Evening dripped down the tall windows of the Jeon mansion like honey over glass.
The golden hour painted everything in warm light — the marble floors, the velvet drapes, the boy lounging at the head of the dining table.
Jungkook sat barefoot, hair damp from a fresh shower, his white tank clinging to broad shoulders. Legs spread. One hand lazily swirling a spoon in his coffee cup. The picture of bored royalty.
From behind, the soft whisper of heels.
Mrs. Jeon entered with grace carved from old money — silk robe, diamonds like rainwater on her ears, and a perfectly unreadable smile.
“Jungkook,” she called lightly, walking past him without stopping. “Come to the conservatory.”
He sighed, dragged a hand through his wet hair, and rose — not because she asked, but because he was curious what drama she was stirring now.
The conservatory smelled of orchids and quiet schemes.
Mrs. Jeon stood near the open window, sipping rosé. She didn’t look at him right away.
Instead, she spoke into the breeze.
“Your father’s two closest friends,” she began, voice calm, “have returned to the city.”
Jungkook leaned against the archway. “And?”
“They’ve bought the estate beside ours,” she added, swirling her glass. “It was vacant far too long. It’s good to see life return.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“I’m hosting a welcome party tomorrow,” she said simply. “A small one. Elegant. Our circle. I expect you to come.”
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I thought you hated playing hostess.”
Mrs. Jeon finally turned to him, eyes glinting over the rim of her glass. “I hate being surprised. This… is positioning.”
He tilted his head. “You’re being strategic.”
“I’m being polite,” she said, stepping closer, “while everyone else scrambles to catch up.”
“These aren’t everyone,” she said meaningfully. “These men are powerful, Jungkook. Very old money. Your father trusted them more than his own brothers.”
There was a beat of silence.
Jungkook said nothing, but his gaze sharpened slightly.
Mrs. Jeon smiled.
“Dress well. Be on time. Smile if you can manage it.”
He scoffed. “You want me to entertain some men I’ve never met?”
She turned back to the window, light touching her cheekbones. “I want you to watch. Listen. Pay attention.”
“To what?”
A long pause.
Then she said softly, almost to herself, “You never know who lives behind the gates.”
---
Golden lights draped the Jeon mansion in celebration.
The party was elegant, opulent, and whispered with wealth. Soft violins played near the fountain. Crystal chandeliers glittered like diamonds caught in motion. Waiters in white gloves carried trays of champagne, and whispers curled through the garden like vines.
Jungkook stood by the bar, drink in hand, dressed in a black velvet suit that clung to his frame. Hair styled, expression unreadable.
Yoongi leaned beside him, sipping a drink with one hand in his pocket. “You look like you're waiting to punch someone.”
YOU ARE READING
𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑨𝑳𝑹𝒀 //𝑻𝑲 𝑭𝑭//
Fanfiction🖤 Romantic Rivalry 🖤 "You'll regret touching me." "I already do. But I want to touch you again." They weren't meant to fall. They were meant to destroy. Taehyung doesn't flirt - he devours with a smile. Jungkook doesn't chase - he owns what dares...
