The office of Jeon Jungkook was bathed in a dim, golden light, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where the emperor sat. He was alone, an uncharacteristic stillness surrounding him. For once, there were no imminent threats, no urgent meetings, no demands that needed his immediate attention. And yet, Jeon Jungkook was far from at ease.

His mind played back the scene from the rooftop like a reel stuck on repeat. Jimin's voice, steady and rich, carried an emotion Jungkook hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. The lyrics of the song—the moonlight, the promises, the sincerity—cut through the armor he had spent decades building. And then, the audacity of Jimin to deliver a black envelope, adorned with a blue rose no less, describing the first stage of love.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his sharp jawline tightening as his fingers tapped idly against the armrest. He glanced to his right, where the envelope now lay, unopened but persistent in its presence. The rose, vibrant and striking against the otherwise stark environment, was tucked into a small vase on his desk. He wasn't sure why he hadn't thrown it away yet.

"What the hell are you doing to me, Jimin?" he muttered under his breath.

For the first time in years, Jeon Jungkook felt something foreign—confusion. Where this is going ? Why the fuck am I even allowing it ?

The door to his office creaked open, breaking his chain of thought. Jungkook's sharp gaze snapped toward the entrance, it was Hoseok and Yoongi, both entering with their usual blend of casual confidence and mild irreverence that only they could get away with.

"Your Majesty," Hoseok began with a sly grin, bowing dramatically before flopping onto one of the leather chairs. Yoongi followed suit, though more subtly, leaning against the wall with a raised brow as he studied Jungkook.

"His majesty, Why do you look like you've seen a female ghost?" Yoongi asked, his tone laced with amusement.

"Leave if you don't have anything important to say," Jungkook replied curtly, but there was no venom in his tone—just distraction.

"Oh, we have something important," Hoseok said, his grin widening. "You. What's going on? You've been sitting in here like a man lost in thought. We've some illegal matters to turn legal."

Jungkook's jaw clenched as he returned his gaze to the rose on his desk, betraying a flicker of his internal turmoil.

Hoseok's eyes followed the emperor's line of sight and landed on the rose. His grin turned mischievous. "Oh, I see. This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain songbird serenading you last night, would it?"

Yoongi's eyes narrowed with interest, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't tell me the great supreme lord of underworld is finally feeling something. That's new."

"Enough," Jungkook growled, though the heat in his voice lacked its usual bite.

Hoseok leaned forward, elbows on his knees, undeterred. "You're telling me you didn't feel anything when he sang that song? The man practically poured his soul into it. His majesty"

Jungkook shot him a glare sharp enough to silence most men, but Hoseok only chuckled.

Before Jungkook could retort, the door opened again, this time revealing the very subject of their conversation. Park Jimin stepped in, dressed impeccably in his usual black shirt and sleek black pants, his expression calm but carrying an edge of urgency.

"Your Majesty," Jimin said, his tone clipped, "we have a situation."

Jungkook immediately straightened, the weight of his title snapping back into place. "Speak."

"My spy intercepted intel this morning," Jimin explained. "Our rivals are planning an attack. It seems they've been emboldened by our recent acquisitions and are may be targeting our lesser-protected territories."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his mind already racing through strategies. "Prepare a counterstrike. I want them crushed before they even reach our borders."

Jimin, to Jungkook's utter shock, raised a hand in a dismissive gesture. "I can't handle it right now."

The room fell silent. Even Yoongi, who rarely reacted to anything, looked up in surprise.

"What did you just say?" Jungkook asked, his voice dangerously low.

"I have personal matters to attend to," Jimin said, his tone unwavering. "You'll have to handle it yourself, Your Majesty."

The audacity of the statement was enough to render the emperor speechless for a moment. Jungkook stared at Jimin, the sheer gall of his right hand—his spouse—defying him so openly stirring equal parts rage and disbelief.

