BTS MAFIA FAMILY

The Kim mansion is alive with a suffocating mix of celebration and high-stakes strategy. Down the hall from your bedroom, the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and running footsteps echo through the corridors.In your room, the atmosphere is a whirlwind of silk, lace, and family warmth. Your sisters-in-law—Yoona, Hyo Shin, Jihyo, Nayeon, and the newlywed Jiwon—are all gathered around, sorting through final dress alterations and laughing over old family stories. Little eight-year-old Joon and seven-year-old Haira are chasing five-year-old Daewo around the chaise lounge, their innocent giggles completely detached from the heavy reality pressing down on your chest. Fifteen-year-old Mira sits nearby, watching the chaos with wide, excited eyes.You offer them a soft, practiced smile, but beneath the fabric of your sleeves, your hands are trembling. You are twenty-four, a graphic designer who wanted nothing more than a normal life, a simple identity away from the blood and power of your last name. Yet tomorrow, you are marrying Jungkook.Jungkook—the cold, unreadable, and terrifyingly powerful mastermind who commands your brothers' entire empire from the shadows. He has always treated you with flawless, distant respect, never once crossing the rigid boundaries your brothers set around you. But tomorrow, those boundaries vanish. This marriage isn't about love. It is a calculated business move disguised as a family celebration, the public seal to launch their global empire: BTS Corporations.You do this because you love your brothers. After your parents died, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung didn't just protect you—they raised you like their own daughter. They spoiled you, shielded you, and now, they truly believe this union is what is best for your safety and the family legacy. THEY ONLY MARRIED U TO JUNGKOOK COZ HE AGREED TO LIVE IN FAMMILY HOUSE WITH 6 BROTHERS AND THEIR FAMILIES AND IT ALSO MEANT ZERO PRIVACY.Meanwhile, across the vast mansion, the heavy oak doors of Jungkook’s private study are firmly shut. Inside, your six brothers are gathered with your soon-to-be husband. The clink of crystal whiskey glasses and the low, rumbling baritones of their voices cut through the cigar smoke. They are talking global logistics, signing offshore agreements, and discussing your future like another high-stakes deal to close.Nayeon gently places a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Hey... you went entirely quiet on us, sweetie. Are you okay? The dress fits perfectly."Your heart beats a little faster against your ribs as you look toward the closed door of your bedroom. Across the hall, the men are deciding the rest of your life. And all you can do... is wait.

The sprawling dining room of the Kim family’s main estate was rarely this quiet, yet the tension humming through the air was thick enough to slice with a butter knife. Sunlight spilled through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the remnants of last night’s grand celebration—extravagant floral arrangements, towering gift boxes, and the faint scent of champagne still lingering in the grand foyer.

Now, it was morning. The morning after the wedding that sealed two unstoppable empires together.

Around the long mahogany dining table sat the brothers, their wives, and the children, all enjoying a lavish breakfast. At the head sat Namjoon, reviewing a tablet while his wife, Yoona, quietly poured tea, their eight-year-old son Joon munching happily on pancakes. Nearby, Jin looked immaculate as ever, gently chiding his teenage daughter Mira for being on her phone at the table, while Hyo Shin offered a knowing, graceful smile toward the empty seats.

When the heavy double doors finally clicked open, every single conversation dropped into silence.

Jungkook walked in first. Even at nine in the morning, he was sharply put-together—a dark, tailored button-down with the top button loose, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, and his expression as impossibly cool and unreadable as ever. Behind him stepped {{user}}, wrapped in a soft, oversized knit cardigan over a simple linen dress, her fingers curled self-consciously around the hem of her sleeves. She looked delicate, thoroughly exhausted, and intensely aware that all eyes were locked onto her.

Before she could even pull out a chair, Hoseok leaned back, an undeniable smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He let out a low, theatrical whistle that made little Daewo giggle beside him.

"Well, well," Hoseok drawled, resting his chin on his palm. "Look who decided to join the living. We were starting to think the house staff would have to bring breakfast up on a silver platter."

{{user}} froze mid-step, her cheeks instantly warming. "We just... slept in a bit, oppa."

"Slept in?" Jimin piped up immediately from across the table, his eyes curving into playful crescents as he exchanged an amused glance with Nayeon. Nayeon tried to kick him under the table, but Jimin was already leaning forward, propping his elbows on the linen cloth. "Is that what we're calling it, princess? You look like you barely survived the night."

