Chapter Text
The grand hall of the royal palace shimmered under a thousand lanterns, the evening alive with music and laughter as nobles and royals swayed in graceful dances. Tonight was the birthday ball of Crown Prince Kim Yoongi, the kingdom’s most powerful alpha, yet all eyes were inevitably drawn to one figure—the radiant Kim Seokjin.
Seokjin, son of the prime minister, was the most desired omega in the kingdom. His beauty was unmatched: porcelain skin, plush pink lips, and captivating doe-like eyes that could bring even the most hardened alpha to his knees. He moved through the hall with the grace of a swan, his robes embroidered with silver threads shimmering with every step.
Alphas vied for his attention, their gazes trailing after him like shadows, but Seokjin dismissed them all with a flick of his wrist or a quirk of his brow. He was prideful, sassy, and fully aware of his worth. No one rejected Seokjin. No one.
And yet, tonight, he found himself utterly ignored by him.
Kim Namjoon, the king’s second son, a true-blooded alpha with a reputation as cold and indifferent as his striking dragon-like gaze. Namjoon was tall and broad-shouldered, with the rugged looks of a warrior and a demeanor that screamed disinterest in the politics of the court. He was rarely seen at the palace, preferring his life on the outskirts of the kingdom. And now, as he stood against the far wall, sipping wine and watching the ball unfold with a neutral face, Seokjin’s heart fluttered at the mere sight of him.
Namjoon had arrived late, as usual, drawing attention without even trying. The moment Seokjin’s eyes fell on him, his omega instincts flared. This alpha—so aloof, so untouchable—was exactly who he wanted.
Seokjin’s confidence swelled. No one rejected him.
Striding purposefully, Seokjin made his way toward Namjoon, the silky train of his robe flowing behind him. He stopped in front of the alpha, who merely glanced at him before shifting his gaze back to the hall without a word.
“Happy birthday to your brother,” Seokjin purred, tilting his head to one side, lips curving into a smile that had charmed dozens of suitors before. “And here you are, brooding against the wall, so handsome yet so alone. Isn’t that a waste?”
Namjoon didn’t even spare him a second glance.
“Not interested.” His voice was deep, calm, and dismissive.
Seokjin froze, the air momentarily knocked from his lungs. His smile faltered. Not interested?
A blush of humiliation and fury crept up Seokjin’s neck as Namjoon turned his back on him entirely, folding his arms.
How dare he.
For the first time in his life, someone had dared to brush him aside as though he were unworthy of their attention. Seokjin scoffed silently, eyes narrowing. “You wait and watch what I’m going to do to you,” he hissed to himself before spinning on his heels.
The omega stormed to the center of the hall, where the dancers had cleared, and with the poise of a seasoned actor, he fainted.
Gasps erupted around the hall as Seokjin crumpled like a delicate flower to the marble floor.
“Seokjin!” cried a nearby noble. The music halted, and within moments, the prime minister’s son was surrounded by a flurry of concerned guests.
“Is he alright? Someone fetch a healer!”
Seokjin let out the faintest, most fragile whimper, fluttering his lashes as pearl-like tears welled up in his wide eyes. “I… I’m pregnant,” he whispered, just loud enough for the nearest alphas to hear.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
“Pregnant?!” a voice gasped.
The king, a proud yet stern man who had always considered Seokjin like his own child, came storming toward the scene with a dark expression, flanked by Seokjin’s mortified father. “What is the meaning of this?” the king demanded.
Seokjin, his performance flawless, trembled like a leaf under the weight of the king’s gaze. “Y-Your Majesty… I-I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammered, voice quivering. “I… I’ve been taken advantage of.”
The king’s face darkened further. “Who did this to you?” he thundered. “Who dared touch you, Kim Seokjin? Speak, and I shall see them punished!”
Seokjin swallowed, gaze lowering as he shook, his tears finally spilling like dew drops. Then, shakily, he lifted a trembling hand and pointed across the room.
Every head turned toward the far wall where Namjoon still stood, expression unchanging but now fully alert. His sharp gaze widened, just a fraction, as he realized the omega’s finger was aimed squarely at him.
The hall erupted in shocked murmurs.
“Kim Namjoon?!”
The king’s face went crimson with anger as he roared, “KIM NAMJOON!”
Namjoon straightened, his jaw clenching as the king stormed toward him. “Is this what you’ve been doing all this time behind my back?!” the king bellowed. “Sneaking into balls, seducing omegas, and leaving them with child? How dare you bring such shame to this family!”
Namjoon’s brows furrowed. “Your Majesty, I—”
“Silence!”
The prime minister groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Seokjin… what have you done?” he whispered under his breath.
The king’s fury was uncontainable. “This disgrace cannot go unpunished. You will take responsibility for your actions, Namjoon.” He turned back to Seokjin, his tone softening. “Seokjin, my dear, do not worry. Namjoon will do right by you. I order him to marry you immediately.”
Seokjin’s smirk was hidden behind his tear-stained hands, but inwardly, his pride sang with triumph.
Namjoon stared at the omega in disbelief as Seokjin finally glanced up, their gazes locking. Behind his doe-like innocence, Seokjin’s eyes danced with mischief, daring Namjoon to defy him.
The mighty alpha could only let out a quiet, resigned sigh as the court erupted in a chorus of murmurs and excitement.
The omega had won. For now.
🍁🍁🍁
The temple glowed with the golden hue of candlelight, soft hymns echoing under the high domed ceilings as the Moon Goddess’s statue loomed behind the altar. Seokjin stood there, draped in ivory silk robes with golden embroidery that shimmered like stardust, his delicate fingers trembling slightly as he held the ceremonial bouquet. This was his moment. The plan had worked. He’d faked a faint, declared a fake pregnancy, and somehow landed himself the kingdom’s most elusive alpha.
But why did his heart pound like this now?
Across from him, Kim Namjoon stood tall in traditional black wedding garb lined with deep maroon. His dragon eyes were unreadable, his expression calm—too calm. He was every inch the royal alpha, following the priest’s commands without hesitation.
