.

.

Taehyung (Ger) transmigrates into the body of a poor, widowed ger who just remarried into Jungkook's household.

Jungkook (Man) is also a widower. His first wife passed away a year ago, and though his family arranged this second marriage quickly, Jungkook didn’t resist much — mostly to stop his family from nagging.

Both have second marriages with emotional scars from their pasts. They start distant, almost like strangers.

Slowly, they build their life together — not through forced romance, but through mutual growth, daily life, and separate business successes.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

...INTRODUCTION...

◇ KIM TAEHYUNG ◇

Identity: Ger | Transmigrated Modern Soul | Business Mind | Gentle but Clever

Appearance: Soft facial lines, long dark hair, lean body with delicate wrists, a calm but sharp gaze.

His beauty is subtle - neither fully feminine nor traditionally masculine.

Personality: Observant, polite, quietly stubborn.

He adapts quickly, even when trapped in an unfamiliar world. His modern knowledge makes him resourceful, but he moves carefully to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Backstory: Originally from modern Korea. Woke

up in the body of a poor, widowed ger days before a second marriage to a man he had never met. Determined to survive and eventually build his own life on his own terms.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

◇ Jeon Jungkook ◇

Identity: Man | Second Marriage | Quiet,

Hardworking, Steady

Appearance: Tall and broad-shouldered, tanned

skin from years of field work, dark hair often tied loosely, sharp but kind eyes. Carries himself with simple confidence.

Personality: Reserved, loyal, and slow to open

his heart. He doesn't speak much, but once he trusts someone, his commitment is unshakable.

His family often takes advantage of his good nature.

Backstory: His first wife passed away over a year ago. Pressured into a second marriage to "fill the house." Though indifferent at first, Jungkook gradually finds comfort and partnership in Taehyung, far beyond what either expected.

.

.

.

.

💌 Welcome, Dear Readers! 💌

Thank you so much for joining me on this new journey! This is my third story—a special Taekook story close to my heart—and I’m beyond excited to share it with all of you.

Thank you so much for being here! I’m truly excited to welcome you to my third story—another special Taekook journey that I’ve poured my heart into. Whether you’ve been following my previous works or this is your first time reading with me, I hope this story brings you smiles, excitement, and maybe even a little flutter in your heart. 💫

I’ve poured my love and imagination into every scene, and I can’t wait for you to experience every moment—sweet, dramatic, and everything in between.Please feel free to dive in, enjoy, and experience every moment of story.

If you enjoy this story, I’d love for you to check out my other stories too! Each one holds a unique piece of my imagination and might just become your next favorite.

Thank you for your support, your time, and your love. Let’s go on this beautiful journey together. Happy reading! 💕

With lots of love,

Your Author

The faint scent of old wood and unfamiliar herbs lingered in the air.

Taehyung slowly blinked his eyes open, his head pounding with a dull ache. The low ceiling above him was made of dark wooden beams, rough and uneven, not the white-painted walls he was used to. The weight of an old cotton blanket pressed over his legs, and somewhere outside, the sharp caw of a crow rang out.

This wasn’t his room.

This wasn’t his world.

His breath caught. The last thing he remembered… was crossing the street, the blinding headlights—

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He sat up quickly, his heart racing. The sudden movement made his body ache all over, as if it had been weak for a long time. His hands—slender, calloused in an unfamiliar way—trembled as he reached up to touch his face. The skin was smooth, but there was something off. His palms slid down to his chest, where soft padding greeted him. Not a woman’s chest, but not a man’s either. Flat, yet not quite.

His gaze dropped lower.

His breath hitched.

This body…

This body wasn’t his.

A door creaked somewhere nearby. Heavy footsteps approached.

Before Taehyung could gather his thoughts, the door to the small room opened, and a tall man stepped inside. His face was expressionless, his gaze distant. Broad shoulders, rolled-up sleeves, rough working hands. His hair was slightly messy as if he had just returned from the fields.

"You're awake," the man said, his voice low and steady. There was no joy, no concern—just a calm statement, as if this were all routine.

Taehyung stared at him in silence.

The man paused. "You fainted during the wedding ceremony. I sent for the village doctor, but you only needed rest."

Wedding?

Taehyung’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Had he transmigrated into someone who just got married?

To this man?

His dry lips parted. "Who… who are you?"

The man’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t seem surprised by the question.

"Jeon Jungkook. Your husband." His voice was flat, as if the word 'husband' carried no weight, no warmth.

Husband.

Taehyung's mind spun. This was too fast. Too strange.

"Your name…?" Jungkook asked carefully, perhaps noticing his odd reaction.