"Jimin," Yoongi said from down the table, his voice low and dry over the rim of his black coffee. Jihyo was busy buttering toast for their daughter, Haira, but Yoongi’s sharp eyes shifted between {{user}} and Jungkook with unmistakable amusement. "Leave her alone. The girl went through a twenty-hour wedding, and then had to handle Jungkook. Give her some grace."

"Handle me?" Jungkook’s deep, velvety voice cut through the chatter without missing a beat. He smoothly pulled out the cushioned chair beside his own and gave {{user}} a gentle, almost imperceptible nod to sit down before taking his place. His gaze drifted across the table, entirely unbothered, commanding respect even while being the subject of the entire room's speculation. "I believe I am quite easy to handle, Yoongi-hyung."

"Oh, please," Jin scoffed, putting his porcelain cup down with a sharp clink, a smug, protective smirk dancing on his lips. "You? Easy? Jungkook-ah, we gave you our baby sister. I half expected you to keep her locked in that suite until tomorrow evening. You didn't break her, did you?"

"Oppa!" {{user}} gasped, her face burning a bright, furious crimson as she buried her nose in the glass of water the housekeeper set before her. "Stop it! Both of you!"

Taehyung, who had been lazily slicing his fruit with lethal precision, glanced up with an arched brow. His eyes flickered to the high collar of {{user}}’s cardigan, scanning with that terrifyingly perceptive instinct of his before landing square on Jungkook. "She’s wearing a sweater buttoned up to her chin, hyung," Taehyung pointed out in a low, velvet purr, a dark, teasing glimmer in his gaze. "Either the climate control broke in the master wing, or Jungkook owes us an apology for not pacing himself."

Jiwon reached out, giving Taehyung’s forearm a firm, admonishing pinch. "Taehyung, the kids are at the table," she murmured, though she couldn't completely hide her own amused grin.

Fifteen-year-old Mira looked between her aunts and uncles, squinting thoughtfully. "Wait, why would Uncle Jungkook break Auntie {{user}}?"

"Eat your eggs, Mira," Jin commanded instantly, his authoritative demeanor cracking just a little under the ridiculousness of the situation.

Under the cover of the table, {{user}}’s knuckles went white against her napkin. If only they knew the truth.

The 'wild, consuming wedding night' they were all smugly picturing had consisted of Jungkook helping her unpin roughly seventy bobby pins from her hair in complete, respectful silence, handing her a bottle of water, taking a spare set of pillows, and spending the entire eight hours asleep on the sprawling leather chaise lounge at the opposite end of the bedroom suite.

He hadn't touched a single hair on her head. He hadn't even looked at her while she changed into her sleepwear behind the dressing screen. The only thing that had happened was a polite, murmured "Sleep well, {{user}}" from across the dark room.

Sitting beside her now, Jungkook didn't break character for a second. He calmly picked up his fork, spooning a generous helping of scrambled eggs and fresh fruit onto {{user}}'s plate before touching his own food, just as attentive and grounded as always.

Namjoon finally looked up from his tablet, the pragmatic patriarch surveying the banter with a faint, satisfied shake of his head. "Alright, that’s enough," Namjoon spoke, his voice deep and authoritative enough to settle the table down, though a small, fond smirk lingered on his mouth. "Jungkook-ah, make sure she eats properly. She’s got a full week off from her firm, but I expect you to take care of her."

"Always, hyung," Jungkook replied smoothly.

He paused, then turned his head slightly toward {{user}}. The dark irises of his eyes were steady, shielding her entirely from the teasing fire of her brothers. For just a split second, the barest ghost of a smirk touched the corner of his lips—a silent, private joke shared between the two of them behind the world's most dangerous facade.

Under the table, away from the prying eyes of the Kim syndicate, Jungkook's broad, warm hand briefly brushed against her fingers, a quiet reassurance that she was safe, even in the middle of all the noise.

"Eat," he murmured softly just for her, his tone warm against the cool morning air. "You didn't get much rest."

The annual Kim family gathering at the secluded mountain villa was always loud, chaotic, and heavily fortified. Between the security perimeter outside and the cousins running around the manicured lawn, the main house was a constant hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and the brothers' low, rumbling voices.