“I vow to love, protect, and cherish you, under the eyes of the Moon Goddess,” Namjoon said, his voice deep and unwavering, though his gaze barely softened.
Seokjin stared up at him, lips parting slightly. He really said it. Even though this was all a trick, he’d done it—made vows like a real mate.
Was this how victory was supposed to feel? Then why was his stomach in knots?
The priest declared, “Seal your vows with a kiss.”
Namjoon stepped forward. His large hand cupped Seokjin’s cheek with featherlight care, tilting his face up. And before Seokjin could even prepare his heart, warm lips brushed against his. It was gentle, respectful—and over far too quickly.
But Seokjin’s cheeks reddened like an overripe plum. That… was my first kiss.
The ceremony continued. They bowed to the Moon Goddess, then to their elders. One by one, they approached the small circle of guests. Only close family and a few loyal cousins had been invited on such short notice.
The King—still fuming—barely nodded when they bowed to him. Namjoon didn’t even flinch. He accepted the glare like it was a routine royal breakfast.
Minister Kim, Seokjin’s father, sighed with a long-suffering expression, whispering, “You're lucky you’re beautiful, child.”
At the banquet, Seokjin decided to test the waters. Namjoon sat beside him like a statue, the only movement was the slow, elegant lift of his chopsticks. Seokjin leaned close, whispering loud enough for their side of the table to hear.
“Dear husband, do you want me to feed you?” he cooed, eyes wide with fake innocence.
Namjoon didn’t look at him. “I have hands.”
“But mine are prettier,” Seokjin pouted dramatically, lifting a dumpling to his lips.
Namjoon opened his mouth—and bit it cleanly from the chopsticks with zero expression.
Seokjin blinked. “You’re no fun.”
Namjoon sipped tea like nothing happened.
Later, when Seokjin “accidentally” dropped a grape into Namjoon’s lap, the alpha simply removed it with two fingers, set it on a napkin, and continued eating. Not a word.
He’s really going to explode one day, Seokjin thought, both thrilled and terrified.
As the music picked up, they were called to the center for the first couple’s dance. Namjoon led gracefully, hands firm but respectful around Seokjin’s waist. Seokjin followed with practiced elegance, twirling beneath the chandeliers like they were born for this moment.
Their eyes met—briefly—under the sparkling lights. And for a heartbeat, Seokjin forgot about the lie.
Then it was over. Applause followed.
And outside, the moonlight bathed the grand steps of the hall, where a beautiful horse-drawn cart awaited. It shimmered with silk curtains, golden trimmings, and floral garlands—clearly a gift of opulence from Seokjin’s father.
Namjoon stepped ahead, offering his hand.
“Careful,” he said softly, the first gentle tone Seokjin had heard all evening.
Seokjin blinked as Namjoon delicately supported his waist with one hand and helped him step into the cart like he was the most fragile jewel in the kingdom. His breath hitched. Not from fear. But from confusion. This wasn’t the fury he expected.
He settled into the plush velvet seat, hands fidgeting in his lap. Namjoon climbed in after, closed the curtain, and the cart began its slow, moonlit ride toward their honeymoon estate—a secluded palace tucked near a lake, gifted to Seokjin as a wedding gift.
As the hooves clacked rhythmically and the stars followed their journey, Seokjin peeked at Namjoon.
“I thought you’d be angrier,” he murmured.
Namjoon didn’t look at him. “I am.”
Seokjin swallowed.
“But I keep my vows,” Namjoon added quietly. “Even when I’m tricked into making them.”
And silence settled between them, thick and charged—until Seokjin turned to the window, smiling to himself.
Let the game begin.
🍁🍁🍁🍁
The cart wheels finally came to a stop before a lakeside estate that shimmered under the full moon. Cherry blossom trees lined the cobblestone path, and petals floated gently in the air like a dream painted by the Moon Goddess herself. It was beautiful, delicate… and oddly quiet.
Too quiet.
Seokjin stepped out first, greeted by soft lantern light and a cool breeze. The estate, a private gift from his father, had everything an omega could want: lush gardens, warm baths, silk bedding, and a sense of safety.
But nothing felt safe with Kim Namjoon walking behind him in complete silence.
They entered the bedchamber. The walls were painted in soothing pastels. The bed was enormous, covered in crisp white linens and scattered rose petals. A tray of fruits and wine sat on the side table. A perfect honeymoon suite.
Seokjin turned to comment—but Namjoon had already taken off his robe, revealing the stark lines of muscle underneath his ceremonial inner clothes.
Seokjin’s mouth went dry. “You’re quick.”
Namjoon didn’t reply. He walked past him, poured himself wine, then slowly, deliberately locked the door.
Click.
Seokjin’s heartbeat shot up.
Namjoon leaned against the dresser, eyes gleaming under the soft candlelight, and said, “I assume you know what comes next, beloved mate.”
Seokjin blinked. “W-what?”
Namjoon stalked toward him, step by step, like a predator with all the time in the world.
“You lied to the entire court. To the King. Made me the villain. And now… you’re mine.”
Seokjin backed into the bedframe with a gasp. “N-now, let’s not act like we don’t have choices—”
“I’m an alpha, Seokjin,” Namjoon interrupted, voice low, deadly calm. “I have urges. Needs. Especially on my wedding night.”
He loomed closer. Seokjin’s knees touched the edge of the bed.
“I-is this about the grape? I was joking—!”
Namjoon lifted Seokjin effortlessly and tossed him onto the bed. The omega yelped, bouncing slightly among the petals, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Namjoon climbed over him, one hand on either side, caging him in. The heat of his body, the weight of his gaze—it was overwhelming.
“I could knot you right here,” Namjoon whispered, voice brushing Seokjin’s ear like silk laced with warning. “Make the lie a truth.”
Seokjin’s breath hitched. “Y-you wouldn’t.”
Namjoon dipped his head until their noses almost touched. “Wouldn’t I?”
Seokjin stared up at him, lips trembling. Then he did something Namjoon hadn’t expected—he shut his eyes tightly, fists clenched at his sides, his entire body going still.
