The bell chimed, gathering his lost attention that wandered into the distance, cutting off his connection to the reality he was in and sending his brain into a frenzy of thoughts he had been fighting for days.

The sight of the running people captivated him and held him in his pensiveness. It was a long-awaited rainy day, quenching the thirst of lands whose lords implored the Almighty for a little mercy, for a soothing hand to caress their affection-deprived terra firma that needed love to bear fruit, to show the life it held, the wonders it had devoured to manifest the rebellious side and the rage against the people who lacked it respect.

Another chime was all it took to snap him out of his trance. The rain was a blessing to others but not to him; neither could the drops purify his consciousness, nor was he ready to embrace his present, the reality of what he had become.

The bell rang one more time, increasing his frustration, which grew like a healthy fetus in his stomach, making him feel all the symptoms that came with bringing a new life to this world, nausea and all.

The convenience store was a safe haven for Taehyung, a place where he escaped from his reality into a rosy fantasy that he knew was limited to the confines of the cozy store. The store replaced the family's warm living room and dining area, making meals a bit more pleasant than the silence that reigned between him and his father every time they ate together.

​It wasn't like that, no, it wasn't; Taehyung used to love the time he spent with his parents; enjoyed Christmas dinners and family gatherings, delighted in every hot meal his mother prepared, and counted the hours until he came home again and devoured everything she prepared while drowning her skills in the same amount of compliments she made about his growing figure.

Taehyung never minded others calling him "mama's boy"; in fact, he enjoyed it and found it fitting and honest to describe his relationship with his parents. He was never very close to his father, but his mother made up for the lack of affection with every emotion she put into him to make him the fine man she always wanted to see in higher circles and, most importantly, to see him at the altar with the person who would value him as much as she did.

The bell chimed again, and this time he found himself berating his actions and every decision for disappointing the one person he never wanted to embarrass; the guilt was evident in his movements, in the hands that found their escape from his anger in stroking his raven curls and fighting the stray bangs that offended his eyes, and in the sigh that was meant to cleanse the filth of disappointment and regret from his lungs with an attempt to inhale a cleaner breath that he knew he didn't deserve and that he understood the place wouldn't provide.

The temperature outside dropped to its lowest point as he remained in the warmth of the supermarket. The steam from his cup of ramen, whose lid was still held safe by a pair of chopsticks as he waited for it to reach an edible state attainable in three minutes as promised in the instructions, encouraged the condensation that filled the room. Taehyung then realized how difficult it was to renew the oxygen in his lungs. It was no longer just a matter of the place that lacked fresh air but rather the weight of his own actions.

He had found welcoming arms in the excessive warmth of Seoul's convenience stores when his mother passed away, and his father found a knack for testing every woman out there. Still, that warmth couldn't comfort him as he gazed at the file sitting right next to the ramen cup, daring him to lock eyes with it the same way he did with running people and his steaming food.

He wasn't by any chance different from his father, who played with the fate and feelings of others to his advantage, as he did with his son; he was on the verge of vomiting when he thought of the resemblance.

Taehyung's eyes closed tightly before he dared to open the file and look at its contents again. Jungkook had told him that he had gone too far when he had accidentally caught him inspecting the new information, so he had fled from the nagging to a safer place where he wouldn't be judged.

Or so he thought.

"What is this?" Taehyung hissed through his phone, his anger reaching the receiver more clearly than the feelings the gray weather outside wanted to send.

"Can't you see? It's everything you asked for," Yoongi confirmed to the doubting Taehyung that his skeptical thoughts weren't far from the truth, that he was indeed becoming a replica of his father, treating others the way he didn't want to be treated.

The bell sounded again, snapping Taehyung out of the concentration he had reserved for what seemed to be an important phone call with his lawyer; he'd have thought the condensation of the place was making his palms sweat if he hadn't known better, but his furrowed brows and heaving chest confirmed that some small part of his soul was still alive to realize that he wasn't entirely happy with what he was doing.

"What do I seem like to you, Yoongi?" He questioned with a scoff and red eyes. The question was almost rhetorical as he waited impatiently for an answer. "Do I seem like the son of a bitch you think I'm?"

"You seem to be a person with good enough sight to know that this is your only chance, the only grasp you have over the situation, Taehyung," Yoongi's voice beamed through the phone only to turn static a few seconds after his statement.

And he was right; there was no reason to shy out now when he was the one who had requested those files; there was no need to dress like an angel just to hide the miserable condition of the devil's clothes he had been wearing since that dramatic night in the cabin. Taehyung had a goal in mind to achieve, and he had chosen to employ his fists to achieve it. There was absolutely no need to feign gentleness and care when his hands were already covered with boxing gloves.

"I asked for a pressure point, Yoongi, something ethical that I can use, not this."

