Serena exhaled softly, adjusting the clutch in her hands as she stood near one of the grand marble pillars, her gaze drifting over the dazzling ballroom.

Ethan had excused himself moments ago, murmuring about needing to meet some important guests. She had simply nodded, not wanting to be a burden. But now, standing alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces, she felt slightly out of place.

Elegant laughter and polite conversations swirled around her, the clinking of wine glasses blending seamlessly with the soft melody playing in the background. The golden chandeliers above cast a warm glow over the guests, their expensive outfits shimmering under the lights.

Serena, however, remained in her quiet corner, observing everything with a curious yet detached expression. It wasn’t that she wasn’t enjoying the party—on the contrary, everything was breathtaking—but without Ethan by her side, she felt like an outsider looking in.

She sighed, absentmindedly brushing a hand over the smooth fabric of her dress, her fingers tracing the delicate embroidery.

And that was when his eyes found her.

There she was.

A vision in soft pink, standing alone yet commanding the attention of the universe itself.

His eyes roamed over her, completely mesmerized. The dress clung to her in the most effortless way, accentuating the delicate curves of her body. The off-shoulder design left her collarbones exposed, the gentle dip of her neckline teasing just enough to make something unspoken coil in the pit of his stomach. The silky fabric pooled at her feet like a whisper, moving with her every subtle shift.

But it wasn’t just the dress.

It was her.

Her deep ocean-green eyes held an unreadable depth, their intensity clashing beautifully with the softness of her features. They were like stormy waters—capable of pulling someone in, drowning them without mercy. Her lashes framed them perfectly, casting the faintest shadows against her skin. And then there were her lips—rosy and full, slightly parted as if she had just whispered a secret to the air.

 He found himself wondering how they would taste, how they would feel—damn.

Jungkook clenched his jaw

He hadn’t even realized that he had stopped listening to the person beside him. The world around him had blurred into insignificance, every sound drowned out by the pounding in his chest.

She had no idea.

No idea what she was doing to him.

No idea of the storm she had evoked inside him with just her presence.

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt an unfamiliar pull—a gravitational force so strong it defied logic.

It was unsettling.

And yet, he couldn’t look away.

Serena remained oblivious to his stare, still lost in her own quiet world. But Jungkook?

Jungkook was lost in her.

Serena had barely taken a step forward when a firm hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in place.

She turned in surprise, eyes widening as she found herself face to face with Jungkook once again. His fingers curled around her skin with a certain possessiveness—not painful, but firm enough to make it clear that he wasn’t about to let her walk away just yet.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice low and almost urgent.

Serena blinked, confused. "What?"

Before he could say anything, the loud voice of the MC echoed through the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the first dance of the evening! We invite everyone to join us on the dance floor."

Applause erupted around them as couples started moving toward the center, eager to partake in the moment. But Jungkook? He didn’t even think. The next words left his lips instinctively—without a single ounce of hesitation.

"Dance with me."

Serena’s eyes widened. "What—?"

She was about to decline when suddenly—his grip tightened.

Firm. Unyielding. Possessive.

Before she could say another word, he pulled her toward the dance floor.

Serena’s breath hitched, her body momentarily freezing as she felt herself being guided into the middle of the grand ballroom. She had no choice but to follow, not wanting to create a scene. He was an idol, a celebrity. He had an image to maintain. If she resisted too much, she might embarrass him in front of everyone.

So she let him lead her.

But Jungkook?

He didn’t care about any of that.

The moment his fingers closed around her wrist, the moment he pulled her into his world, everything else ceased to exist.

The murmurs started instantly.

Every single person in the room turned their eyes to him.

The journalists. The executives. The producers. The fellow idols. The camera lenses. The flashing lights.

He could already feel the storm brewing.

He knew exactly what this looked like. Knew that this was too bold, too reckless. Knew that by tomorrow morning, headlines would be flooded with speculations.

But he fucking didn’t care.

For the first time in his life, none of it mattered.

Not his image.

Not the consequences.

Not the fucking world watching his every move.

Because right now—the only thing that mattered was her.

Serena.

As he led her to the center of the dance floor, his grip softened but never loosened. The music began, soft and enchanting, filling the air with an intoxicating melody. Jungkook turned toward her, his dark eyes locking onto hers.

Serena swallowed hard, still processing the situation, but before she could react—

His hands found her waist.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Jungkook’s touch was warm, grounding, but dangerously unfamiliar.

Serena hesitated for a moment before placing her hands on his shoulders, following the dance's rhythm. Their bodies moved in sync, fluid yet careful, as they swayed to the music.

At first, Serena kept a respectable distance, her body slightly stiff. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to him.

But Jungkook? He was lost.

Completely.

