FILTHY INFATUATION [KTH]

27 FILTHY INFATUATION

Present 

27| "A little victory" 

Taehyung's shoes slapped the cold tiles as he took a turn in the first corner, greeting the servants. They immediately bowed in his grace. With every step, his guts were contorting and curling like a feral creature. Nonetheless, the quietness slithering in the space provided him with better comfort. Mr. Kim's office never felt so far away. Never-ending windows, half a dozen halls, more rooms than Taehyung could bother to count, and large chandeliers lining the curved ceilings. 

All of it was luxurious irksome for him, fortunately, Taehyung was used to it.

The disdain Taehyung was carrying was ruthlessly larger than the actual size of this so-called mansion. Things would be so easy only if he could put flames around it and watch it burn to the ground, exactly the way his world got burned right in front of his eyes. He would gladly warm his hands on them— That could be possibly a pleasurable sight to behold for the monster snarling under his skin.

Taehyung's hands were shoved inside his pockets as he breezed past the paintings, not bothering to glance at them. They were his father's favourite works from his favourite artists across the world. Those cold, lifeless eyes in the paintings were tracking him, mocking him, always mocking him since he was a kid. 

Everything belonging to this mansion made him realise how he didn't fit in this place, how he was not born for the luxury that miraculously plunged into his palms. 

The sound of music dawdles downstairs, allowing the dreadful silence to chase him like a shadow. The moonlight ripped through the hands of the sky and poured over him through the massive windows. The walls of this mansion had a familiarity, reminding him of the day when he moved into this hell, all dragging and screaming while clenching the chunk of restraint between his teeth. It wasn't a very likeable memory, so he mostly dodged it before it infiltrated his mind with bitterness. 

Approximately five minutes later Taehyung found himself standing outside of his father's office. A very rare, awkward occurrence. The faint hissing and scathing voices slithered out from the gap of the door, freezing his body with hefty shoulders. Looked like things wouldn't go as delightful as he plotted, though deep down Taehyung figured out, for him the night was going to be darker than usual.

"You think you and your so-called son can get rid of me? No, I won't lose." Mr. Kim growled out in urgency. His chest frantically heaved up and down as he cast off an accusing, dirty stare at his wife. 

"You have already been defeated in this game, Mr. Failure. Admit it with a little bit of dignity you have left with." Taehyung implied, standing in the doorway with his well-practised smirk as he coolly fixed his shirt cuffs. His smirk dilated, reaching his sultry eyes upon seeing Mr. Kim's face sapped all the colour as if he had encountered a devil.