"And this is your pressure point, Tae. If she had any dirt on her life, you'd have found it before I did, but this is her only secret, and if you feel better than using it against her because it doesn't feel oh-so ethical, then be my guest and take the risk."

Once again, Yoongi was right, and Taehyung knew that damn well, which is why he could neither formulate a retort nor let out a sigh; there is no such thing as ethics when it comes to extortion because if you go that far, human morals are destroyed.

Taehyung would argue that pressuring you with your business or even your family is no big deal; your family seemed worse than his, and you didn't strike him as the loving daughter; but using your lover to blackmail you made him wish he could peel off his skin, as it felt like it was rotting over his body.

In the pictures Yoongi brought him, you seemed happy, with a broad smile and the glow of fairy tales surrounding you. Many of these pictures reminded him of the person he loved and from whom he was separated by the ugliness of a destiny he'd have liked to change, and by the selfishness of a father, he'd have preferred not to have.

Many were the pictures, and with each note attached to them, Taehyung confirmed that he was basically not so different from his father; the reasons for his actions may be different, but the result was the same.

You looked happy in those pictures, and indeed, you were. That was the time when you really felt the joy of life, the thrill, and the abundance that your family couldn't give you.

The love they never showed you.

You were content with how life compensated you; you were in a family that knew love only for money and power, and in return for the miserable childhood and not-so-good teenage years, life gave you what you always wanted and more; life gave you love, and you wished for nothing more than to protect it with everything you had.

"Request a meeting," Taehyung ordered as he clutched the file tightly, switched the phone from his right ear to his left, and opened the convenience store door, leaving his cup of ramen untouched.

"It's already done; you just need to specify the time; I'll be on standby in case my presence is needed, sir."

"Do you need anything else, Miss Lee?"

"I've got it covered, don't worry, Mrs. Baek." You flashed another fake smile and dismissed the old lady so she could rest.

Your mother had put the house on high alert since your lawyer had informed that a meeting with your future husband had been requested; she had forced you to go to the dermatologist to get a few shots of vitamin C to lighten your sallow complexion and get dermaplaning. You were dragged from one boutique to the next, along with Mrs. Baek, who looked at you with gentle and apologetic eyes, while you felt rather sorry for her carrying your bags around, even though she wasn't in the best shape for it.

You had no time fixed for this meeting; it was simply a request to make sure you left a spot open in your schedule for when a spot in his became available. Your mother, however, acted as if you had to give a speech about the result of your research on deep facial tissue and derma rejuvenation, which, of course, she wasn't interested in; perhaps she'd congratulate you, but that would be all; but for your so-called husband, she outreached her efforts and more.

But you couldn't deny that you were glad he called. You haven't heard a word from the man since your engagement night, let alone a call to explain what in the hell was going on, he hasn't even thought to send a message, although just a few days before you changed your number, he had spammed your voice mail.

When he thought he had lost you.

That private meeting was all you needed to tell him to find a way and break off this engagement. You were sure he didn't know who would bear his name, just as you didn't, so you counted on coming clean with him and discussing ways to break up this outrageous play before wasting any more time or energy.

The feeling was mutual: you hated his guts, and he did the same. Loathing is easier to sort out; no complicated feelings, just obvious hatred, and in your case, it was mutual. Very simple.

After long days of lack of energy, you felt excited when your lawyer called you to tell you that your rendevous was set; he had sent you a message with the address where your meeting would be held and informed you that he'd be on hand if needed. The chairman had requested a private meeting and therefore couldn't attend the meeting, which you were relieved about.

See, you hate Taehyung, and of that, there's no doubt; however, you also cannot deny that he's a real man who has saved you on many occasions, although it would have been easier to get rid of you. Had you met him in a different contest, you'd have gone so far as to praise his intelligence, and maybe, had you met in your usual bars, you might have taken him home for the night. The man was a good catch, and you have an eye for sparkly objects.

You made a mental note to thank him for his thoughtfulness after you muffled his ring on his face while adjusting your vest in front of the mirror. You had opted for your usual style for the occasion, ignoring your mother's nagging; a black, oversized tailored suit with high stilettos to bring confidence into sight in front of the enemy.

You'd have taken your motorcycle if the meeting place hadn't been formal; the engine of your car roared under your saddle, but it couldn't match the power of your beloved Kawasaki. You glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes as you abused the gas pedal once again, promising to appreciate your behemoth more when you returned to your normal life.

"I'm meeting with Mr. Kim Taehyung; do me a favor and inform him that Lee Yunjae is here."

Big farms were never something you admired. Truth be told, business, in general, wasn't your favorite subject, and nothing in it caught your eye, but you must admit that the Goryo building exuded a certain power and majestic esthetic that you inwardly praised as you stood at the reception waiting for clearance.

