There was only one light-rail station in Area One, Yoongi discovered upon his arrival. Unlike in Eight, where a convenient network of light-rails would carry you to whatever part of the city you needed to get to, in One everybody apparently just made their way on foot. Consequently, the light-rail station was almost entirely empty. Yoongi got the feeling as he looked around at the dingy, dimly-lit platform that Area One wasn't a place many people wanted to travel to, nor was it a place many people could ever get out of. So he set off into the eerie place, eager to get away from the cracked, mossy cement and the sounds of rats skittering and squeaking.  

The stairwell out of the rail station led up to a bustling street. Yoongi's senses were immediately overwhelmed - the streets here were narrow and cramped, and flooded with people. Shops were stacked on top of one another in a haphazard fashion, and all of them sported brightly colored signs sticking out every which way. It was loud there, too - shopkeepers were calling out, and groups of people wandered past talking or laughing in loud voices. Yoongi's nose was assaulted as well - a range of scents floated to him from the restaurants, intermixed with an underlying unpleasant smell which likely had something to do with inferior waste disposal. Area Eight sported a very advanced sanitation system. It was also much less cramped than this place - he was used to his sparkling, beautiful city of glass skyscrapers and spacious green parks. Not this mess of sounds and smells.  

Now what to do? Yoongi melted in with the surging crowd and let himself be swept along. He couldn't help but be a little dazed by this new environment, as he'd really never experienced anything like this before, having lived in Area Eight his whole life with the exception of the past three weeks he'd spent at police headquarters. So he wandered, looking around with fascination at the mishmash of buildings. The jumble of colors and rickety frames somehow reminded him a bit of an awful patchwork quilt he'd attempted to make in an elective class in middle school.  

Part of the reason for his wandering lay in the fact that he had no idea where to start looking for the subject of his mission. Apparently the police hadn't had a single sighting of the boy in nearly a year - he was ridiculously difficult to find. Yoongi thought back to what Cheon Seungho had told him three weeks ago when he'd been given his mission - Jung Hoseok is only found when he wants be found. Otherwise, he's a ghost. It's like he leaves us traces, teases us, then disappears. Yoongi hadn’t thought too hard about this statement when he'd first heard it, too overwhelmed by everything that was happening in the moment. But now the implications behind it set in. He couldn't just waltz into Area One and expect to find the boy there, waiting for him. He was going to have to seek him out. But how? 

Yoongi to a narrow side-street as he pondered. Jung Hoseok is only found when he wants be found. How could he make Hoseok want to be found? He didn't honestly know enough about the boy to answer that question. All he knew was what had been contained in the file - basic statistics, nothing that would really help in this situation. Perhaps he should ask around and try to gather some information on him that way.  

Ducking into a run-down looking but delicious-smelling bakery, Yoongi pulled the small backpack he'd been given off and rifled through it. Inside, there were two more sets of clothes, similar to the outfit he wore then - a pair of worn-looking jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket lined with warm fleece, along with extra underwear and socks. The backpack also contained a sum of money that he would normally consider fairly meager, but the officer who'd given him the bag back at headquarters had assured him that it would cover all of his expenses easily while he was in Area One. He plucked out a few coins now and approached the bakery's counter, smiling at the middle-aged woman sitting behind it. She scowled at him in return. 

"Hello, ma'am. I'd like a cheese bun, please," he pointed at the example, set behind the grimy glass in a display case. It was his usual order at the bakery down the street from his apartment in Eight, though judging by the state of this place, it wasn't going to be nearly as good as it was at home. 

The woman grunted in response, and disappeared into the back of the store. She reappeared a moment later, a cheese bun clutched in one hand. "100 won," she snapped, eyeing Yoongi with distrust. 

He slid the coin across the counter, hiding his surprise at the inexpensive price. He couldn't think of anything back in Area Eight that cost only 100 won.  

The woman snatched the coin up and handed him the bun. She was still looking at him a bit strangely as she said, "You're awfully polite for someone your age." 

Yoongi just shrugged. "It's just the way I was raised," he said before he could catch himself. Would any parent in Area One raise their child to be polite? Based on what he'd heard about this place, he doubted it. It was usually described as a sort of den of thieves, which probably explained this woman's distrust of him. 

"Hmmph," was the woman's only response. She plopped back down onto the stool she'd been sitting on when he'd first entered the store.  

"Have you..." Yoongi began. The woman looked sharply at him. She'd probably expected him to leave. "Have you ever heard of someone called J-Hope?" He ventured, using the other name provided for his mission subject in the file. It had been explained to him that some people in the lower Areas used street names to help build up a reputation for themselves, so he figured that he had a better chance of someone having heard of J-Hope than of Jung Hoseok. 

The woman gave a derisive snort. "One of those damn street rats? I don't pay attention to them, except for keeping them away from stealing my food." 

