Chapter Text
Jungkook stared at the front door, his fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of the backpack hanging from his shoulder. He had been standing on the small porch for several minutes, although he was trying very hard not to think about exactly how many. The longer he waited, the more difficult it became to raise his hand and press the doorbell.
He had rehearsed his introduction dozens of times during the train ride.
Hello, I’m Jungkook. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.
It was a simple and polite answer, and hopefully he would sound professional when he said it. At least, it had sounded professional inside his head. Now that he was actually standing in front of the enormous house, however, the sentence seemed to have disappeared completely.
Jungkook looked down at the doorbell. He only had to press it once. That was all.
If he remained outside much longer, he was going to be late, and arriving late on his first day would make a terrible impression. He desperately needed this job. He had spent the last few weeks convincing himself that everything would be fine once he got here, but now that the moment had finally arrived, his stomach felt as though it had tied itself into a knot.
He had applied for the position voluntarily. Nobody had forced him to come. He had read the advertisement several times, completed the application, survived the interview, and accepted the offer when the agency called him. He had chosen this. Unfortunately, reminding himself of that did nothing to calm him down.
His fingers slowly moved toward the button, but they stopped before they could touch it. What would happen after he rang the bell? Someone would open the door, invite him inside, and expect him to behave like the capable natural he had claimed to be.
The lie weighed heavily inside his chest. The agency did not place subs in private households. They had explained that clearly when he first contacted them. According to the woman who had interviewed him, live-in household work required independence, emotional stability, and the ability to manage several responsibilities without supervision. Those were all qualities that subs apparently could not be trusted to possess. Jungkook had sat across from her and nodded politely while she explained it. Then he had filled in Natural on the application form. He had not seen another option.
Before Jungkook could force himself to press the bell, the door suddenly swung open. Jungkook startled so badly that he stepped backwards without thinking.
A tall man stood in the doorway. He had broad shoulders, a calm expression, and the kind of quiet presence that seemed to fill the entire entrance before he had even spoken. Jungkook immediately recognized him as a dom. The silver identification pin attached to the collar of his shirt confirmed it, but Jungkook would have known without seeing the pin. His body always noticed doms before his mind had time to catch up.
Jungkook’s heel slipped off the edge of the small step. He gasped as his balance disappeared. A hand closed around his forearm before he could fall. The man pulled him forward with one quick movement and steadied him until both of Jungkook’s feet were safely on the porch again. “Careful,” the man said calmly.
Jungkook’s heart pounded against his ribs as he tried to recover his balance. The man released him as soon as he was standing properly, but Jungkook could still feel the warmth of his fingers around his arm. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook said quickly. The apology escaped automatically. He was not entirely certain what he was apologizing for, but standing silently after nearly falling down the steps seemed even more embarrassing.
The man looked from Jungkook to the doorbell. “Does the bell not work?” the man asked. Jungkook opened his mouth, but no answer appeared. The man leaned slightly to the side and examined the doorbell as though there might be a visible problem with it. “The security system has been showing that someone was standing outside,” the man explained. “It has been sending notifications for a few minutes, but nobody rang the bell.”
He pressed the button himself. A loud ding-dong echoed through the house. Jungkook felt heat spread across his cheeks. The bell worked perfectly. Of course it did. Why had he not pressed it immediately? He had managed to turn the easiest part of arriving into something strange and awkward. The man probably thought there was something wrong with him already, and Jungkook had not even introduced himself yet. “I was about to,” Jungkook said hesitantly. The explanation sounded weak, even to him. The man looked at him with a questioning expression, clearly waiting for Jungkook to continue.
Jungkook tried to think of a reasonable excuse. He could not admit that he had been too nervous to press a doorbell. He also could not explain that he had been terrified of what would happen once he stepped inside, despite needing the job badly enough to lie to an employment agency. “I just…” Jungkook began. His voice faded again.
The man’s expression changed. The confusion remained, but something gentler appeared beneath it. He looked at Jungkook more carefully, taking in his tense shoulders and the way his fingers were still gripping the backpack strap. “May I see your wrist?” the man asked. Jungkook froze.
