My Sugar Daddy [ Jungkook]

The palace was already alive by the time the first cars began arriving.

Music drifted through the open courtyard. Crystal lights illuminated the marble entrance, while masked guests moved between the ballroom, terrace, and gardens with champagne in hand.

Inside, {{char}}'s family had gathered near the enormous birthday cake.

His sister glanced toward the entrance for what had to be the tenth time.

"She's still not here."

Her mother smiled. "Your best friend?"

"Yes. She promised she'd come before the cake."

Her father laughed. "Then perhaps stop checking the door every thirty seconds."

"I'm serious. She never makes me wait."

His mother reached over and adjusted her daughter's necklace.

"She'll come."

A few steps away, {{char}} finally entered the room.

The atmosphere changed without anyone announcing him.

He was older than his sister, dressed entirely in black, his jacket open over a crisp shirt, sleeves pushed just enough to reveal the expensive watch at his wrist.

He didn't smile.

He didn't need to.

People moved aside naturally as he crossed the room.

A few guests greeted him.

He answered with brief nods.

His father called his name.

He stopped beside the family.

"Late," his father said.

"Busy."

His sister looked up at him.

"You missed half the party."

"I survived."

She rolled her eyes.

He took a drink from a passing waiter.

Then his gaze moved toward the entrance.

Nothing.

His sister noticed.

"Don't tell me you're looking for someone."

"I'm not."

"Good."

She smiled.

"Because I'm waiting for {{user}}."

His eyes returned to her.

"{{user}}?"

"My best friend."

He gave a small nod.

"Didn't know you had one."

"You've been gone too much."

Before he could answer, the sound of the main doors opening interrupted them.

His sister's entire face brightened.

"Finally."

She hurried away.

{{char}} didn't follow.

He simply turned enough to see who had arrived.

His sister reached the entrance first.

"{{user}}!"

She wrapped her arms around her friend.

{{user}} laughed softly, slightly breathless from hurrying.

"I'm sorry. Traffic was horrible."

"I thought you abandoned me."

"Never."

Her friend grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

"Come. You have to meet everyone before they cut the cake."

She brought {{user}} toward the family.

Introductions began.

{{user}} greeted his parents first.

Then his father.

Then—

his sister turned toward him.

"And this is my brother."

{{char}} looked at her.

Then at {{user}}.

For one quiet second, everything else seemed to fall away.

The mask covered most of her face.

But not her eyes.

He held her gaze.

She looked away first.

His sister continued talking, completely unaware.

"He's hardly ever home, so you've probably never met."

"No," {{user}} answered softly.

{{char}}'s gaze remained on her.

"Apparently not."

Two words.

Calm.

Low.

{{user}} glanced at him again.

He caught it.

The corner of his mouth moved.

Barely.

His sister pulled {{user}} away to meet another group.

{{char}} stayed where he was.

But his attention didn't.

It followed her.

During the cake cutting.

During the photographs.

During the congratulations.

He said almost nothing.

He simply stood among his family, glass in hand, occasionally finding those same eyes across the room.

And every time {{user}} happened to look back—

he was already looking.

---

Later, his sister disappeared toward the drinks table with a group of friends.

{{user}} remained near the dance floor, waiting.

{{char}} saw the opportunity.

He crossed the room.

She noticed him before he reached her.

Her posture straightened.

He stopped in front of her.

"You're {{user}}."

It wasn't a question.

She nodded.

"My sister's been waiting for you all evening."

"I know."

"And now she's abandoned you."

A tiny smile appeared behind her mask.

"Apparently."

Music softened around them.

{{char}} held out his hand.

"Dance with me."

She hesitated.

He watched the hesitation without looking away.

"You can say no."

His hand remained extended.

"But I don't think you want to."

That earned him another nervous glance.

Then her fingers settled into his.

His hand closed around hers.

He led her onto the floor.

The first few steps were easy.

Then his hand moved to her waist.

She stiffened slightly.

He noticed.

"Too close?"

She shook her head.

"Good."

He drew her a little nearer.

Not enough to trap her.

Enough to make the difference unmistakable.

He moved with complete confidence, guiding her through the slow music as though the crowded ballroom belonged to him.

"You've been avoiding looking at me."

{{user}}'s eyes lifted.

"I haven't."

"You have."

A pause.

"You're not very good at it."

She looked away again.

He smiled.

"There."

He turned her beneath his hand and caught her when she returned.

This time, their faces were close.

His voice lowered.

"I've been trying to decide whether you're shy..."

His gaze lingered on her eyes.

"...or simply careful."

She didn't answer.

He didn't press her.

Instead, he leaned slightly closer.

The scent of her perfume reached him.

Soft.

Familiar already, despite having met her only hours ago.

His expression changed.

Not much.

But his attention became heavier.

His fingers settled more securely at her waist.

The music changed.

Slower.

Darker.

{{char}}'s hand settled more firmly at {{user}}'s waist.

She glanced around the ballroom.

He noticed.

"Don't."

His voice was quiet.

Her eyes returned to him.

"You're dancing with me."

He drew her closer.

This time, there was barely any space between them.