"Ah, I see. Well thank you anyway," Yoongi responded defeatedly, turning to leave.  

"But... the name does sound awfully familiar," the woman said all of a sudden. Yoongi whirled to look at her, with her brows furrowed in thought. "I can't think of where I've heard it, though."  

It wasn't much, but it was something. A slight spark of hope. If the first person he'd talked to had at least heard of J-Hope, then it couldn’t be much of a stretch to think that other people would know more. 

** 

Apparently, that wasn't the case. Every person Yoongi approached for information afterwards gave him a similar response. J-Hope? What J-Hope? Sounds like one of those street kids. They've been causing a lot of trouble these days. 

Yoongi couldn't help it - desperation was setting in. The sun had gone down, and Area One had become a wash of bright colors and flashing neon lights. The boy wandered through the streets, stopping to ask someone if they knew of J-Hope less and less often as he gradually became more disheartened. The people around were also beginning to seem less friendly - they glared at him with hateful eyes and shoved past him without responding. The crowd remained thick on the main streets, full of people headed for seedy-looking bars and clubs (Yoongi had even spotted a couple of brothels, something that definitely didn't exist in Area Eight). But off of the main roads, the crowd thinned out, and shadowy figures lurked about, their mutterings and sinister laughter echoing in alleyways and making Yoongi's skin crawl. The fascination he had felt with Area One during the daytime had faded. Night time here was an entirely different creature, and much more similar to the "place of legends and shadows" he'd been told of as a child. 

There was also the problem of Yoongi having nowhere to go. Area Eight had hotels for visitors who came from Seven and Nine, but there was no such thing here. People didn't come to visit Area One. And it wasn't as if he could just stay with someone. The residents were not friendly, especially to people Yoongi's age, it seemed. He'd already been sneered at - "filthy little gutter rat," and other variations - more times than he could count.  

He felt woefully unprepared. Those three weeks of training - they'd given him confidence, made him feel ready to take on anything. But he hadn't been prepared to face the reality of the situation. He hadn't expected to be stranded on his first night, with nowhere to go and no one to help him, as the bitter October wind picked up, making whistling sounds through the dilapidated buildings. Area Eight seemed a paradise now, and his chest ached to go back to his home and his parents.  

Wandering the endless maze of streets for hours, Yoongi began to realize how hopelessly lost he was. The rail station he'd first arrived at seemed far away, and he had no idea how to get back there. Not that he needed to. He couldn't just go to the station and start demanding that they take him back to police headquarters. This was his first mission, and he wasn't even a full day in yet. He tried not to imagine the looks of disgust on the faces of his trainers and superiors if he failed this mission. Cheon Seungho may have selected him specially for this task, but what if he'd been wrong? What would disappointment look like on the police chief's face? Would the other trainees sneer at him? What would Jungkook say? 

With the last thought bloomed a spark of hope in Yoongi's chest. That’s right - Jungkook was here somewhere in Area One. His targets were supposedly easier to find - was it possible that Jungkook had found them already? Knowing that kid, he very well may have, Yoongi thought, unable to contain the wry smile that twisted at his lips. But still, he was a familiar face somewhere in the city. Even though it was likely that Yoongi wouldn't ever come across the other boy here, just knowing that there was some sort of physical tether back to his life before the mission had started was somehow comforting.  

The small spark of comfort continued to warm Yoongi's chest as he found himself in the more distant reaches of the city, away from its bustling center. He had stumbled into what appeared to be a graveyard when a bell somewhere close by began clanging. It scared him at first, but the chiming did at least serve to notify him that it was three in the morning already. He shook his head in attempt to clear away his sleepiness, before an idea struck him and prompted him to search out the source of the ringing. He found the bell eventually - it was a fairly small one, but it was set up on a raised platform in the middle of the graveyard. Yoongi clambered up onto the platform, making sure to keep himself out of the path the bell would take when it chimed and swang to and fro, and lay down. He just couldn't bring himself to wander about in the chilly air anymore when he was this tired. And though it wasn't nearly as comfortable as the bed he was used to, his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell asleep. 

** 

When he finally jumped down from the bell platform the next morning, he was stiff, sore, and rather cranky from being woken by the tolling of the bell each hour. However, he couldn't find it in himself to be too upset - the resting place he'd chosen had in a way afforded him protection. Nobody was expecting a person crazy enough to sleep right next to a chiming bell. Especially one in the middle of such a creepy-looking graveyard.  

Fishing a bit of bread and cheese out of his backpack, Yoongi set off along the streets again. The sunlight made Area One seem a bit friendlier, and sleep had refreshed Yoongi's confidence to the point where he began to ask around for information on J-Hope again. This time, he decided to approach younger people, and was met with mild success on his second attempt. 

"J-Hope? Yeah, I've heard the name," the kid said, eyeing the bit of bread left in Yoongi's hand. He tilted toward it with his chin. "Give me that, and I'll tell you what I know." 

