DMC didn't sleep.
It only changed flavors.
Steam rose from food carts lined like constellations along the wide pavement—each stall glowing, sizzling, calling out to passersby. Neon signs reflected off the glass buildings, turning the street into a moving painting.
Ruhi's eyes sparkled.
"Okay, but why does everything smell illegal?"
Minji laughed.
"Because street food here doesn't ask permission."
They walked past stall after stall:
Hotteok—golden pancakes bursting with brown sugar and nuts.
Eomuk—fish cakes floating in warm broth.
Corn dogs—half potato, half cheese, all chaos.
Gyeran-bbang—soft egg bread, steaming inside paper cups.
Dakkochi—grilled pork belly skewers glazed in sweet-spicy sauce.
Bungeoppang—fish-shaped pastry with red bean hidden inside.
Zoya stopped at the gyeran-bbang stall.
"This looks… safe."
Sophia nodded quickly.
"Yes. Bread and egg. No surprises."
They each took one.
Zoya bit into it and visibly relaxed.
"Okay. My tongue understands this language."
Hana grinned.
"Progress."
A few steps away, Teahun and Minjo were wandering too—pretending to argue over corn dogs.
They reached the same stall where Zoya had ordered.
Suddenly, Teahun and Minjo noticed her.
Minjo whispered,
"Why does she look so relieved eating egg bread?"
Teahun shrugged.
"She survived tteokbokki and her tongue is still confused. Let her heal."
Both of them laughed.
A little further down, soft music thumped from a stall glowing brighter than the rest.
A drink stall.
Rows of bottles, jars, and taps stood in layers like a chemistry lab—amber, ruby, neon green, cloudy gold.
A handwritten board read:
DRINKS AVAILABLE
Some alcohol mixtures
Fruit cocktails
Lemonade (classic & mint)
Sparkling grape
Peach fizz
Plum soda
Apple juice 🍎
Non-alcoholic mixers
Light drinks also
Minji's shoulders relaxed the moment she saw it.
"Ah… finally."
Hana smiled knowingly.
"For us, this is normal. Part of adult life."
They stepped closer.
Zoya slowed. Sophia did too.
Ruhi tilted her head.
"I'll take something light. Just for a change of taste."
Minji turned back instantly—gentle but clear.
"No pressure, okay? Everyone chooses for themselves."
Zoya nodded.
"I'm good. I don't drink."
Sophia smiled.
"Same."
The vendor leaned forward warmly.
"No problem at all. Fresh apple juice? Just pressed."
Zoya's eyes lit up.
"Yes. That one."
Sophia nodded.
"Two."
The machine whirred softly as apples were crushed into golden foam.
Minji ordered confidently.
"Plum soda."
Hana followed.
"Peach fizz."
Ruhi thought for a moment.
"Mint lemonade. Light."
Five cups were handed over—each different, each accepted.
Suddenly, Jeon.J and Jinhun came near the drink stall.
Even with the mask, Minji recognized him instantly. There was no point pretending now—they were standing very close as the orders were being placed.
Jinhun ordered two glasses of red wine.
Without taking Jeon.J's name, Minji addressed him quietly.
"How are you?"
Jeon.J turned, surprised.
"You… here?"
"Yes. I'm here with some friends," Minji said, gesturing toward the girls standing two steps away, each holding their drinks. They had no idea who Minji was talking to.
Jeon.J looked toward all of them. His gaze stopped on one girl whose head was covered, yet she was holding a drink.
In a low voice, he murmured, "Strange."
Minji asked softly, "Did you notice something, Jeon.J?"
Jeon.J replied, "No. Nothing."
"Tell me, how are you? When I met Uncle in Busan once, I found out you got admission to National University Busan."
"Yes. We arrived this morning because our two-week rest time started. We rested a bit, then came to DMC. I thought I'd start showing my friends Seoul from here."
"That's good."
Jinhun returned with the glasses, handing one to Jeon.J, then looked at Minji.
"Hey, Minji. How are you?"
"I'm fine. You still remember me? I thought you all forgot."
"How could we forget you? You're Jeon.J's friend. He used to tell us you bought the most concert tickets."
Minji passed a painful smile.
She remembered buying those tickets because Jeon.J asked her to—but she never distributed them. She believed Jeon.J and his crew were a failed band, and gathering people for a failed band felt pointless. She had torn the tickets and thrown them away.
"But you disappeared for a while," Jinhun continued.
"And we got busy too. Still, we don't forget our friends."
