Chapter Text
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The club pulses with electric energy, a low hum of bass vibrating through the air as neon lights flicker over the crowd. At the bar, four figures stand out from the masses—none more than Taehyung, the glittering centerpiece of the night.
The bartender slides four shots across the counter, expertly timed to the rhythm of the booming music. Taehyung’s fingers wrap around the glass, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he lifts it in a toast with his three closest friends, the shimmering liquid reflecting the flashing lights around them.
Clad in an all-white ensemble that demands attention—his mini skirt hugging his waist, the thigh-high split flashing just enough skin to tease, paired with heeled boots that make him tower over the crowd—Taehyung is a vision.
His cropped top leaves his chest bare, glittering skin reflecting the dim light as if he’s coated in stardust. A slight blonde and pink streak flows through his hair, catching under the club's lights, making him look like something ethereal, almost untouchable, but his reputation says otherwise.
The cheers ring out louder than the music as he and his friends throw back the shots in unison, the alcohol burning a path down his throat, setting him alight from the inside out. Drunk as hell, Taehyung rises to his feet, every step dripping with swagger and unbothered confidence.
The crowd parts for him as he walks, magnetized by the sheer aura he carries. This is his kingdom—he’s here three times a week, every week, and each time, it’s the same: the moment he steps through those doors, the energy skyrockets.
He’s a famous nepo baby, a sugar baby, and damn proud of it. His name alone fills the club to capacity, drinks are on the house, and everyone wants to be in his orbit, even if just for a moment.
Taehyung’s laugh slices through the air, wild and free, as he swings his hips to the beat, his body lost in the music. His skin glistens under the strobe lights, every movement sending the glitter over his chest and legs shimmering like liquid gold.
The people around him can’t help but stare—he’s impossible to ignore, the eye of the storm in a whirlwind of pulsing lights and thrumming beats. And as always, there’s a sense of impending chaos trailing behind him, the kind of chaos that leaves the club buzzing with scandal long after he’s gone.
Tonight’s no different.
The crowd’s energy surges as Taehyung hoists himself onto the bar countertop, the glass beneath his boots clinking faintly against the pounding beat of the music. His hips begin to sway, effortlessly in time with the rhythm, his body moving like liquid fire as the music takes hold.
Eyes lock onto him as he gets nasty, rolling his hips and bending low, every movement soaked in seduction. He’s hailed from all sides, cheers rising like waves as the beat drops, the crowd singing along in perfect unison with the booming sound system.
This isn’t an escape for him—it never has been. For Taehyung, this is simply who he is: a force of nature, born into the world for the thrill of it all.
The flashing lights illuminate the glitter dusted across his skin, highlighting the carefree, outgoing spirit that defines him. Sexy to the core, Taehyung thrives on the attention, not because he craves it but because he knows he owns it.
Always has. He’s more than just his father’s money in the eyes of the people, more than just a nepo baby in the headlines. Even after his father, the legendary Mr. Kim, passed away, leaving behind a tangled legacy, Taehyung’s out here living large—unapologetically.
His inheritance, split with his elder step-sister, may be a thorn in his side, but it’s not something he lets weigh him down. Years of her abuse and negativity were part of his past, but here, in this club, surrounded by flashing lights and adoring crowds, he’s free.
In his mind, this is the freedom he couldn’t grasp before, the release he’s been craving for years. Now, without the shadow of his father hovering over him, he’s in control of his life—well, at least of how much he drinks.
The alcohol burns his throat, sharp and bitter, just like the unresolved feelings about his father’s will, but he’s not here for that. Tonight, like every other night, Taehyung’s here to let loose, to feel alive in ways only he can. The pressure on his shoulders fades away with every shot, every sway of his hips, and every cheer from the crowd that watches him, captivated.
Here, atop the bar, he’s not just Taehyung the nepo baby—he’s Taehyung, untouchable, unbothered, and completely in his element.