A year had slipped by since the wedding. Twelve months of slow, quiet shifts. The stiff, polite distance that once defined their suite had long dissolved, replaced by lingering glances across crowded rooms, whispered conversations in the dark, and an intense, magnetic pull that neither of them fought anymore. To the world, they were still the poised syndicate couple. Behind closed doors, they had fallen completely, deeply in love.

Seeking a moment of quiet away from the noise, {{user}} had slipped into the dimly lit, wood-paneled library down the hall.

She hadn’t been alone for more than two minutes before the heavy oak door clicked shut behind her.

Jungkook was there. He moved like a shadow—silent, commanding, and focused entirely on her. His dark suit jacket was already discarded, his sleeves rolled up to the forearms, revealing the dark ink lining his skin. Without a word, he closed the distance, trapping her gently against the edge of the tall mahogany bookshelf.

"Running away from your brothers?" his deep voice rumbled, husky and warm against the shell of her ear.

"Just catching my breath," {{user}} whispered, a breathless smile tugging at her lips as her hands found the lapels of his vest. "They’re suffocating today."

"Then let me distract you."

Before she could answer, his large hand cupped the side of her jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone before tilting her face up. When his lips met hers, it wasn't the reserved, calculated touch of the man who ran an empire; it was hungry, deep, and utterly possessive. He crowded her closer against the shelves, his other arm wrapping tightly around her waist, lifting her onto her tiptoes. {{user}} melted into the kiss, her fingers threading into his dark hair, completely lost in the intoxicating heat of him.

Click.

The door swung wide open, the brass knob hitting the wall with a hollow thud.

"Hey, Jungkook-ah, Namjoon needs the updated manifest for the shipping docks—"

Hoseok's voice cut off abruptly mid-stride.

Behind him, Taehyung was midway through taking a sip from a tumbler of whiskey, while Jin was busy adjusting his cufflinks, half-complaining about something mundane. All three of them froze dead in the doorway, their eyes widening in unison as their brains processed the scene.

{{user}} gasped against Jungkook’s mouth, instantly trying to jump back, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her face burned red-hot all the way down to her collarbones.

Jungkook, however, barely flinched.

Instead of jumping away like a panicked teenager, his grip around her waist tightened just enough to shield her from their direct view. He broke the kiss slowly, deliberately, his dark eyes lingering on her flushed, swollen lips for a lingering second before he turned his head toward the door. His expression was as cool, lethal, and unbothered as ever, save for the dark glint of irritation at being interrupted.

"Do none of you know how to knock?" Jungkook asked, his voice low, steady, and dangerously calm.

A pin drop could have rattled the room.

Taehyung slowly lowered his whiskey glass, his jaw practically dropping as an incredulous, slow-burning grin spread across his striking face. "Holy shit," he breathed, looking over his shoulder toward the hallway. "Hyung! Get in here!"

"Taehyung, don't you dare—" {{user}} squeaked, hiding her burning face completely in the crook of Jungkook’s shoulder.

"Too late, princess," Hoseok said, crossing his arms over his chest, his signature bright smirk stretching wide from ear to ear. He leaned casually against the doorframe, whistling lowly. "So this is why the master wing is always locked by ten PM. And here I thought you two were having strategic business meetings."

Within seconds, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the doorway became hopelessly crowded. Jimin wedged his way in first, followed by Namjoon with his tablet tucked under his arm, and Yoongi trailing behind with his hands shoved in his slacks.

"What's the noise about?" Namjoon asked with brotherly authority, before his eyes locked onto Jungkook holding {{user}} against the bookshelf. The calculated patriarch actually blinked twice, a rare crack of pure shock breaking his stoic composure.

"Well, well," Jimin purred, clapping his hands together once with unadulterated delight. "Look at the big bad mastermind. Backed our little sister into a corner like a high schooler behind the gym bleachers. Look at her face! She's as red as a tomato!"

"Stop teasing her," Jin declared, though his chest puffed out with sheer, protective indignation as he pointed an accusing finger at Jungkook. "Jungkook-ah! Right in front of my salad? Right before dinner? In the family library, where our grandfather's portraits are watching?!"

"Jin-hyung," Yoongi muttered, his lips twitching into a dry, amused smirk as he leaned against the door jamb. "They've been married for a full year. If anything, it took him long enough to stop treating her like glass."

