Four days. Four freaking days of back-to-back spreadsheet audits, energy drinks, and a manager who yelled like a clogged vacuum cleaner. That was what it took to kill Jungkook, a 25 years old corporate slave. He remembered his heart doing a weird salsa dance, his vision going black against his keyboard, and then…... Nothing.

The smell of wet dirt. Chickens clucking. And a sharp pain in his head.

When Jungkook opened his eyes, he wasn't in his cubicle. He was lying on a hard wooden bed covered in a patched, scratchy green quilt. He looked down at his hands—they were smaller, smoother, and when he subconsciously checked his pulse, his fingers brushed against a faint, thin line on his inner wrist.

A birthmark? No. Wait.

Memory flooded his brain like a cascading server error. He had transmigrated into the 1970s rural countryside. He was still Jungkook, but he was now a 18-year-old Ger—a rare male identity in this era capable of bearing children.

Before he could panic, a digital chime echoed in his brain.

[Ding! Space Initialized.]

Jungkook closed his eyes and gasped. In his mind's eye, he could see a massive, 1-acre plot of fertile black soil, a sparkling freshwater spring, and a modern warehouse stocked with endless Things,Like rows of rice, flour, canned meats, and modern medical supplies,etc he couldn't completely see.

‘Holy crap,’ Jungkook thought, a manic, sleep-deprived corporate grin spreading across his face. ‘No KPIs. No Zoom calls. Just unlimited Free Supplies in my head. I’m rich!’

But he didn't have time to celebrate. Today was his wedding day. Because his parents had passed away, his older brother and greedy sister-in-law had eagerly arranged his marriage to a retired military man from the neighboring village, Red Maple Village, to lessen the burden on their small household.

Jungkook had to keep his space a total secret. In this era, having a magical dimension would get him labeled a witch or demon or hauled off to a government research facility.

"Jungkook! Get dressed! The groom’s procession has already crossed the river from the next village! They're almost on the dirt road!" his sister-in-law barked, throwing a stiff, bright red cotton tunic onto his bed.

Fetching the Bride: The Village Blockade

Outside Jungkook's brother's house, the entire village had gathered.

Down the dirt path came the groom's procession. In the 1974s, a retired soldier’s wedding was a huge deal. Kim Taehyung (23) rode at the front on a sturdy, Donkey Cart—the ultimate luxury item of the era. Tied to the back of the Donkey Cart were the bride-prices: twenty pounds of fresh pork, fifty pounds of polished white rice, and a shiny new Butterfly-brand sewing machine.

Taehyung looked breathtaking. He wore a crisp, tailored olive-green military uniform, his broad shoulders and tall frame making him look like a god among the dust-smudged villagers. Despite a slight, barely noticeable limp from a military leg injury, his posture was commanding, his sharp eyes scanned the crowd, and his jawline looked like it could cut glass. Behind him walked his mother, Eomma Kim, his 14 year old younger sister Jimin, and a flock of his village friends blowing traditional horns and beating small drums.

But they couldn't just walk into the house. ​Jungkook’s village relatives and the local youths blocked the front gate, grinning mischievously. This was the traditional "door-blocking" custom.

​"If the military officer wants to take our prettiest Ger, he has to pay the toll!" shouted one of the village Aunty.

Taehyung didn't blink. With a subtle, alpha-male smirk, he dipped his hand into his uniform pocket and pulled out a massive handful of Hongbao (red envelopes filled with small change) and rare, high-quality white rabbit candies. He tossed them into the air.

​"Pick them up! Pick them up!" the crowd roared, scrambling for the sweets and coins.

Taehyung’s best man and friends used the distraction to push through the gate, laughing and shouting victory cheers as they breached the first defense.

The Command: The Bridal-Style Carry---

Taehyung strode into the small mud-brick house, his heavy combat boots echoing on the dirt floor. He pushed open the bedroom door and stopped dead in his tracks.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed. The bright red 1970s bridal tunic contrasted beautifully with his pale, flawless skin. He had large, sparkling, doe-like eyes and a soft, naturally pink bottom lip that he was nervously biting.

