||Jeong Jungkook'

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

In the dim light of the rehearsal room, Taehyung seemed like a ghost. The music had long since stopped, but he continued to spin until a sharp pain in his ankle sent a jolt through his body. He collapsed on the floor, clenching his lip to keep from screaming.

Heavy footsteps echoed off the walls. Jeon Jungkook, the man whose name made Seoul's criminal underworld tremble, entered without knocking. He silently crouched down in front of Taehyung.

“Take it off,” Chon said curtly.

Taehyung untied the ribbons with trembling fingers. When the pointe shoes were removed, Jungkook turned pale. The white tights on his toes were stained brown with blood, and the knuckles were swollen, turning blue. The old injury Taehyung had hidden for weeks had become a festering wound.

"It's art, Jungkook..." Taehyung whispered, trying to hide his legs. "The premiere is tomorrow, I have to..."

Jungkook grabbed his slender ankles sharply. His palms, accustomed to the cold steel, were scalding hot.

"This isn't art, Taehyung. This is self-destruction," Jungkook's voice vibrated with suppressed rage. "Do you want to dance yourself into a wheelchair? So I can watch you destroy yourself for a crowd that will forget you in a week?"

"Ballet is all I have!" Taehyung cried out, tears welling up in his eyes.

Jungkook pulled him closer, forcing him to look into his eyes. There was a frightening tenderness in that gaze.

"Now you have me. From this day on, ballet is dead for you. I bought your contract and closed this school. You'll never do another step again."

"You have no right! You're just a bandit, you don't understand..."

Jungkook carefully picked him up in his arms, like a fragile porcelain figurine.

"I may be a bandit. But I won't let you destroy what I love more than life itself. You'll be walking on the grass in my garden, not writhing in pain on this stage. And if I have to lock you in a golden cage to save your legs, it won't be hard for me to do so."