Hoseok, always one to diffuse tension with humor, leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "Well, Your Majesty, welcome to husbandhood. This is what happens when you get married."

Yoongi smirked. "You didn't think it would be all smooth sailing, did you? Life changes, especially when you have a spouse who knows how to push your buttons."

"Remind me to burn you both alive," Jungkook snapped, though his voice lacked its usual authority. He was too focused on Jimin, whose calm demeanor only served to irritate him further.

"Personal matters?" Jungkook repeated, his tone biting. "You think your personal life takes precedence over this empire?"

Jimin met his gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "I think that as your spouse, I'm entitled to certain... liberties."

Hoseok let out a low whistle. "Oh, he pulled the spouse card. Bold move."

Jungkook's fists clenched, the tension in the room thick enough to cut. "Youre defying the role you play, which will cost you badly."

Jimin smirked faintly, his confidence unwavering. "I've been playing it for nine years, Your Majesty. I think I know the rules."

Yoongi chuckled under his breath. "This is why I'm never getting married to Hoseok. Too much drama."

"Smart man, cuz I won't go easy on you yoongi, though Jimin is quite generous for a husband." Hoseok agreed, grinning at Jimin. "But you, my dear right hand, have officially earned my respect. Not many can leave His Majesty speechless."

Jungkook's glare could have frozen fire, but before he could respond, Jimin gave a slight bow. "I didn't realize getting married came with a built-in sarcasm module. Did I miss that in the fine print?

" If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave. Good luck with the rivals, Your Majesty." And with that, Jimin turned and walked out, leaving Jungkook fuming in his wake.

As the door clicked shut, the silence in the room was deafening. Hoseok and Yoongi exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

"Well, that was something," Hoseok said, wiping a tear from his eye. "You've really met your match, haven't you?"

Yoongi smirked. "I have to admit, it's entertaining to watch. You might want to keep an eye on him, though. He's getting a little too comfortable."

Jungkook didn't respond. His mind was a storm of emotions, his confusion from earlier now compounded by frustration. But beneath the anger, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind—a voice he couldn't ignore.

For the first time in his life, Jeon Jungkook felt like he was losing control, not of his empire, but of himself. And he wasn't sure what to do about it.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the faintest trace of disbelief.

***

The grand boardroom of the Jeon estate was a cavernous space filled with an oppressive air of silence. The polished ebony table stretched the length of the room, its surface gleaming under the dim chandelier lights that cast sharp, angular shadows on the walls. High-ranking members of the Jeon mafia sat in silence, their gazes fixed firmly on the table or their clasped hands. No one dared meet the piercing gaze of the emperor seated at the head.

Jeon Jungkook's posture was deceptively relaxed, his hand resting on the armrest of his chair, his dark eyes scanning the room with a deadly calm. He exuded an aura of control so absolute it bordered on suffocating.

To his right stood Jimin, the emperor's shadow. His presence was equally commanding, though quieter—his cold gaze fixed on the room, a predator observing its prey.

The tension was palpable, each breath in the room measured and deliberate. Everyone knew the stakes of this meeting. The night before, Jungkook had delivered a brutal message to one of their rival factions, and the fallout had left the underworld trembling.

It was into this silence that a brash young lieutenant dared to speak.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," the man began, his voice faltering slightly but filled with misplaced confidence, "perhaps... perhaps your methods are becoming too extreme. Fear, as effective as it is, can only last so long before it breeds rebellion."

The air seemed to grow colder. A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the chandelier.

Every pair of eyes turned toward the lieutenant, a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Whispers broke out among the members, their voices hushed as though afraid the words themselves might summon retribution.

Jungkook didn't react immediately. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as he interlaced his fingers. His dark eyes bore into the lieutenant with a gaze so piercing it felt as if he could see into the man's very soul.

"Rebellion," Jungkook repeated softly, his voice deceptively calm. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile. "You think my methods breed rebellion?"

The lieutenant visibly swallowed, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Jungkook's gaze. "I... I only meant—"

"Silence."

