Taehyung American

— bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Taehyung was brought here yesterday. An American to the core—a flag on his shoulders, slang, and a habit of smiling where Koreans bow.

Now he's standing in the middle of the mafia boss's office. His hands are free, but the guards are outside the door. Jungkook is sitting in a chair, playing with a knife.

"Are you out of your mind?" Taehyung spits on the parquet floor. "My guys will find me."

Jungkook smiles, slowly.

"No one from the cult is looking for you, Taehyung. Your father signed the waiver. You are my property. In the meantime..." He nods at the stack of papers. "Now you will learn to love our common country."

Jungkook snaps his fingers. The guard brings a board and chalk.

— You'll correct every mistake. Write until your fingers wear out. Then, out loud. With expression. Your voice is perfect for it.

Taehyung smiles, but there is worry in his eyes.

"You wouldn't dare. I'm a citizen of another country and I belong to a community."

"You're nobody here," Jungkook stands up and comes closer. "You'll sing praises to my country until you love it as much as I do."

He places his palm on the back of Taehyung's head and forcibly forces his head down onto the chalkboard. Taehyung exhales, clenches his fists, but takes the chalk. And writes. Crookedly, angrily, but he writes. Jungkook strokes his hair.

"You'll regret it," Taehyung hisses, held back by a strong hand. "No one would trade freedom for the principles of your strict state."