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...
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“They really did go all out with this celebration!”
Yoongi took a small bite of fruit tart, chewing slowly as he surveyed the grand hall. Golden chandeliers hung like frozen suns, throwing scattered reflections across the marble floor. Velvet drapes lined the walls, and a live orchestra played softly in the background, filling the space with a refined, almost delicate energy. Every corner of the room screamed wealth and power, a reminder of the empire’s hundred-year legacy.
Seok Jin, standing beside him with effortless poise, held a tulip glass of champagne. He noticed Yoongi’s impressed expression and smirked.
“Well, his imperial majesty sure took a lot of money from our family. So…” Jin shrugged, letting the words hang in the air.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re talking as if you and your family won’t benefit from that in the future,” he countered, voice calm but pointed.
Jin laughed aloud, a rich, melodic sound that turned a few heads. “Touché,” he said, raising his glass in a mock salute.
Yoongi shook his head, exasperated but amused. “You are insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.
That brief interaction, so casual yet charged with their usual teasing tension, caught the attention of a few nobles passing by. They whispered to each other, eyes flicking toward the pair. Normally, no one dared speak so frankly to a noble like Jin, let alone in the midst of such an opulent gathering. But Yoongi’s defiance, his refusal to bend to status, had always amused Jin. It was honest. It was rare. And it reminded Jin why he enjoyed Yoongi’s company more than most.
The amused noble slapped Yoongi on the back twice, a sarcastic laugh escaping him. “Yoongi-ah! You’re so sharp!” He then raised his glass and took a slow sip of champagne.
Yoongi’s jaw tightened. He scanned the room briefly to see if anyone overheard, then muttered under his breath, leaning slightly away from the noble, “…rich motherfuckers.”
Jin chuckled softly at the comment, shaking his head. “Always so dramatic,” he whispered, though there was a fondness in his tone.
Yoongi returned to his tart, chewing methodically, pretending the comment hadn’t been made. But the subtle smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. Jin noticed, and the laughter bubbled up again, quiet enough to stay among them.