The single word was spoken softly, yet it cut through the air like a blade. The lieutenant froze, his mouth snapping shut as his face paled.

Jungkook rose slowly from his chair, his every movement deliberate and controlled. His presence seemed to fill the room, the air growing heavier with each step he took. He walked around the table, his polished expensive shoes clicking against the marble floor, until he stood directly behind the lieutenant.

He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, his grip firm but not painful. The gesture might have been comforting if it weren't for the chilling smile on Jungkook's face.

"Let me clear something to you," Jungkook said, his voice low and menacing. "Fear isn't just a weapon—it's the most effective form of control. It keeps people in line. It ensures loyalty. And it reminds everyone exactly who holds the power."

He leaned down slightly, his lips near the man's ear. "Do you know what happens to those who question my power?"

The lieutenant shook his head frantically, sweat dripping down his temple.

Jungkook straightened, stepping back. "Shadow," he said, his voice cold and commanding.

The room collectively held its breath.

Jimin moved without hesitation, stepping forward with a grace that belied his lethal intent. He approached the lieutenant, his expression cold and unyielding.

"Get up," Jimin said, his voice sharp and authoritative.

The lieutenant hesitated, his eyes darting to Jungkook as if hoping for mercy. There was none.

Jimin yanked the man out of his chair by his collar, dragging him across the room like a ragdoll. He threw him against the wall with a force that reverberated through the room, the impact so powerful that it left cracks in the plaster.

"Right hand—wait, please!" the lieutenant begged, his voice desperate and pleading.

Jimin didn't wait. He grabbed the man by the hair, slamming his head against the wall once, twice, until blood began to seep down the side of his face.

The room was silent except for the sickening sound of the man's skull meeting the wall.

"Did you think questioning the emperor would go unnoticed?" Jimin hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He twisted the man's arm behind his back, eliciting a scream of pain, the bone surely cracked, Jimin's strength was something inspite of his lean yet toned body.

"Enough," Jungkook said, his voice calm but final.

Jimin obeyed immediately, stepping back and releasing the man, who collapsed to the floor in a trembling, bloodied heap.

"Feed him alive to the lion," Jimin ordered coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Two guards stepped forward, grabbing the man by his arms and dragging him out of the room. His screams echoed down the hall as the heavy doors closed behind him, leaving the boardroom in an eerie silence.

Jungkook returned to his seat, his expression unreadable. He adjusted his cufflinks before addressing the room.

"Let this serve as a reminder," he began, his voice low but filled with authority. "This empire was built on my terms. My rules. My power. Anyone who dares to challenge that will meet the same fate as him—or worse."

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on each member for a moment, ensuring his message was understood.

"Do I make myself fucking clear?"

A chorus of murmured agreements filled the room as the members nodded, their fear palpable. As everyone bow down in their knees to the Supreme lord of underworld.

"Good," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair. "Now, get out of my sight."

The members filed out of the room quickly, their footsteps hurried as they avoided meeting Jungkook's gaze.

As the doors closed behind the last member, Jungkook let out a slow exhale. He glanced at Jimin, who was wiping his hands clean with a cloth.

"You didn't have to be so brutal," Jungkook said, though there was a faint smirk on his lips.

Jimin shrugged. "You wanted a message sent, Master. I made sure they received it."

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You truly are my shadow, Jimin."

Jimin met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Always, Master."

***

Meanwhile The Jeon Empire was a name that demanded reverence. Its foundation was built upon the bones of adversaries, and its legacy was cemented with unrelenting power. Hosting the Annual Gathering—a grand celebration where alliances were formed and rivalries were monitored—was not just a responsibility; it was an act of supremacy.

Every year different mafia clans take turns in hosting the grand ball. But once every five year it comes to the supreme Jeon Empire and this year, the ball returned to the Jeon Estate, the heart of the underworld's power. But tensions within the empire loomed large. Jeon Jungkook's lingering animosity toward Namjoon was palpable, and the emperor had no interest in engaging with the man who had once been his most trusted confidant.