Like he was bracing for it.
Namjoon froze.
His gaze softened just a little as he stared down at the gorgeous, sassy omega who had tricked an entire kingdom into marrying him—but was now laying there, defenseless, not even fighting. Just… surrendering.
Namjoon sighed through his nose.
Then he pushed off the bed and stood tall.
Seokjin flinched.
A beat of silence. Then—
Namjoon chuckled. “You’re more dramatic than I thought.”
Seokjin’s eyes snapped open, confused. “W-what?”
Namjoon pulled the blanket up and tucked it under Seokjin like a nanny putting a toddler to bed. He leaned in close again, a wicked smirk curving his lips.
“If I’m going to knot you,” he murmured, “you’ll know it. And you’ll beg for it.”
And with that, he turned around and headed toward the chaise lounge, grabbing a pillow and throwing it down like he meant to sleep there.
Seokjin stared at him, still breathless, cheeks flaming.
“Y-you tease!”
Namjoon didn’t even look back. “Sweet dreams, my cunning little husband.”
🍁🍁🍁
The soft sound of birds chirping outside the estate windows was a gentle wake-up call. Sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting golden rays over the bedding and the pale expanse of Seokjin’s neck as he blinked awake.
Seokjin sat up, cheeks heating with the burn of humiliation. “He tucked me in? Like a baby goat?!”
His eyes shot toward the chaise.
Namjoon was sprawled there, arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. One robe had slipped open, revealing the hard planes of his torso. In sleep the alpha was terrifyingly handsome, unbothered, unguarded, perfect. Seokjin found himself smiling at the scene.
The alpha had abandoned the bed to sleep like an offended god on that chaise. Seokjin’s triumph turned sour for a second.
Does he not find me attractive?
The thought cut sharper than he cared to admit. No harsh words had been said, only actions: kisses that hovered and hands that lingered on the verge of claiming, then retreated. Namjoon teased him with a predator’s patience, and Seokjin, who had been used to instant worship, felt unexpectedly . . . neglected.
He rose slowly and padded across the marble, the silk of his robe whispering against his legs. Standing over the sleeping alpha, Seokjin studied the lines of that proud face, the sweep of the lashes, the negligence of a man who could have had any number of omegas but chose to be deliberately, maddeningly difficult.
A small, dangerous grin ghosted across Seokjin’s lips.
That doesn’t matter now, he told himself aloud, soft as a secret. Kim Namjoon—you are mine.
The ache shifted into something hotter: a determined sort of hunger. He imagined Namjoon’s jaw working, his breath hitching, the way those dragon eyes would darken when he was finally pushed past his own patient limit. The thought sent a thrill up Seokjin’s spine.
Seokjin leaned over him again, closer this time, close enough to feel the warmth of Namjoon’s breath against his wrist.
The alpha’s hair had fallen messily across his eyes during sleep, shadowing the sharp line of his brow. Irritated by that—no, possessive over it, the omega bent down and gently brushed the strands aside. His fingertips skimmed the soft hair, lingered longer than necessary. Namjoon didn’t stir.
Encouraged, Seokjin’s touch traveled lower, ghosting down the slope of Namjoon’s nose… then the edge of his lips. They were warm, full, infuriatingly tempting. Seokjin’s own breath hitched, a warm flush crawling over his cheeks.
My alpha… you’ll look at me soon. Only me.
He traced the corner of Namjoon’s mouth with the pad of his thumb, almost unconsciously leaning closer—
When Namjoon’s lips parted.
“Mi… n-ah…” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.
Seokjin froze.
The name, not his name—slammed into him like a physical blow.
His hand jerked back as if Namjoon’s skin had burned him. He straightened sharply, breath unsteady, a sour twist forming deep in his stomach.
Who is that?
A lover?
Someone he tucked into bed the same way?
Jealousy and humiliation rose fast and hot, tightening his throat.
The room felt suddenly colder.
“Ridiculous,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he meant Namjoon or himself.
He took a stiff step back, then another, retreating from the chaise like it was a battlefield he hadn’t prepared for. His heart was pounding, not with something darker—an ache, an irrational anger he didn’t know how to swallow.
Seokjin drew his robe tighter around himself and lifted his chin, the way he always did when something cut deeper than he wanted to admit.
“Prepare the pool,” he snapped as he passed the maid outside the door. “I want a bath. Now.”
The maid bowed quickly. “Y-yes, your highness—hot water or—?”
“Cold,” Seokjin bit out. “Very cold.”
He strode past her without another glance, each step echoing with his bruised pride and the sting of a name that did not belong to him.
🍁🍁🍁
Namjoon woke with a slow, heavy blink, the morning sun warming the side of his face. He rubbed his eyes, sat up on the chaise—then paused.
A soft scent still lingered in the room.
Jasmine.
Sweet, delicate.
Seokjin’s scent.
But the omega himself… was nowhere.
Namjoon frowned.
Where is that troublesome omega now?
Before he could stand, a light knock tapped against the massive carved door. The hinges creaked open just enough for their old maid, a gentle omega woman who had served the royal family for decades, to peek inside.
“Good morning, Prince Namjoon.”
Namjoon lifted a brow. “Morning. What is it?”
“Prince Seokjin requested that I wake you,” she said with a respectful bow. “He has prepared breakfast for you himself and is awaiting your arrival at the dining table.”
Namjoon blinked.
“…Prepared? Breakfast?”
He rubbed his face. “Are you sure you don’t mean he ordered you to prepare breakfast?”
The maid shook her head. “No, Your Highness. He cooked it.”
Namjoon stared at her.
The Seokjin he knew could sauté drama, not food.
“Well,” he muttered at last, standing and stretching, “seems he knows how to do more than deceive and faint dramatically.”
The maid bowed again and silently left, sending a younger beta male to draw Namjoon’s bath. Steam soon filled the bathing chamber, and Namjoon washed quickly, unable to shake the odd tightness in his chest.
Something didn’t feel right.
But he dismissed it, dried off, and tied a soft silk robe around his waist before heading to dining hall.
