From Reluctance to Desire: A Mafia Story [JJK]

✨THE PARTY AND THE FIGHT✨

The ballroom glittered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light across the expansive hall, while soft classical music flowed through the air. The party was a grand affair, organized by none other than the Black Rose gang. Everyone who mattered in their world was present, from influential allies to powerful leaders of neighboring syndicates.

I stood beside Jungkook, dressed in an elegant evening gown that Julia had picked out for me. His hand rested possessively on my lower back, guiding me as we navigated through the crowd. I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the grandeur and the sharp glances thrown my way.

As we greeted guests, my eyes landed on my father. He stood stiffly near the corner of the room, his posture tense as he conversed with Mr. Jeon. There was an air of unease about him, and I immediately noticed the strained dynamic between them.

"There's my dad," I whispered, leaning toward Jungkook.

Jungkook followed my gaze, his expression darkening. "I see him," he muttered, his tone unreadable.

Frowning at his sudden shift in demeanor, I decided to approach my father alone. "I'll be back," I said softly, slipping away before Jungkook could stop me.

---

As I made my way toward my father, fragments of memories came rushing back, unbidden.

I was ten years old, clutching a worn teddy bear as I waited in the dimly lit hallway. The echoes of my father's raised voice carried through the house, words sharp and cutting. He was arguing with someone from his work, his tone cold and dismissive. I had tiptoed closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of him—to feel some semblance of connection.

But when the door opened, he didn't even notice me. His eyes were fixed on his phone, his shoulders tense as he brushed past me without a word. I remember how my chest had tightened, how tears stung my eyes as I stood frozen in that spot, clutching the bear like it was the only source of comfort in the world.

My childhood had been filled with moments like that—waiting for scraps of affection that never came. My father wasn't a cruel man, but he was distant and detached. Yet, despite it all, he was still my father, the man I couldn't help but love and respect.

---

"Dad," I greeted softly as I reached him. "You made it."

"Y/N," he replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "You look beautiful tonight." His voice was laced with something I couldn't quite place—regret? Frustration? I couldn't tell.

"Thank you," I said, leaning in for a hug. He returned it briefly but stiffly, his focus already shifting back to Mr. Jeon.

Before I could say more, Mr. Jeon's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Y/N," he said with a formal nod. "It's good to see you here."

"You too, sir," I replied, forcing a polite smile. The tension between him and my father was almost tangible, their words sharp despite the veneer of civility.

"I trust the arrangements have been made without issue," Mr. Jeon asked, his tone cool and condescending.

"Of course," my father replied curtly. "I always fulfill my duties."

"I should hope so," Mr. Jeon retorted, his words carrying a pointed edge. "Considering the position you hold is one I graciously allowed you to keep."

My father's jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Let's not forget how I ended up in this position. It wasn't by choice."

"Careful," Mr. Jeon warned, his tone dropping dangerously low. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."