Taheyung did not sleep that night.

Life is a course that can change in the blink of an eye. Moments of agony become unconditional happiness and vice versa. Taehyung was introduced to a moment of vengeance and wished that happiness would soon follow.

But you slept that night. In fact, you slept so well that you questioned your morals. Slept with a mind in peace, knowing full well that behind you was a man who refused to watch people take away what you loved - and who you loved.

His words were a gamble you liked to bet on. A grand. Two grand. Fuck that. A million. It was all justified. All a bet that carried a win in its fold, and shit, gambling is so addictive. You loved it, especially when it was based on a game that has, as a rule, demolishing fortresses.

Killing kings.

But the king was still alive. Stood in perfect health and wore a classic black mohair suit with a baby blue shirt. Taehyung reckoned that for a man suffering from a critical heart condition, he was doing better than many young lads in perfect health.

"Your wife hasn't shown up for days." Old Kim began, voice so cheerful that Taehyung thought of several excuses to get out of the office, "I hope it's for the right reason; tell me you nailed something once. Prove you're useful. It will help me consider you a man."

Taehyung weighed the options and grinned wryly. If the situation had been different, he would have run to show how useful he was. Would have overexerted himself and gone so far, stoop so low, just to get some recognition. Figured that nothing would change an already solidified opinion - all thanks to you, because of the way you gave him the cold shoulder despite everything he'd done, and because of the frigid comments you dropped here and there - so he decided that the vision of a picture was subjective.

Different angles, different points of view, different opinions. Nothing substantial.

Just the mechanism of a completely normal - in its own abnormality - world.

If thoughts could hurt, you'd be dead by now, just from the resentment he had towards you. Didn't came easily, mind you. It took a perfect backdrop and the memory of every wrong thing you did to him. But even though he took care of you while you couldn't give your body what it needed, tended to your needs when no one cared, rested by your side until sleep took over your tear crisis, he found the time to collect all those in a little jar named after you.

But if you'd dwelled on your thoughts as you followed him sneakingly into his room after he'd left yours, you'd have seen how much contemplation he went through before effectively adding another nasty reason to keep you at an arm's length. If you had opened the door just once, you would have seen him wash down the brooding with alcohol; if you had entered the room and made it to his bed and asked what was wrong, he would have told you that your unrevised words made him feel bad in every nuance.

All kinds of unworthy. More than his father's words.

But you were about to do that, only it was too late.

His mother's issue wasn't the only sore arm you had grabbed him by. He had too many bruises, and he had his father to thank for them all. Had you to thank for peeling the unhealed skin over them, too.

See, Taehyung didn't oppose his breakup with Katarina because he knew he couldn't bring anything more to the table. It wasn't because his feelings had dried up. And even if they had dried up, it certainly wasn't because of you. It was because of his circumstances. Because of his father.

Damn it, because of you! But he wouldn't let that show. Can't really admit what you don't know.

But you brought that card into play. Made him think it was because of him. That he had lost his mother because of his passive nature, even though he was only a teenager when she decided this world was no longer a place fit for her. Made him think the same about Katarina, too. Played with his head long enough to make him fall off the wagon, to get answers to questions he couldn't silence.

Made him wish he could shut you up instead. So he opted for a nurse to take care of you, deciding that work was a better place, even if he had to meet his father.

And had he looked deeper at the situation with eyes free of anger and mind free of abhor, he would have realized that your well of words dried up the moment he detailed how he took care of Yoongi.

"Then put your money where your mouth is, Taehyung." You shouted, tears welling up in your eyes and about to fall down your cheeks if it wasn't for the pride holding them back. "Show me that I can trust you after everything you've done. After everything I've lost because of you."

It wasn't really his fault if your fate led you to his feet. Wasn't really his fault if you thought, that night, that acting on your greed might be the solution. He actually blamed fate for everything and failed to understand why you were so keen on blaming him instead. Nothing was intentional. Even the feeling in his heart wasn't intentional.

He wished you could see it. Understand it.

But Taehyung was biased, so he could well understand your biased thought processes and how they worked. Because he, too, has a skew of his own. Just like you.

"Yoongi works for your father," Taehyung snapped. It was a short circuit he wanted to keep under control and evaluation, far from fusing, but you had your way with electrons, firing them all off in a second. "Works for my father, too. Apparently, your father wasn't generous enough. That's how my father found out about your trick."

