VIII

POV Y/N:

I checked the time. Only 2 p.m.—yet there I stood in front of the 7-Eleven Namjoon had mentioned in his text. Maybe I could buy us coffee, a small thank-you for picking me up.

I stepped inside and wandered toward the back of the store where the drinks were kept chilled. Ironically, their faces were plastered on coffee cans. His face on a can. Should I get that one? Would it be weird? Too much? Ugh. Why was I overthinking this?

I shook my head and grabbed an americano for him, a caramel macchiato for myself. Done.

Once outside, I glanced at my phone. A new message: I'm here. But there was no car in sight. I dialed his number.

"Y/N, hi!" "Hey Namjoon. I think I might be on the wrong street. I don't see you anywhere." "But I see you," he said, a smile in his voice. "Turn around."

And there he was—perched on a scooter, waving at me with an extra helmet in his hand.

A scooter. One of the richest men in Korea. On a scooter. This was ridiculously adorable.

I laughed, jogging over. "You're full of surprises. I wasn't expecting that!" "To be honest, me neither," he admitted, scratching his neck. "The truth is... I don't have a driver's license. I may or may not have forgotten that tiny detail yesterday when I said I'd pick you up." I burst out laughing. "This is adorable. But why go through all this trouble? I could've taken the bus." "Sometimes," he said softly, "it's refreshing to do something normal."

Something tugged at me as I looked at him. The thought that he probably didn't get to enjoy life's small freedoms—things I took for granted. We couldn't be more different... and yet, in that moment, I sensed we were exactly the same.

I handed him his coffee. "Didn't know what you liked—americano or latte macchiato." "Americano. Thanks." "That's what I figured," I said with mock disapproval. He raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" "It means I might have to teach you more than English. Apparently, I'll have to introduce you to the sweetness of life too." "I'd love that."

His answer silenced me. There was sincerity in his voice I wasn't prepared for. I pushed the moment aside and nodded toward the road.

"We should probably get going, don't want to be late."

"Ever been on a scooter?" "Thousands of times." "Then you know the rule—hold on tight." "Don't worry," I said, sliding behind him and fastening my helmet.

Honestly, it was smart of him—using a scooter to blend in. If it weren't for the matching Christian Dior helmets, we could've been anyone.

We rolled into BigHit's underground parking lot, and for the first time today, I saw Namjoon's full face as he removed his helmet.

"That was fun," he grinned. "Indeed! Thank you for the ride." "Anytime." "Are you coming to the meeting too?" "If you don't mind." "Not at all. It'll be nice to have a familiar face with me."

Walking into the building beside Namjoon was an experience in itself. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing to greet him. He worked here—surely they saw him all the time—but he was still revered like royalty. I couldn't even imagine how he was treated by people who didn't see him every day.

We reached Bang PD's office. He welcomed us with a warm smile—surprisingly casual for someone so important.

"Soo, Y/N! A pleasure to finally meet you!" "It's an honor, sir." "Please, sit! I've heard great things. A little language genius, I'm told!" "It's really no big deal where I come from." "And she's humble," he said to Namjoon, who was watching me with quiet pride.

"Well, I'm not sure what Namjoon already told you about the contract," Bang PD continued. "Something about teaching BTS English?" "Yes... and no. But before we dive in, I'd like you to sign this basic agreement. It's a non-disclosure contract—standard procedure before we discuss anything confidential. If you agree to work with us, there'll be a longer, more detailed contract later."

I took the paper. It was simple enough, just legal protection for today's conversation. I signed.

Namjoon glanced at me. "Truth is... we want to offer you more than just a teaching role."

Bang PD leaned forward. "You speak eight languages. That's extraordinary. English, Portuguese, Spanish, French, German—what were the others?" I smiled sheepishly. "Do you know how many countries we could reach with your help? North and South America, most of Africa, a huge part of Europe!"

Namjoon picked up from there. "With you on board, we could expand the world tour. Tailor our speeches for each country, connect on a deeper level with fans from all backgrounds."

"And," Bang PD added, "while discussing this with the producers, we had a brilliant idea. You know our Run BTS episodes? Fans love them, but after all these years, we want to refresh the concept. So imagine this—a new show that follows the boys around the world. Discovering cultures, experiencing life abroad... with one guide. Always the same guide."

Namjoon smiled at me. "That guide would be you. The tour starts in three months and lasts about a year."

I stared at them, stunned.