"Minji—" Ruhi came closer to call her.
She stopped mid-word when she saw the two masked men.
First silence.
Then shock.
Then excitement.
She almost screamed.
Minji instantly covered Ruhi's mouth and whispered,
"I know who they are. Stop it. If everyone finds out now, it'll be a problem. Let's move aside."
Minji gestured to Jeon.J.
They took a few steps away from the stall. It was crowded, so they stood near one side. Everyone placed their glasses nearby.
When Jeon.J, Minji, Jinhun, and Ruhi rejoined the group—
Zoya lifted her gaze.
She froze for a second.
Then immediately composed herself.
Hana and Sophia, however, lit up with excitement and instantly reached for their phones.
Jeon.J spoke calmly.
"No selfies right now. Today we want to enjoy time like common people. But I promise—before we leave, we'll take one."
Zoya kept staring at her glass, unsure how to react.
"Let's do cheers," Jinhun said, lifting his glass.
Everyone raised theirs.
"Minji… should I go stand near the pole?" Zoya suddenly asked.
Jeon.J looked at her, confused.
In his mind, she was holding a drink. He didn't know it was apple juice—he assumed it was beer. Going to stand alone instead of enjoying felt strange.
"That's fine. You go. We're right here," Minji replied casually.
"But don't forget me. When you're free, call me—I'll come back. In fact, I'll sit right there,"
Zoya said, pointing toward the pole.
"Okay. Done," Minji agreed.
Zoya started walking away—but she didn't forget to look back.
Her gaze softened.
First at Jeon.J.
Then at the glass in his hand.
Jeon.J stood stunned.
The girl he'd seen sitting in the back seat that morning—it had to be her. Even under the mask, he had noticed one thing then: a small black dot between her eyebrows. A birthmark or something she created herself—he didn't know.
But now he was sure.
What felt strange was this—
People begged for a single selfie with them. They were so famous that the whole world knew TBS.
Yet this girl's behavior made him feel something unsettling.
As if, even after all this success, there was still something left to prove.
As if recognition… was still incomplete.
"Where did you get lost?" Jinhun shook him slightly.
"Nowhere."
"Minji… does your friend not know us? I mean, TBS?" Jeon.J asked quietly.
"Oh. She's Zoya. She talks very little. Mostly stays in her own world. As for knowing TBS—I don't know. We've never seen her get excited over the name, so we never asked."
Minji explained the matter briefly.
"Oh. I see."
Jeon.J looked toward the pole—where Zoya stood.
Zoya took a sip of apple juice.
Cold.
Sweet.
Simple.
She exhaled without realizing she had been holding her breath.
"This," she whispered, resting the glass in her lap, her gaze lowered,
"is perfect."
"Allah…"
Language barrier.
Caste barrier.
Color barrier.
Country barrier.
Traditional barrier.
Cultural barrier.
Lifestyle barrier.
Religion—beyond all.
"Allah, You are the One who knows the state of hearts.
You are the One who heals hearts.
You are Rehman.
Please heal my heart."
She felt something near her feet.
Zoya looked down suddenly.
Bamson.
She froze—smiling and shocked at the same time.
Bamson sat beside her, tail wagging wildly, expressing pure happiness.
"Bamson… how are you here? Oh—your father is here too."
She noticed his sweater.
"You're wearing the same sweater."
She leaned closer, whispering softly.
"Bamson… where is the letter I put in the sweater pocket?"
Zoya suddenly remembered the letter and asked Bamson about it.
Bamson only looked at her and wagged his tail harder.
She didn't understand—but she understood enough.
The letter wasn't here.
Maybe Jeon.J had it.
Or whoever had changed the sweater.
"Hey, Bamson—you tired me out."
Zoya lifted her head at the sound of a voice.
A masked man was crouched, hands on his knees, catching his breath while talking to Bamson.
He pulled his mask slightly down from his face and began catching his breath, as if he had run all the way there.
Then he suddenly sat near the pole bench where Zoya sat.
Zoya carefully shifted aside.
She whispered,
"Yomin."
Yomin bent toward Bamson again.
"Why did you come here? We were walking properly. Tell me."
Bamson wagged his tail, glancing toward Zoya.
Yomin followed the look.
Their eyes met.
"Do you know him?" Yomin asked Bamson in Korean.
Zoya didn't understand the words—only their expressions. She tried to guess the meaning.
Yomin turned to her, still in Korean.
"Do you know Bamson?"
Zoya widened her eyes, eyebrows lifting.