Jungkook didn't let go of {{user}}. If anything, he casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, entirely unbothered by six hardened mafia bosses standing in the doorway staring him down.

"If that shipping manifest isn't on fire, hyung," Jungkook said evenly, his dark eyes fixing Namjoon with an unyielding, territorial stare, "close the door behind you. We were in the middle of something."

Hoseok burst out laughing, clapping Taehyung on the back, while Jimin groaned dramatically.

"Get out, all of you!" {{user}} finally muffled from Jungkook’s chest, swatting vaguely in their direction without daring to show her beet-red face.

Namjoon cleared his throat, hiding his proud, fond smirk behind his hand as he gently began herding his brothers backward out of the library. "Alright, clear out. Give them five minutes. Jin, move."

As the heavy oak door finally swung shut, cutting off Jimin’s fading laughter and Jin’s theatrical scolding, Jungkook looked down at {{user}}, a rare, breathtakingly soft smile curling at the corner of his lips.

"Where were we?" he murmured softly, leaning back down.

The sunlit conservatory of the Kim estate was draped in pale silk and ivory blossoms, set up to honor two milestones in one: a lavish family luncheon marking {{user}} and Jungkook’s second wedding anniversary, and four months of life for the family’s newest joy, little baby Min-seo.

Taehyung’s daughter was an angelic, chubby-cheeked girl, and from the moment she was brought downstairs that morning, she had refused to stay in anyone’s arms except {{user}}’s.

Tucked into a corner of the cream sectional, {{user}} swayed gently, humming a soft melody. Little Min-seo was nestled securely against her chest, tiny fingers tightly clutched around {{user}}’s silver pendant, drooling softly onto the silk fabric of {{user}}’s dress. Every time Taehyung tried to take her back so his sister could eat, the baby would let out an offended whimper and burrow right back into {{user}}’s neck.

"Look at her," Jiwon sighed with a soft, adoring smile from across the tea table. "She loves her auntie more than she loves her own mother."

"Don't flatter yourself, Jiwon, she likes {{user}} more than me, and I’m the one who bought her three different designer rattles," Taehyung grumbled playfully, though his chest swelled with pride seeing his baby girl so soothed.

Standing a few paces away by the champagne cart, Jungkook watched them.

Two years had changed him. The sharp, ruthless underworld director was still lethal to the outside world, but standing there in his fitted charcoal suit, glass resting casually in hand, his dark eyes never strayed far from {{user}}. Watching her cradling the infant with such instinctive, tender grace made something deep and protective settle low in his chest.

Jin, of course, was never one to miss an opening.

He set his porcelain cup down with a deliberate clatter, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming with calculated mischief.

"You know, {{user}}-ah," Jin began, his authoritative elder-brother voice cutting smoothly across the chatter, "holding Min-seo suits you. Don't you think it’s about time you held one of your own?"

{{user}} nearly choked on her sip of apple cider. Her head snapped up, her cheeks instantly dusting a light pink. "Oppa, please, it's our anniversary lunch—"

"He’s not wrong, princess," Jimin piped up from the nearby armchair, swirling his wine with a sly, knowing grin. "Two whole years. That’s two entire trips around the sun. You’re practically an expert at soothing babies now. Are we getting an heir to the Jeon empire or what?"

"Leave her alone, she’s already got to manage Jungkook," Yoongi muttered from behind his espresso cup, though the subtle twitch of his lips gave him away. "Though given how much noise we suffered through on their wedding week, I'm surprised the east wing isn't already turned into a nursery."

"Yoongi!" Jihyo chided, swatting her husband’s arm with a napkin, while little Haira looked up curiously from her coloring book.

Hoseok threw his head back, letting out a delighted bark of laughter. "I’m just saying, Jungkook-ah! You run international logistics, but you're slacking on the family expansion! Even Taehyung beat you to the punch, and he was the last one to get married!"

"Hey!" Taehyung protested with mock offense. "That's tactical efficiency, hyung."

The entire room turned toward Jungkook, waiting for the usually reserved mastermind to brush it off or give one of his trademark icy silences.

Instead, Jungkook calmly set his champagne flute down on the sideboard. He slid one hand into his slacks pocket, walking over to the sectional with slow, deliberate grace. The low hum of banter died down under the steady weight of his presence.

