive sofa, still in the clothes from yesterday. His feet are bare, but he's lying awkwardly, half-curled up, his arm thrown over his eyes to block out the morning light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Jeongguk freezes. This is wrong. Taehyung is never here. He's never off-schedule. He looks exhausted, pale, and small against the huge couch.

Jeongguk retreats to the kitchen, his heart pounding. What's the protocol? He pulls out his phone and speed-dials his other friend, Goeun.

"Goeun," he whispers frantically as soon as she picks up.

"What? I'm sleeping," a girl's voice grumbles.

"He's here! He's asleep on the couch! Should I wake him up? What if he gets angry? He's supposed to be rowing!"

"Calm down," she whispers back. "Just... I don't know, 'accidentally' drop a pan?"

"A pan? Are you crazy? I can't just—"

Jeongguk turns around, still whispering, and nearly screams.

Taehyung is standing right there, just feet away in the kitchen entryway.

Jeongguk yelps, his phone slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the marble floor. "A! Mr Kim! I'm so sorry!" He scrambles to pick up the phone, his face burning. "I... I was just wondering if I should wake you up or not! I mean, you're usually... You didn't go rowing."

Taehyung looks sick. He's paler up close, and his eyes are shadowed. He scrubs a hand over his face.

"I'm feeling a little... unwell," Taehyung says, his voice rough from sleep.

He pushes his hair back, already moving toward the hallway. "Listen," he continues, "just tell Driver Ahn to take you to the office. I'll get ready and come in later."

Jeongguk's panic is immediately replaced by concern.

"But... your breakfast?"

"I'm not eating," Taehyung says, not looking back. "You can just go."

He disappears up the stairs without another word. Jeongguk stands alone in the huge, silent kitchen, his heart still hammering. Taehyung looked genuinely sick. He doesn't understand. The unshakable, perfect Mr Kim skipping rowing? Unwell?

Something is definitely wrong.

* * *

Jeongguk spends the entire morning running on nervous energy. Taehyung's absence makes the office feel strange, but it also gives him space to finalize the presentation. He meticulously organizes the A3 printouts that he and Hoseok finished just hours before dawn.

By the afternoon, he's buzzing with a mix of exhaustion and pride. He did it.

Just as he's returning from the coffee machine, the main elevator dings. Taehyung steps out.

He looks better than he did this morning. Still pale, perhaps, but the unsteady sickness is gone. He's back in his armor—a sharp, dark grey suit, his hair perfectly styled.

Jeongguk intercepts him right at the door, forcing his brightest, most professional smile. "Good afternoon, Mr Kim. I'm glad you're feeling better."

Taehyung pauses, his hand on his office door. He looks at Jeongguk. "So, what happened with the work?"

His voice is dry. He tilts his head, a hint of mockery in his eyes.

"Do I need to come to your desk to get it?" he asks, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Or does the work not actually exist?"

Jeongguk's smile tightens. The jab lands exactly as intended. It's clear Taehyung gave him the impossible task fully expecting him to fail—a spark of anger flares under his polite demeanour.

He tries to keep his smile in place. "No, Mr Kim. It's finished. I'll bring it right in."

He walks to his own desk, grabs the thick stack of A3 papers, and returns. He holds them out.

Taehyung stares at the stack. He's clearly shocked, though his face barely moves. He hesitates, his eyes flicking from the printouts to Jeongguk's face, before he slowly takes them.

He flips through the first few pages. The data is clean, the graphs are sharp, the layout is exactly to VANNERI standards.

Jeongguk waits, his heart hammering. He's practically vibrating, desperate for a word of acknowledgment. Maybe a "Well done," or "You surprised me," or even just "This is good."

He watches Taehyung's eyes scan the pages.

But Taehyung just looks up at him, his expression cool and unreadable. He hands the stack back to Jeongguk.

"I expect work that I ask for on my desk," Taehyung says, his voice flat, "to be on my desk."

The small spark of anger in Jeongguk begins to smolder. The exhaustion, the panic from last night, the stress... his patience is wearing thin.

He maintains his smile, though it feels brittle. "If you had been in your office, Mr Kim, I would have brought it to your office."

Taehyung's eyebrows shoot up. A small, condescending smile plays on his lips. "Oh? So the problem is my absence?"

Jeongguk's fragile smile finally drops. The politeness evaporates, replaced by pure, exhausted frustration.

