The lobby smelled like sex already—musk and expensive perfume. Tae’s thigh-high PVC boots clicked against the marble as she stepped forward, the neon pink microdress clinging to every curve. Beside her, Yoongi’s knuckles whitened around his phone. Across the room, Mimi’s sheer black bodysuit shimmered under the lights, her nipples pebbled against the lace. Jungkook’s jaw flexed.

"Hi!" Mimi’s grin was all teeth, her cherry gloss smudged at the corners. "I’m Mimi. This is my boyfriend, Jungkook." She hooked a finger through his belt loop, tugging him closer like exhibit A.

Jungkook’s nod was sharp, polite. "Nice to meet you both." His eyes flicked down Tae’s body once—quick, clinical—before settling on Yoongi’s throat.

Tae’s laugh was honey-thick. "I’m Tae." She let Yoongi’s fingers skim her hip as she leaned in. "And this is my boyfriend, Yoongi."

Yoongi’s nod was a slow blink, his free hand tucked in his pocket like this was a coffee run. Tae eyed the way Jungkook’s bicep twitched when Mimi traced it.

Mimi’s tongue darted out. "So." Her nails dug into Jungkook’s sleeve. "You guys do this often?"

Tae’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Define this."

Somewhere, a monitor flickered to life—live feed prep. Jungkook’s thumb found the hollow of Mimi’s throat.

Yoongi finally spoke, low and bored: "Studio’s running late."

Mimi’s giggle hitched when Jungkook’s grip tightened. "Oh good," she breathed. "More time to… chat."

Tae’s boot hooked around Yoongi’s ankle. "Mm. Chat."

The studio assistant cleared her throat—too loud—as she strode in clutching a clipboard. "Concept’s simple." Her eyes flickered between them, lingering on Mimi’s thigh where Jungkook’s fingers disappeared under lace. "Two rooms. Identical setups. Cameras everywhere." She gestured down the hallway where neon arrows pulsed intermittently. "You’ll follow instructions via the signs."

Tae tilted her head. "And if we don’t?"

The assistant’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "*Then we cut your pay.*"

Mimi’s nails dug into Jungkook’s wrist. "Boring. Next."

The assistant ignored her, tapping her tablet. A harsh buzz echoed as the hallway lights stuttered to life— Room A and Room B glowing in hot pink. "Phase one: couples stay together. Phase two—" The screen flashed: GIRLFRIENDS ➡️ / BOYFRIENDS ⬅️. "—you separate. Enter when the green light blinks."

Yoongi’s smirk was lazy. "And if we get lost?"

The assistant didn’t blink. "*You won’t.*"

Mimi’s laugh was syrup-slow as she peeled Jungkook’s fingers off her hip. "Guess we’re game," she purred, strutting toward the hall where the arrows pulsed like a heartbeat. Tae followed, Yoongi’s grip loose on her wrist—until the assistant cleared her throat again. "Oh, rules," Tae sighed, rolling her eyes as she dropped his hand.

The hallway swallowed them whole—walls slick with condensation, neon arrows flickering erratically. Tae’s breath hitched when the first green light blinked. "*Girlfriends this way,*" the sign commanded in garish pink, pointing right. Mimi’s smirk was razor-sharp as she veered left instead, her hips swaying toward Room A’s door. Tae stumbled right, fingers brushing Room B’s handle just as the lock clicked behind her.

Meanwhile, the boys weren’t paying attention. Jungkook’s gaze lingered on Mimi’s ass through the one-way glass lining the hall, his steps automatic as he followed the Boyfriends arrow—straight into Room B. Yoongi, texting, strode into Room A without looking up. The doors sealed with a hydraulic hiss.

Inside Room B, Tae’s gasp was audible. Across from her, Jungkook froze, his fingers still hovering mid-air where they’d been adjusting his fly. “What the fuck,” he muttered, blinking at Tae’s exposed thighs under the hem of her barely-there dress. She stiffened, backing into the door—locked.

Room A was worse. Mimi’s manicured hand slapped over her mouth when she saw Yoongi lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone like she was a delivery error. “Excuse me?” she hissed, whirling toward the exit. The handle didn’t budge.

The intercom crackled. “*Phase two is couples swapped.*”

Yoongi finally glanced up, eyebrow arched as Mimi clawed at the door. “You’re wasting energy,” he drawled, nodding toward the ceiling-mounted cameras tracking her every move.

Tae wasn’t faring better. Jungkook’s jaw ticked as she hammered her fists against the reinforced steel. “Open this right now!” she shrieked.

The producer’s voice dripped through the speakers: “*Check your contracts, sweetheart. Clause 12.4. No exits post-entry.*”

Mimi spun, her chest heaving. “Bullshit! We never—”

“*Signed in blood,*” the voice interrupted. A screen flickered on, displaying their digital signatures beneath the bolded penalty sum: $2,000,000 USD per breach.

Yoongi pocketed his phone, sighing as he rose. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Tae’s breath came in sharp bursts. Jungkook’s fists clenched—then unclenched. The cameras zoomed in.