The man stepped forward and carefully took Jungkook’s arm before Jungkook managed to answer. He turned Jungkook’s wrist slightly, apparently searching for an identification band. Most subs wore one. The bands usually contained emergency contact information, medical details, and the telephone numbers of registered guardians or support workers. Some were plain and practical, while others looked like expensive bracelets, but everyone knew what they meant. Jungkook had not worn one since leaving his parents.
He had removed it on the first night he slept away from their house and had never put it back on. He had hated the weight of it around his wrist and the way strangers could look at it and immediately decide what kind of person he was. The man frowned when he found nothing. “You don’t have a support band,” the man said slowly.
Jungkook pulled his arm back a little too quickly. “No,” Jungkook answered. His pulse had started racing again. Perhaps he had appeared so nervous and incapable that the man had assumed he was a lost sub who required help. Jungkook could hardly blame him. He had nearly fallen off the porch, failed to ring the bell, and then struggled to form a complete sentence. He probably seemed completely helpless. Jungkook needed to correct the misunderstanding before the man asked any more questions. “I’m Jungkook,” he said quickly. “I’m the new housekeeper.”
Housekeeper was not quite the right word for the position, but it was the easiest way to explain it. According to the contract, he would be responsible for general household management. He would clean the communal rooms, manage the laundry, collect the mail, organize groceries and deliveries, prepare breakfast when necessary, and make sure the house continued running smoothly. In exchange, he would receive a respectable salary, food, and a room inside the house. It was more than he had expected to find.
Recognition appeared on the man’s face. “Oh,” the man said. “Of course.” He looked briefly embarrassed, although Jungkook had no idea why. Jungkook was the one who had been behaving strangely. “I’m Namjoon,” the man said as he stepped aside. “I knew you were arriving today. I just didn’t realize you were already outside.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook repeated.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Namjoon said. “Come inside.” Jungkook carefully stepped over the threshold. The entrance hall was larger than the apartment where he had grown up. Natural light poured in through tall windows and reflected off the polished wooden floor. The interior was modern but not cold. There were expensive-looking pieces of furniture, framed artwork, and several large plants that appeared far healthier than any plant Jungkook had ever attempted to care for.
He tried not to stare, but his eyes continued moving around the space. The photographs displayed on a long cabinet caught his attention. They showed groups of men at different ages, sometimes dressed formally and sometimes crowded together in casual clothes. In one picture, everyone was laughing so hard that two of them had nearly fallen out of the frame. The house did not look like a carefully designed show home. People actually lived here. Jungkook was not sure whether that made him feel better or more nervous. This house belonged to an eros. “It can be overwhelming the first time,” Namjoon said.
Jungkook immediately looked away from the photographs. “I wasn’t trying to be rude,” Jungkook said.
“I didn’t think you were being rude,” Namjoon said. “Most people stare during their first visit. The house is larger than it needs to be.” Jungkook glanced at him. Namjoon was smiling slightly, and the expression made him appear less intimidating. Not completely unintimidating, because Jungkook was still painfully aware that he was standing beside a Dom he had met only minutes ago, but less frightening than before. “According to the agency, they already discussed most of your responsibilities with you,” Namjoon said as he began walking through the hall. “I’ll show you where everything is today, but you are not expected to remember it immediately.”
Jungkook followed him, careful to remain a respectful distance behind. “I can remember it,” Jungkook said. The words came out more defensively than he had intended.
Namjoon stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sure you can,” Namjoon said. “I only meant that there’s no pressure. It’s a big house, and there are several people living here. Nobody expects you to understand everything on your first day.”
Jungkook nodded. “Right,” Jungkook said quietly. “Thank you.” He needed to stop interpreting every comment as criticism. Namjoon had not accused him of being incapable. He had simply tried to reassure him. Still, Jungkook could not afford to make mistakes. If the family decided he was not suitable for the job, he would have nowhere to go.
“We use a trial period of one month,” Namjoon explained as they entered a spacious living room. “That gives you time to decide whether the work suits you, and it gives us time to see whether you fit into the household.”
Jungkook’s stomach tightened at the word trial. Namjoon must have noticed something in his expression because he continued more gently. “It isn’t a test you need to pass every day,” Namjoon said. “We just want to make sure everyone is comfortable. This is our home, but it will also be your home while you work here.”
