☙ Summary: Yoongi, the alpha heir of the Crystal Moon pack, is coming of age. His father has prepared a Choosing Ceremony - a rite of passage for all alpha heirs - for him to choose his omega. This omega will give him heirs of his own, and one day help him rule over the Crystal Moon pack as his mate. Y/N is a poor omega from a neglected village on the edge of the pack's territory. Somehow, she has found herself in the pack heir's event, and he has been watching her since she got here.
☙ Themes: enemies to lovers; omegaverse; royalty x poor reader; revenge; neglect by authority
☙ Warnings: There is a heavy theme of neglect by those in authority (I don't know a better way to word it). It is part of the reader's character, and it is mentioned repeatedly that her village is being starved out by neglect from the royal family and that she lost her family as a result.
☙ A/N: You'll find that the characters are a bit immature in this chapter, so let me tell you what's going on in my mind. In my head, they're fairly young, so they'd naturally be immature in some ways and almost mature in others (hopefully this will make sense when you read lol). Enjoy!
The night after the Choosing Ceremony, you and Yoongi are taken to a large house. It’s big enough that you can have space from each other, and you’re given rooms on opposite ends of the house to discourage pre-ceremony mating.
Once you’re both inside, you go and sit on the farthest side of the living room possible. Just because he picked you in his stupid ceremony doesn’t mean you have to be all starry-eyed and suck up to him.
“You hate me,” he observes. “Why?”
“You don’t want the answer to that question. Nor would you care,” you shoot back.
“Try me,” he challenges.
“The village I came from doesn’t have enough food. Everyone’s starving,” you explain.
“What? Your...whole village? No, my father wouldn’t let such a thing happen.” He shakes his head in denial.
“Oh, yeah?” you snap. “Then how do you explain this?” You hike up your shirt enough for him to see your sunken stomach and prominent ribcage. He should have already noticed something was wrong from your hollow cheeks, but it seems he’s not that observant or attentive.
“That’s...you must not be from the village. Or your family is being punished for something. I’m sure there’s a reason. My father wouldn’t starve a whole village,” he tries to reason.
“Are you calling me a liar?” you retort.
He crosses his arms with a huff. “Maybe I am. There’s no way my father would let such a thing happen.”
You growl at him. “You’re making me hate you more.”
“You can’t back out now. You’re going to be my mate now. Big mistake I’ve made,” he grumbles.
“I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight.” You get up and stalk off, heading for the room farthest away from the living room.
You spend the better part of the next week hiding out in your room. You refuse to have any contact with him whatsoever, angry with both him and yourself because he didn’t believe the dire circumstances your village is in.
Eventually, a firm knock sounds on your door. “Enough sulking, you’re acting like a child. My father will expect us to have gotten to know each other by the time he comes tomorrow. You need to get over whatever this is.”
You storm over and open the door. “I’m not having anything to do with you until you believe me. Why won’t you believe me? The evidence is right in front of you. Why won’t you believe me?” you shout until tears stream down your face, fists pummeling his chest.
He wraps his arms around you, trying to still your fists. His breath hitches when he feels how thin you really are, ribs poking his arms. “Gods...you really are starving. Come on, you’re eating something.”
A faint gasp escapes your lips as he scoops you up, carrying you bridal style to the kitchen. He sets you in a chair and goes to warm up some broth for you.
When he brings it over, you just stare at it. “I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he deadpans, sitting down with an unamused look.
You pick up the spoon, taking a hesitant bite, before just picking up the whole bowl and downing it. You lean back in your seat, stomach full to the brim. About five minutes later, your stomach starts hurting. You drank the broth too fast, and your stomach wasn’t ready for something it needed to digest. Leaning forward, you rest your head on the table, your hands pressed against your stomach.
“Shit, was that too much?” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the pain, prompting a tiny nod from you.
He walks over, gently picking you up again and carrying you to your room. He tucks you into bed, albeit shakily, and puts a basin next to your bed. After he leaves, you hear him pacing outside your door until the pain fades and you fall asleep.
☙ Summary: Yoongi, the alpha heir of the Crystal Moon pack, is coming of age. His father has prepared a Choosing Ceremony - a rite of passage for all alpha heirs - for him to choose his omega. This omega will give him heirs of his own, and one day help him rule over the Crystal Moon pack as his mate. Y/N is a poor omega from a neglected village on the edge of the pack's territory. Somehow, she has found herself in the pack heir's event, and he has been watching her since she got here.
☙ Themes: enemies to lovers; omegaverse; royalty x poor reader; revenge; neglect by authority
☙ Warnings: There is a heavy theme of neglect by those in authority (I don't know a better way to word it). It is part of the reader's character, and it is mentioned repeatedly that her village is being starved out by neglect from the royal family and that she lost her family as a result.
☙ A/N: As per the course, here is yet another fanfic. At least this one is omegaverse, which is honestly my favorite thing. I was going to put some great thought here, but it has unfortunately left my brain. Anyway, enjoy this, and hopefully I can keep up with myself haha. Also, I was hesitant to put the dash marks in the summary, since it's being associated with AI-generated content (can't do anything creative in peace anymore), but I think the dashes work best right there. Do with that information what you will.
