Miso paced around her enormous bedroom, her mind swirling after the bombshell her father had dropped at dinner. Marriage. The thought made her roll her eyes. It wasn’t the concept of marriage that bothered her; it was the fact that this marriage had nothing to do with love and everything to do with business. She sighed dramatically and flopped onto her bed, the silk sheets rustling beneath her.

Just as she was contemplating all the ways to sabotage this ridiculous plan, the door swung open. Yoongi stepped in, his usual smirk in place, crossing his arms. He had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, practically family at this point. His parents had been loyal to the Busan mafia, and after they passed, Yoongi had become a part of her life, eventually working for her father.

“So, how was the grand dinner with the king?” he teased, his tone light, but his eyes scanning her face for signs of trouble.

Miso shot him a dramatic glare, pushing herself up from the bed. “You won’t believe it. Seriously, Yoongi, I’m talking next-level bullshit.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What happened?”

Miso threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, nothing major. Just that my father has decided to auction me off to the highest bidder. I’m getting married. To none other than the infamous Kim Taehyung, Seoul’s mafia king.”

Yoongi’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. What? Taehyung? Are you serious?”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Dead serious. Apparently, it’s for ‘the good of the business,’” she said, mimicking her father’s voice with exaggerated disdain. “Can you believe this? It’s like I’m some kind of bargaining chip. Oh, and the best part? Daddy dearest doesn’t want Taehyung to know about my condition.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened even further. “Wait—he doesn’t know? Are you telling me that they’re expecting you to waltz into this mafia marriage, and they don’t even know about your little space?”

Miso rolled her eyes dramatically, her tone dripping with sass. “Of course not. Daddy doesn’t think it’s ‘necessary information.’ Can you believe it? The audacity.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, clearly worried. “Miso… that’s dangerous. Taehyung’s not some random guy. He’s... cold, ruthless, and from what I’ve heard, absolutely terrifying when it comes to his enemies. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Miso tilted her head, giving him a wicked grin. “Yoongi, do I look like the type to roll over and play the obedient wife? Please. I’m not marrying him because I want to. It’s all business, and trust me, I’m not about to let anyone make me feel small—not even the great Kim Taehyung.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not small, Miso. You’re a force. But this is serious. I don’t like this.”

“Oh, I know you don’t,” she teased, leaning in closer. “But you also know that no one messes with me. And if Taehyung tries? I’ll handle him.”

Yoongi shook his head, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I try,” she replied with a wink. Then, her mood shifted slightly, and she glanced toward her overflowing closet. “Speaking of handling things, I need your help. I’ve got a whole wardrobe to pack, and I’m definitely not leaving without my little space clothes. I refuse to get to Seoul and find out I’m missing something cute when I slip. No way.”

Yoongi sighed deeply, walking over to her closet and looking at the sheer amount of clothes stuffed inside. “You know this is going to take all night, right?”

Miso grinned at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, come on, Yoongi. You love doing this with me. Don’t act like you don’t.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled out a soft, pastel-colored dress. “I guess it’s my fate to be your personal stylist, huh?”

Miso nodded, her face lighting up with excitement. “Exactly. Now, let’s get started. I’m thinking we pack all the essentials for both me and my little space. I don’t want to feel like I’m missing anything once I’m in Seoul.”

Yoongi started sorting through the clothes, folding them carefully. “You know, it’s kind of weird thinking about you getting married, especially to someone like Taehyung.”

Miso rolled her eyes again, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Weird doesn’t even cover it, Yoongi. But you know what? This isn’t a real marriage, not for me. It’s just business. I’ll sign the papers, do what I have to, and then I’m free—free from this city, free from my father’s control. And that’s what I really want.”

Yoongi paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You really want to leave Busan that badly?”

“Are you kidding?” Miso replied with a scoff. “This place is a gilded cage, Yoongi. I’m suffocating here. At least in Seoul, I’ll have some space to breathe. I can be whoever I want, do whatever I want, and no one will be watching my every move.”

Yoongi looked at her, worry flickering in his eyes. “I just wish I could go with you. But with your father counting on me to run the business here, I can’t leave just yet. Maybe I can talk to him, though. See if I can transfer to Seoul eventually.”

Miso's face softened for a moment before she grinned. “I knew you’d say that. And don’t worry, I’ll survive without you. For now.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked, his voice quieter now. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay.”

Miso flipped her hair over her shoulder, her voice full of sass once more. “Oh, please. You’re talking to me, Yoongi. I’m always okay. And besides, I’m marrying the king of Seoul. It’ll be fun. I’ll make it fun.”

Yoongi laughed lightly, but the concern in his eyes remained. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful. Taehyung’s not exactly known for being gentle.”

Miso winked at him, her voice full of confidence. “I’ll handle him. Don’t worry.”

Yoongi sighed again, glancing at the pile of clothes now scattered around the room. “You know, you could just pack lightly, for once in your life.”

