Bangtan is Asia’s most dangerous and the largest crime syndicate and you are the daughter of the Underboss. That’s all anyone had to know about you to speculate what your life was, is and will be.  No matter what your position in the mafia ladder was, your future as a quintessential mob woman held only two things; a marriage to the man of the Don’s choosing and an heir for whoever married you. That’s all there is for women like you. Your body to serve and be enjoyed by a man, your uterus to nourish and produce a heir for the said man and a lifelong commitment to raise the said heir till Bangtan chose the child’s future.  It’s the same old story.  Your mother, her mother, your father’s mother and all other women in Bangtan were subjected to this culture of marrying a stranger and bearing his child. You wouldn’t be different. Your mother told you that every day. She told you that when you studied hard at school, told you again when you went to study abroad, repeated it very loudly when you applied for higher studies and again when you joined the Jeon Corps as an Executive.  You wouldn’t be any different. Trying to differ in a world like ours is just a waste of time and effort. But you were different. At least, you liked to believe so. Most mob women barely graduated high school. You had a degree from a prestigious university. Some mob women were forced into ion or are used as honey traps for other gangs but you work voluntarily for a different face of Bangtan, the less nefarious corporate one.  You were different, but were you really? Deep down, you knew weren’t any different. You were just another pawn in the vicious game of the mafia. You had a splendid matrimonial arrangement and high hopes set out for you to pop out a perfect male child for the man.  Your marriage was arranged the day you were born, at the hospital where your father handed you over your crib to Bangtan’s Boss and his best friend, Don Kim Joonhyung. The Don took one look at you and a look at his gurgling toddler and decided that you would marry his son, Kim Namjoon. That was all it took for your life to be joined with his; two glances and a sentence. One would think it’s bizzare at this day and age but arranged marriages have been the norm in the mafia world for generations, especially in Bangtan. Everyone’s marriage is arranged and the syndicate did not look kindly upon love marriages. No one was exempt from this tradition of Bangtan, not even the Don himself. The Don chooses the two who would be marrying for the good of Bangtan, the families involved and the children they would have. The family with the higher standing in Bangtan takes in the other family, so the couple are at an equal place and a higher position in the mafia-social ladder. If a made-man works hard and becomes an irreplaceable part of the circle but is the son of a low-level associate, then there’s a higher chance of the man marrying a higher status mob woman, so he can move up the social ladder. Everything is a carefully planned business move and probably the Don and Madam’s most crucial duty because there are certain lines that shouldn’t be crossed and certain things that need to be kept in mind while setting up such matches. The two need to be somewhat of an equal match in at least one attribute, be it age, status or skills. Their families must be loyal to Bangtan and to each other. It is a tedious process, but the couple seemed to have gotten nearly all marriages right. Was it the fear or love holding the married couples together, only the couples could tell. But like everything else with Bangtan, no one has the spine to question it.  The normal way to find out that you are getting married and finding out who that person is going to be is over a lovely dinner with the Don and Madam at their mansion. They serve your favourites and stuff you enough that you won’t know to say no -not that anyone would, but the possibility exists- the system very similar to the fattening up of an animal before its brutal sacrifice.  The two people get summoned to the Don’s mansion. He introduces them to each other and tells them they are getting married. The couple agrees- whether they like it or not, it doesn’t matter. They have dinner and in a few months, they are married. There are no dates, no kissing, no holding each other, practically nothing before marriage. The woman is expected to remain a till her marriage. The couple is expected to consummate their marriage on the wedding night, show proof of the said act and produce kids for the next generation of Bangtan. That was life in the world of Bangtan, at least for women; marriage, husband and kids. You shuddered at the possibility of the same happening to you, but you know it was inevitable. Your skin crawled thinking of the hundreds of wedding night and sheet ceremony horror stories you’ve heard over the years; women shamed and blamed for not bleeding onto the pristine sheets on the wedding night, women accused of being for liking or taking lead in what was happening, women being forced into , women being assaulted for saying no. Everytime, you take a deep breath, exhale and move on.  