In the heart of the Jeon Estate, Jungkook stood by the expansive window of his private quarters, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across his angular features. The emperor had called for Jimin, his tone leaving no room for delay. When Jimin entered, his composed demeanor betrayed no hint of surprise.

"You called, Master?" Jimin's voice was calm, but his posture was taut with readiness.

Jungkook turned slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto Jimin. "The Annual Gathering is upon us this year."

Jimin nodded. The weight of this event was not lost on him.

"I will not be personally involved in the arrangements," Jungkook continued, his tone laced with finality. "Namjoon and his partner will handle it, as per the duties."

Jimin's brow furrowed slightly. "Namjoon-ssi?"

"Yes," Jungkook said coldly, his jaw tightening. "But I have no desire to engage with him. You will oversee everything. They will answer to you."

The room grew heavy with silence as Jimin absorbed the emperor's words. "As you wish, Master," he replied.

Jungkook's gaze didn't waver. "Remind them of their place infront of you, if necessary. I expect no less than perfection."

Jimin's eyes glinted with an edge of steel. "I'll make sure they understand, Master."

The next morning, Jimin summoned Namjoon and Seokjin to the grand council room of the Jeon Estate. The air was thick with tension, the ornate room echoing with the sound of footsteps as Namjoon entered, his expression a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"What's this about?" Namjoon asked, his tone sharp as he took a seat beside Seokjin.

Jimin stood at the head of the table, his posture commanding. "The emperor has assigned you the responsibility of organizing the Annual Gathering," he stated plainly.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "And why isn't he telling me this himself?"

Jimin's gaze sharpened, and he took a deliberate step closer. "Because he doesn't need to. I'm here on his behalf. That should be enough for you."

Namjoon's lips curled into a smirk. "I see. So now I'm supposed to take orders from you?"

The air in the room seemed to grow colder. Jimin's voice dropped, each word razor-sharp. "Yes, Namjoon-ssi. You will take orders from me, Jeon Jimin—the emperor's spouse. And if you question that again, I'll make sure you remember who holds authority in this empire."

Namjoon's smirk faltered, but he recovered quickly. "Spouse or not, I'm not sure why I should listen to someone who—"

Before he could finish, Jimin moved with startling speed, slamming his hands onto the table. The impact reverberated through the room, silencing Namjoon mid-sentence and making him shiver at the sudden deadly impact.

"Do you think this is a negotiation?" Jimin growled, his voice low and menacing. "Your personal feelings doesn't matter here. You will follow the emperor's orders, even if they come from me. And if you can't, I'll ensure you understand the consequences. Trust me I'm very good at making people understand my words, you wouldn't want to let that happen to you?"

Namjoon's jaw tightened, his arrogance visibly cracking. Seokjin placed a calming hand on his arm, his voice soft but firm. "Namjoon, let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

Jimin straightened, his dark eyes burning with authority. "Good. Now, here's what you'll do."

As the meeting continued, Jimin laid out the detailed plans for the gathering, his instructions precise and unyielding. Namjoon, though visibly irritated, took notes silently, his defiance kept in check by Jimin's unwavering presence.

At one point, Namjoon muttered under his breath, "This is ridiculous."

Jimin's gaze snapped to him instantly. "What the fuck did you say?"

Namjoon hesitated, his bravado wavering. "Nothing."

Jimin smirked, his tone dripping with mockery. "Good. I'd hate for you to embarrass yourself further."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Jimin's authority loomed over them. Even Seokjin, who rarely showed unease, seemed wary of provoking the emperor's right hand.

After the Meeting

When Namjoon and Seokjin left the council room, Seokjin couldn't help but comment, "He's not the same Jimin we knew nine years ago."

Namjoon scoffed, his expression dark. "He's too much like Jungkook now.