Yomin instantly understood—she didn't know Korean.
Because of her big eyes, he realized she was foreign.
He switched to English.
"Do you know Bamson? He ran from the other side of the pole to you, like he knows you."
Zoya smiled softly.
"Yes. We met once. Then became friends. And before we could remain friends… we got separated."
"Oh, that's why he ran to you. You were friends at the same time," Yomin laughed.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Zoya. My name is Zoya."
"Joya," Yomin repeated in Korean pronunciation.
Zoya laughed, adjusting her dupatta as it fluttered in the air.
"Yes. Zoya becomes Joya in Korean. You can call me Joya."
"Oh. Nice name. I'm Yomin—"
She smiled playfully.
"Speak softly. If someone hears your name, the crowd will gather. Then you won't be able to walk the streets like common people."
Yomin laughed.
Bamson settled again near Zoya's feet, tail still moving.
Yomin tugged gently at Bamson's leash.
He stood up and gently urged Bamson to walk.
"Come on, Bamson," he said softly.
But Bamson didn't move. He simply sat there, stubborn and calm, as if he had decided this bench was his final destination.
Yomin glanced at Zoya.
"Let him stay with me for a while," Zoya said gently. "He'll calm down. Then he'll go with you easily."
Yomin frowned with concern.
"But how can I leave him with you? Bamson knows me… he doesn't really know you."
Zoya smiled and pointed toward the drink stall a short distance away.
"See there? Your friends and my friends are all together. You can tell one of the girls that Bamson is with Zoya. They'll guarantee he's safe."
Yomin still looked uneasy.
"I'm sorry… I still can't. A few months ago, Bamson got lost just like this. It took us forever to find him. I can't take that risk again."
Zoya smiled again—this time a little mischievously.
"If you don't tell anyone," she said softly, leaning closer,
"can I tell you something?"
Yomin bent down, still holding the leash, curiosity written all over his face.
"A few months ago," Zoya whispered,
"I was the one who handed Bamson back to Jeon.J."
Yomin's eyes widened.
"What?"
Zoya nodded with a small wink.
"Yes."
Yomin slowly sat down beside her.
In short, Zoya told him everything—from finding Bamson to secretly returning him to Jeon.J.
When she finished, Yomin smiled warmly.
"All of you deserve thanks," he said. "But you, Zoya, deserve the biggest one. You even fed him your last two packs of biscuits."
Zoya laughed softly.
"We'll try to repay this debt someday," Yomin added.
They both smiled.
"Okay," Yomin said, standing up.
"I'll leave Bamson with you. But please take care of him. If anything happens, Jeon.J will never forgive me."
"Don't worry," Zoya replied confidently.
As Yomin walked away, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the glass in Zoya's hand.
"Aren't you enjoying a drink with us?"
Zoya smiled, understanding the question.
"This is apple juice. I don't drink."
"Okay," Yomin said, nodding, and walked back to the group.
Zoya bent down beside the pole bench where Bamson sat quietly.
"So… how are you, Bamson?" she murmured.
"I missed you so much. Actually, all of us did—Minji, Ruhi, Sophia, Hana… everyone."
She rested her chin on her knees, talking softly to him.
"You know Minji was so angry when she found out I helped you go back. But I knew you missed Jeon.J."
Bamson tilted his head, listening like he understood every word.
"Hello, everyone!" Yomin called out loudly as he reached the group.
Hana, Ruhi, and Sophia could barely contain their excitement. The people they were used to seeing only on screens were right there—laughing, eating street food, blending in like ordinary people.
"Wow, drinks are on?" Yomin said cheerfully, signaling the stall owner. "One for me too."
He ordered something that looked like red wine.
Jeon.J glanced around.
"Where's Bamson?"
"He's there," Yomin pointed toward the bench. "With one of your friends. I forgot her name."
"Zoya," Jeon.J murmured unconsciously—so softly that only he heard it.
"Yes, Zoya," Hana said quickly. "Don't worry, Bamson's safe. She's just talking to him… maybe refreshing old sadness."
"She's the one who fed him two packs of biscuits," Hana added casually.
Jeon.J's head snapped up.
"Which biscuits?"
"Oh—nothing!" Hana said too quickly.
Minji burst out laughing, and Yomin laughed too—because he had just heard that exact story.
"Cheers," Yomin said, lifting his glass.
Everyone raised theirs.
Sophia held apple juice but clinked anyway.
All of TBS souls came to this stall.
One glass turned into two.
Two turned into many.