"Yes. Exactly," he says, his voice sharp. "Though, I suppose you gave me this assignment hoping I'd fail anyway."

The last words are quiet, almost under his breath, but in the tense silence, they carry perfectly.

Taehyung's head snaps back slightly, the condescending amusement vanishing, replaced by sharp disbelief. His brows furrow. "Excuse me?"

Jeongguk is done. The lack of sleep, the stress of the lie, the humiliation of this morning, and now this impossible-to-win game—it all boils over.

"I said," Jeongguk responds, his voice rising, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, "if you're just going to scold me for a hobby, then I won't bother answering at all. Because you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

The entire office floor goes utterly silent.

Taehyung just stares at him. The air crackles. For a long, terrible second, Jeongguk thinks he might be fired on the spot.

Then, Taehyung closes his eyes and takes one long, deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks exhausted.

He opens his eyes, his gaze cold. "You know exactly how I woke up this morning."

Before Jeongguk can react, Taehyung snatches the stack of A3 papers from his hands. He turns, strides into his office, and pulls the heavy glass door shut.

Slam.

The sound echoes through the open-plan office, sharp and violent.

Jeongguk flinches, his anger instantly vanishing, replaced by cold, drenching shock. He stands frozen, staring at the closed door.

Slowly, he becomes aware that everyone is looking at him.

The entire floor. The design team, the marketing assistants—everyone has stopped working, their faces a uniform mask of horror. He just yelled at Kim Taehyung. The boss.

His gaze lands on Yejin, who is standing near the desk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She's looking at him with her eyes narrowed into slits, her expression one of pure, unadulterated loathing.

A hot wave of shame washes over Jeongguk. He feels his face burn from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Oh, god. What did I just do?

Jeongguk practically collapses into his desk chair, his legs shaking. He stares through the glass wall of Taehyung's office, his stomach churning with dread.

He can see Taehyung inside, standing by his desk, his back to the office. He's not looking at the presentation. He's just standing there.

I'm going to be fired. The thought hits him with the force of a physical blow. I yelled at him. In front of everyone. After he was sick. I'm fired. What am I going to tell Mr Park? What am I going to do about the money?

He buries his face in his hands, his breath coming too fast.

The internal phone on his desk lets out a sharp, digital ring, making him jump so violently he nearly falls off his chair.

He stares at the caller ID: KIM TAEHYUNG.

His blood runs cold. This is it. He picks up the receiver with a trembling hand. "Y-yes?"

"Can you come to my office, please?"

Taehyung's voice is calm. Impersonal.

"Oh! Yes, of course, right away!" Jeongguk blurts out, hanging up.

He stands, smooths down his shirt (which is now slightly damp with nervous sweat), and walks the long, agonizing walk to the door. He taps lightly and enters without waiting for a reply.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, the words come spilling out in a desperate, high-speed torrent, like a machine gun.

"Mr Kim, I am very so, so sorry I yelled at you. I didn't mean to yell, I would never want to yell at you, it's just—I was a little sleep-deprived from last night, which—which is not an excuse! Don't misunderstand! It's not your fault! You just gave me a work, —and I can absolutely work while sleep-deprived, that's part of the job, I just mean—"

Taehyung is leaning against his desk, watching him, and he's smirking.

"Jeongguk."

His name, spoken so calmly, cuts through the panic. Jeongguk stops, his mouth snapping shut.

"I mean," he tries again, his voice much smaller, "I'm sorry for raising my voice. But... I didn't really yell. Did I?"

The smirk on Taehyung's face widens into a small, genuine smile. He pushes himself off the desk and walks to a set of drawers. He pulls one open and takes something out.

It's a sleek, black cloth bag, the kind expensive items come in, with the single word VANNERI printed on it in elegant white lettering. It clearly holds something solid inside.

Taehyung walks back and holds it out to him.

Jeongguk just stares at it, confused.

"You mentioned that your 'faithful' backpack ripped the other day." He nudges the bag toward Jeongguk. "I thought this might work."

Jeongguk freezes.

His brain struggles to process what is happening. He just yelled at his boss. He expects to be fired. And now, his boss... is giving him a present?

A VANNERI bag? A bag that probably costs more than a quarter of his monthly salary?

"I..." he stammers, his mind completely blank.

Taehyung still holds the bag out to him, his expression patient.

Jeongguk slowly reaches out, his fingers trembling, and takes the cloth bag. He pulls the drawstring and slides the contents out.