This wasn't just a teaching job. It was... life-changing.

Traveling the world. Exploring new cultures. Time with BTS. But also... being on camera. Becoming known. Losing anonymity. That part scared me.

Namjoon leaned in. "So, Y/N. What do you say?"

"To be honest, it's a lot to process. I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity, but... if I understand correctly, I'd become sort of a celebrity, right?" "Yes," Bang PD replied. "That's inevitable." "And I'm not sure I'm ready for that." "You'd only be committed for the contract period," Namjoon offered. "No pressure to renew afterward." "Plus," Bang PD added, "there are benefits we haven't even discussed—housing in the same building as the boys, no commute, generous salary, all expenses paid during travel. It could open so many doors. You might find a career you truly love."

Namjoon nodded. "Take the day to think about it. You can give us your answer tomorrow. But remember—everything we discussed today is confidential."

"Of course. Thank you both so much. What time tomorrow?" "I'll clear my schedule for 3 p.m.," Bang PD said. "Think carefully. This is the kind of chance that only comes once. I chose my boys... and now I'm choosing you. Don't doubt yourself."

Namjoon's POV

As she left the room, Bang PD chuckled.

"She's definitely something. But you were right—if we'd offered her a model or singer contract, she'd have refused immediately." "She needs time," I said. "She has to ease into the idea of being in the spotlight, gain confidence, decide if it fits her. We had years of training. She's just starting. But I know she's worth the wait." "You might be right."

I stood to leave. "I'll reassure her. Try to convince her." "Great. Give her these." He handed me the full contract. "So she has all the details to think it through."

As I reached the door, Bang PD called after me, grinning.

"Oh, and by the way, Namjoon... I left out the seven-year no-dating clause."

I turned. He waved innocently, that cheeky smile on his face.

I found her waiting at the scooter, lost in her thoughts.

"Sorry," I said. "As his right-hand man, I had to wrap up a few details. Here—this is the full contract, so you can read everything carefully."

"Do you have plans today?" "Not really, no." "Can I drive?" she asked, nodding toward the scooter. There was something in her tone—restless, heavy. She needed air.

"Of course."

She strapped on her helmet, climbed on, and waited.

"You know what to do," she said.

As the scooter jerked forward, I instinctively reached out and held her thigh. She rode and rode—through the city, beyond the outskirts. I stopped reading signs, stopped tracking where we were, and just held her tight.

Three hours later, we finally stopped. My legs were jelly, my stomach growling—but I stayed close, still holding her. She wasn't tense anymore.

She took off her helmet, exhaled, and I loosened my grip. That's when I noticed where we were.

The sea.

"Sorry for the long ride," she murmured. "I just needed to clear my head. The sea always helps."

"I haven't been here in years." "The sunset from here is incredible."

And it was. We sat on the sand, watching the horizon burn gold and rose.

"I don't know if I should accept," she whispered. "Why?" "I'm independent. I love my freedom." "But aren't your fears the ones holding you captive right now?"

She looked at me and smiled.

"You do have a point there," I murmur after a moment, lowering my gaze to the glass between my fingers. "But I'm afraid... I'm afraid to have to abandon who I am, what I like... the freedom to do whatever I want, whenever I want—just because I could get recognized."

He doesn't flinch, doesn't interrupt. He just listens. And when he speaks, his voice is calm. Thoughtful.

"The truth is," he says, "total freedom is a utopia anyway. Nobody can do whatever they want whenever they want. Not all the time. Most people don't have the time, or the money—or even the health—to live that way."

He leans back just slightly, eyes fixed on mine, the firelight catching on his lashes.

"But if you accept the contract," he adds, "you'll have enough money to buy yourself that freedom later. To do whatever you want, whenever you want... at least for a little while longer."

His words hang in the air like a gentle offering, not a trap. And for the first time tonight, I feel the weight in my chest lighten.

I look at him again. And smile.

"You're a very wise man, Kim Namjoon. Do you know that?"

"Sometimes," he replies, a half-smile blooming on his lips.

I tilt my head, studying him. Not the idol. Not the polished leader of millions. Just him—tired-eyed and soft-spoken, sipping on his beer can.

"You're right," I admit softly. "You still have so much to experience. So much to enjoy..."

I pause. Let the moment stretch between us.

"If I accept—and I'm saying if—you'll have to let me teach you the beauty of freedom. And life. Do we have a deal?"

He lifts his beer  in a silent toast. "Deal."