Royal Ace Lounge

⑨What's This Really About?

 
Taehyung woke up with a single resolution; to get his job back, and he would, no matter what.

That gnawing resolution burned glaringly within his core as he strode through the Royal Ace’s entrance, but Saerin obstructed his way, holding a deterrent hand to him that got him rooted to his spot.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung-ssi. You’re not allowed to move in further.”

“I need to talk to Mr. Jeon one more time. Please, Saerin-ssi.”

Saerin’s hand descended at a creep as she studied the desperation flickering in his eyes. She drew in a breath. “If he asks, you didn’t see me.”

A riffle of relief washed over the anxiety that had veiled his features, and he clasped her hand. “Thank you.” He proceeded with brisk steps, hurrying down the hallway until he reached his office. His knuckles came to knock twice on the door gently.

“Come in.” Jungkook rolled up his eyes from his tablet once the unknown presence entered his office, and he sprang up from his seat like a dart. “What are you doing here? I fired you.”

“No, I can’t accept it,” Taehyung said, adamant, as he halted in front of his desk. “You can’t just fire me.”

“I can and I did. Leave, Taehyung.”

“No!” he exclaimed with a smidgen of intensity he couldn’t impound. “Am I not allowed to make a mistake? How can you fire me so easily over a mistake? I can’t accept it.”

“Mistake?” Jungkook hissed — the absurdity of Taehyung’s words bereaved him of his ability to lease his emotions and dissemble them. “A mistake would be something you did accidentally. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew you were disobeying me, and you did it either way. Why?”

“Because!” The abrupt harshness that seized Taehyung’s face melted like a cone of ice cream held on a scorching hot day. His eyes leaped down in their need to evade his stare. The true reason for his actions had come to him yesterday, when he returned home and meditated on the events that took place. But he couldn’t possibly reveal it to Jungkook. He wouldn’t survive such embarrassment.

Taehyung swallowed, regaining some of his confidence to look back at him. “I told you. It wasn’t just any customer. It was Dohyun. He said you wouldn’t mind if I defied you for him. I didn’t even suck his cock, and believe me, I wanted to quite badly. But I didn’t because you told me not to.”

“You wanted to suck his cock that bad, huh? Why? To prove to yourself that you can suck cock well or for me to see it? Just because I taught you a few things, you think you can suck cock well now? You can’t, Taehyung. You don’t. Honsu, Kanjin, Euntae, Mihoon, and every single host is better than you in everything. That’s why you’re at the bottom. Because you deserve to be there.”

The savage words crashed against Taehyung’s form like a sobering tsunami, sweeping away all the praises Jungkook had gifted him. It made sense. If Taehyung were truly good at his job, he wouldn’t be at the bottom. Jungkook wouldn’t have fired him in the first chance he got. It wasn’t that Jungkook just didn’t believe in him. He hated everything Taehyung did and said — everything about him.

“Wow,” slipped from Taehyung’s lips, the muted spikes of his cruel tirade still puncturing his chest. “I didn’t know you thought that way about me. Why did you hire me in the first place, then?” He couldn’t restrict the fierce bitterness that cloaked his quiet voice. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t want to work for you ever again. I prefer working in a shithole and be appreciated than working here with you degrading me in everything I do.”

Taehyung held their gaze for a couple more seconds. He could detect no kind of emotion on Jungkook’s face, as if he didn’t hear him. And that alone snarled Taehyung’s stomach with a vile coil of rage, because it meant he didn’t care.