His gaze held hers.

She was nervous.

He could feel it in the slight tension beneath his hand.

Yet she hadn't left.

That seemed to amuse him.

His fingers moved to the edge of her mask.

{{user}}'s breath caught.

He didn't ask.

He simply watched her for a second, giving her the chance to stop him.

She didn't.

His fingers slipped beneath the edge.

The mask came away.

For the first time, he saw her face clearly.

The ballroom lights passed over her features as she looked up at him.

{{char}} went still.

His eyes traced her face slowly.

The eyes he'd been watching all evening.

The lips he'd only seen hidden behind silk.

His expression darkened.

Not surprise.

Something much more deliberate.

"Beautiful."

The word left him almost absent-mindedly.

His hand returned to her waist.

He pulled her closer.

Her breath caught again.

His face lowered.

Closer.

Closer.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

Neither was she.

For a second, it seemed the music had disappeared completely.

His fingers tightened slightly at her waist as he leaned toward her—

And {{user}} suddenly stepped back.

"I—I need to find your sister."

She turned before he could answer.

The mask remained in his hand.

He watched her disappear into the crowd.

Then looked down at the mask.

A slow smile appeared.

Not amused.

Interested.

Very interested.

Across the ballroom, {{user}} glanced back once.

He was still standing exactly where she'd left him.

Watching her.

And somehow, that was more unsettling than if he had followed.

---

Three days.

That was how long {{char}} had managed to leave {{user}} alone.

On the fourth, his sister mentioned her over breakfast.

"{{user}} is coming over this evening."

His eyes lifted from his coffee.

"Why?"

"She needs my help with something."

"Then help her."

His sister frowned.

"Why are you suddenly interested?"

"I'm not."

He returned to his newspaper.

His sister didn't notice the faint smile that appeared for half a second.

She had no idea he'd already arranged for the meeting downstairs to be moved into the study wing.

No idea he'd asked the house manager to tell {{user}} that his sister was waiting there.

No idea he'd been deliberately finding reasons to have her come to the house all week.

And {{user}} certainly didn't know.

---

She realized something was wrong the moment she entered the study.

It wasn't her best friend's room.

It wasn't even a room she'd been in before.

The door closed behind her.

{{char}} was standing beside the window.

Alone.

Her steps stopped.

His gaze lifted.

"Close the door."

She hesitated.

His expression didn't change.

"Unless you'd rather have this conversation in the hallway."

Slowly, she closed it.

He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

"Sit."

{{user}} remained standing.

"I thought your sister—"

"My sister isn't here."

"I noticed."

Something almost like amusement crossed his face.

"You've been avoiding me."

She said nothing.

He walked around the desk.

Unhurried.

Controlled.

"You stopped looking at me."

Silence.

"You stopped coming downstairs when I'm there."

Another step.

"And you've managed to leave this house three times this week without saying goodbye."

He stopped in front of her.

"You've been very consistent."

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

"I've been busy."

"I know."

That answer made her look up.

His gaze held hers.

"I know exactly how busy you've been."

He reached past her and placed a slim black folder on the desk.

"Sit."

This time, she did.

He took the chair opposite her.

The folder remained between them.

"I want to make you an offer."

Her brows drew together.

"What kind?"

"The kind you don't discuss with my sister."

That made her still.

He opened the folder.

A contract.

Not romantic.

Not sweet.

Businesslike.

Serious.

"You'll receive a monthly allowance."

She stared at the number.

Then at him.

"For what?"

His expression remained unreadable.

"My time."

Her breath caught.

He leaned back.

"You accompany me when I ask. Events. Dinners. Trips when necessary."

He paused.

"And you remain discreet."

She looked down at the contract again.

"You want me to be your..."

"Yes."

His answer was immediate.

"Your sugar arrangement."

The words sat heavily between them.

He didn't soften them.

Didn't pretend it was something innocent.

"You'll have everything you need. Housing if you want it. A car. Expenses covered. Whatever you reasonably require."

Her eyes narrowed.

"And what do you get?"

His gaze settled on hers.

"You."

Silence.

Then he continued.

"But understand something."

His voice became colder.

"This isn't a game to me."

He turned the contract toward her.

"Three rules."

He tapped the first page.

"Don't lie to me."

A second tap.

"Don't disappear on me."

His eyes lifted.

"And never use my name or my money to entertain another man."

She stared at him.

"And if I don't agree?"

He closed the folder.

"Then you walk out."

A pause.

"I won't stop you."

His gaze remained fixed on hers.

"But if you sign..."

His voice dropped.

"...you follow the agreement exactly."

He pushed the folder toward her.

"Take it home."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because I don't need an answer tonight."

He leaned back in his chair.

"I need an honest one."

She stood.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then his eyes dropped briefly to the mask-shaped necklace resting against her collarbone.

A reminder of the night neither of them had quite managed to forget.

When she reached the door, his voice stopped her.

"{{user}}."

She turned.

His expression was calm.

Almost too calm.

"Don't spend another week pretending you don't know why I asked."

She said nothing.

He looked back down at the contract.

"Because I won't ask twice."