The heavy bass reverberated through the club, shaking the walls and vibrating in the chests of the crowd. The air was thick with a haze of neon lights and the sweet, intoxicating scent of alcohol. Laughter mingled with the pulse of the beat, and every movement, whether fluid or stumbling, seemed to synchronize with the music's relentless rhythm.

In the midst of it all, Kim Taehyung leaned against the polished bar counter, a glass of whisky in hand. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed over not just by the drink, but by the chaotic energy that surrounded him. His lips curled into a faint smile, but it wasn’t because of the dance floor or the party. No, it was something else. Sometuhing distant. His gaze drifted past the crowds, somewhere beyond the flashing lights, as if the music, the people, and the noise were simply white noise to him—something to be endured, not enjoyed.

“Come on, Taehyung. Rip the dance floor,” Yoon Jeonghan’s voice broke through his trance, his words half-shouted to be heard over the pulsing beats.

Taehyung's eyes slowly shifted to his best friend, who stood there, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other holding a drink he barely paid attention to. Jeonghan's grin was wide, teasing, knowing that Taehyung had always been the one to shy away from the center of attention, preferring to observe rather than participate.

He let out a soft chuckle, swirling his glass as he glanced at the dance floor. The bodies moved in a blur, lost in the music, drunk on the freedom of the night. His fingers lightly traced the rim of the glass, a small gesture that felt out of place in a place like this.

Jeonghan, ever perceptive despite his carefree demeanor, raised an eyebrow. “The point? To feel alive, to forget... to dance without thinking. You used to love this, Tae. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how?”

Taehyung’s smile faltered, and for a brief second, something flickered behind his eyes. The tension in his jaw was subtle, but it was there. The thought of dancing, of losing himself in the rhythm, was foreign now. It felt like too much effort, too much vulnerability. And yet… he couldn’t deny the pull. The weight of the glass in his hand seemed to grow heavier. The freedom Jeonghan spoke of was tempting, but it also felt like something fleeting, something that couldn’t be grasped.

He sighed, standing slowly, placing the glass down on the bar. "Maybe... Maybe just for a moment," Taehyung said, the words a quiet surrender. He wasn’t sure if he was agreeing to the music or to something else—something deeper, something that had been gnawing at him for longer than he cared to admit.

Jeonghan flashed him a knowing grin before disappearing into the crowd, and Taehyung followed, his steps hesitant at first. The music welcomed him back with its thumping rhythm, urging him to forget, to move, to be. But deep inside, the question lingered—What am I really searching for in this?

For just a moment, as he moved through the sea of bodies, he allowed himself to drown in the music, letting it fill the spaces his thoughts refused to. The weight of his past, of expectations, of being the heir to a legacy he wasn’t sure he wanted, seemed to vanish as he lost himself in the dance.

But even then, a small part of him—quiet and insistent—wondered if the music would be enough to numb the ache he couldn’t name.

The music came to a sudden halt, an abrupt silence that fell over the club like a heavy blanket. The vibrancy, the movement, the energy—all of it evaporated in an instant, leaving a chilling stillness in its wake.

Then, through the dense crowd, a figure emerged. Kim Minhyun, the CEO of Eminence Corp, Taehyung’s father, strode into the center of the room with an air of authority that immediately commanded attention. The murmurs ceased as if the very presence of the man had forced the crowd to remember their place.

Taehyung stood there, still, one eyebrow slightly raised in recognition, though his indifference was palpable. His father’s cold gaze swept over him, sharp and assessing. Then, in a voice that was dangerously quiet—measured, almost eerily respectful—Minhyun spoke. "Taehyung, come with me."

There was no room for argument in the tone. Taehyung didn’t respond verbally but simply nodded, following his father out of the club without a word, as if his presence there had already become a mere formality, a passing phase in a night that no longer mattered.

---

The stark contrast between the neon lights of the club and the cold, sterile atmosphere of the Minhyun residence was almost suffocating. The quiet hum of the mansion’s lavish interior felt oppressive after the noise and life of the party. Taehyung followed his father down the long, polished hallway, his steps slow and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world.