25-year-old Jungkook was analyzing Taehyung like a high-stakes corporate merger, but his 18-year-old body was flushing bright red.

The heavy, raw masculinity radiating off Taehyung made Jungkook's breath catch. Oh, wow, Jungkook thought. My 1974s husband is an absolute snack.

Jungkook’s "bridesmaids"—a group of gossiping local village aunties and cousins—stepped between them, arms crossed.

"Not so fast, Groom!" the head auntie cackled.

"The road from our village to yours is full of rocks. According to customs, the bride's feet must not touch the dirt outside his maiden home today, or it will bring bad luck to his brother's house. You must carry him out to the bicycle!"

"Yes! Carry him! Bridal style! Let's see if the soldier's leg is strong enough!" the crowd outside cheered, peeking through the windows.

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❤️ Welcome to My Very First Story! ❤️

Please support me by liking, reading, and sharing your thoughts in the comments.

I hope you love every second of this journey!

Welcome to the world of Taehyung and Jungkook.

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Taehyung’s eyes darkened with a heavy, possessive intensity as he looked at Jungkook. He didn't say a word. He stepped forward, the scent of pine wood, soap, and pure male heat enveloping Jungkook.

Before Jungkook could prepare himself, Taehyung leaned down. One large, calloused hand securely cupped Jungkook's upper back, while the other slid under the crooks of his knees. With a powerful, effortless lift, Taehyung hoisted Jungkook up into his arms.

Jungkook gasped, his hands instinctively flying up to cling to Taehyung’s broad shoulders. He could feel the hard, sculpted muscles of Taehyung's chest pressing against him.

"Hold on tight," Taehyung murmured, his deep, gravelly voice vibrating right against Jungkook’s chest.

Despite his old leg injury, Taehyung’s stride was rock-solid as he carried Jungkook out of the house. The village erupted into deafening cheers, firecrackers exploding (Bang! Bang! bang!) in the yard, filling the air with gray smoke and the smell of sulfur. Taehyung carefully placed Jungkook onto the padded back seat of the donkey cart, making sure he is safe.

The procession traveled across the dirt roads, crossing two villages and the boundary line into Red Maple Village—Taehyung’s territory.

The Kim family yard was massive, packed with wooden tables and benches. The entire village had turned out to eat the pork and rice Taehyung had provided.

But as Jungkook stepped off the donkey cart (with Taehyung holding his waist to steady him), the harmony shattered. The Kim family soap opera was waiting.

While Taehyung, his Mother and sweet little Jimin lived in separately, but they all live in the same house, Taehyung's two older brothers had already split from the family to live separately because of their greedy spouses.The oldest brother (29) and his loud wife (26) were already loading their plates with the best cuts of pork. Right next to them was the middle brother (27) and his husband, a dramatic, snobbish Ger brother-in-law (24) wearing a suspiciously expensive new scarf.

"Oh, the city-slicker Ger is here," the oldest sister-in-law scoffed loudly, aiming her voice at the neighboring tables. "Look at those soft hands. Taehyung wasted fifty pounds of rice on someone who doesn't even know how to hold a hoe. We asked Mom for ten pounds of flour for your own nephew last week, and she said the family was broke!"

The middle Ger brother-in-law snickered, tossing his head. "Exactly. Just because Taehyung gets a military pension doesn't mean he should waste it on a pretty face. He won't last a day during the autumn harvest."

Jungkook stood there, his red bridal sleeves fluttering in the wind. In his past life, he had successfully handled toxic CEOs, passive-aggressive HR managers, and furious corporate clients. These 1970s villagers were in the amateur league.

Before Jungkook could unleash his corporate-grade sarcasm, Taehyung stepped in front of him, his tall frame completely blocking the toxic in-laws from Jungkook's sight.

