Miso stepped into her new room, letting the door close behind her with a soft click. The modern penthouse was sleek and minimalistic, much like the rest of the building—shades of gray, black, and white filling the space. The large floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in natural light, highlighting the expensive but cold decor. A huge, plush bed sat in the middle of the room with crisp white sheets, and the closet doors gleamed with their pristine chrome handles. Everything screamed luxury, but to Miso, it lacked warmth.

She scanned the space with an unimpressed expression, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Hmm... nice enough,” she murmured to herself. “Just needs a little touch-up to match my standards.”

Her gaze trailed to her luggage, stacked neatly by the door, an overwhelming number of suitcases filled with her things. "Right. Time to get this place feeling like me," she said to herself, rolling up the sleeves of her designer blouse. But as she reached for the first suitcase, a knock echoed through the room.

She paused, instantly irritated. "Bet it’s Mr. I'm-the-Big-Boss," she muttered under her breath, already imagining Taehyung standing there, ready to bark orders or throw some snide comment her way. Her frustration bubbled up as she stalked toward the door, ready to unleash a storm of sass. But when she yanked the door open, her angry retort died on her lips.

Instead of Taehyung, a middle-aged woman stood there, offering a polite smile. “Good evening, ma’am,” the woman greeted with a slight bow. “I’m Soyeon, the caretaker of this penthouse. I handle the cleaning and kitchen duties and was instructed to assist you in settling in.”

Miso blinked, her anger quickly evaporating. “Oh.” She stood there for a moment, her mind adjusting to the new situation. “Right. Not the big boss.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as her confidence returned. “Well, come in, then.”

Soyeon stepped into the room, her eyes briefly scanning the numerous suitcases scattered around. “I was told to help arrange your things in the closet,” she explained, her tone warm and professional.

Miso gave a dismissive wave. “Go ahead. Shoes in that closet,” she pointed, “arranged by brand and color. Dresses in the other one—black ones separate. I need my iconic styles ready to go.”

Soyeon nodded, getting to work while Miso continued to direct her, making sure every item had a precise place. The older woman was swift, efficiently organizing with the grace of someone who had done this for years. But when she opened the next suitcase, her hands froze mid-air, and a small gasp escaped her lips.

Inside the suitcase were piles of children’s toys—plushies, crayons, coloring books, and a few soft blankets with colorful cartoon patterns. A complete contrast to the high-end fashion items she had just been arranging.

Miso’s eyes flickered to Soyeon’s surprised expression. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably under the older woman’s gaze. “What? You’ve never seen a grown woman own toys before?” she scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a sassy flair. “I collect cute stuff. It’s therapeutic, you know. Mind your business and just... put them in a different closet.”

Soyeon nodded, her surprise quickly masked by her professionalism. “Of course, ma’am.”

Miso watched as Soyeon delicately arranged the toys on a different shelf, an awkward silence settling between them. The next suitcase was opened, revealing an assortment of pink, frilly dresses—more suited for a little girl than a 21-year-old woman.

Again, Soyeon paused, glancing between the elegant clothing she had just organized and the pile of adorable dresses now before her. It was as though two completely different people had packed these items.

Before Soyeon could say anything, a photo frame fell from the suitcase onto the floor. She bent to pick it up, revealing a picture of a little girl clinging to the hand of a beautiful woman in her late twenties. Both wore wide smiles that radiated warmth and love.

Miso froze, her breath catching in her throat. The girl in the photo was her younger self, and the woman... her mother. Instantly, a wave of emotions hit her, threatening to break through her carefully crafted exterior. She could feel her grip on reality slipping, the pull of her little space growing stronger. No, not now. Not in front of her, Miso thought desperately, her heart racing.

Soyeon, sensing the shift in Miso’s demeanor, moved to place the photo on a nearby shelf, but Miso snapped, her voice laced with irritation. “I’ll take it from here,” she said quickly, stepping forward to take the frame from Soyeon’s hands.

“Are you sure, ma’am? I can finish—”

“I said I’ll do it,” Miso snapped, practically shoving the older woman toward the door. She pushed Soyeon out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with trembling hands.

She stood there for a moment, her back pressed against the door, trying to suppress the rising tide of emotions. But it was too late. Her little space beckoned, and before she could stop it, she slipped into the comforting cocoon of her childlike state.

Her eyes softened, filling with unshed tears, as she clutched the photo frame to her chest. “Mommy...,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, like that of a small child calling for comfort.