Minhyun's voice broke the silence as they entered the study, his tone still respectful, but carrying an edge that could not be ignored. "You think you can just coast through life, don’t you, Taehyung? That your name, your wealth, will carry you? You don’t have the decency to even try anymore, do you?"

Taehyung leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of amusement and apathy. “I’m just living the life you gave me, Dad.” he said, his voice low, casual, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the weather.

Minhyun’s nostrils flared, the strain of holding his temper evident. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “I know you cheated to pass your exams. You couldn’t even do the bare minimum without cutting corners. What happened to the boy who was supposed to follow in my footsteps, who was supposed to learn, to grow? Tell me—why didn’t you even try?”

Taehyung stared at his father, his gaze flat and unblinking. “You always told me, ‘do whatever it takes to succeed.’ So that’s what I did. I did what I had to do to pass. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Minhyun’s expression hardened. The quiet fury in his eyes only intensified. "Success doesn’t come from shortcuts. It comes from discipline, from hard work." He let out a deep, resigned sigh, as if the weight of disappointment had finally sunk into his bones. "But I see it’s pointless. You’re too far gone. You’ll never understand the value of what I’ve built."

Taehyung didn’t flinch. He was used to this. The scolding, the reprimanding, the endless lectures that somehow always missed the point. He looked out the window, his thoughts adrift, wondering when his father would finally give up on him. Maybe it was easier to let him vent than to explain that he didn’t care for any of this. Not really. Not anymore.

After a long silence, Minhyun turned away, the weight of his disappointment still hanging in the air like a storm cloud. "Stay here," he said simply, his voice now cold and distant. “You’ll have to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.”

Taehyung’s eyes followed his father as he left the room, his back stiff with unresolved anger, the door clicking shut behind him. The weight of the silence pressed in on him, but it was a familiar silence. A silence he had grown used to. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, leaning back in the chair. The tension didn’t fade; it never did. But he knew what to do.

Reaching for his phone, Taehyung scrolled through his contacts, fingers moving with practiced ease until he found the number. Jeonghan’s name flashed on the screen. He tapped the screen with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. The night wasn’t over—not by a long shot. He needed to feel something again.

"Another party," Taehyung murmured into the phone, his voice already beginning to shift into the carefree tone he used when he wanted to forget. "Get it going, Jeonghan."

His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, contemplating. Then, he added one final line, his words laced with the same nonchalance he wore like a second skin: "It’s time to forget about everything... again."

As he ended the call, Taehyung leaned back in his chair, staring out at the night. His father’s words had barely scratched the surface. The life Taehyung was living, the choices he was making, felt more like an act of rebellion than anything else. But what was he rebelling against? The legacy? His father’s expectations? Or was it something deeper—something even he didn’t fully understand yet?

Days passed, but nothing changed. The parties never stopped. Late nights filled with the intoxicating mix of loud music, whiskey, and laughter. Taehyung’s world, once a canvas of luxury, had become a place where he reveled in the chaos, refusing to conform to the discipline his father so desperately wanted to impose. Money flowed freely, spent recklessly, as if each dollar was a defiance of the expectations laid upon him. Every gesture, every action seemed like a deliberate act of rebellion against the one man who tried to shape him. And Taehyung found a strange satisfaction in it.

He had learned early on that the way to irk his father the most was not to raise his voice, but to live in a way that showed utter disregard for everything Minhyun valued. Success? Work? Discipline? All irrelevant. Every night spent in indulgence, every penny wasted, was a small victory in his eyes, a quiet act of defiance that no words could capture.

---

Meanwhile, in the grand, meticulously arranged hall ,Minhyun sat in deep thought. The evening light cast long shadows across the room, and for a rare moment, Minhyun’s stern facade softened. His hands rested on the armrests of his chair, his mind occupied by the relentless image of his son’s behavior, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

The silence stretched between him and his thoughts until the soft sound of footsteps broke through. His secretary, a man with a composed demeanor and sharp eyes, entered the room, a quiet presence that seemed to almost blend into the background. He was used to his boss’s moments of contemplation but still approached cautiously.

