Chapter 21: The Man's Plan

The noise was overwhelming. The hum of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all seemed to press against Taehyung’s chest like an invisible weight. His pulse thudded in his ears, and the air felt too warm, too thick, as if the room itself was closing in on him.

An unfamiliar crowd surrounded him from all sides, strangers in elegant suits and glittering dresses moving like restless tides. It was suffocating, almost nauseating, and each accidental brush of an arm or shoulder made him want to step back further into the shadows.

He could feel their eyes. Not all of them, but enough to make his skin crawl—men and women whose curiosity wasn’t for him, but for the man he’d arrived with. Jungkook’s name lingered on their lips like a lure, and Taehyung could tell most only noticed him because he was connected to it. That alone made him want to disappear.

He kept to a corner, nursing the space between himself and the glittering social circle. He didn’t belong here, not in this world of polished small talk and subtle power plays. Every cell in his body screamed for him to run.

“Are you okay?”

The voice came from his left, close enough to make him flinch. He turned quickly, his eyes meeting a stranger’s.

The man was tall, neatly dressed, and carried himself with a quiet ease that set him apart from the rest of the room. His features were handsome, not in a way that demanded attention, but in the sort of way one noticed when they slowed down enough to look.

“Uh… yes, I’m fine,” Taehyung said, forcing his lips into a polite smile even though the corners trembled.

“It must be exhausting for you to be here,” the man said with a slight tilt of his head, as though he’d already read Taehyung’s discomfort.

Taehyung blinked at him, momentarily thrown. Most people here wouldn’t have noticed—wouldn’t have cared—but this man had seen it instantly.

“I’m sorry,” the man continued, smiling sheepishly. “You probably think it’s odd that I noticed.” He leaned back slightly, giving Taehyung more space. “It’s just… unusual to see Mr. Jeon bring someone along. It’s my first time seeing him with someone he seemed confident being seen with.”

The words landed heavier than Taehyung expected.

“No, it’s okay,” Taehyung said softly, eyes darting away. “I just… don’t really know how to talk to people here.”

“It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing for approaching you out of nowhere,” the man said, his smile gentle enough to take the edge off the awkwardness.

Something about his presence felt strangely… light. Not harmless, exactly, but easy to stand beside.

“I’m Park Jihyun,” he said, extending his hand.

“Kim Taehyung.”

“And your relationship with Mr. Jeon? You seemed close. If you’re not comfortable answering, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Taehyung interrupted politely. “He’s my best friend. I live with him at the moment, but my home’s in another city.”

“Just best friends? That’s… interesting,” Jihyun said, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Why?”

“Well,” Jihyun leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, “he’s not exactly known for befriending people. I’ve worked in his company for years, and I’ve never seen him close to anyone.”

Taehyung straightened a little. “Maybe he’s just trying something different. It’s not that strange to befriend someone.” He spoke more firmly, as if trying to draw a line—one that kept any speculation about him and Jungkook far away from the truth.

“That’s fair,” Jihyun said, nodding. “Though… I guess that means the rumors about him having a wife and child were made up.”

Taehyung froze. “That was just a rumor?”

“Yes. Some people swore they saw a woman and child entering his house. Even had pictures, apparently. But when they surfaced, they were deleted almost immediately. The talk was that Mr. Jeon had the connections to bury it.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed. “There’s nothing wrong if it’s true, though. Having a wife and kid—”

“Well, sure. But the rumor wasn’t just about that.” Jihyun’s voice lowered again. “They said the woman looked… battered. Bruises on her arms, deep shadows under her eyes. People started to whisper about abuse. His rivals were practically waiting for proof so they could tear him down.”

A cold prickle ran down Taehyung’s spine. He didn’t know why his throat felt tight, but the weight of those words settled heavily in his stomach.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

Both of them startled at the voice. Taehyung turned, and there was Jungkook—his smile flawless, perfectly polite, and so obviously fake that Taehyung’s pulse jumped.

Jungkook’s hand slid around Taehyung’s waist with deliberate ease, his grip not painful but firm enough to keep him close.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeon,” Jihyun said, bowing slightly.

“What’s your relationship with him?” Jungkook asked, his eyes locked on Jihyun but his voice carrying an edge that felt like it was meant for Taehyung.

“We just met,” Jihyun replied calmly. “I was simply curious about the person you brought tonight.”

“Is that so?” Jungkook’s smile didn’t waver. “You seem comfortable with him already.”

Taehyung gave a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Jungkook. I don’t mind.”

If anything, that only made Jungkook’s gaze sharpen slightly. Taehyung’s throat went dry, but before either could continue, a phone rang nearby, breaking the moment.

“I have to go. Enjoy your evening,” Jihyun said, bowing again before slipping into the crowd.

Jungkook’s eyes followed him until he disappeared, then turned to Taehyung. “I thought you were anxious tonight, which is why I came to keep you company. Yet here you are—doing fine without me. Even talking to strangers.”

“He just asked a few things. Nothing personal,” Taehyung said quickly.

Jungkook’s lips curved, though it wasn’t quite a smile. Without another word, he stepped away toward a passing waiter. His hand brushed the man’s tray before selecting a tall glass of champagne.

When he returned, he held it out to Taehyung. “Drink this. It’ll help with your anxiousness.”

Taehyung hesitated, but the last thing he wanted was to get into another conversation with Jungkook right now. He took the glass, the cool condensation dampening his fingertips, and lifted it to his lips.

The champagne was crisp and cold, fizzing gently over his tongue. He tipped the glass higher, letting the liquid wash away the dryness in his throat—anything to avoid speaking. Within seconds, it was empty.

When he lowered the glass, Jungkook was watching him. Not casually—intensely. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and there was a faint curl of satisfaction tugging at his mouth.

The smirk deepened slightly, as if he’d just confirmed something he already knew.