And suddenly you were reminded of the place you came from and all the similarities it has to Taehyung's origins. The revelation triggered an indescribable feeling that made you sigh deeply, search for your hair, and run your fingers over the curls in exasperation.

Taehyung wasn't in a different state. In the confines of your room, he felt imprisoned to a harsh present and a lashing past. He had wished to throw off the shackles you seemed to embody and free himself, so far away from your shared history and the blood bond he had with his father, and seek normalcy in a place that knew nothing of his aberration.

He sighed when he saw the questioning look on your face, forcing him to elaborate. One hand rested on his hip, the other ran through his midnight curls and found its final destination on his chin before he decided to speak, "Your father set him on you to keep watch."

Taehyung, however, failed to mention the part where Yoongi met your father, all thanks to him. After all, he had sent him on an investigative trip about the mysterious, so-called future wife. There were rare moments when Taehyung felt a pang of guilt in the depths of his guts. Always sorted matters in a logical way, and even if it turned out to be anything but logical, but rather risky - fuck it, he would have done what he deemed right and would never berate himself. But rare doesn't mean never, and the exceptional case was his mother.

There were many scenarios he'd imagined since she'd passed out. Thought about how fast he could have run to reach the house, cursed his strength and lack of stamina, and started spending an unhealthy amount of time at the gym to correct the shortcoming. Berated his short-sightedness and lack of attention to details when he finally reached the house and found the pills she hadn't swallowed strewn all over her body. He thought this could have been avoided if he had given her the dose personally and kept the container out of her reach. Cursed his innocence for believing her smiles and I'm okay and indulging in the fantasy of a happy mother who was content with her son and didn't care what his father did as long as she had him by her side. Cried blood because he didn't take her pleas seriously, and the hand that reached out to him on the nights when the acceptance of fate was muffled by the weight of reality, beseeching him to pack a warm sweater, wrap a scarf around his neck, take that hand and close the front door with the intention of never coming back again.

Those were his regrets. There weren't many of them. They weren't little either. But sure enough, they were heavy and were his to live with in this lifetime.

And they were enough. He didn't need any more.

But life gives without considering one's needs or choices. Gives when it wants what it wants. And he got another set of regrets when he found out that you ended up where you are now because of him, because of his misplaced trust. He started thinking about how the situation could have turned out if he had kept that mysteriousity around you and never sought clarity. After all, the decision had been made; you were going to get married whether he liked it or not. He could have waited to discover your weaknesses and find out who you were without unleashing a hungry hyena on the hunt.

"So he act-

"Yes. Your father had planned to send Jimin to the States, pulled some shit with Yoongi, and made it look like it was his idea. Figured you'd be compliant if an outside person advised you to let go, and Yoongi's smart, let's give him credit. He found the right way to convince you."

You didn't like the insinuation one bit. Turned your back on him and sighed in disbelief. But it wasn't about his sour words. No. Far from that, actually. It was a sigh caused by another betrayal. One that made you excuse whatever Namjoon and also Yoongi had done. Because even though you considered them friends, they weren't related to you. Your father, on the other hand, was connected to you by blood and name, and yet his stab was the one that went deeper.

His knife was the sharpest.

But Taehyung tended to the wound. Stitched it up, applied ointment, and made sure the gauze stayed clean. Uninfected.

So when he told you that he had moved the first pawn to the left and thrown the bishop, you slept well despite the dull pain. He was good at chess, you reckoned. Used the king to attack. A clever move.

A move that proved effective when his father loosened the tie around his neck. Blood gushed in full potency from every artery and vein, reddening his face as he learned that Yoongi, his legal counsel and advisor, also worked for another businessman who happened to be his in-law.

It was so unethical. Out of the scope. Something that could start a war if information that shouldn't see the light of day escaped and fell into hands that could use it against him if the opportunity arose.

Treason in its purest form.

Old Kim was so angry about the headache you caused him with the press and the prosecution, but when he found out about Yoongi, he thanked God it had ended only at that, and there were no more leaks. Yoongi knew so much more about him that he didn't want to think about what it would look like if he opened his mouth. It wouldn't end with a 48-hour investigation and a loss of votes. It would end in havoc. A disaster.

The reason why he was now working to eradicate Yoongi without giving him a head-up about the knowledge he had acquired. It was all hush-hush, all from beneath the tables, and Taehyung didn't want to know the intricacies of his father's plan. Preferred to stay away from the stains of dirt. He liked to remain in a presentable fashion, all so pristine.