The stall owner kept apologizing to other customers as he served glass after glass—sometimes red wine, sometimes alcohol.
Yomin stopped after two.
Kim Joon limited himself to one.
Taehun chose a light beer.
Minjo backed out after one.
Soon, the real battle began—Minji, Jeon.J, Jinhun, and Hosu.
Minji was already losing control after her third glass.
Hana had stopped after one and now stood with Ruhi and Sophia, trying to steady Minji.
Jeon.J held his second glass, still drinking.
Jinhun, however, was completely drunk.
He leaned dramatically against Jeon.J and squinted.
"Jeon.J… listen… did Kim Joon come here with us?"
Jeon.J laughed hard.
"Yes. He's standing right there."
"Oh."
Jinhun nodded seriously… then waved at Kim Joon.
"Nice to meet you," he said politely. "Again."
Kim Joon blinked.
"We've met… like… a thousand times."
Jinhun gasped.
"Wow. Destiny."
Then he looked at Hosu and whispered loudly,
"Why is everyone so handsome today? Is this a special event?"
Hosu laughed.
"You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," Jinhun protested, pointing at his glass.
"The glass is drunk. I'm just supporting it."
Everyone burst out laughing.
Jinhun suddenly raised his finger like he had discovered something profound.
"I have decided," he announced,
"that street food tastes better when you can't remember its name."
Jeon.J nearly choked laughing.
Jinhun leaned closer and whispered dramatically,
"Promise me… if I fall… don't let me fall alone."
And right on cue—he almost did.
The night echoed with laughter, warmth, and chaos—
While a little distance away, Bamson sat calmly beside Zoya, watching everything like a silent guardian of memories.
Jinhun suddenly pointed at the stall lights, squinting.
"Why are the lights… dancing?" he asked seriously.
"They're not dancing," Hosu said. "You are."
Jinhun nodded thoughtfully.
"Ah. That explains why the ground is disrespecting me."
He tried to take another step and nearly hugged the stall counter instead.
Jeon.J grabbed him.
"Careful."
Jinhun gasped.
"Wow. The leader is touching me. Is this a fan sign?"
Kim Joon sighed.
"Sit. Please."
Jinhun sat—missed the stool—and landed halfway on Minjo's leg.
Minjo groaned.
"Hyung."
"Don't worry," Jinhun said confidently.
"I distribute my weight equally."
He raised his empty glass again.
"Another drink!"
"No," everyone said together.
Jinhun stared at them in betrayal.
"So this is how democracy dies."
He leaned closer to Yomin and whispered loudly,
"Blink twice if they're controlling you."
Yomin laughed.
"You're done."
Jinhun pointed at Hosu.
"You. Sunshine boy. Why are you smiling?"
"Because you're funny."
Jinhun nodded slowly.
"I know. It's a burden."
Suddenly, he squinted at Kim Joon again.
"Wait," he said. "Have you always been this tall?"
Kim Joon didn't answer.
Jinhun stepped back to look at him properly, then clapped.
"Wow. Evolution."
Jeon.J tried to take the glass away from him.
Jinhun hugged it protectively.
"No. This glass and I have history."
"What history?"
"I met it five minutes ago," Jinhun said emotionally.
"And it understands me."
He then turned to the stall man and pointed at the menu.
"I would like to order… whatever makes me forget my own name."
The stall man just smiled and handed him water.
Jinhun stared at the water.
"This drink is clear," he said suspiciously. "Like lies."
Hosu laughed.
"Drink it."
Jinhun sniffed it. Took one sip.
"Oh no," he whispered. "It's attacking my throat."
Jeon.J finally lost it laughing.
Jinhun suddenly looked around, panicked.
"Wait—where is Bamson?"
"With Zoya," Yomin said calmly.
Jeon.J looked at Yomin—strangely.
Jinhun relaxed instantly.
Then, without warning, Jinhun pointed at the ground.
"Guys," he whispered urgently. "The floor is moving again."
"That's called walking," Kim Joon said.
Jinhun gasped.
"WHO APPROVED IT?"
He leaned heavily on Jeon.J's shoulder.
"Hyung," he said seriously,
"if I disappear tonight…"
"You won't."
"…tell the world," Jinhun continued, ignoring him,
"that I fought bravely against gravity."
And right after saying that—
He tripped over absolutely nothing.
Everyone grabbed him at once.
Jinhun looked up from their arms and smiled proudly.
"See? Teamwork."
The street filled with laughter again, loud and unstoppable, as Jinhun—completely drunk, completely sincere—continued turning the night into a comedy show no one would forget.
