Taste Of Algorithm Jinkook/Kookjin story

Coincidence

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They were children no one wanted—beaten, broken, forgotten.
Until the night they burned their cage to the ground.

From those ashes rose seven brothers, fierce and unyielding, raising the youngest as their own. In the daylight, their empire looks clean, legitimate, untouchable. In the shadows, it bleeds into the underworld, every thread tied back to the horrors they once endured.

Now, as ghosts of the past resurface in the highest halls of power, Jin—the firefighter who runs into flames—and Namjoon—the man who rewrites the rules—must decide whether love can survive when the world they're about to remake is built on fire and ruin.

Main ship
Namjin

Side Ship
Taekook
Yoonmin

The air in the small, opulent conference room was so still it felt solid. Jin stood frozen in the doorway, every nerve ending screaming. The view of Seoul was a dizzying, indifferent panorama behind Jungkook's head, a stark reminder of how high up he was, how far from the grounded reality of his kitchen at Jin Eatries.

Jungkook's expression was a mask of polite, detached surprise. It was so convincing that for a split second, Jin doubted his own certainty. But the cold glint in those dark eyes, the almost imperceptible tightening at the corners of his mouth—it was a look of pure, predatory satisfaction.

"Kim Seokjin-ssi," Jungkook repeated, his voice a calm, measured baritone that seemed to absorb all the sound in the room. He gestured to the plush chair opposite him. "This is an unexpected... coincidence. Please, sit. Since you are here, we can resolve this minor administrative issue promptly."

Coincidence. The word was an insult. Jin's fingers curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to turn, to walk out, to slam the door and break the perfect, suffocating stillness. But his feet were rooted to the spot. The threat—the "interruption in service" for Jin Eatries—was a chain around his ankle.

"There's no need," Jin said, his own voice coming out tighter, colder than he intended. He remained standing, a defiant statue in the doorway. "If you have the documents, I can sign them and go. My kitchen awaits."

A flicker of something—amusement?—passed through Jungkook's eyes. He leaned back in his chair, the movement fluid and controlled. "The kitchen can wait for five minutes. Excellence is not built on haste." He steepled his fingers. "The vendor's integration into our corporate structure was... incomplete. A signature is required to finalize it. To ensure... seamless service for Jin Eatries."

He made it sound so reasonable. So mundane. But every word was a carefully placed brick in the wall around Jin.

"Fine," Jin bit out. He strode into the room, pulling out the heavy chair and sitting down with a thud that was anything but graceful. He felt like a teenager called to the principal's office. "Where do I sign?"

Jungkook didn't immediately produce the document. Instead, his gaze swept over Jin, taking in the Jin Eatries chef's jacket, the faint flour dust on his sleeve, the rebellious set of his jaw. It was a slow, comprehensive look that felt more invasive than a touch.