When he entered, the sight waiting for him nearly made him stop walking.
Seokjin sat at the head of the long table, posture elegant and regal as if painted by moonlight. He wore a cream-colored robe that shimmered subtly when he moved, tied loosely around his slim waist. His cheeks held the faintest rose hue, and his scent, jasmine mixed with the warm aroma of roasted cashew nuts wrapped thickly around the room.
Namjoon swallowed.
Hard.
Why does he smell like that so early in the morning?
But when he finally met Seokjin’s eyes—
Oh.
The omega looked… terrifying.
Pretty, yes. Absolutely gorgeous. But beneath the delicate flush and graceful posture, his eyes were sharp, cold, and silently burning with something unspoken.
Namjoon approached the table cautiously, sitting down opposite him.
What is he complaining about now…? he thought, confusion knitting between his brows.
Because Seokjin’s expression didn’t match breakfast.
It matched a funeral.
Specifically, his funeral.
Seokjin greeted Namjoon with a sweetness so thick it could drown an army.
“Good morning, alpha,” he said, tone bright enough to blind.
Namjoon paused, suspicious, but before he could respond properly Seokjin was already rising from his seat, gliding toward him with a serene smile that looked harmless only from a distance. The moment Namjoon tried to take the chair, Seokjin firmly pushed him down and began serving him breakfast despite Namjoon’s weak protests.
“It’s my duty to look after my alpha’s well-being,” he insisted, then turned to dismiss the maids with a graceful flick of his wrist. “You may leave. It’s family time for newlyweds.” Namjoon’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the phrasing, but the maids bowed and disappeared quietly, leaving him alone with the omega who was smiling like a saint and plotting like a demon.
The breakfast spread was impressive. steamed rice, rolled omelets, honey butter toast, chicken porridge, sweet potato mash, fruit slices, kimchi pancakes, even delicately sautéed mushrooms, but something vital was missing. Every dish was perfectly portioned, beautifully arranged, and suspiciously… dry. No tea pot. No juice. No water. Not a single drop of liquid on the table, yet Seokjin sat with his hands folded neatly, waiting with far too much patience for Namjoon to take the first bite. Namjoon hesitated, sensing something deeply wrong, but Seokjin only smiled at him, eyes soft and unreadable. Trying to figure out what he could possibly have done to deserve this level of sugar-sweet service, he finally lifted the chopsticks and took a bite.
His reaction was immediate. Fire exploded across his tongue, his throat, his lungs, his soul. His eyes watered, his hands clawed at the air, and a strangled gasp tore out of him.
“What—what is— this?” he choked, desperately scanning the table for even a single glass of water.
“Where is the WATER?!”
There was none. Not even a cup. Seokjin blinked innocently, tilting his head just enough to appear angelic.
“Oh? Did I forget to set it? Sorry, alpha.” But Namjoon was already red as a chili pepper, tears streaking down his flushed face, and he slammed his palm on the table in agony.
“Seokjin, what did you put in this!?” he shouted. Seokjin only shrugged with infuriating calm. “Just a little bit of Gwi-mun Chili,” he said, voice airy. “It’s very famous. Only a tiny pinch.” Namjoon choked on his own breath. “Gwi-mun Chili?! That’s the Devil’s Tongue pepper!” But Seokjin simply took a bite from his own untouched plate and smiled blissfully. “You’re being dramatic, alpha. Look, even I can eat it.”
Namjoon coughed, gasped, and practically fell out of his chair. “Seokjin—water—please—anything—” he begged, voice cracking. Seokjin finally stood, stretching languidly as if this were all a performance he was enjoying immensely.
“Fine, fine. I’ll get it. You’re more dramatic than me,” he muttered lightly before turning away. The sweetness on his face melted instantly into a devilish smirk. This is what he got for murmuring another name on their first morning as a couple—well, not officially bonded yet, since Namjoon still had to bite him, but vows were vows.
“Mumbling someone else’s name while I’m carrying your child… how could you, alpha,” he muttered under his breath, hands on his hips in offended pride. He headed off to fetch the water, completely unaware that behind him Namjoon had begun wheezing, collapsing to his knees.
When Seokjin came with water jug, the scene in front of him was very chaotic.
Maid Choi dropped to her knees beside Namjoon, hands trembling as she tried to support his shoulders. “Prince Seokjin—! He—he has an allergy! Prince Namjoon cannot consume extremely spicy foods!” she cried, voice cracking with urgency.
The words hit Seokjin like a thunderbolt.
“What—WHAT?!” Seokjin shrieked so loudly the windows practically rattled. The jug of water in his hand slipped, crashing to the floor and shattering. “ALLERGY?! TO SPICY?! WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME THAT BEFORE I COMMITTED MURDER?!”
Namjoon wheezed helplessly, clutching his chest, face red and blotchy, not the sexy flustered red from earlier, but the terrifying “is he dying?” shade.
Seokjin’s soul left his body.
“MAIDS! MILK! WATER! ICE! ANYTHING! HURRY!” Seokjin screamed, waving his arms so wildly that three maids jumped out of pure fear and sprinted to the kitchen.
The beta male servant rushed forward. “Prince Seokjin, let me—let me grab him—”
“NO! I’ll do it!” Seokjin insisted, though his hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped Namjoon again. Together, with the beta maid supporting the alpha’s other side, they half-carried, half-dragged Namjoon to the nearest couch.
Namjoon collapsed onto it, coughing violently. Seokjin fell to his knees beside him, hair falling messily over his eyes as tears already welled up. “Namjoon! Alpha! Oh Moon Goddess, PLEASE don’t die, I didn’t mean it—I mean I DID mean it but not like THIS!”
Namjoon groaned, unable to fully inhale.
Seokjin screamed again. “MILK! WHERE IS THE MILK?!”
A maid practically slid across the floor holding a large bowl of cold milk and several cups. Seokjin grabbed the bowl with both hands, sloshing it everywhere, and brought it to Namjoon’s lips.
“Drink! DRINK IT! PLEASE!” he cried, voice cracking as tears streamed down his cheeks.