Jungkook looked down at the floor. The idea of calling this place his home felt dangerous. He had learned not to become comfortable too quickly. A room could be taken away. Promises could change. People could decide that helping him had become inconvenient. He would be grateful for the room, but he would not make the mistake of believing it belonged to him. “I understand,” Jungkook said.
Namjoon studied him for a moment before nodding. “Did you leave your luggage in a car?” Namjoon asked. “We can get it before I continue the tour.”
Jungkook reached behind himself and pulled the backpack from his shoulder. “This is everything,” Jungkook said.
Namjoon looked at the backpack. Then he looked at Jungkook. “Everything?” Namjoon asked.
“Yes,” Jungkook answered.
The backpack was not particularly large. It contained several shirts, two pairs of trousers, underwear, a toothbrush, a phone charger, and the few personal belongings Jungkook had managed to keep. It did not contain enough for someone supposedly moving into a house for a live-in position. Jungkook had known that when he packed it, but he had not possessed anything else to bring. “I have an apartment in the city,” Jungkook said. “I can collect more things later.”
The lie appeared before he could reconsider it. He did not have an apartment. For the past month, he had been sleeping on a friend’s sofa. Cho had allowed him to borrow clothes, toiletries, and anything else he required. When Jungkook received this job, Cho had even offered to buy him a new wardrobe. Jungkook had refused. He had claimed that the family would provide everything and that the advertisement specifically instructed him to bring as little as possible. His friend had believed him because Jungkook had become very good at smiling while lying.
Namjoon continued looking at the backpack. “We have basic supplies,” Namjoon said. “There are towels, bathrobes, bedding, and toiletries in your room. But are you sure you haven’t forgotten anything important?”
“I’m sure,” Jungkook said.
“Toothpaste?” Namjoon asked.
“Yes,” Jungkook answered.
“A toothbrush?” Namjoon asked.
“Yes,” Jungkook repeated.
“Medication?” Namjoon asked.
“I don’t take any,” Jungkook said.
“Enough clothes for at least several days?” Namjoon asked.
Jungkook tightened his hold on the backpack strap. “I have everything I need,” Jungkook said. “My clothes don’t take up much space.” That was partly true. He had folded everything as tightly as possible and rolled some items so they would fit.
Namjoon looked unconvinced, but he did not challenge him. “All right,” Namjoon said. “You can always collect more later, and if you discover that you need something urgently, please tell one of us.”
Jungkook nodded. He doubted he would ask them for anything. He had not even started working yet, and he already felt as though he had received too much. Namjoon showed him the living room first. There were several large sofas, shelves filled with books, a television mounted against the wall, and a collection of blankets folded inside a wooden basket. “This room is usually louder in the evenings,” Namjoon said. “Everyone tends to gather here after dinner.” He would probably be cleaning while they relaxed. He was an employee, regardless of Namjoon’s comments about the house becoming his home.
They continued into the kitchen. Jungkook stopped walking for a moment when he saw it. The room contained two ovens, a wide cooking island, several cupboards, and a refrigerator large enough to hold food for an entire restaurant. Everything was clean and neatly organized. Small labels had been placed on some of the shelves, and a handwritten schedule was attached to the refrigerator. “You won’t be expected to cook every meal,” Namjoon explained. “Jin enjoys cooking, and Yoongi occasionally cooks when he’s in the mood. Breakfast will be your main responsibility, although we can discuss preferences later.”
“I can cook,” Jungkook said quickly.
Namjoon smiled. “That’s good,” Namjoon said. “Jin will probably ask you several questions about that.”
As though his name had summoned him, a man appeared through the doorway on the opposite side of the kitchen. He was holding a vase filled with flowers and wearing a pale apron over his clothes. “Oh,” the man said brightly. “You found him.”
Jungkook stiffened. The man placed the vase on the counter and walked toward them. He was also a Dom. His presence felt different from Namjoon’s, warmer and more openly expressive, but Jungkook still found himself lowering his gaze instinctively.
“This is Jungkook,” Namjoon said. “Jungkook, this is Jin.”
Jungkook bowed immediately. “It’s nice to meet you,” Jungkook said.
“You don’t need to bow,” Jin said with a soft laugh. “You’re going to hurt your back if you greet everyone like that.” Jungkook straightened quickly, uncertain whether he had already done something wrong.