Quite simply, you’re not supposed to be here. The Choosing Ceremony for the pack’s alpha heir is an event that’s only supposed to be attended by members of the royal family, eligible omegas of status, and those omegas’ families. You’re from a small village on the edge of the territory that’s all but forgotten. Raised by your mother’s parents after the rest of your family either disappeared or starved, you’re well below the class allowed in this event.
And yet here you are, standing in the back of the room, feeling out of place. Despite the fact that you’re wearing little more than rags to cover your bone-thin body, nobody seems to notice you. All the other omegas in attendance are wearing flowing dresses or perfectly tailored suits, chatting in groups like old friends. But he had noticed.
The pack’s heir has been watching you all evening, but he can’t do anything about your presence without causing a scene. A member of the royal bloodline could never be seen associating with a village rat. And yet...his eyes keep straying to you.
You take a seat on the floor in a far corner, exhausted from standing so long. Your grandparents have been doing everything they can to ensure you have enough food, but you were still significantly skinnier than the other omegas there. The omegas chatting in groups around the room wore tight-fitting clothing to accentuate their healthy curves, while you weren’t much more than skin and bones, surviving on pure stubbornness and willpower.
You watch the heir from your place in the corner. You’ve been able to figure out from nearby gossip that his name is Yoongi. He had an air of superiority that made you want to gag, and everything about him was so infuriatingly perfect you wanted to scream.
You hated the royal family with a passion rivaled only by your grandparents’. It was the pack alpha who could never quite remember that your village existed. Could never remember that there were people there, some of them families with pups in need of food rations.
It was this horrific level of neglect that all but forced your father to go in search of food in the middle of a snowstorm several winters ago, leaving you home with your mother and baby brother. He never came back, and you were forced to watch as your brother went first, then your mother, driven mad with grief, wandered off and disappeared into the blizzard.
You hated the royal family, and you hated that Yoongi had the audacity to watch you as you huddled in the corner like a scared pup hiding from the snow.
After several long hours of mingling, Yoongi is called up on stage to reveal his selected omega. His father hands him a microphone, and he grabs it with an authority that makes your blood boil. But it’s the words that leave his mouth that make your world cease to turn: “I choose the omega in the back corner.” You look around for the omega in question, only to realize he’s looking right at you.
A chorus of gasps and angry growls sounds from around the room. You stand there stunned for what feels like an eternity before you realize you’re supposed to walk up to that god-forsaken stage and stand next to him like his father didn’t take everything you’ve ever loved away from you.
You approach the stage, seething, and walk up the stairs, taking your place next to him. You feel too exposed in your raggedy clothes, like a spectacle for all these high-born mutts. As you’re staring out at the sea of furious faces, you feel something warm and soft being placed on your shoulders. You look over and realize Yoongi has placed his cloak on your shoulders. You pull it around yourself to hide your body from the crowd, but not before glaring at him first.
Yoongi’s father walks over, his face a barely controlled mask of disapproval. “Are you absolutely sure about this? You need a healthy omega to give you heirs, not a village runt who looks like she can’t even run a few feet without keeling over.”
Yoongi looks up at his father, defiance and stubbornness in his eyes. “I’m sure. She’s the right one.”
You just watch this whole interaction cautiously, Yoongi’s cloak clutched close, its warmth and his scent surrounding you.
His father sighs. “Fine. I can’t deny you the right to choose your own omega just because I don’t approve of the omega.”
Yoongi nods, then turns to you. “What’s your name?”
You take a deep breath and speak in the steadiest voice you can manage. “Y/N.”
Yoongi speaks into the microphone again, announcing your name to the entire assembly, which is met with a chorus of grumbles and displeased shouts. You hold your ground as best you can, trying to fight your omega instincts driving you to hide behind Yoongi for safety. You refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Yoongi’s father takes the microphone from him and speaks into it. “My son and his selected omega will spend time alone to get to know each other, and the Mating Ceremony will take place under the next full moon.”
☙ Summary: You work hard at your job in the music shop during the day, but you spend your evenings rapping covers of Yoongi's songs at a small bar. A bar that's supposed to keep people from filming your performances. Only a day after Yoongi himself walks into the shop, a video of you rapping his songs goes viral. You're all over every social media platform you've ever heard of, and Yoongi is back at your workplace demanding answers.
☙ Themes: He's an idol, Y/N is an underground rapper of sorts; he offers to be her producer; she has a celebrity crush on him; accidental confession; she doesn't like the industry
☙ Warnings: Someone at the bar makes a move on the reader, and she gets uncomfortable, and some people catcall/whistle at her
☙ A/N: Again, I can't commit to anything. Here's another story I'm bringing over from my Wattpad. This is honestly one of my favorites. I love their dynamic (you'll see eventually hehe). As usual, enjoy! Also, side note, I'd love to get the tattoo Y/N has one day, so that why that's thrown in there (sorry, not sorry).
It's a normal day at the music store where you work, where you're hanging up some guitars that just came in. You hear the door open, and you look up, ready to help. As soon as you do, your heart stops, and you almost drop the guitar you're holding. The customer who just walked in is none other than BTS' Min Yoongi.
Hanging up the guitar, you hurry to the counter to help him. "Can I help you find anything?" you ask politely.
He glances up from his phone, a look of indifference on his face. "I need a new soundboard," he says flatly.