Her gaze fell on Snowball, her favorite bunny plushie, poking out from the pile of toys. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she hurried over, grabbing the soft bunny and hugging him tightly. “Snowball! I missed you so much!” she cooed, rubbing her cheek against the plush fur. “I was scared, but now you’re here...”

She sat on the floor, cradling Snowball, but even in her little space, the lingering sadness wouldn’t leave. She needed to hear a familiar voice—someone who could make everything feel okay again. With clumsy little fingers, she grabbed her phone and quickly dialed Yoongi’s number. He was her safe space, her best friend. Her “Gigi.”

The phone rang once before Yoongi’s deep voice came through. “Hello?”

“Gigi!” Miso squeaked, her voice filled with childlike excitement. “It’s me! I—I missed you.”

Yoongi sighed softly, instantly recognizing her shift. “Hey there, princess,” he said gently. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“Nooo,” Miso whined, hugging Snowball tighter. “It’s scary here, Gigi! I don’t like it. The mean man—uh... Taa... Tae... um...” she stumbled, her little brain struggling to say Taehyung’s name. “I don’t know! I just call him Meanie Oppa!”

Yoongi chuckled softly, the sound comforting her. “Meanie Oppa, huh? What did he do?”

“He was mean, Gigi!” she complained, sniffling. “He made me come here, and this big house is so cold, and—and I don’t like it. And then the lady came in and saw my toys and my dresses, and it was embarrassing!” Her voice trembled as she spoke, tears starting to well in her eyes.

“Shh, princess. It’s okay,” Yoongi soothed, his tone patient and warm. “No one’s going to take your toys or your dresses. You still have Snowball, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Miso mumbled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Snowball’s here. He’s the only one who makes me feel better.”

“And you’ve got me, too,” Yoongi reminded her. “I’m always here for you, princess.”

Miso’s lips curled into a small smile as she hugged Snowball even tighter. “Thank you, Gigi... I love you lots.”

“I love you too, Miso,” Yoongi replied, his voice filled with fondness. “You’re my special princess, okay? No matter what, you’ll always be safe.”

Miso’s heart warmed at his words, her tears slowing down. “Okay, Gigi... I feel better now. But... I miss Mommy...”

Yoongi’s voice softened. “I know, princess. I know. But you’re strong, just like she was. And I’m so proud of you.”

They talked for a little while longer, Yoongi’s calm reassurances soothing her. Slowly, Miso felt her little recede, and her usual sharp, confident self returned. She blinked a few times, feeling the transition as her grip on Snowball loosened.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” she said, her voice now steady and composed. “I needed that.”

“Anytime, Miso. You know I’m here.”

“Good night, Yoongi,” Miso said with a soft smile before ending the call.

She glanced at the photo frame one more time, feeling the weight of her emotions but locking them away for now. There was no room for vulnerability in her world. Hugging Snowball one last time, she placed him beside her  and lay down, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow was another day, and she’d face it with her usual fierce attitude.

But for tonight, she let herself feel a little bit of peace.

_______________________________________

After Miso stormed off to her room, Taehyung remained in the lavish living room, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Anger coursed through him like a wildfire, each heartbeat amplifying his fury. Miso’s defiance and her incessant sass gnawed at him, pushing him to the brink. He felt like a lion trapped in a cage, longing to unleash his wrath.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pacing like a predator, his mind racing with frustration.

Just then, the door swung open, and Soyeon entered,  “Did you call for me, sir?” she asked, her tone calm and professional.

“Just go help the brat,” he snapped, ice dripping from his words. “I don’t want her causing any more trouble.”

Soyeon nodded, sensing the storm brewing behind his eyes. “Of course. I’ll ensure she’s settled.”

Once she left, Taehyung pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Jimin’s name. With a quick tap, he dialed.

“Hey, Tae! What’s up?” Jimin’s cheerful voice rang through, but Taehyung could hear the underlying amusement.

“Meet me at the bar,” Taehyung ordered, his tone clipped and commanding. “Now.”

“Whoa, someone’s in a mood,” Jimin replied, his playful tone undeterred. “Did your wife not take care of you today? You sound like a grumpy old man.”

“Just get here, Jimin,” Taehyung growled, cutting off the call.

---

At the bar, the low hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of glasses, creating an ambiance that felt both familiar and suffocating. Taehyung leaned against the counter, the cool wood grounding him, but the anger still twisted in his chest like a coiled serpent.

