Congratulations

Minutes after the kiss.

The ballroom wasn't empty—but it was hushed.

Cameras had stopped clicking for a second. Glasses hung mid-air. Conversations died on the edge of breath.

Everyone had seen it. Selen, In red silk, her arms around the devil himself.

And then—her voice:

"What kind of question is that, honey? I'm your wife.

Can't a wife kiss her husband?"

His legal head nearly dropped his champagne. Security didn't even move, they thought maybe it was part of a publicity.

The crowd exploded. Not in laughter, applause, but in tension. The cameras clicked like gun fire again. 

Gasps bloomed like firecrackers.

Eyes darted. Whispers slithered like poison across champagne bubbles.

"Did she say wife?"

"Wife?! Kim Taehyung's wife? Since when?"

"Is this a power move? A threat? A joke?"

"No one even knew he was married—did she blackmail him?"

"Who the hell is she?"

A board member dropped his glass. A woman from the U.S. affiliate team whispered "holy shit" like a prayer.

On the other hand, Jimin nearly choked on his champagne and muttered under his breath, half in horror, half in awe:

"Boss finally lost his virgin lips… in front of God and capitalism."

Eunwoo, beside him, didn't laugh. He blinked twice like his brain rebooted.

"What the – did she just —"

Then his eyes shifted to Nyra, standing just off the dance floor, frozen in a sea of silk and secrets.

His voice was low and Cold.

"What the fuck is happening…"

His thigh throbbed—the exact place the bullet had burned through not long ago.

It was her. The one who pulled the trigger. His hand hovered near his jacket.

Meanwhile, on stage—

Taehyung hadn't moved. Not a breath. Not a blink.

Only his eyes—burning, unreadable, alive in a way they hadn't been in years.

The ballroom, once humming with polite power and orchestral strings, now hung suspended in stunned silence. The chandeliers seemed to flicker. Conversations died on the lips of moguls and diplomats alike. Glasses hovered in midair, untouched.

And still, he didn't hear the music when it resumed.

Didn't register Jimin's hand landing gently on his shoulder from behind—a silent nudge of reality.

He only saw her.

Selen.

Standing just feet away, still catching her breath, lips parted from the kiss she had just branded him with.

Lips that left his mouth tingling.

His control unraveling.

Her eyes met his, and she didn't look away.

Not even now.

Taehyung's throat was dry. His pulse pounded in his ears like war drums.

For a man who ruled every room with silence and dread—this was the first time in years he felt unarmed.

Exposed.

Then, slowly, he turned to face the crowd. His expression was blank and Voice: razor-sharp like a blade.

"No," he said coldly, his words slicing the hush like glass. "She isn't my wife. This woman is clearly… confused. Security—"

But her voice stopped him.

"You want to pretend? Fine. But don't lie to me."

Her voice cracked—not with weakness, but with something deeper. Maybe guilt? Maybe fear? Or Maybe both.

Taehyung turned to her, eyes flashing like a fuse had been lit inside his chest.

Her hand was still in the air, trembling faintly. But her gaze? Unyielding.

And that—infuriated him.

Before he could speak, before his anger found language—

She turned and walked away, right through the center of the crowd like it was a battlefield.

The tension shattered.

Gasps followed. Whispers erupted like wildfire.

"Who is she?"

"His wife?"

"Wait—was that a real kiss?"

"The board's going to lose it."

"Scandal—shares will plummet…"

Jimin cursed under his breath, already texting legal. Eunwoo's eyes scanned the exits. The cameras. The threats. Security swarmed like hornets, trying to control the blast radius.

But nothing could silence the headlines already igniting across the city.

HER FACE. HIS NAME. TOGETHER TANGLED EVERYWHERE.

Taehyung stood frozen for one heartbeat more. Then taste of her lips still lingered on his. 

Then—he moved.

Like a storm breaking its chain–Fast, Purposeful and Furious.

He didn't speak. Didn't apologize. Didn't even look at the people parting for him in panic.

He stormed through the sea of black ties and blood-slick grins, eyes locked on one target.

Her.

