Taste Of Algorithm Jinkook/Kookjin story

Coincidence

"You look well, Seokjin-ssi," he remarked, his tone devoid of any warmth that would normally accompany such words. It was a statement of fact, an observation logged.

"I am well," Jin retorted, his tone clipped. "Jin Eatries is good. No debts. No problems." He emphasized the words, throwing them like small knives.

"I am aware," Jungkook said, his lips quirking in that faint, maddening almost-smile. "Your... thoroughness... in confirming payments has been noted."

The reference to the humiliating text message landed like a physical blow. Jin's cheeks heated. So he had been watching. Every pathetic, panicked screenshot.

"It's called running a business," Jin snapped. "Something you might understand if you weren't so busy... acquiring them."

The barb was weak, and they both knew it. Jungkook's expression didn't change. "Acquisition is simply one method of understanding. I prefer to understand things intimately. Their strengths. Their flaws. What makes them... tick." His eyes held Jin's. "What makes them break."

The silence stretched, thick and charged. Jin could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"The documents," he said again, his voice strained.

Finally, as if conceding a minor point, Jungkook opened a folder on the table. He slid a single sheet of paper and a pen across the polished surface. It was, indeed, a simple account verification form. The trap had never been in the document itself, but in the journey to obtain it.

Jin snatched the pen, scrawled his signature at the bottom without reading it—a petty act of defiance—and shoved it back.

"Satisfied?"

Jungkook picked up the paper, examined the signature with a critical eye, as if assessing its authenticity. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "The account is now in full compliance. Jin Eatries' supply chain is secure."

Jin stood up so fast his chair screeched against the floor. "Good. Then this coincidence is over."

He turned to leave, his heart hammering, desperate for the escape.

"Is it?"

Jungkook's voice stopped him at the threshold. It was quieter now, but it carried an undeniable weight.

Jin didn't turn around. "What else could it be?"

"You tell me," Jungkook said softly. "You are the one who texted me proof of a paid invoice. You are the one who entered this building. You are the one sitting in this chair." A pause, deliberate and heavy. "You keep finding reasons to remain in my orbit, Seokjin-ssi, even as you claim to despise its gravity."

Jin's breath hitched. The truth of it was a sucker punch to the gut. He had walked right into it. Every step, from sending that text to riding the elevator up, had been his own. Jungkook had merely held the door open.

"Go back to your graphs and your mergers," Jin said, the words barely a whisper, laced with a venom that couldn't hide his shaking. "Some of us have real work to do at our restaurants."

He didn't wait for a reply. He yanked the door open and strode out, almost colliding with a patiently waiting Taehyung in the hallway.

"Everything resolved, Chef Kim?" Taehyung asked, his expression impeccably neutral.

Jin didn't answer. He brushed past him, heading for the elevators, for escape, for the blessed, familiar chaos of Jin Eatries. But as the elevator descended, his reflection in the polished brass doors looked pale, shaken.

He had gone to assert his independence. To prove he owed nothing.

And he had left feeling more entangled than ever.