❪ THE BRAT EFFECT ❫
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.
a taekook fanfiction

ONE

Monday, 8:57 a.m., twenty-third floor of the glass-and-steel Vellicent Global tower. Most employees call it V-Glo. Most college students just know it as the place where ambition goes to sprint in heels.

Kim Taehyung thirty years old and somehow already three years into the CEO seat, stood at the head of a conference table long enough to host a Model UN. He looked terrifyingly calm while a bunch of executives threw out business jargon like they were competing for a LinkedIn trophy.

"Synergize."

"Verticalize."

"Pivot?"

His face didn't move. Dressed in charcoal Armani with a perfectly tied silk knot and hair that hadn't seen a stray strand in years, Taehyung looked like a sculpture built out of credit scores and quarterly reports. The only thing with any real temperature in the room was his Americano, which he sipped while nodding at slides he had probably already greenlit in another meeting no one remembered.

Off to the side stood Park Jimin. Arms folded. Tablet in hand. Rainbow-striped socks peeking out just enough to be a statement under a razor-sharp suit. He wasn't an assistant. He was one of the youngest executives in the company and the only person allowed to call Taehyung by his nickname without getting silently exiled.

By 9:42 a.m., Taehyung had already survived:
    •    A marketing pitch that tried and failed to rhyme "Vellicent" with "magnificent"
    •    A financial update so bleak the bar graphs looked like they were mourning
    •    A product demo involving a drone, a doughnut, and a building-wide fire drill

He was just about to walk into the quarterly talent review, also known as PowerPoint Hunger Games, when Jimin stepped into his path with the kind of look that meant emergency.

"Tae."

Only Jimin got to say it like that. Everyone else stuck with "Mr. Kim" unless they wanted to experience absolute zero.

Taehyung stopped mid-step. "Is this about that TikTok? The one with the interns and the front desk again?"

"Worse," Jimin said. His voice was steady but his eyes were not. "Your dad's here."

The air changed. Even the fluorescent lights above seemed to pause. Somewhere one floor down, a fax machine whined like it could sense drama unfolding.

"My..." Taehyung's voice lowered just slightly. "He's in the building?"

"Conference Room H. Ten minutes. I tried to move it but he invoked," Jimin tilted the tablet toward him like it held sacred text, "'fatherly privilege.'"

Taehyung blinked. His brain raced through possibilities. Emergency board vote. Surprise compliance audit. A lecture about sock choices.

Jimin gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "You've handled mergers and regulators and launch failures. You'll be fine. It's just your dad."

Taehyung's lips twitched. Not quite a smile. Not quite a wince. "You haven't seen him tear through a quarterly report. Or a son."

He fixed his tie, downed the rest of his coffee, and walked toward Conference Room H like a man prepping for verbal war. Calm outside. Absolute panic blizzard inside. He'd manage it. He always did.

Still, as the elevator doors slid shut behind him, the all-powerful CEO let out a single breath.

When Taehyung stepped into the room, the atmosphere hit him like a scene out of a business drama. Heavy walnut table. Floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the skyline like it was flexing. Coffee that smelled so expensive it probably had its own offshore account.

And at the far end, standing with that quiet, polished authority only the old guard could pull off, was his father.

"Taehyung-ah," Kim Myungdae said, already halfway out of his seat. "You made it. Sit, sit."

There was warmth in his tone, but it was the kind that came with a hundred expectations and none of them optional.

Taehyung nodded, slid into the nearest chair, and barely had time to exhale before his father gestured to the man beside him.

"Jeon Jungmo," Myungdae said with a little nod, like that name didn't already echo in half of South Korea's business textbooks.

Taehyung turned and smiled, trying to look composed and competent and not like he was shaking hands with the human equivalent of a midterm that counted for seventy percent of his grade.

"Sir. It's an honor."

"Ah, no need for the 'sir,'" Jungmo said, his voice warm, casual, full of rich-guy confidence. "You're doing incredible work at Vellicent. Your father's very proud."

Taehyung smiled politely. He wasn't sure if "proud" was the right word, but he didn't argue.

They chatted a bit. Stock market's up. Rain's coming in next week. Golf's been terrible lately, I really should practice more. The kind of talk that sounded friendly but felt like a warm-up for something more.

And sure enough, after a few minutes, Jungmo set his coffee down and leaned forward, resting his arms lightly on the table.

"Taehyung," he said, tone gentler now. "I need a favor."

That made Taehyung pause. "Of course. What do you need?"

There was a brief silence, the kind that usually came before something messy.

"My son," Jungmo started, then let out a small laugh. "He's... well. He's a character. Smart. Sharp, even. But he treats business like it's a side quest in a video game. Zero discipline. Jokes around too much. Crashed his third company car last month."

Taehyung blinked. "Third?"

"He said the valet parked it too close to a fountain. It's always something." Jungmo laughed again, but there was a tired edge under it now. "I tried bringing him into the company. Tried to mentor him. Didn't stick."

He glanced at Myungdae, then back at Taehyung.

"But you," Jungmo said, "You're impressive. Focused. Respected. You're doing things most people twice your age are still struggling to figure out. I was hoping you could take him under your wing. Help him... grow up a little. Get serious."

Taehyung froze.

In his head, his entire calendar started screaming. There was no time. He could barely breathe between back-to-back meetings and last-minute emergencies. Training some reckless heir with a God complex was not on the agenda.

He opened his mouth, ready to gently turn it down.

But then he felt it.

A tiny tug at his sleeve. Subtle. Sharp.

His father, sitting beside him, expression calm as ever, had just pinched his arm under the table.

Taehyung straightened. His throat clicked as he swallowed the words he wanted to say. He forced a smile that he hoped looked more enthusiastic than resigned.

"Of course, Mr. Jeon," he said smoothly. "I'd be happy to help. I'll make room."

Jungmo exhaled in relief, like a weight had just slid off his shoulders.

"Thank you. Truly. He'll be here first thing tomorrow."

Taehyung nodded, already picturing his task list mutating into some kind of monster. New color-coded column: babysitting. Great.

His dad sipped his coffee like he wasn't the reason this was happening, like this was just another polite Wednesday chat between friends.

Taehyung sat back, internally preparing for chaos.

So this was happening.

Awesome. One more tornado for the to-do list.