“Anything bothering you, Mr. Kim?” the secretary asked, his voice measured, offering no intrusion—only an invitation to speak.

Minhyun didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed, staring into the distance, but the weight of his frustration was palpable in the way his jaw tightened. After a long moment, he exhaled slowly, the words slipping out with a kind of reluctant honesty. “It’s none other than my son, Mr. Choi…”

His voice trailed off, the unsaid words lingering in the air, heavy with the depth of his disappointment. The secretary’s face remained impassive, but his eyes held a glimmer of understanding.

“I’ve tried everything. Discipline. Expectations. Love. Nothing seems to work,” Minhyun continued, almost to himself. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The silence stretched again, but this time the secretary spoke up, his tone thoughtful. “What if we tried another way to make him the man you want him to become?”

Minhyun’s eyes flickered with curiosity, the suggestion hanging in the air like a thread waiting to be pulled. “What way?” he asked, his voice soft but sharp, like the tip of a blade.

The secretary leaned in slightly, speaking in low tones, his words careful but deliberate. Minhyun’s expression didn’t change as the secretary outlined his suggestion, but the slight tightening of his lips, the way his gaze sharpened, was enough to reveal his thoughts. The room felt colder as the idea sank in, and for a fleeting moment, there was no sound other than the low hum of the evening.

When the secretary finished, Minhyun paused. He took a slow breath, absorbing the implications of what had been proposed. Then, a slow smirk curved on his lips. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but it was there. The kind of smile that came with the satisfaction of a plan taking shape, a plan that was both cunning and strategic.

“You also solve my problem, Mr. Choi,” Minhyun said, his voice low but layered with a new, almost unsettling resolve.

The two men exchanged a brief, knowing look, an unspoken understanding passing between them. As the smirk lingered on Minhyun’s face, a sense of certainty settled in the room. The pieces were in place, and the game was about to begin.

—-

As they shared a quiet, almost conspiratorial smile, the air thickened with mystery. The plan, whatever it was, was still unclear. But one thing was certain: Taehyung’s rebellion had just met a force he couldn’t yet comprehend.

The mall was bustling with life, a sea of faces, and the soft hum of conversations mixed with the distant clink of shopping carts and the click of heels against the polished floors. It was a place of constant motion, yet amid the chaos, there was a quiet corner of calm. At one of the counters, a girl stood, a smile that seemed to glow as brightly as the lights above her. Her presence was simple, soft, and approachable, her aura like a gentle breeze among the storm of shoppers.

She moved through the crowd effortlessly, attending to customers with grace, her warm smile never faltering. It was easy to miss the quiet determination behind her eyes, the dreams she harbored for a future much bigger than this moment.

Just as she was handing over a pair of earrings to a customer, another sales girl approached her, holding out a phone. “Hey Y/N, your phone,” she said with a teasing grin.

Y/N took the phone with a quick thanks and pressed it to her ear. “Hey, Anna! What’s up, sister?” she said, her voice light, full of affection.

“Nothing much, just wanted to hear your sweet voice,” came Anna's reply, the familiar tone of her younger sister filling her ear.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Oh really? Now you’ve heard it, so bye.” Her voice danced with playfulness, always a little cheeky when she was talking to Anna.

“Wait, wait! I’m serious! I want to talk to you,” Anna protested, the sound of her voice quickening in excitement.

Y/N rolled her eyes, amused. “Okay, okay. Come on, get to the point. What is it?”

Anna didn’t waste any time. “Remember that pot I told you about? The one I’ve been eyeing for so long? It’s at the same mall you work in. Can you pick it up for me?”

Y/N’s heart warmed at the request. It wasn’t just any pot—it was a symbol of Anna’s ambition, something she had dreamed of owning for years. “Of course, anything else?” Y/N asked, her voice soft, always ready to do anything for Anna.

