Chapter 01 : The First Sight

The living room smelled of freshly brewed tea, soft incense, and subtle tension.

Taehyung sat rigidly on a velvet couch that felt too extravagant for such an ordinary moment. The fabric beneath his palms was warm, almost slippery, but his heart remained untouched—cool, calm, and carefully guarded. He was dressed in a soft beige hanbok, the color chosen by his mother to "give the right impression." His long lashes cast shadows under his eyes as he kept his gaze lowered, respectfully silent while his parents exchanged pleasantries with the hosts.

It was supposed to be routine. A formal meet-and-greet with a girl they’d chosen for him. Just tradition. Just one of those things he had to get through.

The girl sat across from him, nervous fingers tugging at the end of her sleeve, her gaze flickering shyly toward him every few seconds. She was sweet, beautiful in a conventional way, and clearly doing her best to impress. But none of that mattered.

Because the moment Taehyung had entered the room, someone else had caught his attention.

Him.

He stood behind the girl's family, half-hidden in the corner like a shadow. A boy—young, maybe around Taehyung’s age or a little younger. Dressed in a faded, oversized shirt, his hands were clasped in front of him like he didn’t know what else to do with them. His head remained bowed, and his posture screamed, “Don’t look at me.”

But Taehyung did.

He couldn’t stop.

The boy wasn’t introduced, not even acknowledged. He was just there, like a piece of furniture no one noticed anymore. And yet, his very presence stole every ounce of Taehyung's focus.

There was something haunting in the way he stood. Something raw. Like he was trying to disappear into the wallpaper, but his silence was louder than everyone else's noise.

“He’s the girl's stepbrother,” his mother whispered when Taehyung leaned close to ask. “Poor thing. Mute since he was little. No one really talks about it. His stepmother raised him after his own mother passed away. Some say he was born that way, others say something happened. No one really knows.”

There was something in his mother's tone—disapproval mixed with pity. Taehyung didn’t like it.

He looked back at the boy. Their eyes met—just for a second.

A flicker. A spark. A storm that rumbled beneath the surface.

It wasn’t just a look. It was a cry for help, buried in stillness.

And Taehyung heard it.

That single second unraveled something inside him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. The boy had spoken through silence, and Taehyung had listened like he’d been waiting for that exact sound all his life.

Without thinking, he turned to his mother and whispered, “I want to marry him.”

“What?” he gasped softly, blinking as if he misheard him.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate. “I’m not interested in the girl. I want him.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

The girl's parents looked horrified. The girl looked humiliated. And the boy—Jungkook, he would later learn—just stood there, his lips slightly parted, eyes wide in frozen shock. Like he wasn’t sure whether to run or just dissolve into the floor.

Taehyung stood up slowly, the rustle of his hanbok the only sound in the entire room. Every gaze was pinned on him, judging, questioning, disbelieving. But he didn’t falter.

He walked toward Jungkook—each step steady, quiet, sure.

He stopped in front of him and knelt down.

Right there, in the middle of the room filled with whispers and scandalized glances, Taehyung reached out and gently took Jungkook’s hand in his own.

It was cold. Fragile. Trembling.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Because Jungkook’s eyes were screaming questions. Why? Is this a joke? Why me?

And Taehyung’s silence answered: Because I see you. Because I hear you, even when you don’t speak.

A tear slipped down Jungkook’s cheek. Not loud, not dramatic. Just… real.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t invisible.

He was heard.

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