You look at him, and your brain comes up with the only response you can. Looking him in the eye, you say calmly, "I don't know about those, but I can get someone who can. I don't know much about music yet. I'm new."
He actually smiles a little. "I know which one I want. I just need an employee to get it down for me."
"Well, I think the ones for sale are in boxes," you stammer out the obvious.
He holds up his phone. "Yeah, but your website says you only have one, which I'm assuming is the display one."
"We're not supposed to sell those, but I suppose I can ask my manager for you," you offer.
"I'll come with you. He might be more willing to concede if he sees who's asking."
You bring him to your manager, who quickly concedes when he sees who the customer is.
After work that evening, you're still reeling from the interaction, even as you drive to your second job. You pull up to the Olde Stage Tavern, a bar where you've been earning extra cash by rapping covers of Yoongi's songs.
When you enter the bar, you greet the manager before setting up the equipment you'll need for tonight. People start trickling in as you head into the back to change. Tonight, you're wearing bleached jeans and an oversized T-shirt, purposely mimicking the clothing Yoongi wears during his solo concerts.
Once there's a fairly substantial crowd, you get up on stage and begin your performance, putting your own spin on Yoongi's signature rapping mannerisms. Once the performance gets going, you decide to show off the tattoo you got on your back. It's a lotus flower, with the lyrics from Yoongi's song 'Amygdala' running along your spine.
You pull off your shirt. now only wearing your jeans and a bra. You ignore the whistles and catcalls from the men in the bar, focusing on the thrill of performing like this and the way the music seems to flow into your veins. You finish the last song with a flip you've been perfecting for months, landing on one knee, your head bowed and chest heaving.
Applause erupts from the crowd as you stand up and walk off stage, heading straight for the water bottles. You pull your shirt on before packing up your things, preparing to leave. As you're putting the last of your equipment away. a man you've never seen before approaches you. "Hey, sweetheart," he calls, a suggestive lilt in his voice. "Nice performance up there. Can I have your number?"
Alarm bells go off in your head, and you take a step back. "I'm sorry, I'm not interested."
The man huffs. "Your loss. I was looking forward to seeing that body up close."
You give him a stern look. "Get away from me, you pervert. Before I report you to the bar manager for harassment."
He raises his hand in mock surrender, heading for the door while glancing over his shoulder. The way he looks at you gives you the creeps. You quickly pack the rest of your equipment, thank the bar manager, and head home.
When you arrive at work the next morning, you notice a lot of people staring. You just assume it's because you missed your alarm and have bedhead, but toward the end of the day, Yoongi comes in and makes a beeline for where you are. He holds his phone up and shows you a YouTube video.
It takes your eyes a moment to focus on the screen, but the second they do, your face pales. On his screen is a video of your performance at the Olde Stage Tavern, including the part where you take your shirt off.
☙ Summary: You have always dreamed of coming to Korea. Now you're here, and everything is going perfectly. You're studying Korean and making new friends until you run into BTS' Yoongi in your professor's office and get pulled into something nothing could prepare you for.
☙ Themes: Implied age gap; Y/N is a female language student, Yoongi is an idol; romance; kidnapping (side char); mentions of the mafia in later chapters (this is not a mafia ff, it is a brief situation)
☙ Warnings: MDNI, as later chapters will have explicit scenes.
☙ A/N: I've been neglecting some of my ffs already, ahhh. Here's a new installment of this ff for y'all. It's longer than the others (1k is a lot for me, but I did it!). I hope you like it! We meet Yoongi in this chapter.
The next morning, you make your way to Seonsaengnim Choi's office, arriving a bit before 8:00. Despite being early, you knock.
"Just a moment," Seonsaengnim Choi's voice comes through the wood. You open the door anyway, feeling unsure what to do.
"Y/N! You're early. Could you wait outside for a few minutes?" he asks, but you don't hear a word. The man he was meeting with had turned around when you opened the door, and now you're not sure how to react. You know those dark brown eyes so well, but mostly just for pictures. Those are Min Yoongi's eyes.
"Can I help you?" he asks, obviously displeased at the disturbance and your staring.
"N-no. I was just about to leave," you stammer, backing out of the room. You turn around and sprint down the hallway toward where you'd told Jung-Young to meet you for class. As you near the busier parts of the hallway, you slow down and pull out your phone.
"Meet me where I told you to. NOW." As soon as you send the text, you hear sneakers thumping on the floor behind you. Clearly, Jung-Young isn't as worried about appearances as you are. Her footsteps are incredibly loud.
You turn around to tease her for being so loud, only to realize that the person who ran up behind you isn't Jung-Young.
"I'm sorry I made you leave," Yoongi manages to get out as he catches his breath.
"It's alright," you insist. "I figured out my homework on my own anyway. I-I'm supposed to be meeting a friend here soon. You might want to leave if you want to avoid her." You stop yourself before you can start rambling, but you don't know what to say now.
"You're super calm right now," he comments. "I'm impressed."
"Oh, it's completely external, I assure you," you stammer. Damnit. Why did I have to say that?
He laughs so hard his shoulders almost reach his ears. "You're funny. But I think I see your friend, and people are starting to recognize me. I should go," he says, turning to leave.
"O-oh, okay. Bye!" You manage to say, though part of you wants to stop him. But he's right. Some people are giggling and looking between him and you, and you see Jung-Young coming around the corner. You need to clear up your text with her before class starts.