“Nope, that’s it. Just grab it for me. Thanks a bunch!” Anna said, her voice full of gratitude.

After a quick exchange of farewells, Y/N slipped the phone back into her pocket and glanced around the crowded mall. She knew she couldn’t take long. A quick errand for Anna wouldn’t hurt, and besides, it gave her a break from the usual routine.

She made her way to the store where the pot was being sold. As she entered, the cool air of the boutique greeted her, the scent of fresh candles and polished wood lingering in the air. The pot sat on a display pedestal, shining under the soft lights. It was more expensive than Y/N had anticipated, but it wasn’t the kind of price tag that would break the bank. After all, Anna deserved it.

Y/N picked it up carefully, feeling the weight of it in her hands, the smooth ceramic cool against her fingertips. It was beautiful—something Anna would cherish. With a quick nod to the shopkeeper, she paid for it, the receipt tucked carefully in her bag.

As she walked back through the mall, She returned to the sales counter, slipping back into her role as if nothing had changed.

The mall was its usual lively self, bustling with shoppers and the hum of activity. Taehyung entered, the warm air and bright lights surrounding him, but his presence seemed to absorb all the space around him. He walked with the ease of someone used to being noticed, tall and confident, with his leather jacket hanging loosely over a simple black T-shirt. His dark hair was tousled in that effortless, “I-don’t-care” style, and his designer jeans fit him perfectly, a subtle reminder of his status. He wasn’t exactly the picture of elegance, but everything about his casual, laid-back appearance screamed wealth—and a certain kind of entitlement.

Jeonghan, walking a step behind, was the calm to Taehyung’s quiet storm. His eyes darted from store to store, searching for inspiration, a faint smile playing on his lips as his thoughts lingered on his girlfriend.

They turned a corner, the bright lights of a boutique catching Jeonghan’s attention first. His gaze drifted before settling on a figure near the store entrance—a girl in a simple but well-fitted uniform arranging a rack of clothes. Her movements were precise, her focus absolute, as if she were blocking out the chaos around her.

Jeonghan’s brows lifted in surprise as recognition clicked. He nudged Taehyung lightly and pointed toward her. “Isn’t that Y/N from our class? The one who always topped in exams?”

Taehyung followed his gaze lazily, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they fixed on her. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his head tilting ever so slightly as he observed her. She looked different here, out of the academic world he rarely paid attention to. The uniform didn’t dull her beauty—it enhanced her delicate features, her presence radiating a quiet strength that intrigued him.

“Hmm,” he murmured, a hint of a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “She is beautiful.” The words were deliberate, his tone laced with something unspoken, a flirtatious undercurrent that came naturally to him. He leaned against the railing, his eyes still on her. “I didn’t know girls like her existed in our college.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, suppressing a laugh. “You say that as if we even go to college enough to notice anyone.”

A low chuckle escaped Taehyung, his smirk deepening. “Touché.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the playful arrogance in his demeanor impossible to ignore. “Still, she’s... interesting. Quiet. Focused. That’s rare.”

Jeonghan glanced at him, eyebrows raising. “Since when do you find quiet and focused interesting? Aren’t you all about loud, chaotic, and ready-to-fall-at-your-feet?”

Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes lingered on Y/N for a second longer. “There’s something about her. She’s different.”

Jeonghan snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to charm her too. She doesn’t seem like the type to fall for your usual tricks.”

“Who said anything about tricks?” Taehyung pushed off the railing, his tone light but layered with intention. “I’m just... curious.”

Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “Curiosity, huh? I give it a week before you get bored.”

Taehyung’s smirk didn’t waver as he glanced at his friend, his eyes glinting with something darker, deeper. “Maybe. Or maybe she’ll surprise me.”

Y/N had been busy arranging a new display rack near the entrance of the boutique, her hands deftly working to balance a cascade of scarves in soft hues. She wasn’t one to let the hum of the mall distract her—it was part of the job, after all—but something in the atmosphere shifted, a ripple that made her glance up.