Right now, masquerade🎶
Master the merry-go-round🎶
Right now, masquerade🎶
Master the merry-go-round🎶
Taehyung won’t admit he despises his father, but the bitterness has always simmered beneath the surface. Mr. Kim, with all his control, had treated Taehyung like a curse—a burden he never asked for, yet one he couldn’t shake off. Diya, his elder sister, resented him for existing, claiming he was the product of their father’s infidelity, a stain on the family legacy.
Her mother was gone, dead and buried, and Taehyung’s own mother? She’d dumped him on Mr. Kim’s doorstep before disappearing without a trace. Unwanted by both parents, Taehyung had grown up subdued, his true potential suffocated under the weight of his father’s disapproval.
But now, here he was—fabulously rich, owning a piece of the legacy that once tried to smother him. Somewhere deep down, he’s certain that his late father is rolling in his grave, heartbroken not by Taehyung’s existence but because his beloved mistress—the woman who birthed him—had fled, leaving Mr. Kim with a constant reminder of her betrayal.
Taehyung silently cheers her on sometimes, though he’s never met her, never cared to find her. He figures she had the right idea—run, leave, and never look back. And in a way, Taehyung mirrors that same escape. He’s built his own world, one where he controls what comes in and out.
The club, the lights, the music, the endless stream of alcohol—it’s all part of the fantasy he’s created. It’s all he takes and maybe even more. In here, he’s the master of his fate, not the unloved son or the resented brother, but something beyond all of that. Taehyung isn’t just surviving—he’s thriving in a life that he’s shaped on his own terms, no matter how messy it may get.
But the thrill screeches to a halt. The music cuts abruptly, and the electrifying energy drains from the air as Taehyung, mid-spin, stumbles awkwardly off the bar counter. Confusion and irritation flash across his face as he scans the room, wondering who dared to kill his vibe.
His eyes lock onto two burly guards pushing through the crowd toward him. Panic flickers in his chest. He whips around to the bartender, seething, “What the fuck is going on? I paid for the night to be uninterrupted!”
The bartender raises his hands in defense, wide-eyed, before pointing to the club manager, striding forward with a smug expression.
“Mr. Kim? You’ve got illegal membership to be here? Card expired or declined?” The manager’s voice oozes arrogance, relishing the sight of Taehyung’s flushed, embarrassed face.
“How dare you speak to me with such ridicule?” Taehyung snaps, struggling to stay calm despite the alcohol coursing through him. “I’m the reason this place even thrives! My card never declines! Never!”
“Well, tonight it did,” the manager retorts, folding his arms. “And, sorry to say, orders came in from your sister. She wants you out before you cause another scandal.”
At the mention of his sister, something snaps in Taehyung. “Fuck this shit!” he spits, turning in a flash. He grabs a glass bottle, smashing it against the counter, shards scattering as he points the jagged edge at the guards advancing toward him.
“Come any closer, and I’ll stab you in the fucking guts!” he threatens, voice trembling with fury, his purse clenched in his other hand as he tries to back away. The crowd parts nervously, but just as he’s about to make a break for it, another guard grabs him from behind.
Taehyung thrashes wildly as they haul him toward the exit, struggling and cursing, but it’s no use. They throw him out of the club, dumping him by the entrance like discarded trash. His driver rushes out of the car, wide-eyed at the chaos, hurriedly opening the door to receive him.
“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Taehyung screams, thrashing inside the car, his fists pounding against the seat as tears prick his eyes. He feels his phone buzz repeatedly, his bank account notifications lighting up—frozen.
Every single card frozen. His stomach drops as the horror sinks in. She did this. His sister. Of course she did. Embarrassing him, throwing him out of his favorite club, reminding him that he’s nothing but the result of an affair, born into the world to be humiliated.
His breath hitches, tears barely held back as his hand clenches into a fist. “I’m going to kill that bitch,” he mutters, voice dark and shaking with rage, his eyes fiery as he stares ahead, teeth gritted. The driver’s hesitant voice fades into the background as he sets off for the mansion, the night spiraling into a storm of anger and bitterness.
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