"You know, if you hate me so much, you should just punch me."
Taehyung's trying to aggravate you again. You can tell with that pout on his face. Maybe he's sad about something.
But he continues to peel stickers off the sheet and smack them onto your hair, knowing full well that it'll be a pain to pull them off later. You don't tell him to stop. You don't say anything, move, flinch, blink. And you know it makes him more upset that you don't indulge in what he wants– a reaction.
"Dad said I'm not allowed to punch anyone," you say out of the corner of your mouth, continuing to do your multiplication homework.
It's hard to do the questions without using your fingers or the chart, but your dad said you don't need them. You can do it in your head. It's still hard.
And Taehyung can't even help you. He can barely add and subtract.
"Why are you such a goodie-two shoes?" He whines, getting mad and he sticks a rainbow sticker harder to your scalp, knocking your head in one direction enough for it to hurt. You still don't move away from him. "You're no fun. You don't need to listen to adults all the time."
There's silence.
Your pencil scratches against the paper as you solve the whole page of questions. Taehyung continues his antics with sticky fingers until he runs out of stickers and huffs, arms falling into his lap. He looks up to find your hair decorated in sparkles, slices of cake, rainbows, stars, unicorns.
It's pretty, but he almost feels bad. It'll hurt to brush them out later.
In his full frustration to squeeze a response out of you, he shoves you with all the might in his arms. But you don't waver. Not pushed. Not flinching once. Like a wall. A wall of focus and concentration at age eight, miraculously continuing to do your homework like he didn't even touch you.
Taehyung wants your attention. He wants you to look at him. He wants to cry. But he won't. Or at least, he'll try his best not to.
"I know you can beat me up, dumbo! Just do it! Just punch me and I'll leave you alone forever!"
The corner of your mouth moves again. "Dad said I'm not allowed."
"You're stupid!" He tosses the empty sticker sheet at you, but the paper is light in weight and doesn't even come close to hitting your face like he intends. It flutters to the ground in front of him and he falls onto his back, onto the floorboards and whines, kicking his legs up in a storm of anger.
Three times six is eighteen. Ten times seven is seventy. Five times nine is forty five.
The pencil in your hand never stops moving.
–
Bang!
The Glock 17 semi-auto pistol in your hand lowers - it's a simple handgun, but one you're used to using. The bullet hole is right in the center of your target, exactly where you were aiming.
You're relieved, having been afraid that your skills deteriorated without practice, but you're glad you came here to brush up on it.
"Nice shot. You got good. They do a lot of firearm training there?" It's a rhetorical question and the brunette smiles, his foot coming to kick yours out and make your legs spread wider, knees bending. "But you're still not in proper stance. Looks like even the academy couldn't change that. Old habits die hard, huh?"
You scoff, standing straight. "I can probably shoot better than you can."
"Maybe," he hums, sincerely considering it. "But at least I don't look like I'm trying to be part of an action movie. Who stands at an angle with one arm extended more than the other?"
"And you're still competitive, aren't you, Jungkook?" There's a small smile and you put your gun in your holster, taking off your earmuffs as you walk out of the shooting range.
"Can you blame me?" Your old school friend grins, eyes shining. "I've pushed myself this far cause I like beating others."
"That's healthy," you remark in sarcasm, but your smile doesn't waver. "You should've joined the army or marines. You would've done well there."
"Nah, I'm happy working in Security Service. There are better benefits," he quips with bubbling laughter. "You should join too."
"I'm not here looking for work, Jeon." You grab your duffle bag, swinging it over your shoulder.
"Then what are you here for?"
"Not to work," you throw it right back at him. But with the drawn out pause, you take a good look at the male standing in front of you.
Jungkook is less boyish than before, grown up. The agent is tall, seemingly reliable with stronger eyes. You still remember when you moved away to live with your uncle and you ran into this weakling classmate of yours. Never would you have guessed that he'd eventually come to the capital and you'd run into him again like this.
"How have you been? It's been a while."
"It's been a hell of a long time. Congratulations, by the way. I never got to say that."
"You did. You sent me a letter and delivered a bouquet. You do that to everyone?"
"Only friends I went to school with for three years and taught me how to throw my first punch." Jungkook grins and when you thank him for the gift, he nods and asks, "How are you?"
"I'm good. Still haven't decided where I should stay yet or what I'm gonna do." The small talk wanes away and you can't help your next question. "Why are you here, Jungkook?"
The man in his black suit shrugs. "Why are any of us here?"
"No, seriously. Why are you here?"
The corner of his mouth tugs upwards, unable to continue deflecting. He retreats and admits his purpose. "Your dad's looking for you."
You don't want to go, but you have to acknowledge that the older man knew what he was doing sending Jungkook to fetch you.
The Presidential Security Service is responsible for protecting members of the Blue House, the president and his family, as well as anyone deemed important enough to protect.
There are hundreds in this house alone and you're aware that the career carries a job culture, a hierarchy, complicated in its own way. You're not sure why the chief would want to see you when you have zero affiliations with the organization.
