⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

The wedding was over, but its impact lingered like a shadow over Beomgyu and Yeonjun. The next morning, the Choi estate was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of staff cleaning up the remnants of the grand event.

Beomgyu sat at the dining table, absentmindedly stirring his coffee. The previous day had been a whirlwind of forced smiles, veiled threats disguised as congratulations, and the suffocating weight of expectation. Now, he was left with the reality of his situation—a husband he barely knew, a family watching his every move, and a future that felt more like a cage than a path.

Yeonjun entered the room, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his hair still damp from a shower. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had just been thrust into the spotlight as the new spouse of the mafia heir.

"Morning," Yeonjun said casually, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Beomgyu didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from his mug. Finally, he muttered, "Do you think they bought it?"

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, taking a seat across from him. "The act? Of course they did. We were perfect."

Beomgyu frowned. "I hate this."

Yeonjun's expression softened slightly. "You're not the only one, you know. I didn't exactly sign up for this either."

Beomgyu looked up, surprised by the honesty in Yeonjun's tone. For once, there was no smirk, no teasing—just raw truth.
⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Later that day, Beomgyu found himself in the training room, working through a series of combat drills to clear his mind. The rhythmic sound of his strikes against the punching bag was almost hypnotic, drowning out the chaos in his head.

"You're going to wear yourself out," Yeonjun's voice broke through the silence.

Beomgyu turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a faint smirk on his lips.

"Not your concern," Beomgyu shot back, returning his focus to the bag.

Yeonjun walked into the room, his steps slow and deliberate. "Actually, it is. If we're going to make this work, we need to be on the same page. That includes looking out for each other."

Beomgyu scoffed, landing a particularly hard punch. "I don't need your help."

Yeonjun shrugged, stepping closer. "Maybe not. But you've got it anyway."

Beomgyu paused, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He turned to face Yeonjun, his expression guarded. "Why do you care?"

Yeonjun hesitated for a moment before replying, "Because whether we like it or not, we're in this together. And I don't plan on letting either of us fail."

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

That evening, a call came through from Beomgyu's father, summoning them to a meeting in the main study. When they arrived, the room was filled with grim faces and a palpable tension.

"We have a problem," Mr. Choi began, sliding a folder across the table. "The A-Team is planning to retaliate after your little stunt."

Beomgyu opened the folder, scanning the documents inside. Plans, locations, names—it was all there, a roadmap of the chaos to come.

"What do you need from us?" Yeonjun asked, his voice steady.

Mr. Choi's gaze hardened. "You'll handle it. Together."

Beomgyu's heart sank. This wasn't just another mission; it was a test of their partnership, their loyalty, their ability to work as one.

"Fine," Beomgyu said, closing the folder. "We'll take care of it."

As they left the study, Yeonjun glanced at him. "Think we can pull this off?"

Beomgyu didn't hesitate. "We don't have a choice."

Yeonjun grinned, the spark of excitement returning to his eyes. "Good. I was starting to think this marriage would be boring."

Beomgyu rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the strange sense of relief that came with knowing Yeonjun would be by his side.