His fingers subtly tightened on her waist, pulling her just a little closer, enough to feel her warmth seep into him. His eyes never left her face—not even once.

Her deep ocean-green eyes held no infatuation, no nervousness, no hidden feelings.

And it drove him insane.

Every single woman he had danced with before had melted under his gaze, their faces betraying excitement, admiration, desire. But Serena?

She was unfazed.

And somehow, that only made his grip on her grow tighter.

As they continued moving, Jungkook subtly leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You’re good at this."

But serena didn't say anything she just looked around hoping this would end soon

Jungkook smirked 

"Are you always this quiet?" 

he asked, his deep voice laced with curiosity.

 "I just… don’t know what to say." Serena replied after moment 

"Is it because of me?"

She hesitated, then gave the softest nod. 

"A little."

His lips twitched in amusement.

 "You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite."

Serena let out a tiny laugh, shaking her head. 

"It’s not that. It’s just… you’re someone the whole world knows. People admire you, they dream of moments like this with you. But standing here with you like this… you feel different."

Jungkook frowned slightly. 

"Different how?"

Her gaze softened, as if she was choosing her words carefully. 

"You don’t feel untouchable… you feel real."

Jungkook stiffened.

Real.

No one had ever said that to him before.

Serena looked at him with those deep ocean-green eyes, so full of sincerity it almost hurt. 

"I wonder… do you ever get tired?"

He blinked, caught off guard.

 "Tired?"

She nodded, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

 "Of… everything. Of being in the spotlight all the time. Of always having to be someone for the world. Do you ever feel like… just being yourself isn’t enough?"

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

No one had ever asked him that.

Jungkook swallowed, his grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly. 

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it."

Serena smiled gently, a softness in her eyes that made something inside him ache. 

"Maybe one day… you should."

Jungkook just stared at her, his heart doing something unfamiliar in his chest.

Why did she feel different?

Why did her words stick?

Before he could say anything more, a voice interrupted them.

"Sera"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he turned to see Ethan standing there, a polite yet firm smile on his face.

"I hope I’m not interrupting," 

Ethan said, his tone light but his eyes steady. 

"But I need to steal Serena back now."

Jungkook didn’t say anything as Ethan reached out and took Serena’s hand, gently but possessively.

Serena turned to Jungkook with a soft, grateful smile. 

"Thank you for the dance."

Jungkook could only nod, his throat tight.

And just like that, she was gone.

Ethan led her away, back into the crowd, and Jungkook just stood there, staring at her retreating figure.

A strange emptiness settled in his chest.

His hands felt cold.

His arms felt empty.

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt something slip through his fingers. And he didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

Namjoon had been watching from the moment Jungkook took Serena onto the dance floor. 

He observed the way Jungkook’s hold on Serena had been firm yet careful, as if she was something precious, something he didn’t even realize he wanted to protect. The way Jungkook had looked at her—not with fleeting attraction or simple admiration, but with raw, unguarded emotion. It was rare. Too rare.

Namjoon had known Jungkook for years. He had seen him in every state—joyful, exhausted, focused, indifferent. But this? This was something new.

Jungkook had always been good at maintaining control, at keeping himself composed no matter the situation. But tonight, for the first time, Namjoon saw something slip. A crack in the armor. A storm brewing in his eyes that even Jungkook himself might not have realized was there.

And now, as Serena disappeared into the crowd with Ethan, Namjoon noticed the way Jungkook just stood there. Frozen. Silent. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists as if trying to grasp onto something he had already lost.

Namjoon exhaled quietly, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Namjoon approached Jungkook, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he stood beside him. He leaned in slightly and spoke in a calm yet firm voice.

“If you don’t want your pictures—and hers—plastered all over tomorrow’s headlines, I suggest you go and dance with someone else. The stunt you just pulled has already caught too many eyes. If you don’t act now, the media will turn this into something bigger than you can control.”

Jungkook barely spared him a glance, his jaw tightening as he responded bluntly, without hesitation.

“I don’t care.”

Namjoon sighed, shaking his head. He had expected this response.

“Look, I get it. You’re caught up in the moment, but this isn’t just about you, Jungkook. That girl——she’s not from our world. She didn’t sign up for this kind of attention. Right now, every journalist, every camera in this room is looking for a story, and you just handed them one. If you don’t redirect their focus, things could get messy for her. Is that what you want?”

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. He knew Namjoon was right. Even if he didn’t care about himself, Serena wasn’t used to this kind of scrutiny.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and scanned the room. The first woman he saw—a stunning socialite who had been eyeing him all night—was standing nearby. Without thinking, he walked up to her and extended his hand.

“Dance with me.”

