The pancakes were perfect. Golden edges, soft in the middle, drizzled with honey instead of syrup. You wanted to ask him where he'd learned to cook like that, but the words stuck in your throat.
Because Taehyung was watching you.
Not in a casual "are you enjoying the food?" kind of way. No. His gaze was fixed, unblinking, as if memorizing the way you lifted the fork, the way you chewed. As if every movement you made was some secret code he needed to decode.
It was Charming Tae sitting across from you — his lips curved in that gentle smile, voice smooth as he asked about your plans for the day — but there was something else simmering behind his eyes. Something you couldn't name yet.
By afternoon, you'd explored the first floor of the mansion. The rooms felt like pieces from different lifetimes — an old library with shelves bending under the weight of ancient books, a music room with a grand piano that looked barely touched, a sunroom with tall glass panels where dust motes danced in the pale light.
You found Taehyung in the sunroom, sitting in an armchair with a leather-bound book in his hands.
He looked up at you, and the warmth in his expression made you forget to breathe. "You found my favorite spot."
You stepped inside, drawn by the way the sunlight caught in his hair. "It's beautiful in here."
He patted the seat beside him. "Sit. I'll read to you."
And you did.
The story was about a man who falls in love with someone so completely that he decides they should never part — no matter what he has to do to keep them. You felt your stomach twist at certain sentences, but his voice made every word sound like music.
When he finished the chapter, he looked at you in a way that made the air feel thick. "Do you believe," he asked softly, "that love should last forever?"
Something about the question made the hairs on your arms rise. "I… suppose so."
He smiled slowly. "Good."
That night, you went to bed with the image of Charming Tae in your mind.
But at 2:13 a.m., a loud knock rattled your door. You jolted upright.
"Y/N."
His voice was different now. Lower. Harder.
You opened the door a crack.
He stood there shirtless, his eyes darker, sharper. This wasn't the man from the sunroom.
"You didn't lock the back door," he said flatly. "Anyone could have come in."
"I—" you started, but he stepped closer, his hand gripping the doorframe so tightly you heard the wood creak.
"Do you know how dangerous it is out here?" His tone wasn't concerned — it was accusing.
You swallowed hard. "I'll be more careful."
He leaned down until his face was inches from yours. "You'll be careful because you belong here. With me. Understand?"
Your throat went dry. You nodded.
His smirk was slow, deliberate. "Good girl."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving the hallway silent once more.
You closed the door slowly, your fingers trembling against the cool brass handle.
What the hell just happened?
Your heart was still thudding as you crawled back into bed, but sleep didn't come. Every small sound — the settling of the house, the groan of old pipes — felt sharper, louder, like someone was moving in the dark.
At some point, exhaustion pulled you under.
When you woke again, it was to the smell of fresh coffee.
You hesitated before going downstairs, half-expecting the cold-eyed version of Taehyung to be waiting at the bottom of the staircase. Instead, you found him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy, holding out a steaming mug toward you.
"Morning, sunshine," he said with a grin that could have been plucked straight from a dream.
Your voice caught. "Morning."
He studied you for a moment, as though reading something on your face. Then, his brow creased in what looked like genuine concern. "You didn't sleep well."
You hesitated. "You… came to my room last night."
His smile faltered, replaced by confusion. "I did? No… I didn't want to bother you."
You frowned. "But—"
"Maybe it was a dream." His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge there, like he was watching your reaction too closely. "This house has that effect on people. Especially at night."
You sipped the coffee, letting the warmth ground you. He reached over, brushing a stray hair from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache.
"Y/N," he said softly, "you can trust me."
You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to.
Later that afternoon, you found yourself in the library, running your fingers along the spines of leather-bound books. The air was thick with the smell of paper and something faintly metallic.
Taehyung appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, a lazy smile curling his lips.
"Looking for something?" he asked.
You shrugged. "Just exploring."
He stepped inside, his footsteps soft against the carpet. "I like that about you. You're curious."
His eyes lingered a little too long, sweeping over you in a way that felt both flattering and unnerving.
"Curiosity can be dangerous, though," he added, almost as an afterthought.
You opened your mouth to reply, but he had already turned away, pulling a book from the shelf. "Here," he said, handing it to you. "A love story. My favorite."
The cover was worn, the title etched in faded gold. As you took it, your fingers brushed his, and for a moment, you felt the warmth of Charming Tae again.
But when you glanced up, his smile was gone — replaced by that same dark, unreadable expression from the night before.
"Read it," he said quietly. "And remember… forever means forever."