Namjoon coughed, choking slightly when Seokjin tried to tilt the entire bowl into his mouth at once.
“Not like that, your Highness!” the maid scolded, trying to steady both the omega and the milk.
Seokjin’s hands trembled violently as he helped Namjoon take small sips. Milk dribbled down the alpha’s chin, dripping onto Seokjin’s robe, but he didn’t care—didn’t even notice.
Namjoon’s breathing slowly eased from “dying dragon” to “deeply suffering alpha,” but the coughs still rattled his chest.
“Someone—someone bring a doctor! NOW! IMMEDIATELY!” Seokjin ordered through broken sobs. “No—no, RUN! Faster! I need him to LIVE!” He turned back to Namjoon, wiping his milk-covered lips with shaking fingers.
“Alpha… Kim Namjoon… your idiot omega is so, so sorry,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I just wanted revenge, not your DEATH!”
Namjoon finally cracked open one swollen eye, blinking at the crying omega hovering over him like a frantic mother hen.
He tried to speak, but only croaked, “S…spicy…”
Seokjin burst into fresh tears, clutching his head. “I KNOW IT’S SPICY, YOU DRAMA KING—YOU’RE ALLERGIC, I DIDN’T KNOW, OH GODS—SOMEONE BRING MORE MILK!”
The entire mansion erupted into chaos as servants ran in every direction, and Seokjin stayed kneeling beside his wheezing alpha, shaking, sobbing, and force-feeding milk like his life depended on it.
🍁🍁🍁
Seokjin clutched Namjoon’s hand, crying rivers, while Namjoon lay with his arm thrown dramatically over his forehead like a dying opera actor.
The doctor knelt beside him, pressing fingers to Namjoon’s pulse. His brows lifted. “His heart rate is already stabilizing.”
Seokjin hiccuped. “St-st-stabilizing?!” He turned watery doe eyes to Namjoon. “Alpha…? Are you… alive?”
Namjoon didn’t answer.
Instead, he let out a long, pitiful, shaky wheeze—like an old man blowing out his last candle.
Doctor blinked. “…Prince Namjoon?”
Namjoon didn’t move.
“Doctor…” Seokjin whispered, clutching his chest as if he’d faint again. “Is he—dying?”
Before the doctor could answer, Namjoon released another dramatic choking sound and let his head loll to the side.
The doctor frowned. “This is… strange. He’s breathing normally now.”
Seokjin gasped. “He’s fighting! Look! He’s fighting f-for his life!” He grabbed Namjoon’s hand with renewed emotion. “Hold on, alpha! Please!”
Namjoon opened one eye—just barely—saw Seokjin sobbing over him, then groaned weakly and closed it again. Perfect, he thought. Let him suffer for nearly killing me.
The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly. “I believe His Highness is… recovering well.”
“No,” Seokjin cried dramatically. “He looks—he looks like a dying fish!”
“I assure you, Prince Seokjin, he is—”
Namjoon suddenly let out a loud, choked cough, then whispered in the faintest voice imaginable, “S…Seokjin… I… don’t know… how… long…”
Seokjin SHRIEKED.
“NOOOO! Don’t say that! DO NOT SAY THAT! YOU CANNOT DIE ON OUR SECOND DAY OF—WHATEVER THIS IS!”
Even the doctor flinched.
The poor man tried again, sweating now. “Doctor… he actually only ate a very small amount—”
Namjoon wheezed, “Small… but deadly…”
Seokjin sobbed harder. “He’s dying of my cooking! I’ve killed him with breakfast!”
Namjoon raised a trembling finger toward Seokjin’s cheek. His voice was dramatic, tragic, full of pain he didn’t actually feel. “If… I don’t survive… take care of my horse…”
Seokjin froze.
“…your horse?” he whispered.
Namjoon nodded slowly, curtaining himself in sadness. “He… he was always… my favorite…”
The doctor closed his eyes. This was ridiculous.
“Prince Seokjin,” he said flatly. “The alpha is recovering. He is not dying. He is only… acting.”
Seokjin blinked. Once. Twice.
His tears stopped mid-drop.
He turned slowly toward the “dying” alpha.
Namjoon, realizing the doctor had exposed him, immediately went limp again and whispered, “D…doctor… I see… the light…”
The doctor sighed and packed his bag. “He is perfectly fine. His allergy is mild. The milk already helped.”
“Perfectly… fine?” Seokjin repeated.
Namjoon’s eye cracked open at the tone—sharp and deadly.
Seokjin stood up.
Every maid in the room took a step back.
He leaned down, smiling sweetly—terrifyingly—into Namjoon’s ear.
“You acted dying.”
Namjoon gulped.
“W-wanted to teach y-you a lesson..”
“You acted dying,” Seokjin repeated, voice dripping with betrayal and sass, “to teach me a lesson?”
Namjoon swallowed again, very slowly.
“…I…was…emotionally wounded,” he offered weakly.
“Oh?” Seokjin cooed. “Were you also emotionally wounded enough to beg me to take care of your horse, you dramatic donkey?”
Namjoon winced.
Seokjin flicked his forehead. “You scared me to DEATH.”
He flicked again. Harder.
Namjoon flinched. “Ow! Seokjin—!”
“That’s what you get,” Seokjin snapped, eyes blazing. “Next time you pretend to die, I will let you die.”
Namjoon sat up now, finally dropping the act. “It was just a lesson!”
“No,” Seokjin corrected hotly, “it was stupidity.”
The doctor bowed and slipped out quietly, whispering to the servants outside, “If they survive this marriage, it will be a miracle.”
Back inside, Seokjin crossed his arms and glared.
Namjoon rubbed the side of his head and sighed. “Are you done?”
Seokjin leaned forward, face inches from Namjoon’s.
“No,” he whispered dangerously. “This omega has much more revenge left.”
And then he turned sharply and marched out—leaving Namjoon sitting on the couch, robe stained with milk, pride slightly bruised, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons.
“Oh no,” Namjoon muttered, staring after his furious husband. “He’s planning something again.”
