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...
After two powerful performances, the ballroom finally settled. The applause slowly faded, replaced by a soft, delicate melody that seemed to wrap around every corner of the grand hall. The clapping for Jhope and Jihyo’s dances subsided as the gentle piano notes began to resonate through the space, calming the excited murmurs of the nobles.
Jungkook, still perched on his throne, straightened slightly. Every other performance had barely held his attention, but now… the music drew him in. He knew it immediately. The melody was hauntingly familiar, delicate yet deep, the kind that lingered long after the last note faded. “I… I know this song,” he thought, frowning slightly. It was one of the tracks he often listened to when he wanted to be alone—quiet, introspective, a small escape from all the chaos surrounding him. “I need you…” The thought formed in his mind almost unbidden.
The ballroom lights dimmed gradually, bathing the space in a warm, soft glow. A gentle breeze swept through the high-ceilinged hall, carrying with it a faint scent of jasmine and something unfamiliar yet comforting. Thin wisps of white fog rolled across the polished marble floor, curling around the feet of the guests and performers alike. The nobles whispered among themselves, glancing nervously at the shadows that moved in the mist. The air seemed charged, heavy with anticipation, as if the hall itself were holding its breath.
And then, through the swirling fog, a figure appeared.
Draped in flowing white silk that shimmered under the spotlight, the dancer moved with a grace that seemed almost unreal. Each step was measured, yet effortless; each movement spoke of confidence, control, and a story waiting to unfold. The spotlight followed him, highlighting every detail—the glint of his accessories, the fluid motion of his arms, the determined focus in his eyes.
Every head turned instinctively toward him. Even the most distracted aristocrats froze in their tracks, drawn by the sheer presence of the figure. Whispers rippled across the ballroom: “Who is that?” “A new performer?” “From Ruvana again?”
But none of that mattered to Jungkook. His chest tightened, a strange mixture of curiosity and unease settling over him. He leaned forward slightly on his throne, eyes fixed on the dancer as the fog continued to drift, framing the figure in an almost ethereal halo. Every other noise—the chatter, the rustling silk, the clinking of glasses—faded away until all he could hear was the soft, haunting piano and the quiet rhythm of the figure gliding across the stage.
And in that moment, Jungkook knew—whatever was about to happen on that stage was unlike anything he had seen before.
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Ba-dum.
Jungkook's heart skipped a beat.
His lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened as the dancer stepped into the ballroom. Every step seemed to command the space, and for a brief moment, the entire world—lights, nobles, the grand decorations—faded into the background.
