Chapter 4
The doors parted like the sea before a storm.
And in walked kim taehyung.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, collar sharp, cufflinks gleaming faintly like blades, he didn’t need to announce himself — the air shifted the moment he stepped inside. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Every movement he made was deliberate, silent, powerful.
His face was unreadable — eyes dark and slow-moving, scanning the room like he already knew its secrets. His jaw sharp, lips firm, expression calm but cold. Hair tousled just enough to look like chaos could never quite tame him. There was a quiet magnetism to him — not the kind that begged attention, but the kind that commanded it.
Women turned their heads.
Some stared openly. Others whispered behind champagne glasses. He didn’t look at any of them.
He wasn’t even sure why he was here at all.
Inside, he felt… unsettled
Not anxious. Not angry. Just… different.
Like something in his blood was beginning to stir. A silent itch beneath his skin. A pull he couldn’t place. This party was a formality, a favor — and yet, something had drawn him here. A thread he couldn’t see but felt tightening with every breath.
As taehyung stepped further into the hall, the weight of eyes clung to him like perfume — sweet, suffocating, and expected.
The city's wealthiest had gathered here tonight. Diamond-laced tycoons, cigar-scented politicians, and foreign investors who knew his name but never said it too loudly. They greeted him with rehearsed smiles and nervous laughter, as though even power found itself cautious around him.
One of them beamed, stepping forward with a glass of expensive scotch and a daughter draped in silk.
Wealthy man
Meet my daughter, Rhea. She’s studying business in London. Loves classical music.
The girl beside him gave a playful smile, her dress clinging like a second skin, neckline lower than her intentions. She fluttered her lashes, biting her lip in that calculated way girls did when they thought they were unforgettable.
Taehyung gave a polite nod.
Another man followed. Another daughter. More shimmering fabric. More practiced seduction.
Each one tried to speak with eyes rather than words, leaning too close, laughing too loud, fingers brushing his arm like they could draw his attention with skin.
But he barely heard them.
Because from the moment he walked in — something else had gripped him.
His mind was distant, his soul distracted.
It wasn’t nerves.
It wasn’t lust.
It was a silence that had weight. A magnetic stillness inside him. Like a part of him had already walked away… searching.
His eyes moved past the chandeliers, past the golden bar carts and painted lips and rehearsed charm. None of it mattered.
Present taehyung
Where is it coming from?
That tug in his chest — steady, quiet, and ancient — kept pulling at him like a red thread tied around something he hadn’t touched in lifetimes.
He didn’t want champagne.
He didn’t want attention.
He wanted… something else.
Someone.
And though he didn’t know her name — he felt her presence like thunder before the rain.
The performance hadn’t even begun,
but the storm inside him already had.
He moved to the edge of the private gallery, eyes scanning the room — disinterested, distant — until the music dimmed. The lights shifted.
And the curtain began to rise.
His gaze drifted lazily to the stage…
Comments
Nakayn _2007
Tears of joy!😭❤️
2025-07-08
0