This was life. It wasn’t that the unfairness didn’t prick at you but you were helpless and hopeless against these cruel mafia-men. For an organization that so heavily prides on the fact that they treat women well, Bangtan did have its flaws -like how men are never asked to not engage in ual activities before marriage or how men aren’t required to give proof of their ity in the most unscientific way possible for the world to see, -bleeding into the sheets, that’s barbaric- You were fifteen when you pointed that out to your mother. The answer was a tight slap to your cheek and a short lecture on manners. “Being born into Bangtan is a blessing, Nari,” Your mother had told you, grabbing painfully at your arm, as you clutched on to your throbbing cheek, eyes filling up in watery pain, “If you were born into any other gang, you’d have been sold off to a pimp at ten and you’d be living as a right now.” You had winced at her harsh words and at the pain your mother was giving you. But you knew, it was true. You were lucky to have been born in Bangtan, a syndicate that accepts made-men having daughters over any gang that just disowns or even worse, kills them. And above that, you were privileged to be born as the daughter of one of the higher-ups of Bangtan. You cried to sleep that night regardless. Privileged or not, your life wouldn’t be yours to live anyway.

•

When you were around sixteen, you found out about your engagement to Kim Namjoon. Your best friend, Kim Jangmi -who is the Don’s daughter and Namjoon’s younger sister- revealed the fact at an usual bi-weekly sleepover at your place. You were supposed to be reading some cheap romance novel or watch a sappy movie, with too-sweet and too-seasoned snacks but instead the two of you were talking late into the night, indulging yourselves in the latest gossip in Bangtan -like how one of your dearest unnies in Bangtan, Saera was getting married to an Elite member and how Shin Jihyo and Shin Jihoon, a set of twins and two people you hate vehemently, were punished severely for bullying and pranking Jungkook, a young orphan boy that the Don had brought home. As you talked longer about everything under your sky, the talk naturally steered to your recent discovery of Jangmi’s obvious crush on Taehyung, yet another orphan picked up by Bangtan. You relentlessly as you mimicked her expressions and actions anytime, the boy was around. She kept firmly denying it and kept saying how it was just because of so and so, this and that but you knew your friend well. She definitely liked him. And you also knew she had reasons to not accept it. But that didn’t stop you from calling her a traitor for not sharing exclusive details of her forbidden crush on Taehyung. In a world where you couldn’t choose your life partner, crushes were a bane and crushing on your brother’s close friend would be the worst of them all. Not only would it cause trouble for Jangmi, it could potentially ruin Taehyung too. You must’ve cornered her because when she turns your words to you, you are left gaping. “Yah, don’t act like you are any better!” She scoffs playfully, sounding a little hurt, fully convinced that you were acting innocent, “You keep a whole engagement -with my brother, no less- away from me, but except me to share my innocent crush on my brother’s friend like it’s the weather?!” To say you were shocked then would be an understatement. “What engagement?” You asked, stupefied at her absurd revelation. You would know if you were engaged to a man, right? Your parents wouldn’t hide that from you. Your mother would be ecstatic at the thought of becoming family with the Don and everything that could bring to her status and your father would never be able to hide it from you. But apparently you didn’t know your parents all that well and they did manage to successfully hide it from you for sixteen years. That was the first time you heard about your engagement with Namjoon, from his sister. The whole night is spent with you trying to convince Jangmi that no, you really didn’t know and with her recollecting how she actually came to know about it. Your best friend had eavesdropped, when her parents were talking to Namjoon about staying away from Shin Jihyo who was trying a little too hard to gain his attention. They had reminded him that he was engaged to you and while it wasn’t announced officially, he had to stay away from other mob women in order to not cause you any trouble and heartache in the future. Namjoon had dutifully agreed that he would stay away from other mob women. You