Taehyung’s face was like ice. His military authority leaked out, making the temperature in the yard drop. "My pension was earned with my blood on the border. Who I spend it on is my business. If you two came here to audit my wedding feast, put the meat down and get out of my yard. Now."

The older brothers and their spouses flinched, their faces turning pale under the gaze of the village elders who were judging them for ruining a wedding. They muttered some curses and scurried back to their tables.

Taehyung turned to Jungkook, his expression softening just a fraction. "Don't mind them. They're parasites."

"I'm not worried," Jungkook said, offering a small, confident smirk. "I know how to deal with pests."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by his new bride's fierce attitude. "Good. Let's bow to the parents and finish this."

Hours later, the guests finally cleared out. The Kim family compound grew quiet under the starry, pollution-free 1974s sky.

Jungkook sat in Taehyung’s bedroom. The room was illuminated only by the warm, flickering glow of a single kerosene lamp. The brick bed (kang) was covered in a brand-new, bright red silk quilt—a luxury Mama Kim had saved for her youngest son.The air was thick with anticipation. Jungkook’s modern soul knew exactly what happened next, but his 18-year-old body was trembling, a heavy, nervous heat building in his lower stomach.

The wooden door opened, and Taehyung walked in. He had removed his formal military jacket. He wore only a thin, white cotton undershirt that clung tightly to his sculpted chest, exposing his thick, tanned forearms. He locked the door behind him with a definitive click. He walked over, his slight limp giving him a predatory, deliberate stride. He sat on the edge of the red bed, the mattress dipping heavily under his weight. The scent of raw masculinity, alcohol from the wedding toasts, and pure heat enveloped Jungkook.

"Are you scared of me, Jungkook?" Taehyung asked, his deep voice dangerously smooth in the quiet room.

"No," Jungkook whispered, his doe eyes meeting Taehyung’s intense gaze.The heavy, aggressive tension in the room evaporated into a profound, heavy silence.

Taehyung stared down at Jungkook for a long moment, observing the slight tremor in the younger man's shoulders. Taehyung’s gaze drifted down to his own right leg, which was throbbing with a dull, persistent ache from the long day. A bitter, quiet pride flared in the soldier's chest. He was a retired, injured man; he had no desire to force a terrified 18-year-old into a marriage bed on night one. He had spent nine years in the harsh military camps on the border—he knew how to endure, and he knew how to read people.

Taehyung exhaled a long breath "Lie down and sleep," Taehyung said, his deep voice dropping into a flat, steady calm. "The bed is big enough. I won't touch you."

Jungkook blinked, a wave of profound relief washing over his modern soul. He watched as Taehyung pulled a separate, faded green military blanket from the wooden chest, laid down on the far edge of the kang (brick bed), and turned his back, establishing a strict, respectful boundary between them.

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❤️ Welcome to My Very First Story! ❤️

Please support me by reading, sharing your thoughts in the comments and give me like......

I hope you love every second of this journey!

Welcome to the world of Taehyung and Jungkook

Jungkook lay down under the red silk quilt, staring at Taehyung’s broad, unmoving shoulders in the dark.

He has strong principles Jungkook thought, his 26-year-old corporate brain shifting into analytical mode. ‘Good. We don't know each other. Slow and steady is safe.’

Before closing his eyes, Jungkook quietly dipped his consciousness into his secret space. The boundless warehouse of modern food and supplies sat there, a golden safety net. But Jungkook knew the reality of the 1974s. The Kim family was struggling, and the village gossiped about everything. If a poor household suddenly started eating premium white rice or spending unexplained cash, the local authorities would investigate them for illegal black-market trading.

"I have to look fragile, blend in, and find a logical, legal way to earn money first,’ Jungkook planned. The space stays locked until I have a perfect cover story."

...The Strict Household of Mama Kim...

The next morning, the sharp crowing of a rooster broke down. Jungkook, driven by his modern internal alarm clock, woke up before sunrise. The spot next to him was already empty.