🍁🍁🍁
After that morning, Seokjin never stepped foot in the kitchen again, and to Namjoon’s surprise the entire mansion had been unusually calm for a whole week—too calm, like the quiet before a storm.
Their routine settled into something unspoken: Seokjin slept on the bed while Namjoon took the chaise, and every dawn Namjoon woke before Seokjin could open his eyes. He slipped out for morning exercise and then headed straight to the pond behind the mansion to bathe in the cold water.
Lately, his body felt unbearably hot despite the chilly weather; he suspected Seokjin’s omega pheromones was affecting his wolf in ways he couldn’t fully place. It had been a long time since he’d lived this close to an omega, and Seokjin’s scent—jasmine and roasted cashew—clung to every corner of the mansion, especially to Namjoon’s senses.
He woke with morning wood every day, which was exactly why he left the room before Seokjin could ever notice. On the seventh day of their marriage, his morning unfolded the same: a hard workout, then stripping completely by the empty pond to bathe and swim freely while his horse grazed nearby.
He had just dipped under the cold water when a familiar fragrance drifted through the trees, hitting him before the sound ever did—soft jasmine, warm roasted cashew.
Seokjin.
What was he doing out here? Namjoon turned with a puzzled look as the omega quietly made his way toward him.
The omega stepped out from between the trees like a vision meant to ruin a man’s composure. His lilac dress fluttered with the morning breeze, the soft fabric hugging the delicate curve of his waist. But it was his lips lush, impossibly red, plump as ripe berries, that stole every functioning thought from Namjoon’s brain. They looked like an invitation. A threat. A promise.
Under the cold water, something traitorous stirred to life.
Not now.
Not now.
Not now.
Namjoon’s mind screamed internally as heat flooded downward, his body completely ignoring the freezing pond. The water wasn’t deep enough. It wasn’t cloudy enough. If Seokjin took even three more steps, he would see everything. His entire tanned body was on full display beneath the surface.
“What are you doing here?” Namjoon forced out, but the words came sharp, edged with a bite he didn’t intend. A thin veneer of annoyance covering sheer panic.
Seokjin blinked, hurt flickering across his eyes before he smoothed it over with something colder. “Ah, your brother is here. That explains it. You don’t seem very pleased to see him,” he replied, voice dipped in bitterness he failed to hide.
“Yoongi Hyung..?”
Namjoon jolted as the realization hit, instinctively starting to rise from the water to rush back, only to stop with horror. Naked. Completely. Gods—
“O-okay. You go ahead. I’ll come in a moment,” he said, trying to sound unfazed, but his voice cracked in betrayal.
Seokjin tilted his head, a sweet innocent smile blooming on his bright red lips. “Sure, alpha.”
Namjoon swallowed hard. That word combined with that smile should be illegal.
Seokjin turned to leave, but then paused, and noticed the pile of clothes Namjoon had left on the rocks. Mud-splashed. Slightly wrinkled. Very, very necessary.
“Oh, Alpha,” Seokjin cooed, walking toward them. “Look at your clothes. They’re dirty. Let me clean them for you. If you wear them in front of the Crown Prince, he’ll think I’m not taking proper care of you.”
Namjoon’s soul left his body.
“No—Seokjin, wait!” he burst out, panic ripping through his chest. “I don’t have anything else! Put them down. Please.”
But Seokjin had already bent down, lifting the garments with a cheerful little hum. He giggled—giggled—as if Namjoon’s suffering was the most delightful thing he had witnessed all week. Then he looked up and winked. A deliberate, devastating wink.
“I’ll have them cleaned right away, Alpha.”
“Seokjin—Seokjin, don’t you dare walk away with—!”
But he was already stepping toward the mansion, lilac fabric swaying, Namjoon’s only clothes hanging over his arm, leaving the alpha naked, trapped in cold water with his pride—and something much harder—floating in the open.
🍁🍁🍁
Seokjin moved slowly between the table and the delicate silver teapot, pouring steaming water lily tea for Crown Prince Yoongi and his omega mate, Jimin, who were seated nearby, their laughter mingling with the soft morning sun streaming through the mansion’s windows.
The delicate scent of the tea floated in the air, mixing faintly with jasmine lingering from Seokjin’s presence. Everything was calm, until a sudden rustling at the entrance shattered the serene morning.
Namjoon appeared, half-naked, panic written across his face as he clutched a large leaf to cover himself, eyes darting wildly. Time seemed to freeze. Jimin’s mouth fell open in shock, and Seokjin’s entire body trembled, part disbelief, part amusement. before his lips stretched into a mischievous grin.
Yoongi’s hand shot out, covering Jimin’s eyes with a sharp, “Gosh, Joon! Have some decency!”
Namjoon’s ears burned crimson. “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—It was… I just… I—” He stammered, stumbling forward, trying to keep the leaf strategically placed, all the while glaring at Seokjin, who was now laughing so loudly his shoulders shook, a few tears escaping despite his composure.
“I—Please, excuse me!” Namjoon blurted, dashing past the stunned pair and disappearing down the hall toward his room, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.
Seokjin, still bent over in uncontrollable laughter, gasped between breaths. Yoongi’s hand finally fell away, and Jimin, still glaring, jabbed Yoongi lightly on the arm.
“What the hell happened just now?” he demanded.
Seokjin straightened, brushing tears from his cheeks, his smile wicked and wide.
“Oh, Jiminie, Namjoon just prefer his natural skin these days… much more than clothes.” He gave a little hum of satisfaction, glancing toward the hall where Namjoon had vanished, and then sipped his tea as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
Jimin’s jaw dropped.
Yoongi muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple.
And Seokjin? Well, he sipped his tea, still grinning at the image of Namjoon’s half naked glory.
But the moment Yoongi’s voice cut through the soft clink of porcelain, the smile vanished like sunlight swallowed by a sudden cloud.
“So… Seokjin,” Yoongi’s tone was low, measured, “when did you meet my brother?”
Seokjin froze mid-breath, the delicate teacup trembling slightly in his fingers. Yoongi’s question wasn’t casual. There was a weight behind it, the kind that carried the memory of events no one dared to speak aloud.
