The grand hall of the Jeon estate was a sea of faces, all adorned in their finest, waiting for the arrival of the bride. Yet, there was an unusual hush that filled the room, an undercurrent of tension that hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Jeon Jungkook stood at the altar, the cold weight of the white suit pressing against his slender frame. He had never imagined this day. He had never imagined himself at the center of such attention. In fact, for most of his life, he had been invisible, a shadow within the Jeon family—a secret that no one spoke of. But today, he was being thrust into the light.

The soft fabric of the suit clung to him like a lie, a mask that made him feel like someone else. His fingers trembled as they fidgeted with the edges of his sleeves, but he kept his gaze focused ahead, doing his best to maintain some semblance of composure. There was a veil over his head, delicate lace covering his face, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone could still see him for what he truly was—a mistake.

His family, the mighty Jeon family, had abandoned him long ago. His father, his siblings—none of them had ever accepted him for who he was. Not when he was born, not when he had grown older, and certainly not now. He was intersex, a fact that had shamed the family, turned their backs on him, and left him to be a forgotten third child. The only one who still showed him any affection was his grandfather, but even that love was shadowed by the looming presence of a family who despised him.

But today—today was different. Today, he was being forced into an arranged marriage with a man who was a stranger to him, someone with power, with control. Someone who was already known to be untouchable.

The wedding wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jeon Jennie, his older sister, was supposed to marry Kim Taehyung—the heir to a business empire and a man whose name struck fear in the hearts of many. But Jennie had disappeared, vanished into thin air, leaving her family to scramble for a solution. And that solution had been him.

Jungkook had no choice. He could not refuse. Not when the Jeon family’s reputation and honor were on the line. Not when his grandfather, the only person who had ever cared for him, had begged him to go through with it.

His heart pounded in his chest as the doors opened, signaling the arrival of the groom. His gaze lifted, his stomach tightening as the figure of Kim Taehyung appeared in the doorway.

Taehyung. The name alone sent a chill down Jungkook’s spine.

Taehyung was everything Jungkook was not. Cold. Powerful. Fearless. His presence commanded attention, and every person in the room instinctively fell silent as he entered. His black suit, sleek and tailored to perfection, made him look more like a king than a man. His dark eyes held an air of mystery, unreadable and unapproachable, and his expression was one of indifference—perhaps even disdain.

Jungkook had heard stories about him—about his cold demeanor, his ruthlessness in the business world, and his secretive life as the king of the mafia underworld. But nothing had prepared him for the real thing. Taehyung was a force, a storm contained in human form.

As he approached the altar, their eyes met for the first time. Taehyung’s gaze was sharp, assessing, and yet there was something more behind it—something Jungkook couldn’t place. But that look… it sent a shiver down his spine.

Jungkook’s hands twitched nervously, but he forced himself to stand tall, to hold his ground. He wasn’t a child anymore. He wasn’t invisible anymore. This was real. His new life began today.

The officiant began the ceremony, his voice low and ceremonial, but Jungkook couldn’t focus on the words. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the overwhelming presence of the man standing beside him. Taehyung didn’t speak a word. He didn’t need to. His very presence was commanding enough.

Jungkook tried to keep his voice steady as he repeated the vows, but it was hard. Every word felt like a heavy stone lodged in his throat. He hadn’t chosen this life. He hadn’t chosen Taehyung. Yet here he was, bound by fate, bound by duty, to a man who was already a stranger.

When the vows were finished, Taehyung reached for him—not to kiss him, but to place a cold, dry kiss on his forehead. The touch was light, almost distant. Professional. Like they were merely two business partners sealing a contract. It felt wrong. It felt like he wasn’t even a part of the moment. Just a transaction.

Jungkook blinked, his throat tight as the weight of the situation pressed in on him. He could feel the eyes of the guests on him, could sense the judgment in the air. They weren’t looking at him with warmth or affection. They were looking at him as if he were some kind of spectacle, something to be observed but never truly understood.

Taehyung pulled back and took a step away, his cold gaze flicking over Jungkook one last time before he turned to face the room.

Jungkook felt a pang in his chest. He had no idea what to expect from this marriage. He didn’t know what it meant to be married to a man like Taehyung. He didn’t know if Taehyung would ever look at him with anything other than indifference. But right now, he didn’t know if he cared.

The ceremony ended, and the guests began to file out. But Jungkook stayed behind, standing alone in the empty hall. His heart was a tangle of emotions—fear, uncertainty, sadness. He had no idea what awaited him now.

But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t invisible. And he wasn’t alone.

The Kim estate was an enormous, sprawling mansion on the outskirts of Seoul. Its opulence was overwhelming, with towering marble pillars, intricate chandeliers, and polished floors that gleamed like glass. Every inch of the house spoke of wealth, power, and the hidden dangers lurking beneath the surface.

Jungkook had never felt more out of place.