As soon as she close enough to speak, she busts out the dreaded question. "Who was that?" she asks as she stops walking.
"I'll explain later. We're going to be late for class," you cut her off, adjusting your backpack as you headed for the classroom, fighting a grin the whole time.
During class, you have a hard time focusing on anything Seonsaengnim Choi is saying. Your mind is occupied with so many questions. What is Yoongi doing here? How does he know Seonsaengnim Choi? Why did he follow you?
"Y/N? What are you thinking about?" Jung-Young whispers in your ear.
"Ladies. You came to class to learn Korean, did you not?" Choi's voice echoes through the classroom.
"Y-yes," you both mutter.
"Then let's learn now and talk later." Gosh, you think, he knows exactly why I can't focus.
Despite your best efforts, you simply cannot focus on class. It passes by in a blur of pondering and daydreaming.
You try your best to rein in your mind as you walk to the bus. As you walk, you hear footsteps behind you.
"So...who's the guy that captured your attention so easily?" Jung-Young teases.
"I'll tell you in a less crowded place," you promise.
She rolls her eyes, but agrees. "Yeah, that's fine, I guess."
On the bus, you discuss class from that day, most of which you were zoned out for. Jung-Young promises to make you copies of her notes.
By the time you make it to your place, she looks like she's about to explode. She runs ahead of you through the door and makes a beeline for the couch, insisting you sit down and tell her everything. When you sit down, she begins the questions.
"So...this guy. Who is he?" she asks, practically vibrating as she waits for your answer.
You try to dodge the question. "You don't know him."
"Okay...where do you know him from?" she presses.
"I don't, really. Not any more than you do," you explain awkwardly.
She looks really confused now. "So, let me get this straight. You met this guy this morning and you're already smitten with him. What am I missing?"
"Probably that both of us have seen him before, but we've just never met him," you answer, trying to get her to come to the conclusion herself and hopefully not squeal too loudly.
"How does that even...wait...oh my word. The only person I can think of who matches that situation that you'd go crazy for is Yoongi. But that's impossible, right?"
"Apparently not," you reply, waiting for the squealing to start. But instead, she rapid-fires questions at you.
"How did you meet him? Why was he talking to you? And most importantly, did you get his number?"
"Okay, okay, slow down. First off, he was meeting with Seonsaengnim Choi when I got to office hours early this morning. I opened the door anyway, and he was there. Second, I had a but of an 'I don't know what to do' moment and took off-"
"Wait, you saw your celebrity crush this morning, and you ran away from him?" she interjects.
"I'm not finished. Lastly, I didn't get his number. But I don't think he would have given it to me anyway."
"Wow. How did it feel?" she asks, processing all this information.
"Uhm...like you have a million things to say and a million thoughts, but they're all jumbled up and you can't pick one," you explain, but it's a poor representation of how it actually felt.
"Okay...this is crazy. Uhm...now what?" she asks.
"Well, at the moment, I'm absolutely starving, so I'm gonna fix something. Anything you particularly want?"
"What? Oh, no, not really. I'm just processing. It's like we're in a fanfiction or something."
You laugh as you head to the kitchen to make ramen, but even you can't believe what happened. It has to be some crazy coincidence, right?
☙ Summary: After a night of passion with your pack's heir, you find yourself pregnant and exiled. When a den you stay in turns out to be inhabited by a rogue alpha named Yoongi, your whole world changes. He insists on protecting you, giving you no choice but to trust him with both your and your pup's lives.
☙ Themes: omegaverse; possessive alpha; stepdad (eventually); he's a single dad; pregnancy from another alpha; he has a traumatic past
☙ Warnings: MDNI; he's really possessive/overprotective; he comes across as an asshole at the beginning; there's mention of a past event of homicide/infanticide, which he was present for but did not participate in
☙ A/N: I figured you guys would need a nice break since I've been posting so many functional posts like masterlists and stuff. Well, here you go. This has a nice fluffy moment at the end, so I hope you enjoy. It took me a minute to figure out what to put in this one, so I'm glad I've been making use of the queue function on here. It makes writing more enjoyable. Anyway, that's enough rambling. Enjoy!
You spend most of the day resting, while Yoongi and Jieun play and work around the den. By the time evening rolls around, they've built a fire and set up a place to cook the game Yoongi brought that morning.
While the food cooks, you all sit around the fire, making friendly conversation. Yoongi looks over at where you're sprawled out, massaging your lower belly. "So, I told you my story. Are you going to tell me yours?"
You slowly sit up, crossing your legs awkwardly under you. "Well...my story is much less interesting than your story," you deflect.
Jieun pouts, "But I wanna hear it! I love stories!" Yoongi looks at you again, as if daring you to deny her request.
You crack a smile, rubbing your belly. "I guess I could tell it real quick," you mumble shyly. Jieun immediately claps her hands in excitement.
You adjust yourself into a more comfortable position before beginning. "I was the second youngest, and the only omega. I had three brothers, two alphas and a beta."
Yoongi tilts his head. "So...you're probably actually carrying more than one pup?"
You shake your head. "I'm an anomaly, I'm only carrying one pup. Nobody knows why."
