Episode 3: The Poisoned Gala

The city skyline gleamed under the night, but inside the luxurious Grand Orion Hotel, danger was brewing. Taehyung adjusted his tie nervously, the velvet of his suit suddenly feeling suffocating. Tonight was a gala, a celebration disguised as a corporate networking event—but his sister had already hinted she had plans to “teach him a lesson.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook’s voice cut through his thoughts, calm and sharp as always. He appeared beside Taehyung, hand brushing against his shoulder—a small gesture, but enough to make Taehyung’s chest tighten. “I’ve instructed security to be discreet but thorough. No surprises tonight.”

Taehyung nodded, trying to calm his racing heart. But as soon as they entered the grand hall, his instincts screamed. Waiters moved with too much precision, guests smiled a little too widely—and then he noticed it: a faint glint near his glass, a powdered shimmer barely visible under the chandelier light.

“Poison,” he whispered, barely audible.

Before he could react, Jungkook’s hand closed around his wrist, guiding him away from the table with terrifying speed. “Do not move,” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. In one fluid motion, Jungkook intercepted the glass, hiding it behind his back as he scanned the room.

Taehyung’s mind raced. “How did you—?”

Jungkook’s cold eyes softened just slightly as he leaned close. “I always know,” he said. “And I will never let anyone harm you.”

The sister’s plan had been precise. She had hired someone to slip poison, hoping to humiliate Taehyung or worse, create a scandal that would force a divorce. But Jungkook was always two steps ahead, reading the room like a predator stalking prey.

“Stay behind me,” Jungkook murmured, stepping closer to shield him. Taehyung’s heart pounded not from fear—but from the proximity of Jungkook, the protective aura that surrounded him like armor.

The gala went on, guests oblivious to the near disaster. Every time a waiter approached their table, Jungkook’s hand brushed lightly against Taehyung’s arm, signaling subtle warnings. Taehyung realized, with a strange thrill, that no matter how cold Jungkook seemed, he cared more than anyone else ever had.

After the gala, in the quiet of the car, Taehyung finally allowed himself to ask, voice trembling: “Why do you… care so much?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a possessive gleam. “Because I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting what’s mine,” he said simply. Then, almost as if noticing the impact of his words, he added, “You belong to me, Taehyung. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Taehyung swallowed hard, the words echoing in his chest. Danger surrounded them, schemes lurked in every shadow, and his sister’s hatred burned brighter than ever. But for the first time, he didn’t feel powerless.

Because as long as Jungkook was by his side, no one—no rival, no enemy, no scheming relative—would ever succeed in harming him.

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