"Are you getting us killed right after our marriage, you're not supposed to commit the sin by taking the emperor's name!" Seokjin hits Namjoon on his shoulder.

Later that evening, Jungkook watched from his balcony as the preparations began under Jimin's supervision. His sharp eyes followed Jimin's movements as he directed staff, corrected mistakes, and ensured everything met the emperor's exacting standards.

Hoseok approached, his usual smirk in place. "Looks like your spouse is doing your job for you."

Jungkook didn't respond, his gaze fixed on Jimin.

"You know," Hoseok continued, leaning casually against the railing, "he's scarier than you in some ways."

Jungkook's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "He's effective, ofcourse he has to be after all he's lucifer's shadow."

Hoseok chuckled. "Admit it, you're impressed."

Jungkook shot him a warning glance, but Hoseok's grin only widened.

As the preparations wrapped up for the day, Jimin found himself standing alone in the grand ballroom. The weight of his new role as the emperor's spouse pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he wore it with pride.

***

Jeon Jungkook was not a man of many words, especially when it came to emotions. For years, he had lived a life dominated by authority, precision, and power. But as he sat in his chamber that afternoon, fingers tracing the intricate embroidery of his silk robe, a thought struck him—a rare thought of consideration for someone other than himself. His spouse now, Jeon Jimin, had always been a loyal shadow by his side, and now, with the upcoming ball, it was time for him to look the part of the emperor's spouse.

The soft chime of Jimin's phone interrupted the quiet afternoon. His eyes drifted to the screen, and his breath caught for a moment—Jeon Jungkook. The emperor rarely called, let alone directly. Questions stirred in his mind as he answered, his tone polite yet curious.

"Come to my chamber," Jungkook said, his voice clipped yet laced with an unspoken weight.

There was no further explanation, no preamble. He hung up, leaving Jimin to wonder.

Jimin, startled by the call, felt a flicker of curiosity. Jungkook's chambers were sacred—no one, absolutely no one, was allowed to enter freely. For nine years, this space had been Jungkook's untouchable sanctuary, where even his closest allies dared not intrude. So far only Jimin was rarely allowed, very few times, other than the cleaning staff.

When Jimin stepped into the room, he was greeted by a sight few had ever witnessed: the emperor himself lounging in a crimson silk robe, the fabric draped over his powerful frame with effortless grace. The soft golden light of the setting sun streamed through the tall windows, casting an ethereal glow around Jungkook as if the heavens themselves bowed to him.

Jungkook stood near the grand window, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating his form, the fabric whispering against his skin with every slight movement. The robe, embroidered with golden dragons, symbolized his unyielding dominance and authority. His bare chest peeked through the loosely tied knot at his waist, a stark reminder of his physical prowess, while the subtle ripple of his muscles beneath the silk exuded an air of quiet menace.

Jimin couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the luxurious robe and the deadly aura that surrounded its wearer. Jungkook looked every bit the emperor, a man who wielded power with the same ease as he wore that robe. It was both unnerving and captivating, a sight that demanded reverence and fear in equal measure.

The chamber was silent except for the faint rustle of the robe as Jungkook turned, his dark eyes locking onto Jimin. In that moment, Jimin realized the weight of what it meant to be the only person granted access to this space—to the emperor's innermost sanctum. It was a privilege, yes, but also a reminder of the distance Jungkook kept from the world, even from those closest to him.

"You called, Your Majesty?" Jimin asked, his voice calm, though his heartbeat quickened.

Jungkook's dark eyes lifted to meet Jimin's, sharp and assessing. "We're going out."

Jimin blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Out?" he repeated, as if the word were foreign coming from Jungkook's lips.

"Yes. To find your outfit for the ball." Jungkook's tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Jimin tilted his head, his initial surprise giving way to suspicion. Jungkook never accompanied anyone on trivial errands, much less for something as mundane as clothes shopping. "What? I....... Are you sure this isn't something the staff can handle, master?"

