A BIRTHDAY TO REMEMBER

"Jeon Jungkook!" A cheerful voice rang out, catching Jungkook's attention. "Over here, mate!"

Jungkook glanced up and spotted the company's stylish photographer, Kim Taehyung, effortlessly working the room with his trusty Nikon D850. That camera was practically an extension of Taehyung—always slung around his neck, a constant companion that perfectly matched his vibrant personality and colorful outfits.

Today, Taehyung looked particularly striking in a patterned blazer over crisp white khakis, paired with contrasting black slacks and polished Gucci shoes. The ensemble gave him an air of boyish charm while still exuding effortless masculinity. Jungkook thought it suited Taehyung's playful energy, though he kept the compliment to himself.

"Perfect! Now give me a smile." Taehyung adjusted his camera, offering a thumbs-up before closing one eye to peer through the viewfinder. Just as he was about to capture the moment, Jungkook turned his head, leaving Taehyung with a side profile that highlighted his sharp jawline.

"Come on, can't you smile for once? It's your brother's birthday!" Taehyung playfully scolded, but Jungkook only shrugged, ignoring him as usual.

Taehyung was used to Jungkook's refusal to play along. It never stopped him from fussing over the younger man, often switching to his hometown dialect when he got too worked up. Despite the silent treatment, Taehyung always found a way to make it work.

"Still turned out fantastic. Credit to my genius, of course." Taehyung grinned, ruffling his two-toned hair—half blond, half bubblegum pink—before jerking his chin toward the bar. "Come on, let's grab a drink."

"A Tennessee whiskey," Jungkook ordered, his deep voice even lower than usual.

"Whoa, whiskey right off the bat? You're starting strong," Taehyung gawked, quickly signaling to the bartender for his drink. Ever the lively one, Taehyung couldn't help but find joy in the simplest things—even tapping the bar counter to a rhythm only he could hear. Keeping quiet for more than a few seconds simply wasn't in his nature.

He glanced at Jungkook, unable to resist asking, "Don't you think you're a little overdressed for a birthday party?"

While they waited for their drinks, Taehyung's eyes flickered over Jungkook's attire. Unlike the guests in elegant tuxedos or flowing gowns, Jungkook was decked out in a black leather jacket, a loose black cotton tee, and perfectly tailored black jeans. A sleek black belt, its buckle embedded with tiny diamonds, cinched his waist, while fingerless leather gloves gave him an edgy, almost dangerous vibe. To Taehyung, he looked straight out of Men in Black.

Jungkook's stern glance cut Taehyung's commentary short. Realizing he might've pushed his luck, Taehyung patted him on the shoulder. "Still, I've got to say—great taste, bro."

Finally, their drinks arrived. The atmosphere around them softened as soulful music filled the air, and guests murmured in quiet conversation. Taehyung sipped his Sierra, letting the fruity flavor linger on his tongue as he hummed along to the tune. Jungkook, on the other hand, gripped his glass and drank silently, his thoughts seemingly far from the party.

Suddenly, the sound of clinking glasses drew everyone's attention. A short man with a silk coat adorned in black and gold zig-zag patterns stepped into the spotlight. His feline grace and sharp attire made him stand out even in the elegant crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention for a moment," he began. "I'd like to raise a toast in honor of our birthday boy."

"Is that Min Yoongi?" Taehyung whispered, squinting at the figure.

The mention of the name made Jungkook pay attention. Min Yoongi had a reputation for blunt honesty, never sugarcoating his words. Jungkook straightened slightly, his ears perking up as Yoongi began his speech.

"December 4th, 1992—mark it in history," Yoongi began, his voice carrying over the crowd. "On this day, the man who revolutionized Korean architecture was born. His intelligence and relentless work ethic have made him one of the most influential figures in our country." Raising his glass, he continued, "Let's congratulate the CEO of Kim Enterprises and wish him many happy returns of the day."

A wave of applause followed as Kim Seokjin descended the grand staircase, his radiant smile lighting up his face. Behind him trailed his assistant, Kim Namjoon, who had been busy ensuring the smooth running of the event instead of standing by his boss's side.

"That speech was way too formal for someone who knows me better than their own reflection," Seokjin teased with a playful grin.

Yoongi smirked. "Those were the words of your investor. There's more to come, so brace yourself."

Seokjin laughed and pulled Yoongi into a hug, much to the delight of the guests, who erupted in cheers and laughter at the display of camaraderie.

Handing Seokjin a glass of wine, Yoongi nudged him toward the center of the room. "Go on, say a few words."

The crowd hooted in encouragement, and with a grin, Seokjin took the floor.

"Thank you, Yoongi," he began. "I'd like to add to those kind words. It's often said that success comes through hard work—but let me be clear, hard work doesn't mean burning yourself out around the clock. That's just labor. Overworking leads to stress and poor health.