She gasped dramatically. “How dare you suggest such a thing! Do you even know me?”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. Let’s pack everything. But this is on you if you run out of room in the car.”

Miso grinned as they continued packing. “I always make room for the important stuff, Yoongi. And trust me, I’m ready for whatever Seoul throws at me.”

As they finished up, Miso turned to Yoongi, her voice softening just a little. “Thanks for helping me. You know, with everything.”

Yoongi smiled, his eyes warm. “Always, Miso. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

Miso gave him a playful shove. “You better. Now, let's get the rest of this packed before I change my mind and decide to take the entire closet.”

Yoongi groaned, but the smile never left his face as they worked side by side.

_______________________________________
                   

                          Seoul

After the heated argument with his father, Taehyung stormed out of the family estate, his mind swirling with frustration. The night air was cold as he stepped into his sleek black car, slamming the door shut behind him. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as he drove back to his penthouse, the city lights flashing past in a blur. Marriage, he thought bitterly. To the Busan mafia princess. What a joke.

By the time he reached his penthouse, his anger had only intensified. He slammed the door shut, the echo bouncing off the sleek marble walls. His penthouse, high above Seoul, was a symbol of his success—modern, cold, and utterly his. Taehyung stormed across the open living space, his dark eyes blazing as he reached for the first thing in his path—a crystal vase. Without a second thought, he hurled it against the wall. The shattering sound was like a release, but it wasn’t enough.

How dare he, Taehyung fumed, thinking back to the conversation with his father. The old man had the nerve to dictate his life, as if he were still a child. But he wasn’t. He was King of Seoul, the ruler of the underground empire.

“I don’t need this,” he muttered, pacing the length of the room, his mind racing. “Marriage? To secure Busan? I can take Busan if I want it. I don’t need a wife for that.”

Yet, despite his fury, his sharp mind began to weigh the pros and cons, as it always did. What if... He paused mid-step, running a hand through his dark hair, his breathing steadying. The thought struck him like lightning—this marriage wasn’t just a trap, it was an opportunity.

With Busan under his control, he would secure more than just a territory; he’d have half of South Korea in his grip. Seoul, Daegu, and now Busan. He could expand, consolidate power, and become unstoppable. No one would dare challenge him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his father was right, even if he hated admitting it.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Fine, he thought, walking toward the bar. He poured himself a glass of rich red wine, swirling it in the glass as he stared out at the sprawling city below. The night was his, the city was his, and soon, the power of the entire peninsula would be his as well. The girl—this mafia princess—was just another pawn. She’d fall in line, like everyone else who crossed his path.

“How hard could it be to handle one spoiled princess?” he murmured to himself, taking a sip of the wine. He imagined her, this Busan girl, who dared to be his wife. The audacity of it. He chuckled darkly. She won’t know what hit her.

Just as he was lost in thought, imagining the marriage as nothing more than another chess move, his phone buzzed on the countertop. Taehyung glanced at the screen, his smirk fading as he saw the caller ID. It was his older brother, Namjoon. Of course, the news had already spread.

With a sigh, Taehyung picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear. “What do you want, hyung?” he asked, his voice sharp, his usual cold demeanor returning.

Namjoon’s voice was calm, but there was a hint of amusement in it. “I heard the news. Father told me you’re getting married.”

Taehyung scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the bar. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly my decision.”

Namjoon chuckled lightly. “You? Doing something you don’t want to do? I don’t believe that for a second. What’s the catch?”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. He hated how well Namjoon knew him, but then again, they were family. “It’s Busan. The old man wants the territory secured through marriage. Thinks I’ll settle down, play nice with this girl, and all of South Korea will be ours.”

Namjoon was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “And you’re going along with it?”

Taehyung took another sip of his wine, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the city lights. “I’m not doing this because of him. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone, especially not him. But Busan? That’s worth it. After this, no one will be able to touch us.”

His brother let out a sigh. “So you’re really going to marry her? The Busan princess? Do you even know her?”

“No,” Taehyung said flatly, his tone cold as ice. “And I don’t care. She’s irrelevant. This is just business.”

Namjoon’s voice softened slightly. “You know, marriage is—”

“Marriage is for the weak,” Taehyung cut him off, his voice hardening. “I don’t care about the ceremony, the girl, or any of it. This isn’t a real marriage. It’s a transaction, and I’ll do whatever I need to make sure it works in my favor.”

Namjoon hesitated. “You don’t think that attitude is going to backfire? She’s not just some random girl, Taehyung. She’s from a powerful family too.”

Taehyung’s lips curled into a dark smile. “She’ll fall in line. They all do.”

Namjoon sighed, clearly not convinced but knowing better than to argue. “Just… be careful. I know you don’t want advice, but Busan’s a different game. Their rules aren’t the same as Seoul’s.”