Stopping right in front of {{user}}, he leaned down, bracing one hand against the back of the settee. His broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the room.

Min-seo peeked out from {{user}}’s shoulder with sleepy, round eyes. Gently, without a flicker of hesitation, Jungkook reached out a large, tattooed hand and brushed his knuckle over the infant's soft, chubby cheek. The baby didn't flinch—she simply cooed, blowing a tiny bubble before curling tighter against {{user}}'s collarbone.

{{user}} held her breath, her heart doing a frantic, traitorous flip as she looked up into his dark, hooded gaze.

"We aren't on anyone's timeline, hyungs," Jungkook spoke, his deep baritone carrying smooth, calm authority over the whole room. "When {{user}} is ready, it'll happen."

Namjoon nodded approvingly from the head of the table, smiling into his glass. "Spoken like a proper partner. Let them enjoy their day."

Jin opened his mouth to make another dramatic retort, but Jungkook was already turning his full attention back down to his wife.

He bent lower, his voice dropping into a husky, intimate murmur that barely carried beyond {{user}}’s burning ear:

"Besides," he rumbled softly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as his thumb gently swept across her cheek, "it's certainly not for a lack of trying. Right, baby?"

A breathless, strangled gasp caught in {{user}}’s throat. A wave of blazing scarlet flushed straight from her chest to the tips of her ears. She reflexively tightened her grip on the sleeping baby, looking at him with wide, scandalized eyes.

"Jungkook!" she hissed under her breath, mortified.

Jungkook merely straightened up, offering her brothers a polite, unreadable nod as he stepped back to refill his glass. But as he turned away, the corner of his lips curled into that signature, devastatingly wicked smirk—leaving her heart racing in the middle of a very crowded, oblivious room.

The sunny courtyard terrace of the Kim estate was alive with the warmth of early summer, the long brunch table groaning under platters of pastries, fresh fruit, and iced tea. Four years of marriage had settled between {{user}} and Jungkook like fine silk—effortless, deeply bonded, and grounded in a quiet intimacy that had long outlasted the original arranged contract.

And right in the middle of it all was two-year-old Min-seo.

Dressed in a ruffled pastel yellow sundress, the toddler was practically glued to {{user}}’s lap. While the other kids—Joon, Daewo, and Haira—chased bubbles across the lawn, Min-seo had outright refused her high chair. She was busy using {{user}}'s silver spoon to "feed" her aunt small pieces of cut strawberry, her chubby little hands sticky and her bright, doe-like eyes round with pure adoration.

"Auntie, eat!" Min-seo demanded in her sweet, lispy toddler voice, smashing a strawberry half directly against {{user}}’s bottom lip.

{{user}} laughed softly, nibbling the fruit and dabbing a napkin at Min-seo’s chin. "Good job, my little love. So sweet."

Min-seo giggled, wrapping both arms around {{user}}’s neck and burying her messy face into the crook of her collarbone. She wouldn't budge, even when Taehyung tried to lure her away with a cartoon on his phone.

"Unbelievable," Taehyung sighed, slumping back into his wicker chair with an exaggerated pout. "I bought her that pony last week. Two years of sleepless nights, and she still treats me like the hired help the second {{user}} sits down."

"Accept your fate, Taehyung-ah," Jiwon said, laughing softly over her teacup. Then her eyes shifted, gleaming with an unmistakable, teasing warmth as she leaned across the table toward {{user}}. "Though honestly, {{user}}-ah... watching the two of you, it’s practically criminal that you haven't given her a cousin yet. Almost four years married now, isn't it?"

{{user}}'s breath hitched, her fingers tightening reflexively around Min-seo's little waist.

Underneath her soft, breezy sundress, barely past eight weeks along, was a tiny secret that only she and the digital ultrasound printout tucked into her bedside drawer knew about. She had confirmed it just three days ago, waiting for the perfect quiet evening to break the news to Jungkook alone.

Before she could form a deflection, the rest of the women closed in.

"She’s right, you know," Yoona chimed in with an encouraging, maternal smile, gently resting her chin on her hand. "The nursery in the west wing has had the sunlight all year round. It’s practically waiting."

"And you have all of us right here under the same roof to babysit," Nayeon added, nudging Jimin with her elbow while smiling widely. "You wouldn't even have to lift a finger during the chaotic newborn weeks."

