The Taste of Four Season (JIKOOK)
The first sip of morning
Jimin Park was married—but not really.
Five years ago, she signed a contract: no intimacy, no appearances, no interference. In return, she received money. Money to keep her mother alive, money to pay her father’s debts, money to survive.
To the world, she was Jeon Jungkook’s flawless wife—graceful, respectful, invisible. Behind closed doors, she was a shadow, trapped in a villa that felt like winter—cold, silent, unyielding.
Her days followed seasons she did not choose:
Spring in the café, smiling and giving life to pastries she poured herself into.
Summer in the villa, performing warmth for a husband's family and cared for him domestically who barely looked her way.
Autumn, when the quiet reminded her of all she had lost.
And winter, when guilt and loneliness buried her beneath debt, family obligations, and secrets.
Love was a luxury she couldn’t afford—until a face from her past stirred memories of a girl she used to be, a life she thought she’d lost.
When the contract ends…
Will she remain the shadow Jungkook bought, or will the lie unravel—forcing her to taste each season in ways she never imagined?
The perfect marriage was never meant to exist. But even winter can end, and sometimes, the coldest hearts bloom in spring.
☀️ The first Sip of morning ☀️
The bell above the door chimed softly, a timid note swallowed instantly by the quiet streets of Seoul, still shivering in the last breaths of dawn. Jimin Park had been awake long before the city stirred.
At four in the morning, she moved behind the worn oak counter of her family’s coffee shop, apron snug around her waist, hair tucked beneath a haphazard scarf, hands dusted with flour that clung stubbornly from kneading dough and arranging pastries. The scent of warm yeast, caramelizing sugar, and freshly roasted coffee beans swirled around her, enveloping the shop like a secret embrace.
This little café was more than a workplace—it was a fragile inheritance, a patchwork of love and labor that survived despite her family’s missteps. Here, she wasn’t the untouchable Mrs. Jeon, the flawless, invisible wife whose existence barely rippled beyond the mansion walls.
Here, she was simply Jimin—smiling at the old man who ordered the same bitter espresso every morning, teasing the high schooler fumbling with his iced latte, slipping an extra croissant into the bag of a weary nurse.
She moved like a quiet conductor, orchestrating ovens, grinders, and steaming machines with meditative precision. Each clink of ceramic, each hiss of the espresso machine, was familiar and comforting—a symphony of routine.
Yet, beneath the rhythm, a pulse of anxiety thrummed. Debts, failures, precarious survival—they hovered at the edge of her consciousness like shadows in the corners of the shop.
By seven, Jane and Jed would arrive, taking over the rhythm of the morning. Until then, the world belonged to her. And then… the other life would begin.
The clock struck seven-twenty. Jimin hung her apron, brushed the flour from her hands, and with a practiced flick, donned the mask she wore for the rest of the day. The cheerful, grounding presence of the café disappeared, replaced by the poised, untouchable Mrs. Jeon. Outside, the car waited like a patient predator. She stepped in, and the streets seemed colder, quieter, shifting around her like a stage resetting for a different act.
The Jeon villa rose ahead, imposing and silent. She moved through the halls like a ghost, arranging breakfast, lining up Jungkook’s pills with precise care, smoothing his suit jacket over the chair. Every movement measured, every gesture a lie cloaked in grace.
Footsteps—sharp, deliberate—cut through the silence. Jungkook descended the stairs, tall and rigid, the kind of presence that made the air feel heavier. His gaze swept over the room, catching hers only for a heartbeat before a curt nod.
Jungkook Jeon
Jimin *pausing as if remembering something*
Grandpa wants to see us tonight. Minhyun will pick you up at seven.
Jimin/Luna Park
*She tilted her head, feigning a sigh*
Hmmp… alright. But you’re buying me a dress on your way there.
Jimin/Luna Park
Don’t even think about forgetting—I need to wear something new. They might catch you being stingy if I wear an old one.
Jungkook Jeon
*A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible*
And why would I do that?
Jimin/Luna Park
Because * she leaned on the counter, tilting her head just so*
I’m your wife. A wife must be draped in Mr. Jeon’s fortune.
Jimin/Luna Park
Don’t even think of letting me wear the old dress—they’ll hold you accountable for being stingy.
* She punctuated the tease with a wink*
He took a measured sip of coffee, eyes tracing the rim like he was counting seconds.