As soon as the ceremony had ended, Taehyung had given him a quick, indifferent nod and disappeared. Jungkook had been escorted to a guest room—an extravagant suite with plush furniture and delicate, expensive curtains. Yet, as he stood in the center of the room, looking around at the lavish surroundings, he felt an odd sense of emptiness. The room was beautiful, but it felt like a cage. It wasn’t a home, and it certainly wasn’t his.

The silence of the mansion felt suffocating.

He sat on the bed, looking at the elegant white gown he’d been given to wear, the delicate lace brushing against his skin. His fingers curled around the fabric, his chest tightening as he tried to come to terms with everything. His family had arranged this marriage for him, a deal that no one had bothered to explain fully. He had been thrust into this world of power and luxury without any warning or preparation.

For a moment, he felt like the invisible child again. The one no one saw. The one who had been hidden away from the world. Now, he was expected to play a role, to fit into a world that had never accepted him. His heart ached, and he wondered if this would ever feel real—if he would ever truly belong in Taehyung’s world.

The sound of footsteps outside the door brought him back to the present. It was a soft knock, followed by a voice.

"Jungkook? Dinner is ready."

Jungkook hesitated before responding, his voice soft and unsure. "I’ll be there in a minute."

It wasn’t a command—just a simple statement. But the tone in the voice behind the door made his heart skip. It was Taehyung’s voice. Low, steady, and detached.

He stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of his gown, and made his way to the dining room. As he walked through the hallways, he couldn’t help but feel like a stranger in a foreign land. The walls seemed to close in around him, and every step echoed through the quiet mansion.

When he entered the dining room, he found Taehyung already seated at the head of the table. His posture was rigid, his gaze focused on the glass of wine in his hand. He didn’t look up when Jungkook entered.

"Sit," Taehyung’s voice was a low command.

Jungkook obeyed, sitting down across from him. The silence between them was thick, a chasm that neither of them was willing to bridge. The staff silently placed dishes in front of them, but Jungkook barely noticed the food. He was too preoccupied with the man sitting across from him, the man who was now his husband.

"How are you settling in?" Taehyung asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

Jungkook looked up, meeting Taehyung’s gaze for the first time since the ceremony. There was something in those eyes—something calculating, something cold. He could almost feel the distance between them. It was suffocating.

"I… I’m fine," Jungkook replied quietly, his voice betraying the uncertainty he felt. "It’s just… all so sudden."

Taehyung nodded slowly, taking another sip of his wine. "It’s not unusual for a marriage like this to be sudden. You’ll get used to it."

Jungkook’s hands clenched on the table, the fine china cold beneath his fingers. He wanted to ask more questions. He wanted to know what this marriage meant for him, for them. But he was afraid. Afraid of the answer. Afraid of what Taehyung might say.

Instead, he focused on his meal, pushing the food around on his plate, too nervous to eat. The silence between them felt heavy, but he couldn’t bring himself to break it. He wasn’t sure what to say, or if Taehyung even wanted him to speak.

After what felt like an eternity, Taehyung finally stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You should rest," he said, his voice still cold. "We’ll speak more tomorrow."

Jungkook looked up, his heart racing in his chest. "Tomorrow?" He didn’t mean to sound desperate, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Taehyung glanced at him, his eyes sharp. "You’re not alone here, Jungkook. You don’t need to worry. I’m not going anywhere."

The words, though calm, felt like a warning. A reminder of the distance between them. He wasn’t here to care about him. He was here because of duty. Because of the agreement made long before Jungkook had ever been born.

"Right," Jungkook whispered, lowering his head.

The next few days passed in a blur of awkward dinners and cold silences. Jungkook tried his best to adapt to the strange new world he found himself in. Taehyung was always there, always present, but never really there for him. Jungkook would catch glimpses of him in passing, his cold demeanor never shifting, his expression always unreadable.

It was during one of these moments that Jungkook found himself standing in the hallway late at night, unable to sleep. The storm outside had left the house feeling eerily quiet. He hadn’t seen Taehyung since dinner, and he hadn’t seen him leave the study. So, he did what he never thought he’d do—he knocked on Taehyung’s door.

A moment passed before the door creaked open, revealing Taehyung standing there in a simple black shirt and loose pants. His gaze softened for a fraction of a second when he saw Jungkook standing in the hallway.

"You need something?" Taehyung asked, his voice quiet, almost guarded.

Jungkook swallowed, his hands trembling slightly. "I… I can’t sleep. The storm’s too loud."

Taehyung didn’t say anything at first, his eyes studying Jungkook for a moment. Then, without a word, he stepped aside to let Jungkook in.

Jungkook hesitated before entering, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but Taehyung’s presence had a way of making him feel small, like he didn’t belong. Still, he took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

"Thank you," Jungkook said quietly, unsure of what to do or where to sit.

Taehyung simply nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You can stay if you need to. But I’m not here to hold your hand, Jungkook."

The bluntness of Taehyung’s words stung, but Jungkook didn’t retreat. Instead, he found himself sitting on the opposite side of the room, away from Taehyung but close enough to feel the heat of his presence.