Jinhun laughed again—loudly—then suddenly stopped.
He looked at his empty glass of water like it had betrayed him.
Without warning, he slowly slid down and sat on the ground behind the stall, his back resting against the metal counter.
The others were standing behind the stall, while customers came from the front, ordered their drinks, and left—completely unaware that a small emotional moment was unfolding just a few steps away.
Jeon.J blinked.
"Why are you sitting there?"
"Why do you always get this drunk?"
Kim Joon said, looking at Jinhun.
"You, Hosu, and Yomin drink—but you're the only one who completely loses control. And you never even realize what nonsense you're saying. Today is strange—Hosu and Yomin are perfectly fine, and you're like this…"
Jinhun didn't answer immediately.
"Because today Jinhun had five glasses, while we all stopped after one, two."
Everyone started laughing.
Minji was also losing control—she had gotten drunk while trying to keep up with Jinhun.
She kept stepping forward to say something, and Hana kept holding her back.
Jinhun still sat on the ground.
He looked up at all of them—one by one—his eyes unfocused but sincere.
"I love you all," he said softly.
"Do you hear me? I love all of you."
Everyone went quiet.
"When you're all with me," Jinhun continued, tapping his chest,
"I'm complete."
Hosu swallowed and crouched slightly.
"Hyung…"
"When I'm alone," Jinhun said, voice unsteady but honest,
"you become my family."
He laughed quietly.
"Sometimes you become my children. Sometimes… you become my mother. Sometimes my father."
Kim Joon sat down beside him.
"You know," Jinhun went on, staring at the lights above the stall,
"the house I'm building…"
Jeon.J looked at him.
"I made a hall," Jinhun said. "A big one."
"For what?" Minjo asked gently.
Jinhun smiled.
"In that hall, I kept everything we bought for our dorm the first time. Every stupid thing. Every cheap thing."
He chuckled.
"And I'll arrange it just like our dorm. Same feeling."
He looked around again, his eyes shining.
"So whenever you come… you'll feel it."
He placed his hand on the ground.
"Because my home is your home."
There was a pause.
Then Jinhun suddenly hugged his glass tightly to his chest.
"But this glass," he said seriously, squinting at it,
"is only mine."
Jeon.J burst out laughing.
Hosu shook his head, smiling through emotion.
Kim Joon sighed, relieved.
Yomin covered his face, laughing quietly.
Jinhun leaned his head back against the stall and smiled lazily.
"Okay," he murmured. "Now you can laugh."
And they did—
Under street lights, behind a stall, between noise and passing strangers—
Holding onto a moment that felt like family.
"Teahun," Jinhun suddenly said,
"can I ask you something?"
"Yes, go ahead," Teahun replied, sitting down beside him with effort, pressing his feet firmly against the ground.
"Teahun… Jea is around us," Jinhun said quietly.
"Like a protective mother. I saw him."
For a moment, Teahun thought Jinhun was about to say something serious—but when he suddenly mentioned Jea, everyone's laughter stopped.
"Where?" Teahun asked.
"Stand up and turn around—you'll see him right in front of you."
"Jeon.J… Bamson was with us."
Everyone had been focused on Jinhun when Minji's voice suddenly cut through the air.
Jeon.J turned toward her instantly.
All eyes followed.
"Minji, don't—" Sophia tried to stop her, reaching for her arm, but Minji kept talking.
"I wanted to bring Bamson back to you myself," Minji said, her words heavy, eyes half-closed.
"I really did."
She swallowed.
"But he got attached to us. To her."
She gestured vaguely, unable to point straight.
"So I thought… maybe a few more days."
The street noise felt distant now.
"But then," Minji continued, her voice breaking slightly,
"she called Jea. And Jea came and took him."
"She…?" Jeon.J asked softly, pointing.
"I think…" Hana said gently, holding Minji tighter,
"we should go home."
"But how will you go?" Jeon.J asked quietly.
No one answered immediately.
Minji leaned her head against Hana's shoulder, exhausted.
The lights of the stall flickered.
Customers came and went from the front, laughing, ordering drinks—completely unaware that behind the stall, a truth had just been spoken out loud.
Jinhun, still sitting on the ground, looked up slowly.
Jeon.J stood still, his gaze drifting—not toward Minji, not toward the others—
But toward the bench where Bamson had been earlier.
The night, which had been full of laughter only moments ago,
Suddenly held its breath.
To be Continue .....
Regards
ZK💌