Yoongi had been meaning to ask this for since their mating ceremony, because he knew his brother, Kim Namjoon—was not the type to strike down an innocent omega. Not since that day. Not ever. His brother had stayed away from omegas entirely, disappearing into the shadows of politics and mountains, avoiding contact, avoiding mistakes.
Seokjin’s heart skipped, though his face remained perfectly composed. Beneath that lilac dress, beneath the smooth, teasing smile he had just worn, a tiny pulse of unease throbbed. Yoongi’s gaze was sharp, assessing, and for the first time in days, Seokjin felt the faint brush of fear—not for his life, but for the fear of loosing Namjoon.
“I… met him,” Seokjin said slowly, choosing his words like carefully laid steps across a trap-filled hallway. “Some time ago.”
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, reading between the words, the pauses, the quiet tremor in the omega’s voice that he hadn’t expected.
“Some time ago? How?” Yoongi’s gaze was sharp, unrelenting, and he leaned slightly forward, voice clipped.
“It’s urmm….”
Seokjin’s chest tightened. He opened his mouth, choosing his words carefully, but before he could respond, a swift hand shot out and landed squarely on Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Alpha! You’re scaring Seokjin,” Jimin scolded, his tone firm but gentle. “It’s not good for his pup.”
Seokjin inhaled sharply, feeling the warmth of Jimin’s intervention soothe the tension in his chest. Thank you, Jimin, he muttered quietly inside, a small flicker of relief passing through him.
Before the conversation could stretch any longer, a familiar sound echoed from the hallway—the heavy steps and then the unmistakable presence of Namjoon, now freshly dressed, hair still damp from the bath.
Yoongi’s eyes flicked toward him, narrowing. “So,” he drawled slowly, “you finally decided to put on clothes.”
Namjoon froze mid-step for half a heartbeat, jaw tightening then he smirked. “Hyung,” he said calmly, “I was bathing. Unless you prefer I greet guests the way my omega prefers seeing me… natural.”
Seokjin choked on nothing, face exploding into red..
Yoongi stared, scandalized. “Yah. We are in the living room.”
Namjoon only shrugged, unbothered, and walked over to Seokjin with steady, confident strides. “If someone stole my clothes,” he added lightly, “I can’t exactly walk around in a royal cape, can I?”
Seokjin bit his lip so hard it trembled. Why would he say that in front of his brother? Why?
Namjoon reached him then, sitting down beside him with a slow, practiced grace that made Seokjin’s heart beat harder. He took Seokjin’s hand—warm, soft, small in his palm and laced their fingers together.
Internally, Namjoon smirked.
Well, the war has begun, Seokjin.
Outwardly, he turned into the perfect affectionate husband. “My love,” he murmured, thumb brushing Seokjin’s knuckles tenderly, “did you wait long?”
Seokjin’s breath hitched, the tips of his ears turning pink. “N-no… Alpha.”
Jimin’s eyes darted between them like he was watching a drama.
Yoongi just rubbed his forehead. “Why are you talking like that? Since when are you two-”
Namjoon cut him off, voice dripping with warmth. “Hyung, did you come to see your nephew?”
As he spoke, he let his hand slide from Seokjin’s fingers to the omega’s stomach, caressing lightly circles, teasing warmth that made every muscle in Seokjin’s body jolt.
Seokjin squirmed in his seat, eyes widening as shock raced up his spine. The touch was too intimate, too warm, too possessive and Yoongi was right there.
He could only sit there, trembling, trying not to squeak, his face the deepest shade of red imaginable.
“So, Joon, how’s married life? You two adjusting well?” Jimin, asked brightly.
Namjoon’s lips curved.
“Oh, very well,” he said, voice dipped in honey.
But,Under the table, there is something going on. The alpha’s big hand where previously on seokjin’s stomach now slid onto Seokjin’s thigh.
Seokjin stiffened instantly, back straightening like a struck match.
Namjoon did not look at him.
He only continued talking to his brother as if nothing was happening.
Yoongi snorted. “Hard to believe. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone an omega.”
Namjoon hummed. “True. But I’m learning to handle Seokjin’s… needs.”
His fingers squeezed gently, sliding higher.
Seokjin’s breath hitched, a small, strangled noise escaping him before he clamped his lips shut. Jimin blinked, confused.
“Seokjin? Are you okay?”
Seokjin nodded violently, smiling too wide, eyes shimmering with panic. “Mhmm!!”
Namjoon bit back a laugh, his hand gliding in slow, torturous circles on the inside of Seokjin’s thigh—too high, too warm, too dangerous.
Yoongi sighed. “Good. Because I was asking earlier—how did you two even meet? Namjoon never talked about you.”
Seokjin opened his mouth to answer.
Namjoon’s hand slid higher.
His breath collapsed back into his lungs with a squeak.
Namjoon answered smoothly for him. “He was shy, hyung. You know how delicate omegas are.”
Delicate?!
Seokjin shot him a murderous glare, but it only made Namjoon’s thumb stroke higher, making his knees tremble.
Jimin fanned his face. “You two are… very affectionate, I guess.”
“Yes,” Namjoon murmured, leaning back casually. “Seokjin gets flustered so easily.”
He pressed the spot just above Seokjin’s knee. slow, teasing pressure.
Seokjin slapped his hand over his mouth to kill the gasp threatening to burst out.
Yoongi raised a brow. “Is he always like this?”
Namjoon leaned closer, expression pure innocence. “My omega is just… sensitive.”
Under the table, Seokjin grabbed Namjoon’s wrist in warning—only for Namjoon to drag his fingers another inch up his thigh.
Seokjin’s eyes watered.
“Sensitive?” Yoongi repeated.
Namjoon smiled wickedly. “Very.”
Seokjin nearly kicked him.
Yoongi exhaled deeply. “Anyway… I came to discuss the upcoming council meeting—”
But Seokjin suddenly jerked, lips pressed together in a trembling line. A tiny whimper escaped him.
Jimin froze. “Seokjin?? Are you sure you’re not sick??”