Yoongi just nods and gestures for you to continue. You glance at Jieun before trying to continue as vaguely as possible. "I fell for our pack's heir. Our alpha's son. He's...rather handsome. We hung out one night and...I was there all night, y'know....and...well..." you gesture to your belly.
Jieun huffs, sounding a lot like Yoongi when she does. "I know what sex is."
Your head whips around so fast your neck cracks. "What?? How do you know about that?"
Jieun smiles smugly. "Daddy told me. I'm very smart, so I also know you're only supposed to have sex with your mate. Is your pack's heir your mate?"
Your eyes dart to Yoongi, then back to Jieun. You shake your head slowly. Jieun frowns, "No wonder your pack got mad at you. You broke a rule."
You feel your eyes fill with hot tears, and you get up as quickly as your belly will let you, making your way toward the den. You hear Yoongi behind you, calling your name, but you don't stop. When you get inside the den, you curl up in your nest, sniffling softly.
Yoongi comes running in soon after, and he kneels next to your nest. "Y/N? Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah," you mumble. "It's just my stupid hormones."
You feel a soft blanket being draped over you, and Yoongi's voice comes again. "Get some sleep, then. I'll save you some food."
You wake up a while later to a sharp cramp in your stomach, causing you to groan. You've been having false labor pains like this off and on for a while, but the healers said everything looked fine before you left.
It's dark outside now, but that doesn't slow Yoongi's reaction time to the sound of your groan. He's by your side almost instantly, his voice laced with panic. "Are you okay? Is the pup okay? Do I need to boil water?" his questions come out rapid-fire.
"No...no, it's just false pains. I've been having them for a while. They're not pleasant, though," you whisper, your voice slightly strained.
"Do you need anything? Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again.
"Just...could you maybe get in the nest with me?" you ask softly.
He freezes. Alphas rarely enter omegas' nests, except during mating or births, or if explicitly invited. The fact that you invited him into this one is a huge deal, especially since we just met.
"Y-yeah, sure," he responds before climbing in and lying down. You move closer to him, and his arm automatically loops around your shoulders. He freezes again, making you laugh. He looks over at you. "What?"
"Y-your...your own arm surprised you," you cackle.
Your laugh wakes up Jieun, who had been sleeping in her own mini nest in the far corner. She looks over. "What's going on?"
"Nothing, I was just teasing your dad," you chuckle.
She frowns, getting up and walking over to your nest. "Why is Daddy in your nest? Are you cuddling?"
You blush and hide your face. "He was just making me feel better, sweetheart. My stomach hurt a little."
"Can I make you feel better too?" she asks.
You smile a little at her kind offer. "Of course. Come here."
She climbs in and snuggles against your side, falling asleep quickly in the way only children can. You glance over at Yoongi, whose eyes are also drooping.
"Go to sleep," you whisper before closing your eyes. Yoongi's deep breathing lulls you into sleep soon after.
☙ Summary: You have always dreamed of coming to Korea. Now you're here, and everything is going perfectly. You're studying Korean and making friends until you run into BTS' Yoongi in your professor's office and get pulled into something nothing could prepare you for.
☙ Themes/warnings: MDNI; implied age gap; Y/N is a female language; Yoongi is an idol; romance; kidnapping (side char); mentions of the mafia in later chapters (this is not a mafia ff, it is a brief situation); smut
— chapter summary | The weight of your secret falls away the moment the truth comes to light. But relief is a dangerous thing. It tears open wounds you buried deep, forcing you to relive the past. Back to where it all began. Back to him.
— title: Carousel | pairings: Min Yoongi x female reader | genre: CEO!Yoongi, Arranged Marriage!AU, smut, angst
— ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; involves delicate themes related to arranged marriage, talks about family legacy, family betrayal/drama, depiction of major character death, mentions of car accidents, moments of grief.
— word count: 3,688 words
— story notes: this is the second and final part of the flashback, which meant the full chapter is now completed. As mentioned previously, future updates will be slowing down as we've officially caught up with my rewriting progress and I'm still continuing the writing process. In the meantime, some deleted scenes and special chapters have been updated on Patreon. More will be coming soon!
— story masterpost: Carousel | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢
— chapter drop date: July 7th, 2026 | main masterlist | mailbox | feedback | ko-fi | patreon | series taglist
𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕 𝟸𝟽. 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚓𝚒𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝟶𝟸
As the days passed, something between you quietly shifted.
Jinyoung’s behaviour toward you grew warmer, slowly easing the tension that had once defined every interaction between you. Not only did he begin showing you more respect in front of others, but he also started acknowledging your ideas openly, listening with genuine interest instead of dismissing them the way he once had.
And perhaps the most noticeable change was how easily he seemed to gravitate toward you.
It began with small things. Little things that you had first brushed off as coincidences. Gestures that had never been there before.
The way his gaze lingered when you spoke during meetings. The brief touch of his hand when passing you a file, and the gentle brushes of his shoulder when he came to speak with you in group discussions. The way he always seemed to choose the seat beside you in the office or in the conference room. His quiet offers to drive you home after late nights at the office.
Even the tone of his voice softened when he spoke to you.
The staff noticed.
Everyone noticed.
Rumors spread quickly through the office. Some whispered that he was only trying to gain favor with your father by treating you well. Others insisted that he had simply learned to respect you after seeing how well you handled your work.
