Chapter Text
moodboard by me
The sun had only just risen when the knock came.
Park Jimin was still half-asleep, tangled in thin sheets, when the sound echoed through the small house. His mother rarely had visitors, not at this hour, and certainly not ones who knocked so firmly.
He sat up groggily, the air cool against his bare arms. His younger brother stirred in the corner bed but didn’t wake. Jimin rubbed his eyes, shuffled to the window, and froze.
A royal messenger stood at their door.
The navy coat gleamed with gold embroidery, the boots polished enough to shine. No one from the palace ever came to the lower districts unless it was official. Important or life-changing.
Jimin’s stomach twisted as he hurried to the door, his mother already pulling it open. She gasped, stepping aside in awe. The messenger held out an envelope sealed with wax, the crest of the Crown pressed deep into it.
“Park Jimin,” The man announced. His voice carried authority, the kind that left no room for disbelief. “By decree of the Crown, you have been chosen to participate in The Selection of the Crown Prince Jeon Jungkook of Eldrin.”
The neighbors had gathered already, drawn by the sight of the uniform. Some were buzzing with excitement for the Park family but there were also whispers from the envious ones. Sharp, cutting through the air like blades.
“Chosen? Him?”
“He’s no one—he doesn’t even have a proper title.”
“Maybe they made a mistake.”
Jimin’s cheeks burned as he accepted the envelope with trembling fingers. His mother pressed her hand to her mouth, torn between shock and pride.
The messenger didn’t linger. He bowed curtly before retreating to the waiting carriage, leaving Jimin staring down at the letter that suddenly weighed a thousand pounds.
The Selection.
He’d heard of it all his life—thirty citizens plucked from across the kingdom to live in the palace, to compete for the hand of members of the royal family. This time, no other than the Crown Prince himself.
The chosen ones were mostly nobles of interest to the crown but on some rare occasions, someone from the not so wealthy areas of the kingdom would be added for diversity though they never really had a chance at winning.
The Selection, to some, was an opportunity. Others thought of it as spectacle from the royals.
Jimin had never once thought it would involve him.
He barely remembered closing the door, or his mother’s hushed instructions to sit before he fainted. All he could see was the crest.
He broke the seal.
“You are hereby invited to the Royal Palace of Eldrin. Your presence is requested for the commencement of The Selection in honor of Crown Prince Jeon Jungkook of Eldrin…”
The words blurred as his pulse hammered. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t meant for this. He wasn’t...
But the letter didn’t care what he felt. The letter had chosen him and they would send a carriage to take him to the palace soon. His fate was sealed.
The palace was nothing like the crowded streets of his district. White marble towers stretched into the sky, catching the sunlight until they glowed. Soldiers in silver armor lined the gates, their expressions unyielding.
Jimin clutched the strap of his worn satchel tighter, painfully aware of the stares from the other competitors.
Girls draped in silk and velvet whispered behind jeweled hands, their laughter carrying sharp edges. Boys from noble families strutted with confidence, their polished shoes tapping proudly against the stone floor of the receiving hall.
Jimin, in his plainest formal clothes, felt every inch the outsider.
“You see him?” One girl murmured, not bothering to lower her voice. “The one with the patched satchel?”
“He won’t last a week.”
Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to let his face betray how deeply the words cut. He wasn’t here to win. He told himself that over and over.
He was here because refusing would have dishonored his family, because the stipend they received for participation would keep his mother and brother fed for years.
That had to be enough. He would be eliminated soon and be happy about it.
Then the doors opened. The room stilled, silence sweeping like a tide as the Crown Prince of Eldrin, Jeon Jungkook entered.
He was younger than Jimin had expected, barely older than himself, but the weight of his presence filled the hall. Broad-shouldered, dressed in black lined with gold, every step he took seemed measured, deliberate. His gaze was intense, scanning the competitors with an unreadable expression.
Jimin bowed with the others, but when he dared to glance up, his breath faltered. Jungkook’s eyes were on him.
Not on the jeweled girls beside him. Not on the noble sons vying for attention. Him.
It was only a second—maybe less—but it left Jimin’s knees weak. He tore his gaze away, cheeks burning, and stared firmly at the marble floor until the introductions began.
Hours passed in a blur of etiquette lessons and palace staff rattling off rules for The Selection. Jimin listened, but his mind kept drifting back to that moment—those dark, unreadable eyes fixed on him like he wasn’t invisible after all.
By evening, he was exhausted, grateful when an attendant led him to the wing where the competitors would sleep. His room was small compared to the palace’s grand halls but still larger than his entire house back home. He ran his fingers over the smooth sheets, overwhelmed.
And then, just as he began to relax, there was another knock at the door. He frowned, hesitant, before opening it.
On the other side stood Prince Jungkook himself. His expression unreadable. His posture rigid.
“Park Jimin,” The prince said softly, eyes locking onto his. “Walk with me.”