She froze for a split second.

Jeonghan and Taehyung.

They stood across the wide expanse of the mall, their conversation punctuated by Jeonghan’s easy gestures and Taehyung’s relaxed yet commanding stance. Taehyung’s gaze, piercing and unrelenting, was fixed on her. Y/N’s chest tightened slightly, not in fear, but in the uncomfortable awareness of being watched—no, studied.

Her mind raced. Jeonghan? Here? And Taehyung? Why would they even— She caught herself, quickly schooling her expression into polite indifference. Years of being a top student had taught her the importance of composure, even in situations that made her heart beat just a little faster.

Taehyung’s smirk didn’t help. It wasn’t just a glance; it was deliberate, almost teasing, as if he were gauging her reaction. His posture, leaning against the railing, carried an air of entitlement that made her frown slightly. He looks like he owns the place, she thought, gripping the hanger in her hand a little tighter.

She glanced away, determined to focus on her work, but her pulse betrayed her, thrumming in her ears. She could feel their presence, their conversation muffled but still carrying faintly over the din of the mall.

When she turned back to the rack, a customer approached, giving her a much-needed excuse to redirect her attention. Still, a small part of her stayed aware, her peripheral vision catching Jeonghan’s amused expression and Taehyung’s lingering stare.

As Y/N moved to help a customer, aware of the eyes watching her, Taehyung’s mind ticked over. She wasn’t just another pretty face. There was an aura about her, a quiet defiance in her poise, as though the world’s chaos couldn’t touch her. That intrigued him more than anything.

Jeonghan, meanwhile, shook his head with an amused chuckle. “Let’s just get this gift before you start planning your next big ‘curiosity’ project.”

But even as they turned to walk toward the nearest jewelry store, Taehyung couldn’t shake the image of Y/N from his mind, a rare, genuine interest stirring in him. She didn’t seem like the type to fit into his world—or maybe she was exactly what was missing.

They had been classmates since their first semester of college. They had shared classrooms but they both rarely visit class, so y/n and Taehyung had never exchanged more than a handful of words. They knew of each other, they had never cared enough to delve deeper.

Taehyung’s disinterest was almost palpable. Known for his playful, carefree nature, he spent most of his time in the back of the class, doodling in his notebook or scrolling through his phone, uninterested in academics or the people around him. To him, Y/N was just another face in the crowd—bright, driven, and earnest, qualities he found admirable yet exhausting to engage with.

On the other hand, Y/N had no time for distractions like Taehyung. Focused on her goals, she kept her head down and worked diligently, often rolling her eyes at the stories she overheard about Taehyung’s antics. To her, he was the embodiment of privilege and irresponsibility—someone who coasted through life without effort while she fought tooth and nail to make her dreams a reality.

As Jeonghan went off to buy what he needed, Taehyung wandered aimlessly, his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking utterly disinterested in the world around him. His gaze flitted between store displays, catching a glance of something shiny, then moving on just as quickly. He had no real purpose, no destination—just a boy with too much time on his hands.

It was then, as his footsteps carried him aimlessly through the aisles, that he collided with the display table. The pot that Y/N had carefully placed on the counter wobbled for a split second, and before Taehyung could register it, the porcelain beauty fell, shattering into a mess of shards and pieces. The sound echoed through the space, sharp and unsettling, drawing the attention of a few nearby shoppers.

Y/N, who had been in the back organizing stock, heard the sound from a distance. Her heart sank, and she immediately rushed out, fearing the worst. She rounded the corner and froze, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the scene before her. The once-perfect pot now lay shattered into pieces across the floor.

Her anger flared up almost immediately. Her hands clenched into fists as she approached Taehyung, who, remarkably, hadn’t even flinched at the sound of the break. He stood there, looking down at the destruction, completely unfazed.

"Did you do this?" Y/N asked, her voice low but sharp, the tension in the air palpable.