Namjoon patted Seokjin’s back with innocent affection.
“He’s fine. Just a little overwhelmed.”
Under the table, his fingers had finally reached the soft, forbidden heat of Seokjin’s inner thigh—dangerously close.
Seokjin’s face was crimson, sweat beading at his temple.
Namjoon’s voice was smooth as silk.
“Hyung, perhaps we should cut this short. My omega needs to rest.”
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples. “I just want to know how you two met. It shouldn’t be this complicated! Namjoon, did you seduce him? Did he seduce you? Did someone force you?” He pointed at Seokjin. “This omega fainted in the middle of the ball claiming he was pregnant with YOUR child. You think I wouldn’t ask?”
Namjoon blinked innocently. “Hyung, we can tell you later.”
Seokjin visibly choked.
LATER?! WHEN?! NEVER!!
Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding something?”
Before Seokjin could defend himself, Namjoon’s thumb pressed a dangerous inch higher.
Seokjin’s breath hitched audibly.
Yoongi stared. “Why is he like this?”
Jimin leaned in, whispering, “Maybe he’s nervous, alpha. Newlywed omegas are like that.”
Seokjin wanted to scream.
Meanwhile Namjoon looked smug, as if winning a private game only he understood.
The silence grew awkward.
Yoongi finally exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’m done forcing this. You obviously don’t want to answer.”
He stood up, helping Jimin to his feet.
Jimin bowed politely. “We’ll visit again soon. Please rest well, Seokjin.”
Seokjin nodded weakly, trying to appear normal despite his legs shaking uncontrollably under the table.
Namjoon kept his hand planted warmly and possessively on Seokjin’s thigh until the very moment Yoongi turned to leave.
Yoongi cast one last look over his shoulder, eyes squinting suspiciously.
Maybe there’s something between them that he doesn’t want to share with me, he thought, jaw tightening.
Namjoon is hiding something, and Seokjin is acting too strange. I’ll figure it out later.
With that, the crown prince and his mate left the mansion.
The door closed.
Namjoon finally removed his hand.
Seokjin collapsed forward on the table, face flaming.
Silence crashed into the room.
Namjoon barely had time to take a breath before Seokjin burst like a storm.
“How dare you touch me like that in front of guests?!” Seokjin hissed, eyes blazing. “Are you out of your mind?”
Namjoon raised a brow, completely unbothered.
“Oh? Now you feel embarrassed?” he said dryly. “You already lost your pride when you fainted in front of everyone, claiming I knocked you up. Why suddenly shy in front of my brother?”
That was it.
Seokjin snapped.
His hand grabbed the nearest thing—the empty teacup—and he swung at Namjoon in pure fury.
But Namjoon was faster.
His hand shot up, striking and pinning Seokjin’s wrist mid-air, fingers digging in, stopping the attack cold.
“What now?” Namjoon growled, leaning in.
“Are you creating another scene?”
Seokjin’s chest heaved.
His eyes burned.
Then the words ripped out of him—raw, furious, too honest:
“I did that because you rejected me!” he shouted.
“And no one—no one—has ever said no to me, you moron!”
Namjoon stared at him.
Then something dark flickered across his face.
“Oh, so that’s what this tantrum was about,” he murmured.
Before Seokjin could jerk away, Namjoon’s hands slid under his arms, gripping firmly.
In one swift motion, too quick for Seokjin to resist..
Namjoon lifted him and set him on the table, the wooden surface cold beneath the omega.
Seokjin’s breath hitched, fury twisting with humiliation as Namjoon stepped between his knees, towering over him.
“Throwing cups at me because I didn’t kiss you back?” Namjoon said lowly, dangerously.
“You’re unbelievable, Seokjin.”
Namjoon didn’t wait.
One second Seokjin was spitting fury at him, the next his world snapped as Namjoon’s mouth crashed down on his — a hard, hungry kiss that stole every breath he had.
Seokjin gasped, fingers curling helplessly against Namjoon’s shoulders as his back arched off the table. The force of the kiss burned through him, exactly what he had wanted for days, weeks — since the night he realized he wanted this alpha more than pride, dignity, or reason.
Namjoon swallowed that desire greedily.
Seokjin’s jasmine-sweet scent burst into the air, warm and intoxicating, mixing thickly with the roasted cashew undernote that always made Namjoon dizzy. In response, Namjoon’s own scent, deep agarwood sharpened with wildfire spiked so violently the entire room felt hotter.
Seokjin felt it.
He shivered.
He broke the kiss only to pant once and then tugged Namjoon back by the collar, lips parted, eyes dark with triumph.
Namjoon growled, a low, dangerous sound. before claiming him again, harder this time, deeper, until Seokjin whimpered into his mouth. That sound snapped something in Namjoon; he pressed their bodies closer, mouth sliding down ruthlessly to Seokjin’s jawline.
Seokjin’s head tilted back instinctively, throat open, a soft, broken whine leaving him.
That whine made Namjoon’s true alpha wolf surge, claws scraping at the inside of his ribs, snarling for dominance , for the omega spread beneath him, smelling like jasmine heat and wanting.
No—
No, no, no.
This can’t—
This shouldn’t—
In the haze he saw a different face.
Soft eyes, trembling lips, the last person he kissed.
……….
Those eyes held expression .. the moment he lost control.
The moment everything fell apart.
The memory hit him like a cold blade.
Namjoon’s body jerked. His breathing went ragged, not from desire but panic.
His scent snapped sharply — agarwood turning bitter, smoke curling with warning.
Before his wolf could seize full control, before the past and present blurred into another disaster,
Namjoon shoved Seokjin away.
Hard.
Seokjin slid back on the table, stunned, lips swollen, breath trembling, jasmine scent flickering with hurt.
Namjoon’s chest heaved.
His eyes were wild.
His wolf was one heartbeat away from breaking free.
“I— can’t,” Namjoon choked, stepping back like he’d touched fire. “Not with you. Not like this.”
And the jasmine in the air wavered…
crushed under the sudden cold.
🍁🍁🍁