Jungkook stood in front of the sleek glass building, his breath hitching as he looked up at the towering headquarters of ValenCorps Global. The name alone echoed through every business magazine he had ever flipped through in his college library. It was a giant, a force dominating everything from finance to tech, and somehow, he had landed an interview here.
He tightened his grip on the worn file folder in his hands. Inside were his documents, every certificate, every letter of recommendation, every sliver of effort he had poured into his future. His reflection in the glass revealed a boyish face trying hard to look like a man. His eyes were slightly red from lack of sleep, and the button-up shirt he wore was a size too big.
He couldn't afford a new one. Even the bus fare had swallowed most of the money he had left after last week's disaster. His ribs still ached from hitting the pavement, and the memory of the eggs he had cradled shattering across the road stung all over again.
But this wasn't the moment to dwell on broken things.
Straightening himself, he exhaled slowly and stepped forward. The sliding doors parted with a soft whisper, letting in a breeze of cool, conditioned air that carried the scent of clean linen, polished leather, and expensive perfume.
He tried not to stare, but the lobby felt like a different universe. Marble floors gleamed like water. Chrome fixtures caught the light. An enormous chandelier sparkled overhead like the opening scene of a drama. Three receptionists stood behind the long desk, their matching suits sharp enough to cut.
Jungkook approached the front desk and bowed politely. "Jeon Jungkook. I have an interview for the secretary position."
The receptionist smiled, polite but detached. "Of course. Please take a seat, Mr. Jeon. You will be called shortly."
He settled into a leather chair far too luxurious for someone like him. Around him sat people dressed in tailored suits and polished shoes. One woman scrolled confidently through her tablet. Another man checked the time on a gleaming Rolex. Jungkook tugged at the sleeves of his oversized shirt and silently rehearsed his answers.
He didn't know who he would be working under. The job posting had been vague: Immediate hire for a personal secretary at ValenCorps HQ. Must be flexible, discreet, and adaptable to a fast-paced environment. He assumed it would be some overworked executive, someone who needed a pair of hands more than anything else.
He could handle that. He had to handle that.
Outside, the sky had turned smoky gray. Rain began to patter against the glass, soft at first, then heavy enough to blur the world beyond. Jungkook glanced at his scuffed sneakers, painfully aware of how out of place he looked. Still, his determination only hardened. He didn't come to Seoul to feel small. He came to prove something.
Minutes ticked by until the receptionist finally called his name. "Mr. Jeon? Room 47B on the third floor."
He stood, gave another small bow, and walked toward the elevators. He had no idea that behind those polished doors, his fate was already wrapped tightly with the man he thought he had left behind on the pavement. But that meeting was not yet. For now, it was just him, his ambition, and a hunger that refused to die. ValenCorps would either make him or break him.
Meanwhile, on the top floor, the atmosphere was suffocating. The clock on the wall ticked with a merciless rhythm. The wide, glass-lined hallway of the executive level felt colder than the floors below. The bold gold letters reading ValenCorps Global glimmered against the morning light.
In his cramped apartment earlier, Jungkook's heart had pounded with anticipation, not fear. He hadn't slept well. The accident had replayed again and again, cracking whatever confidence he had left. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, one of the few decent ones he had brought from Busan.
This is it, he had whispered to his reflection, trying to steady himself. Come on, Kook. You've got this. He had checked in, thanked the receptionist, and sat among candidates who looked born for rooms like this. He had straightened his collar and forced himself not to shrink.
Several floors above him, however, tension brewed like a storm about to break. Kim Taehyung stood in the center of his office, anger radiating off him in waves. His fists were clenched, his jaw sharp enough to cut through steel. Papers were scattered across his desk: mock-ups, lazy designs, and halfhearted proposals. He didn't bother hiding his disgust.
"You call this fashion? My intern could have sketched better at twelve!" he snapped. His voice echoed off marble and glass, and the entire design team flinched.
"We lost the Nakamura account. Do you understand what that means? Months of pitching. A global client. And you brought me this disaster."
He slammed his hand onto the table, making one of the designers yelp. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.
"Sir, we thought…" one of them began.
"You thought wrong," Taehyung said, voice low and sharp like a blade. "This company did not become number one because of thoughts. It survives on results. Now get out. All of you."
They did not wait this time. Chairs scraped, papers fluttered, and the entire team practically fled the room. When the door closed, the silence was thick. Taehyung's chest rose and fell, but the anger pulsing through him was only partly about the failed designs. The rest of it burned far deeper.
That boy. That bloody boy!
The boy with defiant eyes and a cheap bike that dented his car. That nobody who dared to speak to him like an equal.
That kid who looked him straight in the face without fear, even though Taehyung could crush his entire life with a single signature.
The office phone rang, slicing through the tension. He exhaled slowly, jaw tight, looking at the broken pen in his fingers. He had snapped it clean in half.
"This better be important," he muttered as he picked up the phone.
"Sir, the candidate for the personal secretary position is here. He is early. Should I tell him to wait…?"
Taehyung pinched the bridge of his nose. His day was already collapsing. He needed a new secretary after the last one quit crying in the elevator. He had no patience left for new faces.
"Send his resume to my screen," he said.
The file opened. A name. A picture.
His hand froze. That face. The boy. The same infuriatingly defiant eyes staring back at him from the screen. Taehyung's jaw clenched. The irritation in his chest shifted into something darker, heavier, almost amused.
"Well," he whispered as he pushed up from his chair. "Fate really wants to test me today."
He left his office without another word, ignoring the receptionist's startled expression as he walked past. His stride was sharp, precise. He needed to see the boy. He needed to see if he was really foolish enough to walk into the lion's den without a hint of fear.
"I do not need your pity."
The words echoed in Taehyung's head even now. No one had spoken to him like that in decades. No one had looked him in the eye like he was just a man and not a storm people crossed themselves to avoid.
Jeon Jungkook.
The name repeated in his mind as he walked down the corridor, heels hitting the marble floor in a steady rhythm that sounded like something dangerous approaching.
Ordinary name. Ordinary kid.
But when Taehyung saw that picture, something inside him had tightened. Twenty one. Barely an adult. Still soft around the edges. Still untouched by the real world.
Taehyung dragged a hand through his hair, irritation simmering. He was turning thirty nine next month. He carried power and age like weapons. People twice Jungkook's age bowed to him. So what was a twenty one year old doing standing up to him like he was nothing special?
Ignorance. That is what it was. Blissful and stupid.
He thought of the street. The shattered eggs. Jungkook's guilt. And the way guilt suddenly twisted into defiance.
That switch. That spark. That moment.
It kept replaying in his mind no matter how much he tried to ignore it. And now the boy was here. In his building. Within his reach. And Taehyung had absolutely no idea why, but something in him refused to let this go.