Jungkook's jaw clenched slightly, a clear sign that he was not in the mood for questioning. "Do I look unsure to you?"

Jimin suppressed a smirk. "No, master."

"Good.Don't waste my time, get ready."

Jungkook's Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail is a masterpiece of automotive craftsmanship, earning its place as no 1 in the list of most expensive cars in the world worth 2,90,76,634.05 United States Dollars , a symbol of understated opulence and flooding ocean like wealth of the owner, a stark reminder of the man Jeon Jungkook who owned this luxury, awaited them at the estate's grand entrance. The sleek black exterior gleamed under the sunlight, a reflection of its owner's exacting standards.

Jimin hesitated for a moment as Jungkook gestured for him to sit in the passenger seat. It wasn't every day that the emperor himself personally chauffeured anyone, let alone his spouse.

"You're driving?" Jimin asked, unable to hide his disbelief.

"Get in," Jungkook said curtly, sliding into the driver's seat with effortless grace.

As the car purred to life, Jimin found himself stealing glances at Jungkook. The man who commanded armies, crushed rebellions, and ruled the underworld with an iron fist was now casually driving through the city streets, his silk robe replaced by a fitted black turtleneck and tailored trousers. The sight was so out of the ordinary that Jimin couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through his chest.

"You're unusually quiet," Jungkook remarked, his eyes fixed on the road.

Jimin shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Just... surprised, I guess. I didn't think you'd personally take me shopping."

Jungkook's fingers tightened slightly on the wheel. "You're married to me now. You represent me. It's only fitting that I ensure you look the part, nothing much to think on."

Though his words were practical, there was an unspoken layer beneath them—one that Jimin couldn't quite decipher.

The Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the Louis Vuitton flagship grand showroom, where an elite team of staff had been alerted to the emperor's arrival. The moment Jungkook stepped out, the air shifted. Heads turned, whispers spread like wildfire, and the staff lined up at the entrance, bowing deeply as the emperor and his spouse entered.

"Welcome, Your Majesty," the store manager greeted, her voice trembling slightly despite her practiced professionalism.

Jungkook ignored the pleasantries, his piercing gaze sweeping the showroom. "I need your finest red outfits," he commanded, his voice authoritative yet calm. "Something worthy of Jeon Jimin."

Jimin's eyes widened slightly at the emphasis on his name. The staff scrambled to comply, bringing out racks of the most exquisite suits and ensembles, each more opulent than the last.

Jimin was ushered into a private fitting room, where a parade of outfits awaited him. As he tried on each piece, Jungkook sat in a plush armchair, his eyes scrutinizing every detail with the precision of a predator assessing its prey.

The first outfit was a classic red tuxedo with subtle gold accents and velvet red fabric.

"No," Jungkook said simply, his gaze unwavering.

The second was a bold, avant-garde piece with exaggerated shoulders and plain lush fabric.

"Too boring."

Third one was plain and classic red suit, with white shirt beneath. Jungkook just snaps his fingers dismissing the look.

"Not good enough, quite simple." to which Jimin raises an eyebrow, as he pleads 'master please!' Jimin mouths to Jungkook that he doesn't wanna try more but was met with a sharp glare as he went inside the trial room to change into fourth one.

The fourth was a sleek crimson suit, tailored to perfection, with a high collar and a slightly open front that exuded both elegance and allure.

Jungkook leaned forward, his eyes darkening with approval. "That one."

Jimin stepped out of the fitting room wearing the selected suit. The rich red fabric hugged his figure like a second skin, the high collar adding a touch of regality while the open front hinted at bold confidence. The slight shimmer of the material caught the light, making him look like a living embodiment of fire and desire.

"It's... perfect," Jimin murmured, admiring himself in the mirror.

Jungkook's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Of course it is. You'll wear that to the ball."

As the staff began packing the suit, Jungkook stood and addressed them again. "Bring out your entire collection. I want the best of every color in his size."