would never admit it out aloud, but your heart did drop a bit at the thought of marrying a man who had to be told to stay away from other women, when he knew of his engagement to you. You couldn’t fall asleep that night, thoughts too heavy in you as you waited for breakfast the next day. You ambush your parents the next morning, right after the Don’s chauffeur had picked up your best friend. “Why did you never tell me?” You ask in an accusatory tone, tears welling in your eyes. Your parents betrayal running down your cheeks. “You were too young to be talking about this,” Your father tried to soothe you. He hated seeing his darling daughter cry. “You still are, you don’t have to worry about it, sweetie. We’ll talk about it when you are old enough.” “But I’m glad you know now,” Your mother’s voice interrupted your father’s softer soothing, “So that you can stay away from those orphans! You don’t want to be getting involved in any way with them!” “They are my friends!” You glare at your mother, who always hated that the Don brought in so many orphans and raised them with kids born into Bangtan. She thought that it ruined the sanctity of Bangtan. You roll your eyes at her, like anything the syndicate does could be considered sacred and holy. “They are the next Don’s closest friends, you should hold your tongue on how you talk about them.” You glare at her, eyes teary. You truly hated your mother sometimes. “They aren’t the next Don though,” Your mother breathed a laugh, as if she had an upper hand in the argument, “-the man you are engaged to, so keep your hands to yourself.” “You are no one to be ordering me around.” “Why you-” Before your mother could land a painful slap on you, your father had held her arm with a steely glare. “Let go, let me-” “If I ever see you-” He said, twisting her arm, “-trying to hurt my daughter, I’ll drop you exactly where you are from, the slums.” He sneered, letting go of her. Your mother pulled away, still breathing heavily. Her hateful eyes landed on you, as you stayed behind your father. You met her gaze with equal amounts of venom, if not more. “Get out.” Your father ordered her, turning to look at you. Once your mother left, your father sighed. He cupped your cheek, wiping your tears away. “It’s okay, sweetling,” He smiled tiredly, “Everything is okay. She won’t hurt you, okay?” You nod, sniffling. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to live your life without worrying about marriage, kids and all that.” Your father hugs you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Don’t worry your little head about it. We’ll talk about it when the time comes.” And you nod, sniffling. That was the last time your father spoke of the engagement until the night after your twenty-fifth birthday. • “Dinner’s served, young miss.” You look up and nod at the maid with a polite smile. “Your mother wishes that you join her,” She added in a hesitant tone, making you roll your eyes. “Why?” You ask, taking off your glasses and stretching your sore limbs, “What sin have I committed recently to face her judgement?” You had ideas, of course. It could be about you getting -face drunk last night or could be about you hitting up the famous club, Sweet Night in Gangnam or it could be about how Hoseok had to practically carry you home from there. Honestly, it could be anything or nothing. You mother didn’t need a reason to go off on you. She was always particularly happy to yell and lecture you for no reason at all. You stand up, switching your laptop off and look around for a sweatshirt. The maid looked agonized at your question, like she was wondering if answering was a trap. Instead, she chose to stay quiet and let you talk. You were in a thin camisole top that worked like pajamas for you and a pair of silk shorts with scalloped edges. “Have you-” You are cut off, when the maid passes you your sweatshirt lying on the couch of your office. “Thank you, Jaehee.” You smile, pulling the shirt over your head.  “Will Appa be joining us?” You ask, hoping that your father was there to mediate -take your side in- whatever your mother was planning to instigate at the dinner table tonight. “I don’t-” The girl was cut short when the loud honks were heard from outside. You smiled widely at her, completely used to your father’s loud entrance.  “He is.” You add, grinning. “How nice.” “You can go, I’m sure you are busy.” You tell the maid, waiting for your laptop to shut down. If both your parents are joining you for dinner it means whatever the news was, it was big. You had an inkling what the big news might be. It was your birthday yesterday, twenty-fifth one at that. In Bangtan terms, you are at the perfect age to get married.  “I promise I haven’t forgotten my way to the dining hall.” You add again, shooing the woman away. She looked concerned but knew better t