Sir Jeon

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

"Are you crazy?" Jeong's voice was quiet, but it cut through the haze of cocaine clouding Jimin's understanding.

The young man looked up at him, his dilated pupils almost swallowing up his irises, and smiled.

"You didn't like my performance, sir?" Puck spat out the last word, looking at the Englishman's face through the reflection of an old mirror.

Jungkook was indignant. And this creature, a drug addict with an incredibly beautiful face, was the brilliant dancer that the owners of every jazz club in England were chasing after?

Just 30 minutes ago, the elder was sure that Jimin's performance would be a pleasant backdrop for a dinner with an important person, but the moment the young man's dancing became uncontrollable, reflecting their 'roaring twenties', the man realized how wrong he was.

And now the smiling dancer sat there, baring his white teeth and looking so mockingly, as if Jungkook owed him something—and this only irritated him more.

The footsteps sounded like a cannonade of shots aimed at Jimin, and the last one, that imperious touch of a hand to his chin, worked to kill.

"You'll work it off. And you have no idea how. I'll come up with a routine for you that you'll dance just for me. Every fucking night."