Jungkook Jeon
Stingy, huh?
His tone was low, teasing, but threaded with the quiet command she’d long learned to respect.
Jungkook Jeon
Should I be worried?
Jimin/Luna Park
Only if you’re afraid I’ll hold you accountable.
she countered softly, letting the tension stretch between them like a taut wire.
Jimin/Luna Park
Or… maybe you secretly like being threatened.
His gaze flickered, just briefly, before settling back into the cool, unreadable calm she’d come to know so well.
Jungkook Jeon
Don’t push it *he murmured*
A hint of curiosity breaking through the usual edge of command.
She smiled, savoring the small victory of the morning duel
Jimin/Luna Park
I don’t push
she said lightly, setting a plate of breakfast before him.
Jimin/Luna Park
I merely remind.
Her smile stayed bright, flawless, masking the stirrings of warmth she dared not name. And somewhere in the silence, beneath the rigid perfection of their world, spring whispered quietly, promising traces of what might bloom.
The rich aroma of coffee mingled with the almost tangible tension between them. Jungkook lifted the cup carefully, avoiding her eyes, yet for a fraction of a second, she caught it—a crack in the armor, fleeting, elusive, almost imaginary… but there.
She shook her head, dismissing it with a quiet chuckle she didn’t share aloud. "Don’t be ridiculous. He’s always like that."
Yet even as she moved away, chest light from the small triumph, a stubborn curiosity took root. What if that crack was more than a trick of the morning light? What if beneath the frost of his composure, there was something real? Something human?
Author
Hello everyone!
Please help me stay encouraged to keep doing this. I used to write stories about a decade and a half ago, back in high school. But I stopped for a while because of some personal struggles as a student. During that time, I expressed my thoughts and feelings through poems instead.
Recently, my passion for writing sparked again—probably because I’m also an ARMY 😅 (OT7, actually!). No offense, please—I made Jimin’s character a girl because, in my perspective, he has such soft, graceful features and a personality that fits perfectly for the role. So, please no hate! 💜
This is my first time submitting my work, and I truly hope for your support and encouragement as I continue this little hobby of mine. No matter what happens, I’ll keep writing.
Thank you so much! 💫
Author
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The Perfect Mask
The black car rolled up the long driveway, its polished surface reflecting the golden glow of the mansion’s lights.
Jimin took a slow, measured breath, straightening her dress one final time. The silk hugged her figure perfectly, the delicate embroidery catching the light with each subtle movement.
Her hair fell in soft waves, perfectly arranged, framing a face sculpted with effortless elegance. High heels clicked softly on the marble steps as she stepped out, her posture straight, poised, commanding attention without a single word.
Jungkook followed, a study in controlled power. His tailored suit clung to his broad shoulders, the crisp lines of the jacket emphasizing his tall, athletic frame. Every movement was precise, deliberate, radiating quiet authority.
Dark eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the grounds, taking in every detail, every shadow. The slight tilt of his jaw, the steady rhythm of his steps—he seemed untouchable, a force both magnetic and formidable.
The evening air seemed to bend around them as they approached the grand entrance. Mrs. Jeon, waiting at the door, blinked, startled for just a fraction of a second at their presence—Jimin like a porcelain vision of grace, Jungkook like a dark, controlled storm.
Minerva Jeon
Ah, my darling!
She exclaimed arms wide, enveloping Jimin in a hug that was warm but meticulous, as if she were measuring the perfection of her daughter-in-law.
Minerva Jeon
You’ve grown more beautiful every time I see you.
Jungkook stepped forward, tall and imposing, arms crossed.
Jungkook Jeon
Mom, am I even your son? Shouldn’t it be me first?
Mrs. Jeon laughed, brushing his arm playfully.
Minerva Jeon
How could you even say that, you brat! Of course she’s my princess. Unless— *voice dropped to a teasing whisper*
you give me a mini version of you first, so I can cuddle them. *giggles*
Jungkook Jeon
Not again *muttered, rolling his eyes, though a subtle, reluctant smile tugged at his lips*
Jimin allowed herself the tiniest smirk, her perfect daughter-in-law mask firmly in place. Every tilt of her head, every step forward, was controlled, precise—a picture of refinement that seemed almost unreal.
