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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As the days turned into weeks and then months, Jimin found himself navigating the complexities of life within the Kim household, now a fourteen-year-old boy shaped by the passage of time and the weight of responsibility. It was no ordinary day; it was the eighteenth birthday of the twins, and the air was thick with anticipation.
“Aish, what the hell did you do?” Jong-eun screamed into the phone, her voice dripping with irritation. Jimin sighed inwardly at her tantrum while carrying a jug of water in her room. The butler had sent him on this errand, and he did not want to become entangled in the chaos that seemed to be brewing.
“This dress is ruined! Why didn’t you make it according to size?” Jong-eun’s voice echoed through the room, sounding as if she were bloodthirsty, ready to pounce on whoever was responsible for the disaster. The dresser was nowhere to be found, only adding to the turmoil of the moment.
“I’ll not wear any other dress!” she yelled, throwing her phone against the wall, the sound reverberating like thunder in the small space.
“Young Miss, I can help if you allow me,” Jimin mumbled, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. He was not someone who typically meddled in their affairs, but today was special—not just for Jong-eun but also for Kai. He didn’t want Kai big day to be overshadowed by a mere wardrobe malfunction.
Jong-eun paused, her frustration visible as she turned to Jimin. He could see the anger simmering beneath her surface, but there was also a flicker of desperation in her eyes. Perhaps she realized that he was the only one nearby who might offer a solution.
“What do you know about dresses?” she snapped, though the edge in her tone had softened slightly.
“Do you even know what you’re saying? Even a fucking professional failed to make this dress fit me!” Jong-eun gritted her teeth, frustration boiling over. But Jimin stood firm in his confidence. Living in the servant quarters had taught him a great deal about sewing, and he had invested his hard-earned savings into a sewing machine, which he used to mend his clothes and those of his fellow servants. It was a win-win situation: he earned a little extra money while helping others.
The dress she wore was custom-made, a shimmering creation that hugged her thighs and cascaded into a butterfly silk gown trailing behind her, flowing down to the floor. It was beautiful but evidently not fitting as it should.
“Just give me one minute. I’ll get my tools from my room,” Jimin said as he dashed from the room to retrieve his sewing kit.
“You’d better not ruin it,” Jong-eun muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched him go.
He returned swiftly, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jimin opened his box to reveal an array of threads, needles, and, most importantly, the aqua-blue thread he had picked. He was lucky to have such a vibrant color, perfectly matching the shimmering fabric of Jong-eun's dress.
