Kim taehyung

Four years ago, Kim Taehyung disappeared from Korea without a single explanation.

People only knew two things after he left: One — the soft-spoken heir of the Kim family was gone. Two — the man who returned was someone far worse. Now at twenty-nine, Taehyung had become a name people feared saying too loudly. In the underground world, he was known as a man without mercy. Cold. Violent. Unpredictable. The kind of person who smiled while ruining someone’s life. He never shouted. Never wasted words.

But once someone entered his blacklist, even death came easier than surviving Kim Taehyung. The city called him a monster. Taehyung didn’t disagree. Because monsters weren’t born. They were created. And his father had carved one with his own hands.

— The Kim mansion was suffocating. Even after four years, stepping inside again made Taehyung feel sixteen all over again — standing straight while his father’s voice echoed through the halls like a command instead of concern.

“Discipline makes a man.”

That was what his father always said before the punishments started. A wrong answer. A late arrival. A small mistake. Anything was enough. The leather belt. The cold stares.

The bruises hidden beneath expensive clothes. Taehyung still carried the scars across his back like permanent reminders that love inside this family always came with pain attached to it. And his mother? She only stayed silent. Always silent.

So Taehyung learned early that softness was useless. Love was weak.

And weak people got destroyed first. Then she came into his life. The only girl he had ever loved.

For the first time, Taehyung thought maybe life could feel warm too. Maybe he could become someone better. Softer.

But she left him for another man. A richer man. A freer man. Someone not controlled by his father like a chained dog.

“You’re not worth ruining my life for, Taehyung.” Those words never left him. That night, something inside him died. And whatever remained after that became cruel.

— Now he stood in the middle of his father’s office again, dressed in black from head to toe, cigarette resting between his fingers while his father spoke like he still controlled him. “You’ll stay in Korea now,” his father ordered firmly. “You’re getting married soon. It’s time you build a family.”

Taehyung laughed quietly. A dark, humorless sound. Family? Love? Marriage?

Luxury made for people stupid enough to believe feelings lasted forever.

His jaw tightened as old memories flashed through his mind — bruises, silence, betrayal. He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m not interested.”

“You don’t have a choice.” That sentence was enough. Taehyung stood abruptly, rage darkening his expression. For a second, the room felt dangerous. Even his father noticed it.

Because the boy he once controlled was gone now. And in his place stood a man capable of becoming worse than him. Taehyung left the mansion without another word. — The nightclub pulsed with loud music, smoke, and flashing lights, but none of it calmed the fury burning inside him.

His friends knew better than to speak too much when Taehyung looked like this. One wrong sentence could end badly. A man suddenly approached carefully. “Boss,” he muttered, leaning down slightly. “We caught one of Kang’s men.”

Taehyung slowly lifted his eyes. Cold. Empty. “Where?” — The abandoned warehouse smelled like blood and rust. The enemy man was tied to a chair, barely conscious. Taehyung removed his black gloves calmly while the others stayed silent around him.

Nobody interfered when he was angry. Because Taehyung didn’t fight like normal people. He destroyed.

The captive trembled. “P-please—” Taehyung grabbed his jaw harshly, forcing him to look up.

“You know what I hate the most?” he asked quietly. The man shook violently. Taehyung’s expression remained emotionless. “People who think mercy still exists in this world.” The punch landed hard enough to crack the man’s lip instantly. Then another. And another.

All the rage he buried for years poured out mercilessly. His father. The betrayal. The memories. The weakness he hated inside himself. Blood stained Taehyung’s rings as the man screamed. But Taehyung felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Because long ago, Kim Taehyung had buried the part of himself capable of feeling soft.

— Meanwhile, on the other side of Seoul— You were laughing loudly while running through the streets with iced coffee in your hand, completely unaware that your life was about to collide with someone capable of ruining it entirely. At twenty-two, you were everything Taehyung hated. Free. Alive. Fearless. You loved arguing, teasing people, speaking your mind without caring who got offended. Your parents adored you, though the constant pressure and small toxic expectations inside the house often made you want to escape for air.

Still, you smiled through life. Still believed happiness existed somewhere ahead. And maybe that was the dangerous part. Because fate was cruel enough to place light directly in the path of darkness. And Kim Taehyung... Had a habit of destroying beautiful things.The room felt suffocatingly quiet.

Only the soft sound of rain tapping against the giant glass windows echoed through the dark bedroom of Kim Taehyung’s mansion. The wedding decorations outside, the guests, the fake smiles — everything was over now. And now reality finally stood in front of him. You.

Still dressed in the heavy white wedding dress, hands nervously twisting together while standing near the edge of the bed. The diamond necklace around your throat glittered softly under the dim lights, making you look too innocent for a place like this.

Too soft.

Taehyung hated soft things. The bedroom door shut behind him with a loud click. Your breath hitched slightly. Taehyung loosened the black tie around his neck roughly before throwing it somewhere across the room. His expression looked exhausted, irritated, emotionless. Like this marriage disgusted him.

He slowly folded the sleeves of his white shirt up to his forearms, revealing faint scars and old marks across his skin. The veins in his hands flexed as he poured himself whiskey without even looking at you. Not once.

“You agreed to this marriage that easily?” he finally asked coldly. His voice was deep. Rough.

The kind that naturally made silence fall. You swallowed softly before answering honestly. “My parents told me to do it.” Taehyung let out a dark chuckle at that. Of course. Parents.

Always deciding lives like they owned them. He took a slow sip from the whiskey glass before finally turning toward you. His sharp eyes scanned your face carefully for the first time tonight. And there it was again.

That innocence.

That softness in your eyes he hated so much because once upon a time, he used to look at the world like that too.

Before life ruined him. His jaw tightened. “Do you even know who you married?” he asked flatly. You stayed quiet. Taehyung walked closer slowly until he stood directly in front of you. His tall figure towered over yours dangerously. Even standing still, he felt intimidating. Cold.

Untouchable. “You should’ve refused,” he muttered. His fingers suddenly grabbed your chin firmly, forcing you to look up at him. Not gentle. Never gentle.

“I’m not a good man.” His thumb pressed against your jaw slightly harder. “I don’t do love. I don’t care about feelings. And I especially don’t play husband.” The words came out sharp enough to sting. But his eyes looked worse. Empty. Like someone who stopped believing in warmth years ago.

You noticed the faint scar near his eyebrow, the old bruised marks hidden beneath his rolled sleeves, and for a second something inside you softened with curiosity instead of fear. That annoyed him immediately. Taehyung released your chin harshly and stepped back. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice turned colder.

“I’m not someone worth feeling bad for.” He turned away, running a hand through his dark hair frustratingly. Memories flashed through his head again — his father’s beatings, his ex-girlfriend leaving him, the humiliation, the helplessness. Everything he buried. Everything that made him cruel.

“You’ll stay here quietly,” he said without facing you. “Do whatever you want in this mansion. Buy things. Spend money. I don’t care.” Then he looked at you over his shoulder, eyes dark and unreadable.

“But don’t expect anything from me.”