Taehyung scrambled to remember. He quickly searched the fragmented memories in his head—flashes of a quiet village life, of people calling out softly to someone…

"Taehyung," he answered hesitantly.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on him, studying him for a moment before he gave a small nod, as if accepting that Taehyung might be disoriented from fainting.

“You can rest today. The house is simple, but you’ll get used to it.”

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook placed a small cloth bundle on the table—a few steamed buns and a wooden cup of barley tea—before turning to leave.

The door clicked softly behind him.

Taehyung sat in silence, the weight of the situation slowly settling over him like heavy fog.

He had transmigrated.

Into the body of a ger.

A third gender in this world—someone who could bear children, yet was neither fully man nor woman.

And now, he was the second spouse of a man who treated him like a polite stranger.

His hands curled tightly into the rough blanket.

He didn’t know Jungkook.

He didn’t know this family.

He didn’t know this world.

But somewhere deep in his heart, a tiny seed of determination quietly took root.

He had been given another life.

And this time, he would live it carefully.

Not rushed.

Not foolishly.

Not for anyone else—but for himself.

For now, he would learn.

For now, he would watch.

And slowly he would build himself in this life.

.

.

.

.

To be Continued

Bye

The morning air was cool when Taehyung stepped out of the small wooden house.

His steps were cautious, his bare feet brushing against the uneven stone path outside the door.

The house wasn’t large—just two small rooms, a tiny kitchen space, and a yard where thin lines of laundry swayed gently in the breeze. The faint smell of damp wood and soil lingered in the air. It was quiet, but not silent. Somewhere, a rooster crowed. In the distance, village women chattered as they fetched water.

It didn’t feel like his life.

But it was his now.

Taehyung rubbed his arms, still unsure whether to step further or return inside.

"You're up early."

Jungkook’s calm voice sounded from the side, startling him slightly.

Taehyung turned to find him crouched near the firewood pile, calmly tying bundles with thick rope. His sleeves were already rolled up, and a faint sheen of sweat clung to his temples even in the cool morning air. His movements were steady, practiced.

There was something about Jungkook—how quietly he existed, as if the world expected nothing from him, and he gave nothing back.

Taehyung swallowed and mumbled, "I didn’t feel like staying inside."

Jungkook only hummed in response. He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask if Taehyung was alright.

Perhaps he didn’t care.

Or perhaps he didn’t know how to care anymore.

After all, wasn’t this a marriage arranged by their families?

Two people carrying the weight of their pasts, tied together by duty, not affection.

Jungkook stood and wiped his hands on his pants. "There’s barley porridge on the stove. Eat before it gets cold."

Without waiting for a reply, he picked up two bundles of firewood and carried them towards the cart resting near the gate.

Taehyung watched his retreating back, wondering if all their days would feel like this—distant, careful, like two shadows living under the same roof.

Slowly, Taehyung walked inside and approached the simple clay stove. The porridge was still warm. He ladled some into a wooden bowl, sat quietly at the table, and ate a spoonful by a slow spoonful.

The flavor was plain. No salt. No side dishes.

It filled his stomach, but not his heart.

As he ate, flickers of memory surfaced—his body's former owner…

A lonely Ger.

A poor life.

A first husband who died two winters ago from sickness.

No children left behind.

Taehyung exhaled slowly, setting the spoon down.

This house was not warm. It was not cruel either.

It was simply… empty.

After finishing his meal, he carefully washed the bowl in cold water from the clay jar outside. His movements were clumsy, his hands unused to these ancient routines. In his past life, everything had been fast—modern kitchens, clean water, electric stoves.

Here, every task was slow.

Every step required thought.

As the sun rose higher, Taehyung wandered the small yard.

He found a basket of mending cloth and old shirts near the laundry line.

Some had missing buttons, others were worn at the sleeves.

His fingers brushed the fabric softly.

He could sew. That much he remembered from the body's memories.

Maybe this could be a beginning.

A small, quiet step forward.

Without thinking, he sat down, threaded a needle, and began to carefully patch the torn cloth.

When Jungkook returned at midday, he paused at the sight. His eyes lingered for a second longer than usual.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook said, setting down a sack of grain near the door.

Taehyung didn’t look up. “I want to.”

There was a silence, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Jungkook finally spoke, his voice softer than before. “If you need anything, the market is open tomorrow. I’ll take you.”

Taehyung glanced up. Their eyes met—just briefly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

And that was it.

No long conversations.

No smiles.

Just two people sitting under the same roof, quietly trying to figure out where they belonged in this new, shared life.

.

.

.

To be Continued

Bye