The minutes stretched on. The storm raged outside, but in that room, there was a strange sort of peace—a quiet before the storm that Jungkook couldn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t alone. But he wasn’t sure if he ever would be.

The storm outside had softened into a steady drizzle by morning. The sky, once dark and violent, now glowed a soft gray through the large windows of the room Jungkook had spent the night in—not his room, but Taehyung’s.

He stirred awake slowly, the silk sheets cool against his skin. At first, he was confused—until the memories returned.

The hallway. The storm. Taehyung opening the door. The way he’d said, “You can stay.”

Jungkook turned his head, expecting to see the bed empty. But Taehyung was still there, sitting in an armchair by the window, fully dressed, his gaze fixed on the rain outside.

“You didn’t sleep?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

Taehyung didn’t turn. “Didn’t need to.”

That was it—no further explanation. But there was something gentler in his tone today, like the edge in his voice had dulled, if only slightly.

Jungkook sat up slowly, brushing his long bangs behind his ear. “I’m sorry for barging in last night.”

“You didn’t,” Taehyung said without looking at him. “You knocked.”

That simple correction made Jungkook’s heart stutter. It wasn’t kind, exactly—but it wasn’t cruel either. It felt… human.

They stayed in silence for a while, the only sound being the rhythmic tap of rain against the windows. And somehow, that silence felt different now. Less cold. Less heavy.

Jungkook slid off the bed and moved to stand near him. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched him. Studied the profile of a man who was supposed to be untouchable, impenetrable. Taehyung looked tired—no, not physically, but emotionally. As if he was always holding something in.

“Why did you agree to this?” Jungkook asked quietly, his eyes fixed on him.

Taehyung finally turned his head, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but something flickered in them.

“Because your grandfather asked. And my father trusted him.” His jaw tensed slightly. “And because power is easier to protect when it’s shared.”

There it was again. Business. Strategy. Nothing personal.

Jungkook looked away. “So I’m just a symbol.”

“You were never supposed to be you,” Taehyung said, almost too bluntly. “But you showed up. And you didn’t run.”

His words stung, but not in the way Jungkook expected. There was no malice in them—just truth. Cold, indifferent truth. And yet, there was something behind them that made Jungkook's chest tighten.

“You thought I would run?” he asked.

Taehyung tilted his head, studying him like he was something complex. “Most people would.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” Taehyung said quietly, “you’re not.”

That moment hung between them like a fragile thread. Jungkook wanted to say more. He wanted to break through the walls Taehyung kept so carefully constructed. But before he could speak again, Taehyung stood.

“I’ll have someone bring you breakfast. Rest more if you need it.” And just like that, the cold mask returned, the vulnerable moment gone.

---

The days that followed fell into a strange routine. They didn’t talk much, but Jungkook began noticing little things.

Taehyung never raised his voice. He was never unkind. Distant, yes—but never cruel. He’d begun eating breakfast in the same room, sometimes in silence, sometimes with soft, passing questions about Jungkook’s studies. Jungkook always answered. Taehyung always listened.

One afternoon, Jungkook found himself wandering into the garden. The roses were in full bloom, and the scent of them filled the air. He sat by the stone fountain, the soft breeze tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.

He didn’t expect Taehyung to find him there.

“You like flowers?” Taehyung asked, voice behind him, startling him.

Jungkook turned. Taehyung was dressed in all black again, the gold chain around his neck glinting under the sun.

“They’re quiet,” Jungkook said simply. “They bloom, even when no one’s watching.”

Taehyung stepped closer. “You sound like one.”

Jungkook looked up at him, lips parting slightly in surprise. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an observation.”

Jungkook smiled faintly. “Still sounds like a compliment.”

They stood there, silence stretching again—but this time, it felt peaceful. Not tense.

And that night, when Jungkook returned to his room, there was a small white rose on his pillow.

---

The cracks began to form slowly in Taehyung’s walls. Small things.

He began asking about Jungkook’s favorite foods. Then he had them cooked by the estate’s chef.

He began leaving books in Jungkook’s study corner, marked with small tabs where Taehyung thought he’d enjoy a quote.

One night, Jungkook came down with a fever. He tried to hide it—he didn’t want to seem weak. But Taehyung noticed.

And when Jungkook woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and half-delirious, Taehyung was beside him, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead.

“Why are you here?” Jungkook asked, lips dry, breath uneven.

“Because you’re mine,” Taehyung said, eyes dark, voice low.

And that was the first time he said something that wasn’t wrapped in duty or distance. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a command.

It was a truth.

---

By the end of the second week, Jungkook realized something terrifying.

He was falling for him.

Not the ruthless businessman. Not the mafia king.

But the quiet man who sat with him during thunderstorms.

The one who noticed the smallest things.

The one who never said the words, but showed them instead.

Jungkook fell slowly.

But what he didn’t know—was that Taehyung was already falling too.

And when he fell…

He would fall harder.