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"May I ask why you refused to work with Jungkook directly?"

Taehyung arched an eyebrow. "May I ask what's going on between you and Amara?"

The amicable facade vanished, and anger flickered over Jimin's face before his polite mask returned, his lips pressing together.

In that moment, Taehyung was reminded of the bloodline Jimin carried - he was every bit a Park.

Jimin cast a quick glance in Amara's direction, then back to Taehyung with a reluctant smile.
"Courage can easily turn into recklessness," he said, his dark eyes assessing. "Remember that."

Taehyung smirked. So, he'd struck a nerve, hadn't he?

"Maybe you should take your own advice," he replied evenly, before turning on his heel and heading for the bar.

Eyes forward, he kept his gaze straight but could feel Jungkook's attention on him from across the room. His pulse quickened, muscles tense.

Reaching the counter, where the music was louder, Taehyung leaned over to catch the bartender's attention.

A man in his late thirties, wearing a black t-shirt, noticed him and gave him a once-over, his eyes cool and appraising, making Taehyung frown slightly.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, his voice rising above the beat.

Taehyung noted the guarded look in his eyes, a chill creeping over him. No way was he taking any alcohol from this guy. "Just some orange juice," he replied, feeling a spark of satisfaction in staying cautious.

He turned away, and Taehyung furrowed his brows, trying to recall if he'd ever seen the bartender before. He hadn't, but maybe the man knew him as the son of the opposing family.

With a sigh, Taehyung accepted the glass of juice pushed toward him and turned to face the dance floor, drinking it down to cool his thirst as he observed the undulating crowd.

"Anton, one JD, on the rocks."

The voice, rich and dark, came from his left. Taehyung swallowed, stubbornly refusing to turn, to acknowledge Jungkook's presence. He clenched his teeth, gripping his glass and clutch, eyes fixed on the dancers.

He could feel Jungkook's gaze on him, the weight of it unmistakable. But he didn't turn.

Instead, he kept slowly sipping his juice, painfully aware of Jungkook standing just inches away, his presence powerful and steady but without any direct interaction. And for some reason, Taehyung found that just fine.

He knew he should walk away, set down his glass, and leave. Yet, the moment felt charged, like an unspoken challenge - a silent clash of wills where turning away would feel like surrender. And he'd be damned if he was the one to cave.

As the music throbbed around him, a bubble seemed to form, blocking out everything except his racing pulse and the awareness of Jungkook's presence beside him. He stood motionless, eyes on the dancers, feeling that strange connection, the quiet yet intense acknowledgment between them.

"Kim Taehyung?"

The moment broke. Blinking away the tension, Taehyung turned to his other side at the sound of a woman's voice. Amara, the woman who had been sitting beside Jungkook, looked back at him with striking green eyes, the shade deep and mysterious like a forest at midnight. Her curves filled out a sleek dress, dark curls spilling freely around her.

"Yes," Taehyung replied, cautious, confused about why she wanted to talk.

For a brief moment, an expression that almost looked like pity flickered across her gaze. But before she could speak, her eyes darted toward Jungkook, standing beside Taehyung, and she shook her head, turning and walking away without another word.