Taehyung glanced at her, the smallest trace of a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "What? Me?" He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he couldn’t care less. "I didn’t break anything."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her anger boiling over. "Are you seriously going to pretend that wasn’t you?" Her voice raised a little, drawing the attention of a few nearby customers. She took a step closer, her hands trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the frustration that had taken root in her chest. "That was my pot! It was expensive! You have no idea how hard I worked to get that."

Taehyung merely tilted his head, still looking entirely uninterested. "I didn’t do anything. If it broke, it’s not my problem." His tone was careless, almost mocking, his eyes drifting around the store like the situation wasn’t important.

Y/N’s chest heaved as she glared at him, barely containing her fury. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. "I can’t believe you’re acting like this is nothing."

The air between them crackled with tension, as if every word was a match, ready to ignite the frustration that had been building. Y/N’s anger was palpable, her face flushed with fury as she stared at Taehyung, who remained annoyingly indifferent.

"Are you seriously going to stand there and pretend like this isn’t your fault?" Y/N’s voice was tight, each word coming out sharp and edged with barely controlled rage.

Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unfazed by her outburst. "What’s the big deal? It’s just a pot. It’s not like it was anything important." His tone was dismissive, as if the situation didn’t matter in the slightest. His gaze flickered briefly to the broken shards on the floor, but he showed no remorse, only an air of indifference.

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles white. "It was important to me!" she spat, stepping closer, her eyes flashing with disbelief. "You have no idea what I’ve been through to afford that, to save up for something that meant something to me. And you just break it like it’s nothing!"

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe you shouldn’t leave fragile things on a table in a place where people are actually moving around." His voice was laced with sarcasm, and the subtle mockery in his tone only stoked the flames of her fury.

Her breath caught in her throat. "So now it’s my fault for putting it there?" she asked, her voice rising with indignation. " She took a step forward, pointing a finger at him, the heat of her anger making her feel as though she could explode at any moment. "You come in here and ruin everything without a second thought."

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, his smirk turning into a slight frown as he finally let a touch of irritation show. "I didn’t ruin anything," he said, his voice lowering in a deliberate tone of arrogance. "It was just a pot, Y/N. A cheap one at that. Maybe you should get over it and stop overreacting."

Y/N’s jaw tightened, and her chest heaved with the effort to control herself. She could feel the sting of his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. "You think I’m overreacting?" she asked, her voice trembling with the force of her restraint. "Maybe you would understand if you actually gave a damn about anyone other than yourself!"

The words hit him like a slap to the face, and for a moment, Taehyung seemed taken aback. His expression flickered, an emotion he wasn’t used to showing—something close to annoyance mixed with confusion. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this, especially not by someone he considered insignificant. His gaze darkened as he stepped closer, his voice turning sharper.

"Maybe if you didn’t make such a big deal out of every little thing, we wouldn’t be having this conversation," he snapped, stepping into her personal space. "Not everything in life has to be about you, Y/N."

Her eyes widened, fury radiating from her every word. "You don’t know anything about me!" she yelled, her voice finally breaking free of the tight control she’d been holding over it. "You don’t know what it’s like to work hard for anything. To have to sacrifice. To struggle." Her hands trembled at her sides, not from fear, but from the force of her anger. "You think everything comes easily to you just because you’re rich and don’t have to worry about anything in the world? Well, not everyone’s life is like that, Taehyung."

Taehyung’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. No one had ever dared to speak to him in such a manner, especially not someone like her. The words she threw at him seemed to pierce him deeper than he was willing to admit.

"I didn’t ask for your pity," he retorted coldly, his voice low and threatening. "I didn’t break your precious little pot on purpose, but maybe you should learn to calm down and stop being so melodramatic."

Y/N’s breath quickened, her hands now balled into fists, and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. "I’m not being melodramatic!" she shot back, her voice a dangerous whisper. "I’m just tired of people like you treating everything and everyone like they’re disposable. You don’t give a damn about anyone or anything. You’ve never had to fight for anything in your life, have you? You just get everything handed to you."