Hand in hand with Jungkook, she followed Mrs. Jeon into the grand living room, where the patriarch of the family waited. Grandpa Jeon’s face softened as he looked at them, and Jimin greeted him with the warmest smile she could muster.
Jimin/Luna Park
Good evening, Grandpa *said politely, curtsying slightly, the image of the dutiful wife complete*
Grandpa Jeon
Good evening, my dears * voice calm but carrying the weight of expectation*
His eyes lingered on Jimin for a moment longer than usual, assessing, measuring.
Inside, Jimin felt the familiar tension return—the chill beneath the warmth. Yet she remained perfect, poised, untouchable, and flawless.
As the dinner was set they all led themselves in to their dinning room.
The dining room was softly lit, a warm glow reflecting off the crystal chandeliers. The table was impeccably set, every detail precise, every napkin folded like a small work of art. Jimin moved gracefully to her seat beside Jungkook, careful to keep her posture perfect, her smile flawless.
Grandpa Jeon
Tonight is a special evening. I’ve missed having both of you here together.
Jungkook Jeon
* he muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward Jimin*
You see? Even Grandpa seems to think you’re the star of the evening.
Jimin/Luna Park
*She arched a perfectly groomed brow*
Careful, or I’ll start thinking you’re jealous.
Jimin teased softly, her voice just low enough for him to hear
Jungkook Jeon
Jealous? * he repeated, mock incredulous*
I? Never. I simply… prioritize properly.
Mrs. Jeon, catching the exchange, laughed softly.
Minerva Jeon
Oh, you two. Always so dramatic. But I do have one tiny request tonight.
She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with hidden purpose.
Minerva Jeon
Grandpa would like to see you… settle into family life properly. Maybe start thinking about the future—he’s especially keen on seeing you two consider children.
Jimin’s hand tensed slightly on her lap. She kept her expression serene, her smile soft, her nod polite.
Jimin/Luna Park
Of course, Mother. Whatever Grandpa wishes. *smile softly*
Grandpa Jeon laugh loudly as he is satisfied to the answer.
Jungkook Jeon
* Jaw tightened, though only subtly*
Yes, Mother.
He said evenly, his hand brushing hers under the table, a quiet signal of unity—or perhaps warning.
Grandpa Jeon eyes softened as she watched them
Grandpa Jeon
It’s been five years, you know. Time flies, but life doesn’t wait.
Jimin felt the weight behind those words, the unspoken expectation, but she masked it easily. She poured herself a sip of wine, smiling politely.
Jimin/Luna Park
*In her thought*
Five years… and I still hide everything
But tonight, I must be flawless.
The conversation moved around the table—trivial family news, compliments on her appearance, Jungkook’s work updates—but under every word was the current of expectation. Jimin felt it like a tide against her carefully built mask, the gentle pressure of a world that saw only the perfect wife.
And all the while, Jungkook sat beside her, his usual composed self, yet occasionally glancing at her with an intensity she could not read. She wondered, as she had many times before, if he truly saw her—or only the performance she delivered.
For now, she reminded herself, she was the perfect wife, the dutiful daughter-in-law, the untouchable partner in a contract that defined their lives.
But deep inside, a small, persistent thought tugged at her: how long can a winter this long hide the warmth beneath?
Curiosity
Two weeks had passed since the dinner at the Jeon mansion. Saturday had come again, and with it, the ritual that had become the anchor of Jimin’s week—visiting her mother at the hospital.
The familiar smell of antiseptic greeted her the moment she stepped into the ward, a scent that had come to feel like both a warning and a comfort. Machines beeped rhythmically, a lullaby that marked the fragile line between life and hope.
Jimin paused at her mother’s bedside, taking in the pale, still form connected to tubes and monitors. Despite having hired caregivers to tend to her every need, she was first and foremost a daughter—one who ached for her mother’s touch, for the warmth of her embrace that had been absent for far too long.
She reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from her mother’s face. Her hand trembled ever so slightly
Jimin/Luna Park
* she whispered*
Mom… it’s me. I’m here.
All the masks she wore throughout the week—fierce, composed, untouchable —fell away in that quiet room. Here, she could be simply Jimin: warm, vulnerable, hopeful, and painfully human. She poured out the worries and fears she had carried alone, her voice cracking at times, each word heavy with unspoken guilt.