Moments later, Jimin sauntered in, his usual grin plastered on his face. “God ! I thought you’d burst into flames with how tense you were in call .” He slid onto the barstool beside Taehyung.

“Shut up,” Taehyung shot back, though a hint of a smirk crept onto his lips despite the tension.

“Seriously though, what’s going on?” Jimin leaned in, his expression shifting to one of concern. “Did the new girl give you a hard time?”

“She’s impossible,” Taehyung replied, his voice icy. “I can’t stand her bratty attitude. It’s like she thinks she can just push me around.”

“Maybe she just wants to see how far she can get under your skin,” Jimin suggested, a teasing grin on his face. “That’s what wives do, you know.”

“Don’t start with that,” Taehyung shot back, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t need lessons on marriage from you. She’s playing games, and I’m not in the mood for any of it.”

Just then, a girl approached, her sultry smile directed at Taehyung. She leaned over the bar, her body almost touching him, the scent of her perfume sweet and intoxicating. Jimin’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the show.

Jimin grinned, taking a sip of his drink. “Looks like someone’s getting lucky tonight!”

“Hey there, handsome,” she purred, her fingers trailing along the edge of his arm. “What’s a guy like you doing here all alone? Want some company?”

“Get lost,” Taehyung snapped, his patience thin as ice.

The girl smirked, undeterred by his cold dismissal. “Come on, don’t be like that. You could have a lot more fun if you just let go. I promise I won’t bite—unless you want me to.”

Taehyung felt his blood boil. “Try to touch me , and I’ll make sure you'll regret it,” he hissed, his voice low and threatening.

“Wow, such a tough guy,” she taunted, taking a step closer.

Before Taehyung could react, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his chest. That was the final straw. In a flash, he grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron, and pulled her closer, his face mere inches from hers.

“Dare to touch me again,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper, “and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

The girl giggled, oblivious to the danger she was courting. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. Just trying to have a little fun, handsome.”

“Fun?” Taehyung’s voice turned to ice, each word deliberate and lethal. “You think this is a game?” His glare was enough to make the air around them grow thick and heavy with menace. “How dare you put your hands on me? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Before she could react, Taehyung’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with an iron grip. Her laughter faded instantly, replaced by confusion and fear as he pulled her closer, their faces mere inches apart. The warmth in his gaze had turned to a cold, steely glare, sending shivers down her spine.

“I said don't touch me,” he hissed, his voice dropping to a whisper filled with venom.

Panic filled the girl’s eyes as she stammered, “I-I didn’t mean any harm! I thought—”

Taehyung’s grip tightened, his fingers pressing harder against her delicate skin. “You thought wrong. Do you want to see what happens when you cross me?” The threat hung heavy in the air, as tangible as the tension between them.

Just then, sensing the escalating tension, Jimin sprang into action. “Alright, sweetheart, time to back off,” he said, stepping between Taehyung and the girl, his tone light but firm. “He’s off limit.”

As she walked away, Jimin turned back to Taehyung, a teasing grin on his face. “Wow, Mr. Married Man is really laying down the law. Who knew you could be so... loyal?”

“It’s not like that,” Taehyung replied, his voice sharp, the anger still simmering just below the surface. “I’m not in the mood to deal with distractions. I have enough trouble with that brat at home.”

“Right, right. Just a phase, I get it,” Jimin chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To the ‘grumpy married man’ and his domestic bliss!”

Taehyung rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk. “Shut up, Jimin.”

They continued to talk, the conversation flowing more easily as the alcohol took effect, but Taehyung felt the weight of his earlier frustration still hanging over him. Eventually, he decided he’d had enough.

“I’m heading home,” he said, pushing off the bar and making his way to the door.

“Already? We were just getting started!” Jimin called after him, but Taehyung waved him off.

---

By the time he got home, the world around him felt fuzzy, a blend of anger and intoxication swirling within him. He stumbled slightly as he made his way to his room, but before he could step inside, he glanced at Miso’s door.

A scoff escaped his lips. “What a pain,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. The rage inside him flared up again, but he quickly suppressed it, knowing deep down he would have to deal with her antics again in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, Taehyung entered his room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving him in solitude with his racing thoughts.

Author's Note:

Hey, amazing readers!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Dark Innocence! Your support means everything to me. Please take a moment to vote, comment, and share the book with your friends. Your feedback motivates me to write more, so keep those comments coming!

Thank you for being a part of this journey!

Much love,
StarlitWings