Taehyung stepped back slightly, the smirk finally fading from his face. For the first time, there was a flicker of something almost vulnerable in his eyes, but it was quickly masked by irritation. "And what exactly are you trying to prove, Y/N? That you’re better than me? That you’ve had a harder life? You think I don’t have my own problems?" His voice shook slightly, a mix of anger and frustration coming to the surface.

Y/N took a step back, realizing just how heated the exchange had become. She could feel the tension between them, thick and unrelenting. Her chest tightened, and her voice softened slightly, though still filled with bitterness. "No, Taehyung. I’m not trying to prove anything," she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. "I’m just tired of people like you acting like the world owes you something."

The silence between them was heavy, a wall of frustration and unsaid words hanging between them.

Before the situation could escalate further, Jeonghan returned, noticing the tense atmosphere. He walked up to them, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene—the broken pot, Y/N’s flushed face, and Taehyung, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

"Taehyung," Jeonghan said, raising his hand in a calm gesture. "Relax. It’s not worth getting worked up over. Just—apologize, okay?"

Taehyung’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing with defiance. "Apologize? For what? I didn’t do anything wrong." He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a nonchalant air that only served to stoke the tension in the room.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, her patience wearing thin. "You broke it. Whether you think it’s your fault or not, you should take responsibility."

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, his smirk fading slightly as irritation flickered across his face. "Responsibility?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. "For a cheap pot? Please. I’ve spent more on coffee."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with indignation. "And yet you can’t seem to manage a basic apology. Is your ego really that fragile?"

Jeonghan stepped in, sensing the situation escalating. "Taehyung," he said firmly, his tone edged with warning. "Just let it go. It’s not worth making this into a scene."

Taehyung smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos. " Ok," he said, pulling out his wallet and swiping his card. "But it’s not my fault, so I’ll pay for this cheap thing." He held up his phone like a small victory, ready to make this whole thing go away.

He opened the payment application, typing with quick precision. His brow furrowed as he tapped the confirm button. The app froze for a moment before flashing an error message. Payment failed.

He tried again, his movements more agitated this time. Tap, confirm. Another error.

Y/N couldn’t help herself. "Maybe this is just like your brain," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Lagging and unable to process."

Taehyung’s face flushed with irritation, his jaw tightening as he gripped his phone. "You—" His retort hung in the air, silenced by the gnawing frustration of the app's failure. Why wasn’t it working? He tried once more, only to be met with the same mocking error.

Jeonghan, standing nearby, let out a soft sigh of exasperation. "Alright, enough," he said, stepping between them. "Let me handle this."

He pulled out his phone, opened the same app, and completed the transaction with a calm ease. The success notification chimed, almost as if mocking Taehyung further.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. "A little embarrassing, huh?" she remarked, her tone playful but still laced with annoyance.

Taehyung scowled, his pride stung. "This pot’s not even worth the trouble," he muttered, turning his gaze to Jeonghan.

"Maybe next time, you’ll watch where you’re going," Y/N said, her voice cool but still sharp. "If you can remember anything past your money, of course."

Taehyung shot her a dark look, his pride taking a blow, but he wasn’t about to admit anything. "Whatever. This is beneath me."

Y/N shot Taehyung one last glance before turning away, shaking her head. "Just try to stay out of my way next time," she muttered, leaving him standing there with the pieces of his broken pride—and the very real mess he’d made.

Taehyung watched her walk off, his jaw tightening. He didn’t like being spoken to like that, not in front of anyone, and definitely not by someone like her. But there was something about her words that stung more than he was willing to admit. Maybe, just maybe, she had a point.

The moment their eyes met, there was a flicker of recognition, but it wasn’t the kind that came with warmth or camaraderie. It was the indifferent acknowledgment of two people who had shared the same space for years but had never found a reason to bridge the distance between them.