Jimin/Luna Park
I… I’m trying, Mom. I’m keeping everything together. I’m doing what I can… but I’m scared. I miss you. * whispered, tears falling silently onto the sterile sheets*
The machines continued their steady rhythm, and Jimin leaned closer, letting herself rest her head lightly against her mother’s shoulder. The weight of the week—the perfection, the performances, the expectations—slipped from her shoulders. She allowed herself to cry, to breathe, to simply be.
She didn’t notice the hours slipping by, or that the fatigue had wrapped around her like a soft blanket. In the quiet hum of machines and the scent of antiseptic, Jimin finally drifted into a fitful sleep, her hand still clutching her mother’s, holding on to the one fragment of home that had always mattered most.
Meanwhile, in the sleek, glass-walled boardroom of the Jeon headquarters, Jungkook leaned back in his leather chair, the last of his morning meetings concluded. His dark eyes scanned the reports laid neatly before him.
Jungkook Jeon
Minhyun *he called, voice calm but commanding*
Any updates on the deal with the international jewelry company?
Minhyun, ever attentive, stepped forward, presenting a slim folder.
Minhyun Lee
They’ve finalized the terms, sir. The company has also proposed reaching out to Wendy for the upcoming Fashion Week next month.
They want her to feature the collaborative collection we’ve developed with Kim and Jung companies.
Jungkook Jeon
* nodded slowly, fingers steepling as he considered the news*
Wendy’s exposure could strengthen the branding, especially if we integrate the collection with the fashion showcase. Make sure the schedules align perfectly—no mistakes this time.
Minhyun Lee
Yes, sir. * he replied, bowing slightly before turning to leave*
Jungkook remained in his chair a moment longer, gaze distant yet precise, running through logistics, branding strategies, and potential media exposure. Every detail mattered; every move calculated.
For someone outside the Jeon empire, it might seem like a normal day in business—but for Jungkook, each deal, each collaboration, and each family tie was a careful game of control, image, and legacy. Wendy’s involvement wasn’t just fashion; it was a statement—a subtle way to bridge family, business, and influence, while keeping the empire’s standards untouchable.
As Minhyun exited, Jungkook finally rose, straightening his jacket.
Jungkook Jeon
Make the arrangements. *he said quietly to himself, though every word carried authority*
I want this executed flawlessly. No compromises.
Jungkook adjusted his jacket as he stepped toward the elevator, the sleek hum of the office fading behind him. Yet even as he walked, an unexpected image crossed his mind—Jimin, standing in her apron, preparing his meals and arranging his medicine with quiet precision. Her lips curved in a stubborn, almost teasing smile that lingered in his memory.
He paused mid-step, frowning slightly. Why now? he wondered, irritation flickering beneath his composed exterior." I’ve no business thinking about her…"
But the thought refused to leave. A peculiar warmth tugged at the corner of his mind—a sensation he hadn’t allowed himself in years.
Jungkook Jeon
💭 Has she really been this… invested in my world? In my money, my luxury? Or…
*His brow furrowed, hesitation slowing his stride*
Maybe… I’ve missed her?
He shook his head sharply, as if to dislodge the thought, frustration prickling at his chest.
Jungkook Jeon
💭 Ridiculous!
She’s just a girl who plays the perfect wife. That’s all.
Minhyun Lee
* noticing the rare pause, cleared his throat*
Are you okay, Mr. Jeon?
Jungkook’s lips pressed into a thin line. In a tone unreadable as ever, he asked
Jungkook Jeon
..What has Jimin been doing lately?
Minhyun tilted his head in disbelief. Five long years, and this was the first time Jungkook had ever inquired about Jimin’s whereabouts.
Minhyun Lee
Would you like me to gather information, Mr. Jeon? *He politely ask*
Jungkook Jeon
*he shook his head firmly, almost in denial*
Nah… let it be. I’m not curious at all.
He said, though the faint clench of his jaw betrayed the lie even to himself.
At the street of the city
The car crawled through the city streets, caught in the inevitable crawl of rush-hour traffic. Jungkook’s eyes, usually so precise and sharp, drifted almost absentmindedly to the buildings lining the street.
Something caught his attention—a small, beautifully designed coffee shop tucked into a corner, warm lights spilling onto the pavement, a line of people queued outside. The sign read: LUNA’S Coffee Shop.
