Is Jungkook'S 'Too Sad To Dance' Based On A True Story?

I've devoted everything to sponsoring my deceased best friend's daughter, Lara Sandfield, so that she can learn dancing for the past ten years. Thanks to my efforts, she's able to get into the most prestigious art school. My only condition is that Lara has to wear the dress that was sewn by her mother, Kiara Cruz, prior to her death, when it's time for Lara to perform her first dance after her graduation. But on the day of the rehearsal, Lara actually starts a livestream and cuts the dress into shreds with a pair of scissors. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she accuses me of using this torn, old dress to humiliate her and guilt-trip her for the past ten years. "Look, everyone! This is Eliza's so-called 'blood, sweat, and tears'! She wants me to perform my first dance in this bunch of rags! "I'm the principal dancer who has been nominated by a prestigious director! If I were to perform in this dress, it'd ruin my future! I no longer owe Eliza anything!" As I stare at the derogatory comments aimed at me in the livestream, I leave a like there quietly. The dress that Lara has ruined is actually woven by Kiara using gold threads back when she was still alive. The internationally-renowned mentor, whom I've spent a fortune hiring for the past ten years, is actually my older sister, Lucy Newman, who has already retired for many years. Meanwhile, the prestigious dance director has only given Lara the position of principal dancer because she respects Lucy far too much. I leave a comment of my own in the livestream. "I hope you have a glorious future ahead of you." I wonder how Lara can continue dancing, now that she's lost everything in life.

In the seventh year of singing on the streets for a living, I finally save enough money for my boyfriend, Charlie Bond, to pay for our wedding and marry me. Late at night, a young woman suddenly walks up to me and requests a song just as I'm about to pack up. She says, "I'm in a bad mood. Just sing a couple of songs for me." When she notices my disabled leg, she transfers 5,000 dollars to me right away. She adds, "I'm sorry for bothering you when it's already so late. I'm just really upset. Please take pity on me and keep me company for a while." Looking at the payment notification, I nod. With this money, Charlie won't have to struggle so much when it comes to paying rent. He won't need to deliver food in the middle of rainstorms just to make ends meet. The young woman begins pouring her heart out to me. "My husband and I have been married for five years. Today, I found out that I'm pregnant. I wanted to share the good news with him, but then I found a diamond ring in his pocket! "No matter how much I question him, he refuses to say anything. I got so angry at him that I ran out of my home. Do you think he's cheating on me?" I hesitate and am just about to comfort her when her phone suddenly rings. A man's voice comes through the speaker. It sounds helpless yet affectionate. He says, "You're so silly. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. The ring is a custom-made gift for you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but you found it before I could give it to you. Where are you? I'll come pick you up." The moment I hear that familiar voice, a chill runs down my spine. The name displayed on her phone is the exact same name as my boyfriend's—Charlie Bond.

At the pack celebration, my Alpha boyfriend walked right past me and invited my best friend, Serena, to dance. "You can't dance. I didn't want you making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. If you're tired, go sit over there and get some rest." He spoke words of concern, but they wounded me deeply. He had no idea I'd spent a whole month practicing for tonight's dance, that I'd lost count of how many times I'd fallen, or that my legs were covered in bruises. Before I could protest, the two of them were already gliding across the dance floor. They danced like they'd completely forgotten I existed. This wasn't the first time Nathan had ignored me because of Serena. I didn't make a scene. I just quietly left the banquet hall. That night, I booked my flight ticket and submitted my application to leave the pack. I had once followed him to this distant pack because I loved him. Now that the love was gone, I could just as easily walk away.

The day I began working, I found out that the boyfriend I’d picked up off the street was actually a rich young man from the capital’s elite circle. His fiancée sneered at me, “You’re nothing but a bit of fun for us when we’re bored.” “You didn’t really think you were some kind of heroine here to save him, did you?” I was humiliated, my lips trembling. I couldn’t forgive myself—how could I have spent half of my father’s lifesaving money to help him? I even dropped out of school, working three jobs every day, foolishly treating him as the second most important person in my life. Later, my father passed away, leaving me all alone, so I left that city. But who would have thought that the young rich man who had toyed with me would go mad, searching for me all over the world for the next five years?

My husband, who was a drug enforcement police officer, personally got me into rehab. My son was cheering on the side, saying that he no longer had to see me under the influence for a long time. After I was discharged, I discovered my husband moved in with his lover and our son. I begged him to come back and told him that someone would kill me. He did not believe me. Instead, he said coldly, “If you die, you better end up in a trash can. Otherwise, I’d have to deal with your body.” My son cheered at the side. “Mommy is finally gone!” After a week, I was dismembered. My body parts were found in multiple trash cans. He was the police in charge of the case.

My husband's first love jumped to her death due to depression and landed right on me as I was passing by. I was rendered unconscious on the spot and subsequently rushed to the ICU. However, my orthopedic surgeon husband stayed by his first love's side to comfort her over her minor scratches. He even refused to sign my Critical Care Notification. "Whoever joined her charade can get lost along with her! Come to me when she's really dead!" he said. It wasn't until he received a death certificate that he realized in horror—the deceased's information was identical to mine.