—--

The heavy slam of the door echoed through the grand house as Taehyung stormed inside, his face a storm cloud of rahe. The bodyguard trailed nervously behind him, his head lowered, sensing the weight of his employer's fury.

“ You had one job!” Taehyung spat, turning to the bodyguard. “ Do you even understand the concept of discretion?”

The man fumbled with his words, stammering excuses. Apparently, he had mistakenly leaked details about Taehyung 's whereabouts during a party to someone within the company. It wasn't just an error; it was ammunition handed to his father.

“ Get out,” Taehyung hissed through grited teeth, ponting towards the exit. The bodyguard hesitated but fled as Taehyung turned his attention to the reason for his boiling anger.

The bodyguard barely managed to escape Taehyung’s wrath as he stormed into the grand living room. The sound of his polished shoes striking the marble floor was sharp and relentless, echoing his fury.

“Dad!” he roared, his voice reverberating through the quite halls.

Minhyun, calm and composed, emerged from his study. His tailored suit was pristine, his every step calculated.

“Dad!” he bellowed, slamming his fist onto the edge of a sleek mahogany table. “This isn’t one of your club or your playground,” Minhyun said coolly as he stepped into the room. “This is my house. Keep your voice down, or I'll have to remind you who’s in charge here.”

Taehyung’s fists clenched at his sides , his chest heaving, “The payment app,” he growled.

“ Why so impatient,son? Sit down first,” Minhyun said , his mocking smile never faltering.

“ Don't play games with me.” Taehyung snapped. “ What did you do with my accounts?”

Minhyun raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “ Do what?”

“Why I can't make payment?” Taehyung demanded.

Minhyun’s lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. “And here I thought you’d thank me for saving you from another mindless shopping spree.”

Taehyung hissed, stepping closer. “You had no right on my accounts and….—”

“My account?” Minhyun interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp and biting. “When exactly did you start earning to call them yours? And about right, Taehyung?Let me remind you: the money you spend, the clothes you wear, the very air you breathe under this roof—it’s all because of me. So don’t talk to me about rights.” Minhyun repeated, his voice laced with mockery.

Taehyung’s temper flared further. “ Cut the nonsense and answer me!”

Minhyun’s expression hardened, his voice sharp and commanding. “ Lower your voice, Taehyung. Remember who you're talking to.”

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Minhyun's authority loomed over Taehyung, unyielding and immovable.

“ I decided it's time for you to learn a lesson, “ Minhyun finally said, his tone icy. “ You've been running wild for too long. You need to understand how to behave. And most importantly, you need to learn not to bite the hands that feeds you.”

“ What do you want?” Taehyung asked, his voice steady but laced with defiance.

Minhyun smirked, taking a few steps closer. “ Straight to the point. That's what I like about you,” he said with a mock approving nod. “ What I want is simple: discipline. Respect. And no more cheating your way through life.”

“ You're ruling my life,Dad,” Taehyung said, his eyes blazing with resentment.

“You’re just trying to control me,” Taehyung shot back, his tone rebellious.

“ If ruling you means salvaging the reputation of this family and ensuring the future of this company, then yes, I'll rule you, my dear son,” Minhyun said with a sharp edge in his voice.

Taehyung opened his mouth to retort, but Minhyun raised a hand to silence him. “ One more thing,” he said,his voice dropping into a chilling calm. “ This time, if you try to outsmart me– if you even think of stepping out of line– you will see a side of me you wish you hadn't.”

“Is that a threat?” Taehyung challenged, stepping closer.

“No,” Minhyun said, his voice calm but laced with steel. “It’s a promise. And if you don’t get your act together, you’ll wish I’d stuck to threats.”

With that, Minhyun turned on his heel, his parting words chilling in their finality. “Mark my words, son. This is the last warning you’ll get. If you don’t change, I will.”

As Minhyun leave from their, Taehyung’s fury exploded. He grabbed a vase from the table, hurling it against the wall. The crash of shattered porcelain echoed in the room, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

“You’ll regret this,” he muttered under his breath, the defiance in his voice unshaken.