Taste Of Algorithm Jinkook/Kookjin story

Coincidence

Back in the conference room, Jungkook remained seated. He picked up the signed document, a trophy more valuable than any corporate contract.

Taehyung slipped back into the room. "He looked like he wanted to set the building on fire."

"Anger is preferable to indifference," Jungkook murmured, his thumb tracing the sharp, angry lines of Jin's signature. "It means he is engaged. He is fighting me, not the idea of me." He set the paper down. "The supplier will ensure the next shipment of matsutake mushrooms for Jin Eatries is of exceptional quality. And will include a complimentary sample of white truffle oil. Mark it as a 'quality assurance incentive.'"

Taehyung's eyebrows rose. "A gift? He'll refuse it."

"Of course he will," Jungkook said, a true smile, cold and brilliant, finally gracing his features. "And the subsequent argument, the phone call, the frustration—that will be the next point of contact. The thread continues to pull taut."

He looked out at the city, his kingdom.

"He believes he escaped the trap. He does not yet realize he is still running inside it."

The kitchen of Jin Eatries was his sanctuary, his kingdom, but tonight it felt like a cage. The encounter in the conference room played on a loop behind Jin's eyes—the sterile room, the dizzying view, the cool, assessing gaze that had stripped him bare without a single raised voice. He'd been outmaneuvered, and the humiliation was a bitter taste in his mouth, sharper than any radish he'd ever julienned.

He moved with a frantic, almost violent energy, scrubbing surfaces that already shone, rearranging containers with a force that made his staff eye him warily. He was trying to scrub away the feeling of Jungkook's presence, the echo of his words. You keep finding reasons to remain in my orbit.

"Hyung," Jimin's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, cutting through the haze of his fury. "The delivery from Jeju is here. The... special one."

Jin stilled. The special delivery. The matsutake mushrooms. The one tied to the account he'd just "verified" in that tower of glass. He took a steadying breath, donning the mask of the unflappable chef. "Bring it in. Let's see if their 'exceptional quality' is worth the corporate hassle."

The crate was brought in. The mushrooms were, as promised, pristine. Fragrant, firm, perfectly packed. But nestled beside them was a smaller, sleek glass bottle. A bottle of white truffle oil. The most expensive, most exquisite kind. A note was tucked beside it.

Quality Assurance Incentive - Complimentary of Jeon Group Procurement.

The words were innocuous. Corporate. But they were a brand, searing into Jin's already raw nerves. A gift. Disguised as a transaction, but a gift nonetheless. The one thing he could not, would not, accept.

The compulsion rose in him, hot and immediate. He didn't think. He grabbed his phone, his fingers flying over the screen, the anger overriding any sense of strategy or pride.

Kim Seokjin: I do not accept gifts. I do not want your "incentives." Send me an invoice for the truffle oil or have your driver collect it. Immediately.

He hit send, his chest heaving. He stared at the screen, waiting for the fight, for the cold rebuttal, for the inevitable game.

The reply came not in minutes, but seconds. As if Jungkook had been waiting, phone in hand.

J: The oil is not a gift. It is a quality standard sample. Discard it if it does not meet your requirements.

Jin stared at the message, his frustration boiling over. He called the number. It rang once before it was picked up.