Make sure it's delivered to the estate immediately."

Jimin's eyes widened. "That's not necessary—"

Jungkook shot him a sharp look. "Did I ask for you to intervene ?"

Jimin bit his lip, realizing it was futile to argue.

Jungkook's voice softened slightly as he added, "You're not just anyone, Jimin. From now on, you'll dress like Jeon Jimin. No more black and white uniforms. Understood?"

"And you add everything in which his gaze falls upon and other things to his liking." Jungkook ordered to the manager who was wiping his sweat infront of the Mafia Emperor. As Jungkook walked away to take some business call.
Jimin was in shock and amusement, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and something deeper—something he wasn't ready to name.

As they left the store, the staff bowed once again, their whispers following the couple out. The sight of Jeon Jungkook, the emperor of the underworld, personally selecting outfits for his spouse was a spectacle no one would forget.

Back in the car, Jimin glanced at Jungkook, his heart still racing. "Thank you," he said softly.

Jungkook didn't respond immediately. He simply started the car, his expression unreadable. But as they drove back to the estate, Jimin couldn't shake the feeling that, in his own quiet way, Jungkook was beginning to show him something that went beyond duty—something that felt dangerously close to care.

The staff, visibly nervous yet determined to meet the emperor's demands, nodded rapidly, bowing as they whispered orders to each other. Soon, racks of designer outfits were being pulled toward them, boxes of luxury accessories stacked and sorted in record time.

Jimin stood frozen, trying to process what was happening. "This is too much," he murmured, his voice almost drowned out by the flurry of activity.

Jungkook's sharp gaze found him instantly. "It's not. You're Jeon Jimin now. You deserve nothing less."

The words hung in the air, sending a strange flutter through Jimin's chest. He could feel the weight of Jungkook's authority behind every syllable, but beneath it all, there was something else—a quiet insistence, almost as if Jungkook was trying to convey something unspoken.

As more and more luxurious items were brought out, Jimin felt his composure slipping. The sight of silk-lined Dior suits, Chanel's iconic accessories, and Louis Vuitton's leather pieces—all meticulously curated to fit his size—left him feeling overwhelmed.

He ran his fingers over the smooth fabric of one jacket, the craftsmanship impeccable. His gaze fell on a collection of watches adorned with diamonds and gold, their sheer extravagance almost dizzying. Watches more expensive than Rolex were there infront of him.

"I can't possibly wear all this," Jimin muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"You will," Jungkook said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jimin looked up at him, his brows furrowed. "Why are you doing this master....?"

Jungkook took a step closer, his dark eyes piercing. "Because I won't have anyone questioning your place beside me. When they see you at the ball—or anywhere—they'll know exactly who you are: Jeon Jimin, my husband."

Jimin's breath hitched at the intensity of Jungkook's words. He wasn't sure what to say or how to react. A part of him wanted to protest further, to insist that he didn't need such extravagance. But another part—the quieter, more vulnerable part—felt something warm bloom in his chest.

As the final arrangements were being made, Jungkook turned to Jimin one last time. "And Jimin," he said, his voice soft yet commanding, "from now on, if you even have thoughts of having something you like, take it. Don't hesitate. Don't second-guess yourself. I don't like repeating myself follow your Master's command."

Jimin could only nod, his heart pounding. He felt utterly out of his depth, caught between the overwhelming gesture and the sheer presence of the man standing beside him.

By the time they left the boutique, the Rolls-Royce was filled with countless bags and boxes, each carrying the weight of Jungkook's silent declaration. Jimin leaned back in his seat, his fingers brushing against one of the boxes absentmindedly.

He still didn't fully understand Jungkook's motivations, but one thing was clear: his life as Jeon Jimin was only just beginning, and it was a world away from the Right hand of Jeon Empire he used to be. Well he was even lost in admiring his hot and beautifully scary husband.

To be continued.........

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