"You're expected in the Chairman's office; please come with me, Miss Lee. I'll accompany you."

You rode the private elevator to the top floor where his office was located, and after following the assistant for a while, your fiancé was at your await, standing in front of the glass wall that surrounded his office, taking in the night lights in the vast and elegant room from which he controlled his world.

"It's good to see you again, Doctor; please take a seat."

Taehyung was clad to redeem respect; black mohair suit paired with a plain white shirt, the tie forsaken and hung in the hook to the left of his desk.

"Same here, Mr. Kim," you said with a grin as you plopped down on the sofa across from him, "that's what I'd have said if we didn't have a history together; I suppose you want to act unimpressed, but I'm not there yet; so let's keep it the way it's always been, Mr. Kim; or should I call you Chairman Kim?"

Taehyung returned your grin and twisted his lips into a smile that couldn't reach his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to act entertained. He stood up and adjusted his vest as he walked over to the cupboard and pulled out two tumblers before turning to you, "Care for a drink, doctor?

The lack of response caused him to fill two glasses and walk toward you with unhurried steps, "Just call me as you did so we can keep everything as it was and grant your request."

You took the glass he handed you, and without even taking a single sip, you placed it across the table and crossed a leg over the other. "Thanks for your hospitality, but as we've just agreed, let's leave it as it was; I'm here to talk business, and I assume you've called for the same reason, so let's not waste time with false pleasantries."

"Are you implying that I left you without food during your stay with me?" Taehyung asked with a raised eyebrow and a beaming grin. "I'm not doing anything I haven't done before."

"Oh, no! You fed me all right," you chuckled mirthlessly, "Anyway, I'm glad we're on the same page. That means you realize we can't go on with this marriage and that you're thinking the same thing I'm."

Taehyung broke into a long, unsolicited laugh, from which he recovered and sipped his bourbon before spreading his lips to satisfy your growing curiosity, "Bold of you to keep assuming things about me after being ever so wrong with those assumptions of yours, Doctor. I mean, according to your presuppositions, I'm a thug. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Taehyung talked a lot and said a lot of things that didn't interest you because the only things you picked up from his speech were the hints about his thoughts, which seemed to be very divergent from yours. Your throat became dry from the fear that suppressed any positive feeling you came armed with, but you refused to let it affect your demeanor.

"Right," you began, after sipping the glass you'd denied earlier, "but I wouldn't say I was completely wrong; I mean, everything you've done strikes me as tasks from a second profession, to be exact, the one I've assumed; correct me if I'm wrong."

"I don't like forcing my opinion on others; you're free to see me in the light of your choice," Taehyung propped his body forward, elbows resting on his spread thighs as his gaze dug holes into your being, "however, this marriage is happening, doctor, either you agree willingly, or you're forced into it like the old days you never seem to forget."

Your heartbeat became audible in your ears while your lips remained sealed; everything became clear in a second, and you scolded yourself for being naive once again. It was evident that he wasn't going to miss this chance; this was his way of keeping you under control, and you failed to see through his intentions and willingly fell into his trap.

Taehyung returned from his desk with a lit cigarette and a file in his hand while you didn't move an inch from your seat. Still stunned by what you heard and unable to formulate a response, Taehyung decided it was time to give you a reason to open your plump lips."

"Here, check this out."

With jittery hands, you reached for the file he handed you, only to gasp aloud. With each page you turned, you realized that life was set to give you hard choices and challenge your endurance.

"Life is about give and take; you know this better than anyone. The deal is clear: either you take an in, or war it shall be." Taehyung voiced, the seriousness in his tone made you realize that your light little conversation was over before it could develop.

The haze of rumbling coming from the window obscured the stagnant silence filled with the intensity of missed choices and lack of willpower. You'd have spoken your mind, or at least appeared to move your lips; you'd have let out a heavy sigh, but you remained immobile, ridden of liberty and, maybe, also ridden of courage.

Tears willed to fall as you saw his figure striding through the office like a lion in triumph. There were many arguments you wanted to bring to light, but in a second, your brain shut down and refused to stand by you, and that was when you regretted playing clean.

Holding on to stupid principles has brought you nothing, not now and not before.

"It's indeed give and take, so why do I feel like the only one who gives without receiving anything in return?" You asked in a voice weakened by held tears that were threatening to flee from their hiding place, just as you wanted to flee from his office to the ends of the earth.

Taehyung stood behind you at the back of the sofa; one arm dangled at your side while the other supported his weight, which he dropped to one elbow. His hot breath fanned the left side of your face as he spoke with great ease, detached from your helplessness, the words that gave free rein to your tears:

"Because that only applies when you have the power, and in this situation, I don't see it shining in your grasp."

Here's the second update I promised. Enjoy.

Votes and comments are appreciated.

💜