“I know that,” Taehyung replied, his tone clipped. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Namjoon said calmly. “I just don’t want this to blow up in your face.”

“It won’t,” Taehyung said confidently. “This is exactly what I need. After this, no one will question my power. Not Busan, not Seoul, no one.”

Namjoon was quiet for a moment before responding. “Alright. Just... keep me posted. I’d hate to have to clean up your mess.”

Taehyung smirked, setting his wine glass down on the counter. “Don’t worry, hyung. There won’t be a mess. I’ve got this under control.”

“Sure you do,” Namjoon replied, his tone light but cautious. “Good luck, Taehyung. You’re going to need it.”

Taehyung hung up the phone, his smirk widening as he stared out at the city again. Luck? he thought, chuckling to himself. I don’t need luck. I’m the king.

With one final sip of wine, he made his way to the window, looking out over the glittering city below. His empire was growing, and soon, it would stretch far beyond Seoul.

“Let the games begin,” he whispered to himself, already planning his next move.

After his tense call with Namjoon, Taehyung paced the room, his mind swirling with thoughts of his father, Busan, and the marriage arrangement that now hung over his head like a dark cloud. His jaw clenched as frustration bubbled up inside him. He needed to clear his head. And there was only one person who could help him do that—Jimin.

Without wasting another second, Taehyung pulled out his phone and dialed Jimin’s number. The phone rang a few times before Jimin picked up, his voice smooth yet teasing as always.

“What’s up, Tae? Did the King finally decide to bless me with his presence?”

“Cut the crap,” Taehyung growled, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “I need to get out of here. Let’s hit the bar. Our bar.”

Jimin chuckled on the other end. “Rough day, huh? What’s eating you this time? Your old man again?”

Taehyung’s grip on the phone tightened as he let out a sharp breath. “Yeah. Same shit. Now he's pushing me to marry kim Jaehyun daughter .”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke again, this time more serious. “Wait, you’re actually going through with that?”

Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his voice. “Do I have a choice? He’s dead set on it. Thinks it’s the best way to secure Busan’s territory. I’ll marry her for power, nothing more. It’s not like I believe in that love crap.”

Jimin sighed. “Man, that sounds like a headache waiting to happen. But I get it—power is power. And Busan’s a big deal.”

“I don’t need a lecture, Jimin,” Taehyung muttered, rubbing his temples. “I just need a drink. You in or what?”

“You know I’m always in,” Jimin replied with a laugh. “Besides, I wouldn’t let you drink yourself into oblivion without some company. Meet me there in 30?”

“Make it 20,” Taehyung said before hanging up the phone.

---

Twenty minutes later, Taehyung walked into the exclusive bar he co-owned with Jimin. The dim lighting and sleek decor made it feel like a private sanctuary for the elite, and tonight, Taehyung needed that more than ever.

Jimin was already seated at their usual booth in the corner, a glass of whiskey in hand. He raised it in a mock salute when he saw Taehyung approaching.

“Look who decided to show up,” Jimin teased, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes. “Rough day?”

Taehyung slid into the seat across from him, his expression dark as he grabbed the glass Jimin had poured for him. “You have no idea.”

Jimin leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “So, tell me—what’s the real deal with this marriage? You’re seriously going to do it?”

Taehyung downed his drink in one gulp, the burn barely registering as he placed the empty glass on the table with a sharp clink. “I have no choice. Busan’s territory is too valuable to pass up. But it’s just a business deal. Nothing more.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? You know how these mafia families are—they expect more than just a business arrangement when it comes to marriage.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “She’ll learn soon enough that I’m not the kind of husband who cares about expectations. I’ll marry her, but it’s for power, not love.”

Jimin sighed, taking a sip of his drink. “Still, it sounds like a pain. You don’t strike me as the marrying type, even for power.”

“I’m not,” Taehyung replied, his tone sharp. “But this is bigger than just me. With Busan under my control, I’ll have more than half of South Korea in my hands. That kind of power doesn’t come without a price.”

Jimin studied him for a moment before leaning forward, his expression thoughtful. “And what about her? The Busan princess. You’ve met her, right?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No. Haven’t even seen her. Don’t care to. She’s just a pawn in all of this.”

Jimin let out a low whistle. “Cold as ever. But I guess that’s what makes you the king, right?”

Taehyung’s lips curled into a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Exactly.”

Jimin chuckled, raising his glass. “Well, here’s to power, then. May your marriage be as loveless as you want it to be.”

Taehyung clinked his glass against Jimin’s, a dark chuckle escaping him. “I’ll drink to that.”

As they sat in comfortable silence, Taehyung allowed the alcohol to wash over him, numbing the edge of his frustration. But even as he relaxed, the weight of the decision he’d made—of the marriage that was now looming over him—remained a constant presence in the back of his mind.

He might be marrying for power, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this arrangement would bring more complications than he was prepared for.