Instead of feeling flattered by the attention, however, you only found yourself growing more suspicious.
“What are you up to now?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it.
You were on your way to meet a new investor when Jinyoung insisted on walking you to the conference room—something he had begun doing far too often lately.
He stopped beside you, looking amused.
“Must you always question my intentions?”
“All the time,” you replied dryly.
He chuckled softly. “All I wanted was to keep you company,” he said. “I told you before—I enjoy helping you, and it should be normal for a team leader to escort a member of his team to an important meeting such as this one. Is that really so terrible for me to do something like this?”
You muttered under your breath, “It feels suspicious when you're being this nice.”
“Suspicious?” he repeated, raising a brow. “Does that mean kindness only earns your distrust?”
Yes.
It always had.
Because that was how you were raised—to always question someone’s goals when they approach you. Because people never show what their true intentions are right in front of you.
“Everybody has secrets. People don’t always show you their true selves or what they are after, so always question what’s lying underneath their smile.”
That was the one thing that your father had taught you growing up, to toughen you up so you would always be ready to face anything thrown at you. And from what you’ve learned so far, Park Jinyoung was one of those people you should be most wary of.
Meeting Jinyoung’s gaze, you said simply, “It just means you want something.”
A slow smile curved across his lips. For a moment, something in his expression shifted—something softer, yet more deliberate.
He stepped a little closer. “Maybe I do want something from you.”
You folded your arms. “I knew it.”
He laughed quietly at your reaction. “All I want,” he said, “is a chance to prove that I’m sincere when I say I want to help you. That I genuinely want us to get along.”
Your brows lifted. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
He hesitated for a moment before answering, “One dinner.”
You blinked. What?
“No assumptions. No rivalry. Just dinner,” he continued, “I won’t ask for more.”
Silence stretched between you. That had not been the answer you expected, and you weren’t sure how to respond.
Jinyoung seemed to sense your hesitation. “I know I made things difficult for you when you first joined the team,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
For the first time since you had met him, there was no arrogance in his voice. It made you want to believe him. When you looked at him, you realized that you already did.
“I wasn’t trying to undermine you,” he continued. “I just needed to know if you were really capable of what your father believed you could do.”
You considered his words carefully, before asking, “And what have you decided?”
His smile returned—gentler this time. “I’d have to say….that you’ve exceeded my expectations,” he finally said. The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks warm unexpectedly, forcing you to glance away.
“And if I’m being honest,” he added, “I’ve come to admire you. As a colleague… and as a person.”
His words sounded convincing. Yet still, you hesitated. You told yourself not to be swayed by sweet words and excessive praise. Especially not from someone as persuasive as him.
But you would be lying if you said you had never been affected by his charm. You had to admit that you’ve come to admire him as well. It was hard not to. Watching the way he handled the team, the way problems seemed to unravel under his calm leadership, was quite inspirational, that you often found yourself being drawn to him.
You took a breath as he waited patiently for your answer.
“Fine,” you said at last. Mustering the courage to look at him, you continued, “One dinner. No hidden motives.”
His smile widened, though he raised both hands in mock surrender. “I promise to behave.”
You turned and continued walking.
“Text me the details,” you said. “I’ll be there.”
“I will,” he replied, hurrying to catch up. “And I promise you won’t regret it.”
You had agreed to one dinner.
One evening without the presence of your past rivalry. No prejudice. No labels.
And you were given the chance to see each other without the constant tension that had followed you since the beginning.
That night, Jinyoung showed you a side of himself you had never seen before.
Maybe it was the quiet restaurant he chose. The warm glow of candlelight reflecting against the wine glasses. The way conversation flowed easily once the guarded edges between you softened.
Or maybe it was simply the way he looked at you—without challenge, without any sign of discord.
By the time he draped his jacket over your shoulders while walking you back to the car, you realized your guard had lowered without you noticing.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said as he parked outside your home.
You stood beside his car, still wrapped in his suit jacket. The warmth of it lingered around you. It settled deep inside your chest, fluttering like the wind. You couldn’t put into words what you were feeling, when everything felt so…new.
“No, I should be the one to say it,” you said softly after a moment passed. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”
When he smiled, he didn’t bother to hide the joy he was feeling. Then, unexpectedly, he began to look nervous.
“Would it be alright,” he asked slowly, “if I ask you out again in the future?”
His offer surprised you, yet the answer came more easily than you expected.
“I’d like that.”
And that was how one dinner became another.
And another.
Weeks passed, and the distance that once separated you slowly disappeared. What began as curiosity deepened into something far more intimate than either of you had anticipated. It was a progress that you had never expected to happen. Yet your family welcomed it without hesitation.
Perhaps too easily.
“You knew this would happen.”
You said this to your father the day after Jinyoung asked for his blessing to marry you.
Your father only smiled. He didn’t even look surprised, which only made you question his actions, the work of mind.
“I have no idea what you mean, princess,” your father said in return, feigning innocence.
You narrowed your eyes. As if you would believe him when he acted this way. “Was this your plan from the beginning?”
He chuckled. “I planned for the two of you to work well together, to keep the balance so the company could survive,” he admitted. “But marriage was never part of it.”
“Then why do you look so pleased with yourself?”
