The rebel crown prince Jeon Jungkook, starts to feel something special towards the slave dancer Park Jimin.
Two of them living in completely different worlds. While the crown prince of Seoulvenia, Jeon Jungkook, wants freedom from his entitled roya...
Jimin, Hoseok, and Jihyo finished getting dressed and met in their modest living room.
They double-checked their accessories, costumes, and shoes. Every detail mattered tonight. Once satisfied, the eldest, Hoseok, patted his two younger siblings on the shoulder with a reassuring smile.
"Let's go," he said softly, but with authority.
Together, they left for the theater, moving swiftly through the dim alleys of Ruvana.
THE THEATER
Lord Eishi waited for them, perched on a rickety wooden chair that looked far too small for his bulk. Dressed in pristine white robes adorned with gilded accessories from head to toe, he exuded the kind of arrogance only extreme wealth could give. His assistant flipped through the day's account book, oblivious to the approaching performers.
As soon as J-Hope, Jimin, and Jihyo stepped inside, Lord Eishi turned sharply. Jimin's eyes automatically cringed in his mind.
'That wooden chair is such a disgusting sight... someone should take it out of its misery.'
Lord Eishi rose, the gold accessories clinking ominously, and delivered a sharp slap to the back of Jhope's head. The sound echoed across the theater, drawing the attention of the other slaves preparing for their performances.
"YOU BASTARDS! WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG? MAKING YOUR LORD WAIT FOR YOU! BASTARDS!"
Jimin felt a tight knot in his stomach, but Jihyo grabbed his arm gently to hold him back.
Silence fell over the theater like a heavy curtain. Nobody dared speak; angering the lord meant inviting punishment, sometimes for weeks.
"We are so sorry, my lord. It's a big day, so we were preparing extra," Hoseok said calmly, rubbing the back of his head, trying to soothe the pain.
Jimin could see the faint smile Hoseok forced through the discomfort. He understood—Hoseok was reassuring him that everything was fine, even if it hurt. Jimin clenched his fists but turned his attention to his preparations, tying his shoes for the performance.
Two other dancers approached, whispering to each other before speaking directly to Jimin.
"The three of you think you're so special," one sneered.
Jimin stopped, raising an eyebrow.
"We also practiced our best. Don't think it'll be easy to beat us today," the other added.
Jimin let out a soft, almost amused laugh, meeting their eyes with a sharp glare. The two men instinctively stepped back, uneasy under his intense stare.
The confident one tried to close the gap between them.
"First of all—no."
"Secondly—no."
"Thirdly—fuck off."
Despite his small, soft appearance—mochi-like hands, puppy eyes, and puffy lips—Jimin had a side that few dared to challenge. Anyone who saw it knew not to cross him.
The extras, sensing the silent warning, retreated.
Jimin rolled his eyes and returned to tying his shoes.
'Even if it wasn't already decided that Jihyo and I would be picked, I'm sure it would still be us. Not you idiots...'
'We're a million times better than y'all.'
With that thought, he focused entirely on the performance ahead. Tonight wasn't just another show—it was their chance to shine, to captivate, and maybe, just for a few hours, forget the chains of their reality.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