The woman, caught off guard yet pleased, smiled and took his hand, letting him lead her onto the floor. But as they danced, Jungkook felt nothing. No spark, no interest.

His mind was elsewhere.

---

The dim glow of the bar cast long shadows across the room, the scent of expensive whiskey mixing with the lingering remnants of cologne. Jungkook sat slouched on the plush leather couch, a half-empty glass clutched in his fingers, his jaw set tight. His dark eyes burned with something dangerous, restless.

The ice in his drink had long since melted, but the fire inside him refused to die.

He couldn't get her out of his head.

That girl.

Serena.

A sharp knock echoed against the heavy wooden door, but Jungkook didn’t bother acknowledging it.

It swung open anyway.

Namjoon stepped in, taking in the mess—the empty bottles, the discarded jacket, the tension thick in the air. He exhaled slowly, shutting the door behind him before walking over.

“This is getting out of hand,” 

Namjoon muttered, eyeing the whiskey bottle Jungkook reached for.

Jungkook ignored him, pouring another drink.

“What the hell is going on with you?”

Jungkook took a slow sip before finally looking up, his gaze dark, unreadable.

Namjoon sighed, his patience wearing thin.

“Is it about that girl?”

Jungkook’s fingers twitched.

That was all the confirmation Namjoon needed.

He pulled out a chair and sat across from him, studying Jungkook’s expression—the wildness in his eyes, the storm raging beneath the surface.

“Who is she?”

 Namjoon asked.

Jungkook let out a bitter chuckle, leaning back, head tilting up as he dragged a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I don’t know,” 

he muttered, his voice rough, like gravel scraping against metal.

Namjoon frowned.

“You don’t know?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, sitting forward now, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink.

“I don’t know a damn thing about her, hyung,” 

he said, voice low but carrying a weight Namjoon couldn’t ignore.

“Just one thing.”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes.

“And what’s that?”

Jungkook’s lips twisted into something dark, something almost possessive.

“That she’s Ethan’s girlfriend.”

Namjoon blinked, stunned for a moment.

Then his expression hardened.

“Ethan?”

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah.” 

He grabbed his glass again, taking another slow sip before setting it down.

 “That background musician. The one who plays for concerts. I saw her that night, hyung. And since that damn moment, she—” He broke off, shaking his head as if furious at himself.

Namjoon could see it now—this wasn’t some passing interest. This was something else.

“Jungkook,” 

he warned, his voice low.

But Jungkook wasn’t listening.

His fingers curled into fists as he leaned forward, his dark eyes flickering with something close to madness.

“She’s messing with my fucking head.”

His voice was strained, heavy with frustration, as if he couldn’t believe the effect she had on him.

“It’s been hours, hyung—just hours—and I can’t get her out of my mind.”

Namjoon stayed silent, watching him carefully.

Jungkook let out a sharp breath, leaning back again, his muscles tensed as if restraining himself from something he couldn’t even name.

“She was there,” 

he continued, his voice lower now, but no less intense. 

“Standing next to him, looking at him like he was her whole fucking world. And I—”

He clenched his jaw.

“I hated it.”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened.

“You hated it?”

Jungkook gave a slow nod, his tongue running over his lower lip, frustration evident in the way his fingers drummed against the glass.

“It pissed me off, hyung. Watching her with him. Watching him touch her. Like she belonged to him.”

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Jungkook, listen to yourself.”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped to him, something unhinged swirling in their depths.

“You  know how it sounds. it’s fucking wrong.”

His voice was almost a growl now.

“But I don’t care.”

Namjoon inhaled deeply, choosing his next words carefully.

“She’s his, Jungkook.”

“She’s not.”

Jungkook’s response was immediate, sharp.

Namjoon stared at him.

“She’s with him. That makes her his.”

Jungkook’s grip on his glass tightened, the veins in his arms becoming more pronounced.

“Then why the hell do I feel like she should be mine?”

Namjoon froze.

Jungkook ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his breathing heavier now.

“I don’t fucking know her. I don’t even know what kind of person she is. But ever since I saw her, I haven’t been able to think straight.”

His voice dropped lower, rougher.

“She’s in my damn veins, hyung.”

Namjoon exhaled through his nose, his patience thin.

“You need to stop this before it’s too late.”

Jungkook laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Too late?” He shook his head. “It’s already too late.”

A te

nse silence stretched between them.

Then, Jungkook met Namjoon’s eyes, and when he spoke next, it was final.

“I want her, hyung.”

His fingers tapped against the glass, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“I want her anyhow.”

Namjoon sighed, running a hand over his face.

“You’re losing it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook smirked, but there was no amusement—just cold, dark determination.

“Maybe.”

But he didn’t care.

Because at the end of the day—

He wanted her.

And nothing else mattered.