Selen had just reached the ballroom exit when his hand clamped around her wrist firmly.

She gasped.

"Don't make a scene," he growled, voice low, guttural. "Care to explain?"

He didn't wait for her answer. Just turned—and dragged her. Through the nearest side corridor, past double doors and into the belly of the tower. The sound of her heels stumbling across the marble echoed like gunshots.

Up one floor.

Then another.

The guards stationed near the executive wing didn't move.

Didn't dare blink.

They knew better than to question Kim Taehyung when he was bleeding fire.

Her wrist ached under his grip, but she didn't cry out. Her other hand clutched the hem of her dress, trying to breathe. Trying to understand what she'd just done.

Because part of her—just one part—had expected him to play along.

To protect the illusion.

Instead, she'd lit a fuse she couldn't extinguish.

The further they walked, the more she felt it: His restraint snapping, one breath at a time.

And when they finally reached the end of the executive wing—

SLAM.

The heavy door closed behind them, swallowing the world in silence.

Taehyung let go of her wrist—but only to slam his palm against the wall behind her, caging her in.

His chest rose and fell with silent fury. The tendons in his jaw twitched.

She stared up at him, breathless, guilt-stricken—but not sorry. Not yet.

And he—

He looked at her like she'd just betrayed him in front of the gods.

---

Meanwhile – Outside the Ballroom

Hallway beyond the gilded chaos

The echo of heels—sharp, staccato—slammed into the silence of the corridor like warning shots. Nyra's breath came hard, chest rising and falling beneath the folds of her dress, each step fed by adrenaline and rage. The moment Taehyung had dragged Selen away, something in her snapped.

No.

Not tonight.

Not like this.

Her breath burning with a need to reach Selen before it was too late.

But her path was blocked. A wall of muscle and precision in a suit. There he was.

Cha Eunwoo.

He stood in front of the corridor like he'd been carved from stone, arms folded, jaw clenched, face unreadable—but body angled just enough to say "Don't even try it".

A storm hid behind his eyes. But Nyra ignored it.

"Move," she snapped.

Her sharp voice cracked like thunder.

"No," he said, voice low and cold, the single syllable slicing through the air like a blade.

She forced her chin up, locked eyes with his ice-cold stare.

"She's my best friend, you ice-block bastard. Let me through!"

Her voice trembled—not with weakness, but with fury. Desperation mixed with protectiveness. Selen had walked into fire, and Nyra would've stormed through hell barefoot to reach her.

He smirked. "And Taehyung is my boss. You're not going anywhere near them," he said, tone like steel pulled tight—coiled and dangerous.

She pushed him hard. Palms to his chest. But–

He didn't even flinch.

"She looked terrified! What is he going to do to her?!"

Her voice cracked around the edges, the fear bleeding through now, sharp as shattered glass.

He didn't blink.

"Then she should've thought before whatever she just did," he snapped, every muscle in his face locked in control.

Nyra's chest heaved. "Then f*** you," she spat, lips trembling with fury. "She didn't had a choice, asshole!"

Another shove. This time rougher. She felt the weight of her own helplessness pressing behind her ribs like a scream with no exit.

Eunwoo still didn't move. But something shifted in his stance. His jaw clenched tighter, shoulders rising with tension.

"Watch your damn mouth."

The warning laced beneath his tone wasn't hollow. It was fire dressed in calm.

But she didn't back down.

"Or what? You'll break my ribs too?"

Her voice was bitter, drenched in accusation.

"Don't think i don't know what you're all capable of."

He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist—not bruising, but firm, grounding.

"You don't know me. If you knew, you wouldn't speak like this."

His words weren't a threat. They were a warning. There was something beneath his skin, clawing to surface. A truth she didn't understand yet—but it didn't scare her.

It only made her angrier.

"Yeah? And you don't know her." she breathed. "She's breaking. Bit by bit, for no reason. Don't you have a little humanity? Feel a little pity? Or you're all monsters?"

Her voice was quieter now, but it hit harder.

Eunwoo's grip didn't tighten. But it didn't let go either. His gaze flickered away—just for a second. Like he couldn't look her in the eyes and lie.