Your father leaned back thoughtfully. “I simply think it’s fortunate,” he said, almost to himself. “And maybe you can say that it’s the best possible outcome that we could gain from asking you to work with him.”
His gaze softened as he looked at you.
“Winning your trust is already quite an achievement. But winning your heart as well?” He shook his head with quiet admiration. “That’s something else entirely.”
Then he added, almost casually—
“And it might solve more problems than you realize.”
You frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” he said gently. “If he becomes your husband, he can take your place within the company without question. And once everything stabilizes, you’ll be free to pursue your own business again. I’m sure he’ll have an open mind to support you through it.”
For a moment, it truly felt as if everything had fallen perfectly into place.
But that fragile sense of hope didn’t last long.
Because that night happened.
No matter how much you wished it had only been a nightmare, reality refused to fade.
You would never forget that night.
The small argument you had with Jinyoung earlier that evening felt painfully trivial when things unravelled hours later. You had planned to call him later, to settle things between you the way you always did.
Instead, you waited.
And waited.
When your phone finally rang close to midnight, relief washed over you. You reached for it without hesitation, expecting to hear his voice.
But the voice on the other end was unfamiliar. Calm. Professional.
“Does this number belong to a relative of Park Jinyoung?”
A pause. Brief, but it felt like time simply stood still, right before your entire world turned upside down.
“I’m afraid we have some terrible news—”
For a moment, the words didn’t make sense.
They reached you, but they refused to settle anywhere inside your mind.
Your fingers tightened around the phone as the deep voice spoke; his words almost sounded like a different language. “I’m sorry… what did you say?”
The voice on the other end repeated itself, slower this time. Careful. Polished. As if the caller had done this multiple times before. Each word landed heavier than the last.
Something about an accident.
Something about his name.
Something about how they needed someone to come to the hospital.
The room around you seemed to fall into a strange, suffocating silence. You couldn’t hear the ticking of the clock on the wall anymore, nor the distant noise from the street outside, nor the pitter-patter of the rain that comforted your anger earlier after the fight. All you could hear was the sound of your own breathing—shallow, uneven.
“No,” you murmured. You didn’t even realize you had spoken. “That… that can’t be right.”
You had just spoken to him earlier that evening. You had just listened to the voice message he left behind while you were stuck working late in the office.
You could still remember the sound of his voice, low and teasing, yet deeply regretful, as he spoke through the phone when he promised he would make it up to you for missing the date he had set up for the night.
Tomorrow, he had said.
Let me make it up to you tomorrow.
The voice on the other end of the line continued speaking, but the words blurred together now.
You didn’t want to hear them.
Because if you listened—if you truly listened—then it would make everything real.
Your hand trembled.
“Is he…?” The question caught in your throat, refusing to come out whole. “Is he alright?”
There was a pause. One that lasted for too long. And in that silence, something deep inside you began to collapse.
“We’re very sorry.”
The words were quiet.
Gentle.
But they struck harder than anything else that had been said.
You couldn’t remember when the phone slipped from your hand. Or how long you stood there in the middle of the room, staring at nothing while the world around you continued moving as if nothing had changed.
Because everything had.
Just hours ago, you had still been thinking about the future.
About the life you were planning to build together.
And now—
Now all that remained was the echo of a voice that would never call you again.
You kept telling yourself that this couldn’t be real.
That if you just waited long enough, your phone would ring again, and you would hear his voice on the other end—warm, teasing, apologizing for being late like he always did.
But the night stretched on in merciless silence.
And the phone never rang again.
— One week after Jinyoung’s funeral —
A week had passed since you buried Park Jinyoung.
People often said that time would make things easier. That grief would soften, little by little, until its sharp edges no longer cut quite so deeply.
You had yet to see any proof of that.
The days since the funeral had passed in a blur of quiet condolences, sympathetic looks, and conversations you barely remembered having. Faces came and went. Words were spoken that you knew were meant to comfort you, yet none of them truly reached you.
Everything felt distant, as though you were watching someone else’s life unfold from far away.
And through it all, the silence remained.
It followed you everywhere—in the empty passenger seat beside you on the drive home, in the quiet halls of your house, in the long hours of the night when sleep refused to come. Every corner of your life seemed to echo with the absence he had left behind.
You told yourself that this must be what grief felt like. A slow, hollow ache that refused to leave.
But sometimes, in the quiet moments when your mind wandered where it shouldn’t, another thought crept in—one that made the silence feel heavier than it already was.
Because even now, a part of you still expected the phone to ring.
Expected to hear his voice on the other side, warm and familiar, apologizing for being late like he always did.
And every time the silence answered instead, the truth settled a little deeper into your chest.
Park Jinyoung was gone. And the life you had once imagined with him had vanished with him.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Your father’s voice—low, gentle, and careful—broke through the quiet. You looked up to find him standing at the doorway to your office. Grief lingered in his eyes, mirroring your own. But there was something else there too.
Exhaustion. Worry etched into the lines of his face.
You weren’t the only one losing sleep.
Of course not. He had just lost someone who had been almost like a son to him.
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” you asked quietly. “This is my office.” You tried to put on a brave face, to hide the strain you’ve been feeling inside, yet your voice betrayed you.
Your father sighed as he stepped further inside. “That’s exactly my point. You should be at home, resting. You don’t look well enough to work.”