For a moment, his chest tightened. Luna… That was what his mother sometimes called Jimin. The name sparked a fleeting tug in his mind, a strange pull of recognition he couldn’t explain.
Jungkook Jeon
*He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to shake off the thought*
Stop. This is nothing. Just a café. *he murmured to himself*
Minhyun Lee
*Glancing briefly at the shop, muttered under his breath*
Maybe they serve a good coffee in there…
The traffic light changed to green, and the car lurched forward. The shop disappeared from view, but the memory of the name—and the faint image of Jimin—lingered stubbornly in Jungkook’s mind. He didn’t suspect it was her café, yet he found himself thinking of her, of Luna, as though she had somehow slipped into his thoughts uninvited.
At home, the scent of freshly prepared food greeted Jungkook as he stepped into the dining room. Jimin was already there, seated gracefully at the table, her posture relaxed yet perfectly composed.
Jimin/Luna Park
Dinner’s ready * she said casually, her eyes bright as she looked up from arranging the plates*
Jimin/Luna Park
Minhyun, come join us before you leave.
Jungkook froze mid-step. A tingling heat spread across his chest, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. "Why is she… so warm as always?" he wondered, his gaze snapping to her, noting the effortless ease in her manner.
Junhkook turned toward Minhyun, eyes narrowing just slightly, a silent signal: Get out
Minhyun Lee
*chuckled, shaking his head*
Nope. I’ll stay for a bit. * he said, amusement dancing in his eyes at the rare sight of Jungkook flustered*
Jungkook’s jaw tightened, a flicker of jealousy pricking at him. He was always composed, always in control, yet there was something in the ease with which Jimin interacted—even casually with Minhyun—that unsettled him.
The bond between Jungkook and Minhyun was unique; more than just employer and assistant, they had grown up together. Brothers in everything but blood, tempered with boundaries and respect. Still, the subtle tension at that table reminded Jungkook that he wasn’t entirely immune to the world Jimin inhabited outside his rigid expectations.
And for the first time in a long while, he found himself noticing… and begrudging it.
Jimin served the dishes with practiced grace, sliding a plate toward Jungkook with a soft smile.
Jimin/Luna Park
I made your favorite *she said, her voice light, almost teasing*
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, silent as always, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the slightest acknowledgment.
Jungkook Jeon
Did you… season it correctly? * tone casual, but his gaze lingered on her longer than usual*
Jimin/Luna Park
* tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes*
Of course. You’d like it too bland if I didn’t?
Jungkook leaned back slightly, studying her. Every movement, every expression, was so perfectly composed, yet there was a warmth he hadn’t seen before—something that made his chest tighten again.
Minhyun Lee
*trying not to grin, took a bite and hummed appreciatively*
Hmmmm.....This is really good, Ms. Jimin.
Jungkook’s eyes flicked between them, irritation mixed with something unspoken.
Jungkook Jeon
Hmph. Don’t let it go to her head.
*he muttered, though the edge in his voice was gone*
Jimin/Luna Park
* laughed softly, the sound light and teasing*
Oh, I think I can handle a little praise… even from you, Mr. Jeon.
Jungkook Jeon
*the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—a rare, almost imperceptible smile*
Careful. You’re walking on dangerous ground.
Jimin/Luna Park
* She leaned just a little closer, setting down a spoon with deliberate grace.*
Oh? And what makes you think I’m afraid of a little danger?
He caught her gaze, the usual icy composure wavering for the briefest moment. The air between them shifted, charged with an intimacy that was never meant to exist outside their staged performances. And yet, here it was—real, undeniable, even if neither dared to name it.
Minhyun Lee
*Cleared his throat awkwardly, sensing the tension*
Should I… leave now? *he asked, a teasing undertone slipping in*
Minhyun knowing full well how Jungkook and Jimin loved to test each other’s patience.
Jungkook Jeon
* eyes narrowed, but there was a playful glint there*
I should have kicked you out.
Minhyun Lee
*scoffed, almost slipping into laughter*
No, I must stay. We need to discuss the next month’s deal.
Jimin rolled her eyes lightly, smirking at the two men who seemed caught in a silent battle of dominance and teasing. The air was thick with unspoken words, half-smiles, and the subtle electricity of a tension that neither contract nor habit could completely contain.
Author
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