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Summary
“Listen carefully, porcelain prince,” Jungkook murmurs, his tone suddenly turning serious. “My food has soul. It has heart. Yours looks like it came straight out of some cold laboratory. My music stays, and so does my smoke. If your customers would rather eat at my place... that's your problem.”
A cold laugh escapes Jimin, his eyes burning with anger.
“We'll see how long that soul survives once the health inspectors shut your restaurant down. You're nothing more than an amateur playing with fire, Jeon.”