“I’ve done enough resting.”
Rest.
Had you truly rested at all?
How many days had you spent locked inside your room, hiding from the world—hiding from reality?
The long nights you spent awake, crying until your tears dried. Feeling as though something inside your chest had cracked open and refused to mend.
“I’m fine,” you said, forcing the words out. “It’s better to keep my mind busy than sit at home doing nothing.”
Alone.
Surrounded by memories. By all the things that reminded you of him. Waiting for the sound of his keys at the door.
“Very well.” Your father’s resistance softened. With a quiet sigh, he stepped closer and rested his hand briefly on the top of your head—a gesture from your childhood that he rarely used now.
You kept your eyes lowered, afraid that if you looked up, he might see the tears gathering there.
“Just don’t push yourself too hard,” he said gently. “I had the staff cover most of your responsibilities while you were gone. Start with something simple.”
You took a steady breath and nodded.
“I will.”
It took hours before your mind finally settled.
At first, your thoughts kept drifting—toward memories, toward silence, toward the spaces where Jinyoung used to be. Most of the staff kept their distance, offering quiet nods or sympathetic glances when you passed them in the hallway. Then you locked yourself in your office again, letting the silence take away the noises in your head as you drowned yourself with the tasks your father left behind.
By noon, you called Mandy through the intercom. “Could you bring me the files Jinyoung was working on recently?”
“Of course,” she answered. “I’ll ask Miss Ahn to bring the copies.”
A few minutes later, Mandy stepped into your office with a stack of documents, a cup of steaming coffee, and a small plate of snacks she probably hoped might lift your mood. The gesture made your chest tighten.
“Thank you,” you murmured.
The door closed again, leaving you alone with the files.
You spent the rest of the day combing through them—numbers, spreadsheets, production reports, sales projections. Old projects. New initiatives. Endless rows of data that blurred together the longer you stared at them.
Memories crept in despite your efforts to keep them away.
Late nights at the office with Jinyoung. The two of you sitting across from each other, arguing over figures, exchanging notes, comparing calculations before entering them into the system you had built together.
Back then, the work had felt easier because you were never doing it alone.
Doing this on your own now was wearing you out. But that was exactly what you needed. Keeping your mind occupied left no space for you to think of anything else.
Soon the silence pressed in again, heavier than before. But it wasn’t memories that made you feel hopeless. It felt like the data you’ve been working with refused to work with you.
The numbers refused to make sense, and there was no one left beside you to compare your calculations with.
By the time evening arrived, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones.
“Maybe I shouldn’t push myself this hard,” you muttered to yourself.
Let’s do this again tomorrow.
And so you did.
The next day, you returned to the same files. The same reports. The same endless lines of data.
Hours passed, and yet again, you found yourself stuck on the same thing. And that problem persisted for the next few days.
Still, you tried, thinking that perhaps you were doing things wrong without Jinyoung guiding you through it, or maybe the new system wasn’t working like it was supposed to.
Days slipped by in the same frustrating cycle. You expanded your search, digging deeper into past sales records, production logs, and departmental reports. You compared everything—old numbers against new, projections against actual results.
Still, something refused to line up.
Until one night, as you stared at the figures yet again, a quiet realization settled into your mind.
Something wasn’t just wrong.
Something was off.
It took several more attempts before you finally saw it.
“The numbers don’t match.”
— Two weeks after Jinyoung’s funeral —
Time kept moving, even when it felt as though you were standing still.
Grief still clung to you like a shadow. But now it was tangled together with something else.
Questions that were left unanswered. Puzzles that you just couldn’t complete. Suspicions grew, yet you kept yourself in denial while you looked for answers. You kept things to yourself, worried that perhaps you were the one making the mistakes, and you’d be pointing fingers at the wrong people.
You kept trying, yet every attempt led you back to the same dead end.
The numbers. The reports. The discrepancies that refused to resolve themselves.
Until one rainy afternoon changed everything.
You hadn’t expected the encounter with Detective Jeon.
In truth, you had known nothing about the man before that day. But the things he told you—about Jinyoung, about the accident—left a strange unease lingering in your mind long after you parted ways.
“Have you ever found or noticed any suspicious activity happening in your father’s company lately, or back when Jinyoung was still alive?” he had asked.
At the time, the question had only confused you. But it planted a seed of doubt you could no longer ignore.
The next morning, you returned to your office with a quiet determination.
You opened the files again. This time, you forced yourself to stop thinking like someone searching for a mistake. Instead, you asked a different question.
What if there had never been a mistake at all?
Minutes passed, then your breath caught when you finally saw everything clearly.
“There’s no way…”
Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but it was enough to make you feel like there was a deep fissure growing beneath your feet, pulling you down with the weight of truth. You leaned back slowly in your chair, heart pounding harder with every second.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
Why the inconsistencies had always seemed impossible to track.
Why the profit reports rose and fell without reason despite stable sales and production numbers.
Why the discrepancies between internal data and the reports given to upper management had never aligned.
And most importantly—
Why Jinyoung kept facing failure after failure over the months he spent combing through all the data, unable to find the source of the problem that kept the company’s fate hanging by a thread.
Your fingers trembled against the desk.
Because now you finally understood something you had never once considered before.
Park Jinyoung was never trying to fix the problem from the start.
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