Jin’s expression softened. “I’m teasing you,” Jin said. “It’s nice to meet you too. We’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”
Jungkook did not know how to respond to that. People rarely looked forward to meeting him. “Thank you,” Jungkook said.
Jin looked at Namjoon. “Did you frighten him at the door?” Jin asked.
“I did not frighten him,” Namjoon said.
“You have your serious face on,” Jin said. “Your serious face frightens everyone.”
“This is my normal face,” Namjoon replied.
“That makes it worse,” another voice said from the living room. Jungkook turned toward the sound. A third man was sitting on one of the sofas with a laptop resting on his knees. Jungkook had not noticed him when they passed through the room earlier. He had dark hair, a relaxed posture, and an expression that revealed very little.
“This is Yoongi,” Namjoon said.
Yoongi looked up from his screen. “Hello, Jungkook,” Yoongi said. “Welcome.”
His voice was quiet and even. He did not move closer, ask questions, or study Jungkook openly. Jungkook found that unexpectedly comforting. “It’s nice to meet you,” Jungkook said.
Yoongi nodded once. “You too,” Yoongi replied.
Jin glanced at Jungkook’s backpack. “Is that all you brought?” Jin asked.
Jungkook’s fingers tightened around the strap again. “Yes,” Jungkook answered.
Jin looked as though he wanted to ask another question, but Namjoon gave him a subtle look. Whatever passed silently between them caused Jin to close his mouth. “You must be tired after travelling,” Jin said instead. “We’ll make something to eat after you’ve settled in.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Jungkook said quickly. “I can make something.”
“You haven’t even seen your room yet,” Jin said. “You’re not working today.”
“I can work,” Jungkook insisted. He needed them to understand that he was useful. He did not want to begin his first day by accepting food and resting while everyone else cared for him.
Namjoon’s expression became firmer. “Today is for settling in,” Namjoon said. “Your contract begins tomorrow morning.”
Jungkook lowered his eyes. “All right,” Jungkook said. The instinct to obey made the answer leave his mouth immediately. He hoped none of them noticed how quickly it happened.
Namjoon continued the tour, showing Jungkook the laundry room, a storage cupboard, a small office, and the door leading to the back garden. Jungkook tried to remember every detail. Detergent was stored on the second shelf. Cleaning products for the wooden floors were kept separately. The post arrived through a locked box near the gate. Deliveries used the side entrance. He repeated the information silently inside his head.
The house felt even larger as they walked through it. Several hallways connected to rooms Jungkook had not yet seen, and the staircase curved toward an upper floor with more doors than he could count. “How many people live here?” Jungkook asked before he could stop himself.
“Seven, including you,” Namjoon answered.
Jungkook nearly missed the first step. “Including me?” Jungkook repeated.
“Yes,” Namjoon said. “There are six of us living here permanently. You’ll meet the others later.”
Jungkook nodded slowly. Six people. Six people that was so much. He had expected the job to involve one family, perhaps a couple and their children. The advertisement had been vague, describing the residents only as a private household. Jungkook had assumed the agency withheld details for security reasons. He had not expected six adult. His anxiety must have shown on his face because Namjoon stopped halfway up the stairs. “Is that a problem?” Namjoon asked.
“No,” Jungkook said immediately. “Not at all.” It was definitely a problem, but not one he could explain.
Namjoon remained still. “Nobody here will expect you to manage everything alone,” Namjoon said. “We all clean up after ourselves, even if Jin occasionally claims otherwise.”
“I heard that,” Jin called from downstairs.
“You were supposed to,” Namjoon called back. Jungkook looked down before the smile threatening to appear could become visible.
They continued upstairs. Namjoon pointed out the bathrooms, the linen cupboard, and several private bedrooms that Jungkook would not be expected to enter unless invited. Jungkook appreciated the clear instructions. Rules were easier to follow when people actually explained them. At the end of the hallway, Namjoon stopped in front of a white door. “This room is yours,” Namjoon said. He opened the door and stepped aside.
Jungkook entered cautiously. The bedroom was larger than any room he had ever been allowed to call his own. A double bed stood against one wall, covered with soft grey bedding. A desk had been placed near the window, overlooking the garden. There was a comfortable chair, a bookshelf, a wardrobe, and a private bathroom visible through another door. Everything looked clean and new.