–
"There's a job for you here," he says it bluntly, sitting across from you.
"I already said no," you repeat. "I'm not qualified."
"You seem qualified to me." Your dad puts his briefcase onto the table, popping the latches open. He pulls out your resume and you're not surprised he has it.
"You have a high school diploma, says here you worked at the National Police Agency as an officer for three years, went to the police academy for six months prior for proper training. A background in taekwondo, know first aid, firearms training."
He lowers the crisp page. The way he reads it is not because he's proud or he's particularly happy with your achievements. He assesses you. It's a job interview for a job you don't even want.
"You have the necessary qualifications for the assignment I have in mind."
It's quiet. You stare at him. He stares at you.
A deep breath is taken into your lungs. "No one who starts off in the protection bureau gets an instant promotion to become the primary bodyguard of someone from the president's immediate family."
"It's a special case. You've been personally requested by the family."
"Even so, I can't accept such a high position because I have connections. It's unprofessional and may even be deemed as nepotism," you reject for the second time. "If this is all, I think I should leave."
It remains silent as you stand. Perhaps he's accepted it. He's always been calm and composed after all. But he calls after you, not for any loving words, not to ask you questions a father should ask, not to address things other than job prospects.
"You should at least join the protection bureau. Even if you don't want to accept this assignment. You have merit for it."
You turn away, closing the door.
–
Unfortunately, you don't even get a chance to consider it. There are no nights or days spent dwelling over the proposal and weighing the benefits and consequences of the job.
The old man's blood works on efficiency and he won't have time wasted on you considering if you want it or not. The worst part is that he knows you well, knows your weaknesses and he's already planted someone else to persuade you before you can even leave the premise.
This time, it's not Jungkook who's come to convince you or fetch you a second time, keep you from leaving. It's a certain someone that you run into that has your eyes growing wide, your heart stuttering for a second as a rare smile spreads onto your face.
"Is that who I think it is?" The older man is dark-haired, carrying shining eyes and a playful smile, yet retaining a mature air around him.
"Seokjin?"
"Hey there, chickpea." His hand plops on top of your head affectionately before it slides off, arm returning to his side. He takes a step back and nods. "Look at you! You're so tall now!"
"You're the one to speak. You look great."
"Psh. I know." Jin grins, ears reddening from the complement. "But I'll admit, you're the one who looks even better. I almost didn't recognize you. You've shaped up to be real pretty and sturdy, huh? How about we go catch up? There's a coffee shop downstairs by the gift shop. It'll be my treat."
It's hard to refuse the offer.
Ever since Jin enrolled in the same taekwondo class as you years ago and your dad began teaching him as well, you've admired him. He's kind, sweet, compassionate, capable and it's probably inappropriate to stare at him for too long.
"I heard you were my dad's protégé. Aren't you the team leader for one of the main groups?"
"Something like that." The two of you are sitting on the concrete stairs outside. It's quiet with no one around this early in the morning. "It really isn't that impressive."
"That's not true." You turn to look at him. At this angle, the sun shines in your eyes and it forces you to squint. He's too blazing. "You're gonna get the vice position, aren't you?"
Seokjin laughs, sound sweet and endearing. "I got a long way to go, chickpea. Maybe in a few years or decades. There's a whole hierarchy and those old guys aren't gonna die any time soon so, it's gonna be a while for me to get there if I ever do get there. Hopefully I won't break my back."
"You won't. And someday, you'll get the job. You're great."
"Thanks." Jin smiles and shifts to lock his eyes with yours, still nursing his coffee cup in his hands. "But how about you? I heard you made one hell of a police officer. Did you switch branches to come home?"
"Well... not really." You learn forward, taking a sip of your warm drink. "I'm taking a break."
The suited man hums and leans back, considering the hue of the sky. "That's good. I was worried about you, y'know. Seemed like life was moving fast for you. I'm glad that you're slowing things down a bit. But are you doing anything here? Any plans?"
"I don't know yet," you respond truthfully. Right now, you were staying at a hostel. You had to figure out your housing arrangement, look for a job and decide how you were going to approach the reason why you decided to return home.
"You should join us then," he says suddenly, breaking your train of thought. "The Presidential Security Service. It's a good job. You'd get to work with me too."
Your small smile matches his and you look off to the street. "Did my dad put you up to this?"
"Kind of. But I wanted to see you too, chickpea. I missed you. It's been like what... close to nine years? I know we kept in contact, but it's different now that you're here. Better. I think it would be a lot of fun to work with you too."
"You mean for me to work under you?"
Giggles bubble up his throat again and it's infectious, making you smile. "I swear I won't boss you around. Why would I? For all I know, you might be better than most people who work for me."
The two of you laugh and as you take a moment to contemplate, Jin adds, "It's a good thing for you to do even if it's temporary. You could do it for now before deciding what else you want. It's a good job, I promise."