Like a memory had punched through that soldier's discipline.

"Feelings?" he murmured, almost to himself.

"That's expensive. I can't afford it."

The words were armor. But his eyes betrayed him—haunted.

"You're stupid as hell—but brave. I give you that."

The air around them was burning.

Nyra didn't blink. Her teeth clenched. Chest heavy. Rage trembling in her fingertips like sparks looking for fire.

"Get out of my way."

Her voice dropped to a snarl—quiet, low, deadly.

But he didn't move. Didn't even blink. And it only fueled her rage, which was seconds away from exploding.

---

Meanwhile…

Behind locked double doors, Taehyung stared at Selen.

For the first time in his life—he didn't have the upper hand.

He hadn't planned this move.

And yet?

His heart was still racing.

Not from anger.

From the way her lips had tasted like rebellion.

From the way she'd said 'husband' like it meant something.

From the terrifying thought that maybe, just maybe—

He didn't want her to stop.

"I'm sorry", Selen whispered.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts when her voice hits his ears.

"What the hell was that?"

His voice wasn't loud but controlled.

He stalked toward her, closing the distance space them in a seconds. His cologne hits first– dark spice and smock.

Then–

His hand shot out fast, grabbing her wrists like she'd pulled a knife, not kissed him.

"You've lost your mind," Taehyung growled, low and vicious.

His grip was tight—controlled, but only barely. Like he was seconds from either breaking down or breaking something.

"I'm sorry," Selen whispered again, her voice trembling as she swallowed hard.

"Sorry?" he repeated, eyes narrowing. "You humiliated me."

Each word landed like a blow.

"You may have just cost me billions. Do you understand that? Do you even realize what it does to my company's shares—being played by a woman I never introduced, infront of everyone?"

He slammed his palm into the wall beside her, and Selen flinched.

The air around them crackled.

"I didn't mean to damage you—" she began, tears stinging the back of her eyes

"Then what the hell did you mean to do?" His voice cut sharper than a blade.

"I was forced." Her voice cracked like glass. "I didn't want to do it."

She looked up at him, and for the first time since walking into that ballroom, she let the fear show.

"Someone's blackmailing me. They said if I didn't go through with it… they'd hurt my father."

Her chest rose and fell, and her voice dropped to a whisper, trembling against the tension in the room.

"I wasn't trying to ruin you, Mr. Kim. I was just trying to save someone I love."

For a sliver of second, his fury wavered.

But it returned with twice as sharp.

"So you chose to ruin my name .....to protect yours?"

The question was cold but his tone burned

She bowed her head. "I'm sorry. For dragging you into it."

There was a long, hollow silence.

And then—he laughed.

Not the charming kind. This one was low and bitter.

"You really don't think, do you?" he whispered.

He stepped back from the wall just enough to looked at her fully– a woman trembling infront of a man she thought might save her.

"You step into my world… play pretend like it's some theatre show—and you think sorry is going to stop the burn?"

Selen's throat tightened. Tears shimmered but refused to fall

"You should've come to me." His voice was lower now, filled with something colder than rage.

"Not to the press. Not to the board. Me."

"I didn't think you'd help," she breathed. "I was scared."

He stared at her like he didn't know whether to scream or tear the world apart.

"You think fear excuses this?" he muttered. "Do you know what fear looks like when billions are at stake?"

She took a step back.

But he followed.

His presence suffocated the space between them.

"Sorry doesn't fix my stock," he said, teeth clenched. "Sorry doesn't erase the headlines. Doesn't silence the whispers already happening behind every goddamn closed door."

"I'll explain. I'll tell them it was me—" she began.

"No."

His voice sliced through hers.

Final.

He stepped forward—one inch closer, just enough for her to feel the heat off his skin.

His eyes were ice now.

"You want to play pretend?" he asked.

"You want to stand in front of the world and call yourself my wife?"

He leaned in. Their breath mingled. She couldn't move.

"Then congratulations.."

A paused. A breath like a gun cocking. His lips brushed her ear—barely, but it made her spine lock.

"You're going to be my wife!"