Although he wanted to stay away, which the old man accepted, he was still forced to expand the scope of his knowledge and report everything he knew so that the old man could sew his plan with perfection. This led to him being questioned about you in the end and whether he had finally gotten you pregnant or if he was still at it.

"I don't think my intimate life details will be helpful to your case, father." Asserted Taehyung with a smirk of victory. Lips curled as he nudged the dormant bear without fear. Knew that he was being provocative, but he felt overly tempted by the idea that he pursued further, "It's better to focus on one thing at a time. Take care of Yoongi, and I'll take care of my wife and the number of children we want to have."

"Getting her pregnant is also a way to deal with Yoongi," Old Kim exclaimed. He wasn't wrong by any strech of the imagination; matter of fact, he was right. Tying you up with children would lessen any possible threat your father might pose to him. On the bigger image, it would serve to strengthen the relationship if he had his grandchildren from you. Would zip up the mouths, too.

After all, who would want to sully the reputation of their grandchildren? He doubted even a man like your father would do such a thing.

"Not to mention I'm worried about your health because of this delay, son," he clutched his son's shoulder as he stood behind him, gazing through the window with empty eyes at the orange sky that was bidding goodbye to the daylight that had promised to come to the encounter in a soon tomorrow, "it's almost a year, and she's still not carrying; people are waiting for the good news. I need your offspring. It's an order; act fast, Taehyung. Make me proud."

Taehyung suddenly felt like the kind of thoughts running through his head were vomit inducing. He was afraid to show his fear with the remains of his lunch on the tea table in front of him. It was all so disturbing. Morbid. Disgusting. And he found himself pondering whether his presence in this world was the result of a need to reinforce his father's position, or whether it was simply the fruit of a typical marriage.

He prayed it was the latter.

Knew the chances of it being the right answer were slim, though.

"I'm no king for people to be happy if I conceive a crown prince, father." Taehyung began as he stood up from the couch. Voice stern, traits showing his intention behind every word, "I can't make this decision alone. While a child is, of course, my seed, my wife will carry it; she will be the one to give that seed life, so she has to agree to the idea first. I have no intention of forcing her to bear my children the way you forced us to marry, father."

Taehyung didn't wait for a reply because he had said what he wanted and needn't hear more. There was nothing more to hear anyway. So, after the small smile he offered his father, he made his way to the door, keen to end the day with this nonsensical - not to say insensitive - idea, convinced that your harsh words were better than this.

See, he had thought that coming to work was a good idea, figured it wasn't in less than forty minutes. But when he opened the door to his father's office and saw you standing right in front of it, he wondered if he shouldn't have stayed in the confines of the office instead.

He couldn't fathom what you heard as he thought about how he could keep you out of his father's sight while the door was open and you were in his father's perfect field of vision. It was a mess, and he cursed the reason that had brought you there at such a time.

But his thoughts vanished as you stepped further into the threshold. Heels clicked loudly on the marble pavement; eyes drank from his coffee globes as you closed the gap, a warm smile adorning plump lips. Thud, thud. His heartbeat quickened as your perfume invaded his senses. It was warm, gourmand. Vanilla and something else he didn't care to name. Then you smiled, and he felt his shirt clink against his back from the sudden burst of sweat. He knew it was intentional because you didn't lunge at his father with a knife or bare teeth, but the knowledge couldn't calm his erratic breaths; it couldn't calm his emotions.

Taehyung didn't know that you were actually standing behind the door listening as his father prompted him to fuck his seed into you and bring out a child. He didn't know that you had come to the company with the innocent intention of taking him out to dinner as a thank-you for everything he had done for you, only to know that he had a meeting with his father, which is why you stood outside the office door for the last fifteen minutes listening to what his father thought was your worth.

"Hey, baby." Thud, thud. Muscles tensed, breath hitched, and he wished you could stop looking at him with those eyes. Full of appreciation, full of love? He must be ill. Must see a doctor at this rate. Maybe an ophthalmologist. He was seeing things.

But if his eyes were seeing things, his senses couldn't have become faulty, too. You were touching him, firmly gripping his vest as you pulled him closer to you, ignoring his father and everything around you. Or maybe not. Maybe everything you did was meant for his father to see, but Taehyung couldn't elaborate such deep thoughts, for his sharp intake of oxygen fogged his brain when your nose brushed against his and when your lips sealed his in a kiss you deemed shallow, he stopped breathing at all.

"Let's go home, baby. I've missed you."