It means a lot for someone like Seokjin to be personally requesting you and genuinely at that too. "I'm used to working on important cases," you tell him. "I don't want to work as a bodyguard for someone. I don't think I suit babysitting."
Jin smiles, making you feel at ease. "Promise you won't have to babysit anyone, chickpea."
–
Nothing official has been decided. In the span of a single day, you don't want to make a hasty decision that you'll come to regret later. For now, it's empty words of maybes.
People have been on a wild goose chase for you and as flattering as it is, you can't help but feel bothersome to their lives. They call you here and there, catching up, trying to convince you to stick around. If you knew you were so popular, you would've had a reunion party. Then again, probably not. You're not one to like attention drawn onto you.
But what stands out amongst all those who want to speak to you is someone who is arguably the most important person in the country.
The double doors open, security personnel surrounding him, but with a nod, they take their places a few meters away and the doors close. It's just you and him, and probably a hundred other guards around the premise.
Still, you're honoured that he scraped up time in his busy schedule to see you.
"Mr. President." You bow your head.
"Oh, please, Y/n." Taehyung's father laughs heartily and comes over to squeeze your shoulder and tell you to sit down.
His eyes are crinkled, more wrinkled in his face that showed just how many times he smiled over the years. His presence is still warm and inviting, reminding you of all the times he used to give you snacks and juice boxes and helped you with homework. "Didn't you used to call me uncle all the time?"
It's different now– that's one thing for sure. But while much time has passed and you don't know his new wife well, you can certainly sense that he hasn't changed one bit.
Taehyung bears a striking resemblance to his dad, but the latter is much calmer and more diligent and less everything that makes Taehyung noisy. As if to prove that point, he quietly asks you how you've been doing, considerate enough to inquire if everyone's been treating you well, where you're staying, everything a parent would want to know.
You talk about going to the academy, what life was like as an officer for three years until you decided to come back home. To which he says it was the right thing to do. You've been gone for so long.
"And is everything alright for you?"
"It's been busy." He nods and sips his tea, choosing his words carefully. "Taehyung's certainly a handful."
As gentle as the man can be, he's still a politician. He knows how to speak well. How to get what he wants. And as he stares from the corner of his eye, you give a polite smile, choosing to skirt around the issue. "I bet."
He switches tactics, deciding it's safe enough to be upfront and direct. "Y/n, the reason I wanted to speak to you today was because I have a request. A favour. Your dad probably already told you about it and I know you rejected the offer, but I want you to reconsider."
"I'm not sure if I'm the right one for the job," you answer sincerely.
Taehyung's dad smiles and leans back into the sofa across from you. "Taehyung doesn't have a lot of friends. Not now, not when he was growing up. He's energetic and outgoing, but unfortunately not many like him. It's overwhelming for them. They get annoyed. They treat him poorly. And he's too honest. He won't lie to make others like him." The old man seems tired and he sighs. "It's both a bad and good thing."
"Even now, he's having a hard time " He continues, "It's my fault he's constantly surrounded by security personnel. But he wants someone more discreet. Someone who can allow him more room to breathe and he won't be looked at so often. He wants you to be his personal bodyguard."
"If I can be frank, sir." You address him in a distant manner, awkward despite how he's told you to be comfortable with him. But in your new positions, it's easier said than done. "Taehyung's request might not be in his own or yours best interest."
"Hmm..." The polished man's expression is tinged with amusement and curiosity. "Why do you say so?"
"If given the opportunity, I believe he will undermine my position and attempt to get his own way. It would defeat the purpose of what you're trying to achieve."
Taehyung's father smiles and nods. "If that happens, I don't think you'd allow him to do so." He phrases it in a different way when he sees your hesitation. "He wouldn't undermine you because you wouldn't let him. But your father tells me you're concerned that this wouldn't be seen as impartial."
"I don't want to achieve things through connections," you express.
"And that is a kind of integrity I respect." He shifts in his seat, keeping his body language open and friendly. "It's also a pleasure for me to tell you that your exceptional credentials and your prior history with Taehyung is enough to validate this position, even without any connections."
"Sir, my history with Taehyung is a connection on its own."
"Then it's a connection that will be well leveraged in this position," he affirms. "It's a benefit. I insist, Y/n. No one is better suited for this than you. I know you and Taehyung had some issues here and there, but you're the only one who's stuck by the longest." The President, no the old man that you've known for decades bows his head and asks for a favour. "I trust you, Y/n. So, please, if you can. Protect my son."
It's bewildering. It makes you baffled, speechless. You watch him, not knowing what to say.
You've never been so sought after before, but there's really no excuse you can make, no excuse you can think of. There was nothing for you here, nothing for you to do.
An opportunity has presented itself and while you feel relatively apathetic towards the job, the desperate request has you re-considering for a long second before responding,
"What will I need to do?"
To be continued...
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I know that it's a little boring, but I swear it's just the start. You will love this story after few chapter. So don't forget to vote. That encourages me a lot to write further.