His breath catches.

It's a backpack, but not from the same universe as his old one. It's a deep, rich navy blue, crafted from a waterproof, textured canvas that shimmers slightly where the light hits it. The stitching is flawless. The metal buckles and zippers are matte silver, each etched with a tiny, subtle 'V'.

It's minimalist. Functional. Breathtakingly beautiful. It's Taehyung's entire aesthetic in bag form.

"This is..." Jeongguk turns it over in his hands. It feels so new, so expensive, he's almost afraid to touch it.

He pulls the main zipper. The lining inside isn't nylon; it's a soft, light grey suede. And the interior... it's an organizational masterpiece. A padded sleeve rests against the back, clearly for a laptop.

"Whoa," he whispers, his eyes lighting up.

Forgetting his professionalism entirely, he starts exploring, his voice rising with excitement. "Wait are there two main compartments? This is amazing!"

He runs his hands along the inside, finding smaller internal pockets and even a leather key leash. He turns the bag around, discovering a hidden, vertical zipper pocket built seamlessly into the back padding.

"Oh my God! There's a secret pocket, too! This—this is the best bag I've ever seen. Seriously."

He looks up at Taehyung, all his earlier anger and shame completely gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered awe. His smile is huge, stretching from ear to ear. "This is so cool!"

He can't contain his excitement.

Still grinning, Jeongguk slings the backpack onto both shoulders. It's light but sturdy. He turns, spots the full-length mirror standing near Taehyung's design station—the one surrounded by mannequins and bolts of fabric.

He rushes over to it, looking at his reflection.

It looks perfect. It sits high and snug on his back, transforming his simple work shirt and slacks into something that looks intentional, even stylish. It looks like it belongs here. He's so happy. He turns side to side, admiring the profile.

He's so caught up in the moment, so overwhelmed by the kindness after a day of such high stress, that he acts on pure impulse.

He spins around, beaming, and closes the distance between them in three quick steps. Before Taehyung can react, Jeongguk throws his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, Mr Kim! This is—"

He freezes.

For the first second, Taehyung is completely rigid, his body stiff with surprise under Jeongguk's hold.

Then, awkwardly, his hands come to rest on Jeongguk's waist. They don't squeeze; they just land there, warm and steady. Jeongguk can feel the heat of his palms through his shirt.

What am I doing?

As soon as the thought hits, Taehyung gives a gentle but firm push, breaking the embrace.

Jeongguk stumbles back, his entire body flooding with a heat that has nothing to do with happiness and everything to do with pure, agonizing embarrassment. His hands fly to his mouth.

"Oh my god. Mr Kim. I'm so sorry." His voice is a mortified whisper. "I—I don't know why I did that. I just—I didn't mean to—I'm so sorry—"

He keeps his head bowed, his eyes fixed on the floor, burning with shame.

Cool fingers suddenly cup his chin.

Taehyung tilts his head up, his touch firm, forcing Jeongguk to meet his gaze. Jeongguk's breath hitches.

"This isn't a 'well done,'" Taehyung says, his voice quiet. "You're just doing the work you're supposed to. This isn't a reward."

He leans in, just slightly.

"And," he continues, his voice surprisingly gentle, almost light, with a sweet undertone that contradicts his words. "Don't raise your voice at me again—I am not saying yell if you have noticed. Raise. Or we'll have to change the rules between us. Got it?"

Jeongguk can't speak. He presses his lips together, his gaze locked with Taehyung's. He gives a small, sharp blink of understanding.

Taehyung's touch lingers, his thumb resting lightly against the skin of Jeongguk's jaw. They just look at each other, the space between them suddenly very small and very quiet.

But they are not actually alone.

Someone watches them through the glass wall.

It's Yejin.

Her arms are crossed, her face a mask of cold observation. She doesn't just see the new VANNERI bag on Jeongguk's shoulder. She sees the intimacy of the moment. She sees Taehyung's hand on Jeongguk's chin. She sees the way they are looking at each other.

Her eyes narrow. A decision settles onto her face.

She turns, moving silently toward the stairwell where no one can see her. She pulls her phone from her pocket and presses a number from her recent calls. The line connects. Yejin doesn't bother with a greeting.

"I'll do what you said," she says, her voice low and steady, all traces of her sweet facade gone.

She glances back toward the office, where the two men are still frozen in their moment.