Jungkook walked farther inside, almost afraid that touching something might reveal that the room was not actually meant for him. The wardrobe doors were open. Several basic shirts, trousers, sweaters, and sets of sleepwear had already been placed inside. Most of the clothing still had tags attached.
Jungkook stared at them. “We didn’t know your exact size,” Namjoon explained from the doorway. “The agency sent approximate measurements, so we bought a few options. Anything that doesn’t fit can be exchanged.”
“You bought these?” Jungkook asked.
“Yes,” Namjoon said. “Live-in staff are provided with basic clothing if needed.” Jungkook did not remember reading that in the contract. Perhaps he had missed it. He had been so relieved by the mention of accommodation that he had barely trusted himself to believe the rest.
There were towels in the bathroom, toiletries beside the sink, and a new pair of slippers near the bed. Someone had even placed a small basket containing snacks on the desk. Jungkook swallowed. The room did not resemble temporary accommodation for an employee. It looked as though someone had genuinely expected him to arrive and had wanted him to feel comfortable.
He had spent weeks telling himself that he only needed a place to sleep. He did not need kindness, comfort, or people who cared whether he felt welcome. Those things complicated everything. They encouraged hope, and hope made it more painful when the situation inevitably changed. Still, he could not stop looking around. “This is all for me?” Jungkook asked.
Namjoon’s expression softened. “Yes,” Namjoon answered. “This is your room.” Jungkook placed his backpack carefully on the edge of the bed. It looked painfully small against the clean bedding. He wondered what Namjoon thought when he looked at it. Perhaps Namjoon already knew that Jungkook had lied about the apartment. Perhaps he was simply too polite to confront him. Jungkook’s eyes began to sting. He blinked several times and turned toward the window before Namjoon could notice. Crying on his first day would be even more humiliating than failing to ring the doorbell. “There is a lock on the door,” Namjoon said quietly. “You’re free to use it. Nobody will enter without permission.”
Jungkook looked back at him. The information mattered more than Namjoon could possibly understand. “Thank you,” Jungkook said. Namjoon nodded.
“Dinner is usually around seven,” Namjoon said. “You’re welcome to join us, but if you would rather rest, someone can bring food upstairs.”
Jungkook stared at him. Employees did not usually join families for dinner. At least, he did not think they did. “I can eat in the kitchen,” Jungkook said.
“You can,” Namjoon replied. “But you don’t have to.” Jungkook did not know what answer Namjoon expected. Namjoon seemed to understand his confusion because he did not press him. “Take some time to unpack,” Namjoon said. “I’ll come back before dinner and check whether you need anything.”
“You don’t have to check on me,” Jungkook said.
“I know,” Namjoon answered. “I still will.” There was no sharpness in his tone. He simply stated it as a fact. Namjoon placed one hand on the doorframe. “I’m glad you’re here, Jungkook,” Namjoon said. “Welcome home.” Jungkook’s throat tightened. Home was too large a word for a room he had only just entered. It carried expectations and promises that he could not allow himself to believe.
He lowered his eyes so Namjoon would not see the emotion gathering there. “Thank you,” Jungkook whispered. Namjoon left the door partially open when he walked away, allowing Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to close it.
Jungkook remained beside the bed for several minutes after Namjoon disappeared down the hallway. The house was not silent. He could hear faint voices from downstairs, followed by Jin’s laughter and Yoongi’s quieter response. The sounds travelled upward and settled around him. For the first time in weeks, Jungkook was standing somewhere he was supposed to sleep without wondering whether he would be asked to leave the following morning.
He slowly sat on the bed. The mattress sank beneath his weight, softer than anything he had slept on in years. Jungkook looked at his small backpack, the full wardrobe, and the basket of food waiting on the desk. He told himself that it was only part of the job. The room, the clothing, and the food were all practical arrangements. They did not mean that anyone wanted him here. They certainly did not mean that this was home. Even so, when he heard Jin call Namjoon’s name from downstairs and Namjoon answer with exaggerated frustration, Jungkook found himself listening.
Jungkook curled his fingers into the bedding and allowed himself to sit there for one more moment before unpacking. Perhaps he could stay for the entire month. Perhaps, if he worked hard enough and remained careful, they would never discover that he had lied. Perhaps he could belong here temporarily without allowing himself to want anything more.