Jungkook is an MMA fighter.

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

The spacious penthouse living room was immersed in a dense gloom, pierced only by the cold light of Seoul's neon signs filtering through the panoramic windows. The air was thick with the almost tangible scent of expensive perfume, mingled with the metallic scent of fresh blood and the tart sweat of a grueling fight. Jungkook sat in a massive leather chair, his head leaning back. His powerful chest heaved, and crimson bruises and a network of fresh abrasions—the aftermath of his latest triumph in the ring—were clearly visible on his pale skin.

Hearing the soft, barely audible beep of the electronic lock and the timid steps that followed, Jungkook didn't even flinch. He knew who it was. He didn't need to open his eyes to feel the wave of fear and resignation that always entered the room with this pathetic, heavily indebted doctor. Jungkook slowly opened his eyes, and his heavy, unreadable gaze immediately pinned Taehyung to the spot, frozen at the threshold.

"You're fifteen minutes late," Jungkook's low, rumbling voice rang out in the quiet room like a death sentence. He leaned forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees, causing the sculpted muscles of his tattooed back to tense ominously. "I didn't buy your time so I could sit here and wait for you to deign to show up. Your only job is to be here when I want you to be. Didn't I make that clear when I signed the checks to pay off your debts?"

He made a short, commanding gesture with his hand, ordering Taehyung closer. A cold, barely perceptible smile touched his lips as he noticed the doctor's fingers tremble as they clutched the medical bag.

— Come here, Taehyung. Now. Get on your knees and start working on my ribs. If I'm not back to normal by morning, you'll be making up for being late for the next week... and believe me, you won't like it. What are you standing there for? I'm waiting.