The ceiling fan groaned above Jeon Jungkook's head, wobbling like it might fall at any moment. Warm, stale air brushed his face, doing nothing to ease the suffocating heat inside his cramped apartment. The room looked like it had been forgotten by the city: cracked tiles, yellow-stained walls, a bed with springs that stabbed his back at night. But it was all he could afford, and for Jungkook, that was enough.
He had been in Seoul for only one week. One week away from his mother's trembling hug, his father's quiet pride, his brother's forced jokes to keep him from crying. One week in a city that swallowed people whole. Every night he promised himself he would not be one of them.
He slipped on his shoes, grabbed what little money he had, and pedaled to the convenience store on his old bicycle. Sweat trickled down his neck, and the bag at the back bounced with every bump on the road. He bought the cheapest things he could find: instant ramen, discounted eggs, a stale bread roll. Counting coins hurt his pride more than his wallet.
On the way back, the sun dipped behind skyscrapers, casting long shadows over the street. The evening breeze finally cooled his skin. For a moment, everything felt soft. Calm. Almost hopeful.
Then fate punched him across the face.
A low roar cut through the air. Jungkook turned, eyes widening as a black luxury car sped toward him, its headlights gleaming like a threat.
He yanked the brakes.
Too late.
The bicycle skidded violently, his groceries catapulting into the air. Jungkook crashed onto the pavement, pain blooming across his palms and elbows. The car screeched to a halt so close he could feel the heat of the engine on his face.
His heart thundered in his throat. The car door swung open, and a man stepped out. A man who did not belong anywhere near Jungkook's world. Tall. Sharp. Beautiful in a cold, frightening way. His suit was tailored so perfectly it might as well have been carved onto him. His expression was carved from stone.
Kim Taehyung.
Jungkook did not know his name, but the power he radiated was unmistakable.
Taehyung's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Are you blind?"
Jungkook flinched but forced himself to speak. "You were speeding."
Taehyung took one slow step forward, polished shoes tapping the pavement. His gaze flicked to the bicycle lying crooked on the road, then back to Jungkook.
"You swerved into my lane with that scrap of metal," he said. "If you damaged my car, you would not be able to pay even a fraction of the cost."
Jungkook's jaw tightened. Heat rose to his face. "I did not damage your car."
Taehyung pulled out his wallet with a bored sigh. He held out crisp bills like he was feeding a stray dog. "Take this. Get yourself something that does not fall apart if you breathe on it."
Jungkook stared at the money. Something inside him cracked.
"I do not need your charity."
"It is not charity," Taehyung replied, voice dripping with superiority. "It is mercy."
Jungkook's fingers curled tightly. "I said I do not want it."
Taehyung dropped the bills on the ground at Jungkook's feet.
"Then the ground can use it more than you."
He turned and walked away, the door shutting with a cold thud.
Jungkook stood frozen, chest burning, humiliation clawing up his throat. He knelt to gather his scattered groceries. The eggs were cracked. The bread roll crushed. His hands shook, but he refused to cry there in the street. Not in front of people. Not because of a man like that.
He picked up the bills. Not because he wanted them. Because he needed to survive.
His voice trembled, but he whispered to himself, "I will return these someday. You will look me in the eye when I do."
The moment Kim Taehyung stepped back into the driver's seat, he slammed the door harder than necessary. His reflection glared back at him from the dark window. Jaw tight. Eyes burning with a frustration he refused to name.
"Of all the days," he muttered.
He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, ruining it. The board meeting had already drained him, the executives had been incompetent, and now some kid had thrown himself in front of his car like he had a death wish. He should not care. He did not care. He cared enough to grind his teeth though.
He replayed the scene in his mind: the bicycle skidding, the groceries flying, the boy hitting the ground. The way he had looked up at Taehyung, wide-eyed, stunned, like a deer staring down a wolf. But it was not the fall that stuck with him. It was the way the boy had spoken.
"You were speeding."
"I do not need your charity."
"You are not better than me."
Taehyung scoffed. Who did that boy think he was? Nobody spoke to him like that. People bowed, apologized, avoided eye contact, tripped over their own feet to get out of his way.
But this boy. This reckless, stubborn, wild-eyed boy. He talked back. Not out of confidence. Out of pride. Stupid pride, Taehyung thought. The kind that got people killed in this city. Yet the boy's voice echoed in his head, stubborn and shaking but unbroken. He had refused the money. Twice. Even when it was obvious he needed it. Taehyung loosened his tie and leaned back in his seat.
Annoying. Unrealistic. Naïve.
That kind of person never lasted long in Seoul.
The driver glanced at him through the mirror. "Sir, are you alright?"
"Drive," Taehyung said sharply.
As they pulled away, Taehyung's eyes drifted to the side mirror. For a single second, he saw the boy still kneeling on the ground, picking up crushed groceries with trembling hands. Taehyung looked away. He did not have time to think about strangers. Especially ones who threw themselves into traffic like idiots. He had a corporation to run, a reputation to protect, a life too tightly controlled to be disrupted by someone who owned nothing more than a bicycle and a bruised ego. Still… Something twisted in his chest. Not guilt. He did not feel guilt. It was irritation. Yes. Irritation.
Because that boy's eyes had burned when they met his. Like Taehyung had challenged him.
And he had silently, stupidly challenged Taehyung back. Nobody did that. And Taehyung was not sure if he was angry… or curious.
"Forget it," he muttered under his breath.
But he did not forget it. Not that night. Not the next morning. And he would not forget it anytime soon.
On the other hand
Jungkook walked home with slow, exhausted steps. Back in his apartment, he placed the groceries on the counter. The bag tore instantly. Eggs shattered onto the floor. Yellow and white spread across the tiles, mixing with dust.
That was the last straw. His knees buckled. He sank to the ground, arms wrapped around himself, breath shaking. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to be the son his family believed in. But in that moment, he was just a boy alone in a city too big for him. He wiped his tears roughly and stood up.
Tomorrow he would try again. No matter how many times Seoul knocked him down, he would stand. And he would remember the man with the cold eyes. Kim Taehyung would not break him.
Not now. Not ever.