Still My Venus

The President 🤝

The next day, Taehyung was yanked out of his sleep by a throbbing pain in his ankle. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the soft morning sunlight painting the unfamiliar bedroom walls, slowly piecing together where he was: Jungkook's penthouse. He lay there, staring at the ceiling.

A certain pair of doe eyes intruded on his thoughts.

Every single moment from the night before came flooding back in vivid detail, lingering stare when their eyes locked, every soothing touch when Jungkook applied ointment to his injured leg, and every word they had exchanged.

It all rolled out straight from his memory into the morning bliss.

The memories evoked a quick change in his pulsating heart, leaving a lingering warmth at the thought.

Then, he averted his gaze to the window. The morning light was already intense, looking as though it were already 9 or 10 o'clock.

‘I will be leaving early tomorrow.’

The memory of Jungkook’s parting words hit him, and the warmth in his chest evaporated instantly, replaced by an odd, unexpected hollow. 'Why do I even care?' He scolded himself.

'It's not like I wanted a breakfast date.'

He gently tried to sit up and inspect his leg, but it was more painful now.

Apparently, whatever magical temporary cure Jungkook's touch possessed had worn off the second the man walked out the door.

He sat at the edge of the bed, deciding to head to the washroom. But as he began to rise, his eyes caught a folded piece of paper on the nightstand.

He was sure that the piece of paper had not been there yesterday.

He reached out and took the note, unfolding it.Taehyung's eyes scanned the page with immense curiosity.

Morning. It looks like a bad sprain. I left a painkiller on the table. Take it.

Do not put weight on your ankle. Use the crutches leaning against the desk to get around. Everything you need to freshen up is in there. Just relax..

He was surprised beyond words when he found the medicine neatly placed on the table. A pair of crutches leaning against the edge.

He really run the household like a military tactical unit. He thought half amused and half flustered.

He swallowed the painkiller, gripped the crutches, and carefully made it to the washroom expecting a basic guest setup.

‘Holy shit.’

He was surprised yet again. The bathroom was similar to the one in his own apartment, though considerably more spacious.

But...

Resting by the sink was a fresh, plush towel, along with a brand-new, unwrapped toothbrush, high-end body wash, premium shampoo, and a neatly folded set of soft, oversized casual clothes.

‘When on earth did he even do all this?’

Consider him officially, hopelessly impressed.

✨_____________✨

Seoul suffocated under a heavy, grey sky as dawn broke over the capital.

The sun rose over the Blue House casting long shadows across the grand plaza where thousands gathered in dead silence.

Camera lenses flashed like lightning and millions watched across the world. The President of Korea is about to reshape the nation's law and order by the most powerful hands.

In a few moments the inauguration ceremony would end, the oath would be spoken, and the full, crushing weight of executive authority would settle squarely on the new President’s shoulders.

Standing at the base of the grand podium, Secretary Choi Minho kept his coat buttoned tight.

His eyes scanned the front rows of dignitaries, counting the nervous twitches of compromised politicians who knew their time had run out.

Then, the murmurs died down completely.

Kim NamJoon

The soon to be President of Korea, dressed in sharp, pristine black suit with an unnaturally calm face. He stepped forward stood before the mic taking the oath officially taking over the authority on to his shoulders.

He raised his right hand, resting his left on the leather-bound book before him. The silence across the republic became absolute.

"I do solemnly swear before the people..." Namjoon’s voice echoed across the plaza, deep and resonant.

"...that I will faithfully execute the duties of the President by observing the Constitution, defending the State..."

Beneath the platform, Minho tapped his earpiece once. A silent signal sent to tactical strike teams positioned across the country.

"...promoting the freedom and welfare of the people, and endeavoring to develop national culture."

Namjoon paused, his eyes narrowing slightly into the lens of the center broadcast camera speaking directly to the shadow king hidden somewhere in the city.

The oath was spoken.

The full authority of the state settled squarely on his shoulders.

The trigger was pulled.

Namjoon lowered his hand, a lethal glint flickering in his eyes.

‘The President is coming.’

✨____________✨