Taehyung, an orphan and mischievous young boy, fell in love at first sight with Jeon Jeongguk, promising that one day he would marry him.
Years later, Taehyung enrolls at Seoul National University, where his life intertwines with Jeongguk, a literat...
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The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Jungkook stepped inside. Taehyung, his heart pounding and face flushed with anger and despair, followed him into the elevator. The metallic doors slid shut behind them, and the elevator ascended with a smooth, almost mechanical precision.
Jungkook's face was set in grim determination as he stared straight ahead. Taehyung, caught in a whirlpool of confusion and fear, tried to make sense of their situation. His mind raced with thoughts of Jeongguk.
The elevator reached the desired floor, and the doors slid open to reveal a plush hallway. Jungkook led the way. Taehyung followed, each step heavy with the weight of his hopelessness and the relentless worry for Jeongguk.
Jungkook inserted the code into the lockpad of the penthouse. The door clicked open, revealing the dimly lit interior. The lavish space, adorned with expensive furnishings and decor.
Taehyung’s lips curled into a sneer as he glared at the expensive decor. It felt suffocating—cold and distant, just like the man who owned it.
“I’m not staying here,” he shouted, turning abruptly and stepping ahead to the elevator, eager to leave this place behind. His steps halte when he felt a strong hand grab his arm.
Jungkook barely reacted, rolling his eyes before hauling Taehyung up and over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.
“Put me down!” Taehyung shrieked, fists raining down on Jungkook’s back. The blows were useless. Every punch landed against unyielding muscles, each hit reverberating through his own aching hands. His frustration only grew. He hated how powerless he felt.
Jungkook didn’t say a word as he walked inside the house. With a swift kick, he opened the bedroom door and walked inside, depositing Taehyung on the floor like a discarded bag.
Taehyung stumbled, his balance unsteady, but before he could regain his footing, Jungkook shoved a small bag into his chest. The force wasn’t gentle.
“Go and wear this,” Jungkook muttered, his voice deep, almost a growl.
Taehyung looked down at the bag in disgust. “Why the hell would I wear something given by you?” he spat, throwing it to the ground. His voice was sharp, louder than intended, as if the volume could mask the fear bubbling beneath his anger. What did Jungkook want from him?
Jungkook exhaled heavily, as though Taehyung’s rebellion was nothing more than a mild annoyance. His patience was thinning, though—it showed in the tightness of his jaw, in the brief flash of irritation in his eyes.
“It’s our wedding night, dear husband. Let’s make it official.” The smirk that followed was chilling, devoid of warmth. It was a smile of control, of knowing he held all the power.
Taehyung’s heart lurched. Wedding night. Husband. The words felt like poison, sinking into his skin. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His hands trembled slightly, but he clenched them into fists, willing himself to stay strong.
