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...
Jin's short lecture had left Jungkook in a slightly sour mood, even though he knew Jin only spoke out of concern. Servants continued swarming around him, fussing over every inch of his attire and accessories. They moved hastily—the fixed time for the crown prince’s arrival at the ballroom was drawing near. Not that Jungkook’s habit of getting up late made their job any easier.
A guard approached, holding a crisp message.
“His royal highness, Crown Prince of Seoulvenia; His imperial majesty is waiting for your arrival.”
Jungkook waved his hand dismissively at the servant adjusting his sleeves. “Yeah, I fucking know,” he muttered.
He turned to the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself under the chandelier’s sparkling light.
Oh god. What am I? A chandelier?
Every jewel and accessory placed on him for this special occasion caught the light, reflecting brilliance from his already glowing skin. His hair was perfectly styled, his outfit impeccable. Even the female servants around him seemed too flustered to look him in the eye.
He exhaled sharply. Screw it. Let’s deal with this bullshit party.
Two knights flanked him as he walked down the hallway toward the ballroom.
---
Upon entering the grand palace ballroom, all eyes immediately shifted to him. The crowd hushed as the emperor looked up, his gaze sharp.
“You are late!” the emperor said.
Jungkook approached the throne with casual ease, pausing beside his father. He leaned in and whispered with a mischievous grin, “I know…”
For the assembled aristocrats, the subtle gesture carried no weight. The emperor, noticing his son’s playful yet defiant expression, could only sigh inwardly. Jungkook’s disregard for strict etiquette was nothing new.
---
As the crown prince moved through the ballroom, nobles approached in a steady stream, eager to pay their respects. Jungkook greeted them quickly, letting his charm do the work while avoiding unnecessary conversation. His gaze briefly caught his cousin Irene, surrounded by male nobles, the center of attention as always.
…Wow. What a new fucking thing, he thought dryly, rolling his eyes.
He then spotted Namjoon across the room, engaged with guests, smiling effortlessly. Namjoon’s warm nod in his direction pulled a genuine smile from Jungkook—the first since he had arrived.
“I didn’t expect you to be in a good mood, his royal highness,” Seok Jin said, approaching with a polite bow.
“Ah! Jin hyung!” Jungkook brightened momentarily but quickly masked it, aware of the crowd. Jin greeted both the emperor and other nobles before moving on, leaving Jungkook feeling invisible again, swallowed by the weight of the celebration and its spectators.
---
Meanwhile, backstage at the grand theater where the evening’s royal performances were set to begin, Jimin, Hoseok, and Jihyo were preparing in their dressing room. The three slaves moved with practiced precision, slipping into elaborate costumes and fastening delicate accessories. Hoseok, ever the older brother figure, checked each of them, adjusting a collar here, smoothing a costume there, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Almost ready,” he said, brushing Jihyo’s hair gently into place. “Remember, breathe and focus.”
Jimin caught his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his costume one last time, but his mind wandered. The heavy velvet curtains at the side of the stage offered him a glimpse of the grand ballroom beyond. And then he saw him.
The crown prince.
Jungkook, moving through the ballroom like he owned the air itself, his golden attire shimmering under the lights. Jimin quickly ducked behind the curtain, heart hammering. He could hear faint murmurs of the other female performers in the room.
“Did you see him? The crown prince is here!” one whispered, barely containing a squeal.
“Look at that hair! And those eyes…” another gushed, fanning herself with her hand.
“Imagine getting noticed by him…” a third added, her cheeks turning pink.
Jimin rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. Bullshit royals.
He adjusted his stance, his thoughts returning to the performance ahead. This wasn’t about princes or attention. It was about dancing—about freedom, even if just for a moment on stage. But still, he couldn’t help sneaking another quick glance through the curtains, catching Jungkook’s brief, effortless smile at Namjoon, and a pang of something complicated settled in his chest.
Hoseok clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Focus, Jimin. Showtime’s almost here. Let’s give them a performance they won’t forget.”
Jimin straightened, pushing aside the fleeting distraction, and followed his older brother and Jihyo toward the stage, ready to step into the light—knowing that backstage, outside the glitter and glitz, the world of Seoulvenia’s royals was just another cage.
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