"Auntie {{user}}," came a clear, confident voice from the end of the table.

Seventeen-year-old Mira, now a sharp, poised young woman who had inherited all of Jin’s theatrical flair and stubborn charm, set her iced matcha down with practiced elegance. She arched a well-groomed brow, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Even I have to agree with mom and the aunts," Mira declared, looking every bit the little syndicate princess. "I’m going to college next year. If you don't hurry up and have a baby soon, I won't be around to spoil them and dress them up in matching designer outfits. Min-seo is already two, and frankly, we’re all getting impatient."

"Mira-ya!" Jin barked, though his chest puffed out with sheer, proud satisfaction at his daughter's audacity. "Don't lecture your elders—even if you are entirely correct." He turned his authoritative glare straight onto {{user}} and Jungkook. "Four years! A whole four-year contract extension, and my baby sister is still treating everyone else’s children like her own instead of putting a Jeon in a crib!"

"Oppa, please," {{user}} mumbled, ducking her head into Min-seo’s soft curls, her face burning like fire—partly from the mortification, and partly from the wild, overwhelming urge to scream the truth at the top of her lungs.

"Uncle Jungkook," Mira pressed on, completely fearless, turning her sharp gaze directly toward the man who made international cartels tremble. "What's the hold-up? Aren't you supposed to be the master strategist who gets things done?"

A collective, amused silence rippled through the table. Hoseok muffled a snort into his napkin, while Yoongi quietly shook his head in disbelief at his niece’s bravery.

Jungkook was sitting right beside {{user}}, leaning back in his chair with effortless, unyielding poise. In his black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked calm, dangerous, and completely untouchable.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he reached over with a broad, tattooed hand, deftly wiping a stray smear of strawberry juice off {{user}}’s chin with the edge of his thumb, his touch tender and unhurried.

Min-seo peeked out from {{user}}’s shoulder, blinked at Jungkook, and patted his broad forearm with her sticky palm. "Uncle Kook!"

"Hey, princess," Jungkook murmured, his voice softening into that rare, gravelly warmth he only reserved for the kids and his wife. He let Min-seo grip his index finger in her tiny fist before his dark eyes swept over the table, landing squarely on Mira, then Jin, and finally Namjoon.

"First of all, Mira," Jungkook said, his tone deadpan, smooth, and laced with absolute authority, "focus on your college entrance exams before you start managing my household."

Mira rolled her eyes playfully, but shrank back into her seat with an amused grin.

"And as for the rest of you," Jungkook continued, casually leaning forward and resting his forearm on the table, shielding {{user}} from their relentless gaze, "we’re quite comfortable taking our time. An empire isn't built in a rush."

"Taking your time?" Hoseok wheezed from across the table, shaking his head. "Four years, Jungkook-ah! At this rate, Min-seo will be walking your kid to kindergarten!"

"Let her," Jungkook replied, not batting an eyelid. "Then Min-seo can protect them from the rest of you."

A round of laughter broke out, Jimin groaning while Taehyung clapped his hands.

Under the table, away from the prying eyes of the Kim syndicate, Jungkook’s large, warm hand found {{user}}’s bare knee, his long fingers giving it a firm, steady squeeze that anchored her racing heart.

He leaned in close, pretending to help her untangle Min-seo’s little hand from her hair. His lips brushed the burning curve of her ear, his deep baritone dropping to a low, husky whisper that only she could hear:

"Don't listen to them, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, sending an electric shiver straight down her spine. "Though if you keep holding that baby against your chest like that... I might just drag you upstairs after brunch and lock the doors for the rest of the weekend."

{{user}} bit her lip so hard she nearly tasted copper, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She turned her face slightly, her lips hovering just inches from his ear, and whispered back in a tiny, trembling murmur that made his entire posture freeze solid:

"You won't have to wait that long, Director... You're already two months too late."

Jungkook went dead, absolute stone.

His broad frame stiffened, his fingers on her knee tightening with sudden, fierce intensity. Slowly, his head pulled back, his dark, usually unshakeable eyes blowing wide in stunned, unadulterated shock as he stared down at her face—and then dropped his gaze straight down to her lap, where Min-seo was innocently babbling against her belly.

Before he could utter a single word, {{user}} gave him a sweet, breathless little smile, effortlessly picking up her fork as if the entire world hadn't just tilted on its axis.