"Another key element to success is unity and cooperation. With the moral support of colleagues and staff, any dream project can become a reality—just as it did for me. I can't imagine celebrating this success without all of you by my side. So, thank you for being here tonight. Cheers to everyone!" Seokjin concluded, raising his glass as the room erupted in applause.

But Yoongi wasn't ready to let it end there. He took a slow sip of his wine and, as promised, continued with his own announcement. "Now, I've got a little more good news. It'll be quick, I swear." His voice carried a mischievous tone. "For those who don't know, our bachelor CEO here has been secretly dating his PA for the past four years, and today, he finally proposed. I couldn't be happier for my brother. Here's to all the happiness you deserve, Seokjin—congratulations on your engagement!"

Yoongi kept his promise; it was brief but enough to send shockwaves through the room. At first, no one could quite process the bombshell he'd dropped. But as the words sank in, the crowd erupted in cheers. Seokjin's ears flushed red, and a bashful grin spread across his face as he lightly swatted Yoongi, who only flashed his signature gummy smile.

Seeing his brother so happy, even Jungkook couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the room filled with joyful shouts and praise.

"Congratulations, Seokjin!"

"You two make a great couple!"

"Your fiancé is hot AF!"

But the celebration was abruptly cut short by a jarring, ugly slur that pierced the air: "Faggot!"

The room fell silent, the festive mood shattered. Accusing eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the source of the venomous word. The tension was palpable, thick in the air like a storm about to break.

Then came the sharp crash of glass shattering, pulling all eyes to the source of the commotion.

"I can't believe I wasted eight years of my fucking life financing a faggot!" a voice seethed, filled with rage. The raw anger in those words silenced the room, the joyful atmosphere replaced with a heavy, suffocating dread.

Jungkook's jaw clenched around his whiskey glass, his eyebrows knitted in anger. He struggled to suppress the burning rage rising within him as he glared at the homophobic man making inappropriate remarks. When his patience reached its breaking point, he took a deep breath, stood up, and approached the man in his late forties, offering a helping hand.

"Mr. Yeong might have had a bit too much to drink. Let me assist him to the restroom," Jungkook said, his voice steady. "Please, everyone, continue enjoying the evening." He exchanged a meaningful look with Seokjin, silently conveying that he would handle the situation.

As Jungkook led Mr. Yeong away, he had no idea how drastically his life was about to change.

• • •

Once they reached the restroom, Mr. Yeong continued to mutter angrily, "I just want to take a piss. Leave me alone!" He pulled away from Jungkook's grip, stumbled into the stall, and then staggered back to the sink, where Jungkook watched him with a mixture of disdain and concern.

"Disgusting faggot ruined my night," Mr. Yeong spat, and Jungkook's patience snapped.

"I should—" Mr. Yeong grumbled, but he didn't finish his thought as he suddenly felt lightheaded. A ringing filled his ears, and before he knew it, he was on the floor, staring up at Jungkook, whose eyes blazed with fury.

Mr. Yeong gasped, panic setting in as his arms flailed in a desperate attempt to escape Jungkook's grip. A hand tightened around his neck, choking him. He shouted and struggled, but nothing worked. Desperation took over, and he searched for something—anything—that could save him.

His vision blurred as he spotted a shard of mirror on the floor. Jungkook had slammed his face against the mirror wall, he realized.

Irritation coursed through him. What had he done to deserve this kind of treatment from someone he didn’t even know?

With adrenaline surging, Mr. Yeong managed to throw a weak punch at Jungkook, but it only left a tiny scratch on his cheek.

Unfazed, Jungkook blinked, wiping away the blood with the back of his hand before delivering a brutal punch to Mr. Yeong's face, sending a stream of red cascading down his nose.

Mr. Yeong groaned, pressing a hand to the bruise forming above his mouth. His grip on the mirror shard weakened, and Jungkook seized it, contemplating his next move with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Jungkook shifted his weight, pinning Mr. Yeong firmly to the ground. The man had no escape; the inevitable was coming.

Mr. Yeong could sense what was about to happen, yet as Jungkook brought the sharp object closer, gripping his jaw and forcing his tongue out, he found himself utterly helpless. Withering beneath Jungkook's hold, he felt the mirror slice through his flesh, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood as muffled cries for help escaped his lips.

Pain radiated through Mr. Yeong's body with each press of Jungkook's weight, rendering him immobile. He could feel the life draining from him, the intoxication of earlier drinks fading into a dizzying lightness. His thoughts became a hazy void, black circles swirling behind his eyelids, as a deep urge to succumb to sleep overwhelmed him.

Concussion, he thought, his awareness slipping away for the last time.

If someone were to ask what sinking into an abyss felt like, he might say that losing consciousness was the same.

Gradually, everything around Mr. Yeong faded to gray. He no longer knew who he was, where he was, or why this young man wanted to kill him. The unpleasant events of the evening faded into nothingness, and he simply wanted the pain to stop.

"Let him go!" someone shouted, but it was too late. Moments later, Mr. Yeong blacked out.