When Jungkook stepped out into the chilly morning air of the courtyard, the atmosphere was thick and disciplined.

Mama Kim stood in the center of the yard, her face carved into a stern, unyielding expression. She was the true matriarch of the Kim family, running the household with absolute authority. 14-year-old Jimin was already swept up in sweeping the dirt yard, not daring to slack off under her mother’s sharp gaze. Near the well, Taehyung sat on a low wooden stool, silently sharpening a rusty ax, his face a stoic mask as he ignored the dull ache in his thigh.

"You're up," Mama Kim said, her sharp eyes sweeping over Jungkook from head to toe. Her voice was strict, carrying the weight of traditional expectations. "Since you've entered our Kim family door, you must learn our ways. We don't keep idle people. Come into the kitchen. I will show you how to manage the rationed grain."

"Yes, Mom," Jungkook said softly, bowing his head deeply. He kept his shoulders slightly hunched, his voice quiet, perfectly embodying the timid, fragile Ger his brother's family had sold off.

In the kitchen, Mama Kim strictly measured out a small portion of coarse cornmeal and a handful of withered wild greens. "Rice is tight because of the wedding feast yesterday. We must stretch this. Watch the fire, and don't waste a single drop of oil."

"I understand, Mom," Jungkook murmured meekly.

But the moment Mama Kim turned her back to tend to the backyard chickens, Jungkook’s eyes sharpened. Using his modern understanding of heat control and flavor profiling, he precisely rendered a tiny scrap of leftover pork fat to sear the wild greens first, unlocking an incredible fragrance without using extra oil, before perfectly simmering the coarse cornmeal into a smooth, savory porridge.

The Unspoken Hierarchy:-

By the time the porridge was ready, the front gate rattled open. The oldest sister-in-law (26) and the middle Ger brother-in-law (24) walked into the yard, eyeing the kitchen greedily. They carried an empty basket, clearly intending to parasite off the wedding leftovers.

"Mom!" the oldest sister-in-law called out loudly. "We came to help clean up. Is there any leftover pork from yesterday? My son woke up crying for meat."

Jungkook stood quietly by the kitchen door, his hands clasped in front of him, looking down at his shoes like a helpless, timid lamb. He knew his place as a new bride—if he spoke up or argued with his older in-laws, the village would brand him as unfilial and wicked, ruining his reputation instantly.

But he didn't need to speak. Mama Kim walked out of the main house, her face like thunder.

"Help clean up? The sun is already up, and you just arrived!" Mama Kim’s voice boomed with absolute authority, cutting through the yard. "The wedding feast ended last night. Whatever food is left belongs to this house to sustain Taehyung,new Ger and Jimin. Your households split from our registry two years ago. If your son wants meat, tell your own husband to earn the contribution points in the fields!"

The middle Sister-in-law sniffed, casting a nasty glance toward Jungkook. "Mom, we're just asking. Look at the new bride, standing there doing nothing. He looks so delicate, he probably can't even carry a water bucket. You're going to let him eat our family's grain for free?"

"Who eats what is in my house is my decision!" Mama Kim snapped, slamming a wooden washing tub onto the ground. "Jungkook prepared breakfast under my supervision. Now get out of here before I report your laziness to the Production Team Captain!"

Fearing Mama Kim’s iron fist and her fierce authority, the greedy in-laws bit their lips, muttered complaints, and scurried out of the gate.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Jungkook remained perfectly silent, looking properly frightened and fragile. But near the well, Taehyung’s hand paused on his sharpening stone. His dark, intelligent eyes scanned Jungkook’s posture. He had noticed the subtle, completely calm glint in Jungkook's eyes right before Mama Kim stepped in. The teenager wasn't trembling with fear; he was deliberately staying out of the crossfire, calculating the situation with a strange, mature patience.

Taehyung narrowed his eyes. His new bride was hiding something behind that timid mask,but don't say anything.

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Hiiiii everyone 😍😍😍

I am new to this writing, so if I made a mistake please correct me okkkzz....