Little thief, Yoongi thought, but he handed the bread over anyway, eager for whatever information he could get on Jung Hoseok. "Here. Now tell me." 

The kid snatched the bun out of Yoongi's hands quickly and held it to his chest, as if he was expecting the older boy to try and take it back from him. When Yoongi didn't make any moves, the kid relaxed slightly and began to speak. "He grew up one of us - a street kid. He was pretty famous. Then something happened, don't know what, and he disappeared. Some of the rats say they've seen his ghost. That's all I know," the kid darted off, clutching the small hunk of bread tightly.  

Yoongi sighed. None of that was new information, really, and he had a frustrating feeling that the kid knew more than he was saying. Perhaps the others that he'd spoken to had, as well. Why was no one willing to share? 

However, it was interesting that the kid had referred to Hoseok as a "ghost." It was the second time he'd heard his target called that, and perhaps there was something there he could work with.  

He spent the rest of the day roaming the city, occasionally trying to wheedle information out of people with little success, and trying to create some sort of map of the sprawling place in his head. It wasn't easy, but he'd gone in circles enough times to start recognizing a few landmark points in select areas. When night fell on the city, he managed to find his way back to the graveyard and seek out the bell again. This time, he plopped himself down on the grass next to the platform and fell asleep propped up against the concrete. When he awoke the next morning, he set out to do the same thing he'd done yesterday, trying to familiarize himself with the area.  

By the time the next evening had rolled around, Yoongi's legs were threatening to give out on him. He slumped down in an alley entrance, leaning his head back against the brick wall and curling his knees up to his chest. God, his legs ached. And his back, and all his joints, and come to think of it, there was a dull headache throbbing against his skull... 

"Hey, you," a harsh voice said. Yoongi's eyes opened blearily. Damn, had he fallen asleep in the alleyway? 

"Yeah, you, little ," the voice snarled, and Yoongi finally focused on its owner. A tall boy stood staring down at him with folded arms, flanked by several other boys wearing less than pleased expressions.  

"Can I help you?" Yoongi asked warily, pushing himself up until he was standing. He became almost painfully aware of the switchblade tucked inside his pocket. He couldn't reach for it without seeming suspicious, so he'd have to start with his fists or his feet instead. The training from the past few weeks kicked in, and his brain began formulating a plan. If he aimed a kick at the kneecaps of the guy on his right first... 

"Can I help you?"  The boy in the middle repeated with a sneer, and the boys around him laughed. "I hope so, princess. And for your sake, you'd better hope so, too." 

"What do you want from me? Money?" Yoongi asked distractedly, still trying to formulate a plan for his escape. 

"Oh, we'll definitely taking that, too," the boy responded, taking a step closer. Yoongi tensed, and prepared himself to strike. "But that's not what we're really after. Now, I suggest you come with us."  

Suggest, my , Yoongi thought as he aimed a sudden kick at the right-most boy's knees, managing to hook around the back of his legs and cause him to crumple. The others advanced on him immediately, and he whipped the switchblade out of his pocket, holding it out in front of him as a warning to stay back. "What do you want with me?" He demanded again, this time with more authority in his voice. 

"It's about J-Hope," the first boy that had spoken said, and Yoongi lowered his knife. 

"J-Hope? You know something about him?" Yoongi questioned eagerly, forgetting the danger of the situation for a moment in his excitement. Maybe this was it. Maybe he could get some actual answers and stop wandering around aimlessly, looking for traces of a ghost. 

"Hell yeah, I do," the boy said, and at the same time, pain exploded through the back of Yoongi's skull. He stumbled forward, realizing belatedly that the first boy he'd kicked down had gotten up and socked him in the back of the head. The other boys rushed forward, forcing the knife out of a dazed Yoongi's grip and holding fast to his arms. He squirmed in their grip before another blow to his head turned the world pitch black.  

** 

Groaning, Yoongi tried to sit up, but the world swayed before him suddenly and he dropped back down to fend off the sudden rush of dizziness. He dimly registered something sticky matting his hair together. 

"Morning, princess," came from somewhere to his left. Yoongi turned his head, looking over at the obnoxious leader boy of the pack that had found him in the alleyway. He certainly wasn't there anymore, though - instead, he was lying on a wood-paneled floor in some dimly lit room, the only source of light coming from the moon streaming through grungy windows on his right.  

"Hm," was all Yoongi could manage in reply. 

The stringy, tall boy moved closer, plunking himself down on the floor just out of Yoongi's reach. "It's time we talk. You seem to have some interest in finding J-Hope, yes?" 

Yoongi didn't really trust himself to speak just yet, so he attempted a nod, wincing as pain shot through his head. 

"Well, so do we. That er owes us, big time, but we thought he died around a year ago. So when you stopped Sanghee in the street the other day asking about him, we figured you must know something about him we don't." 

Great. So these people didn't seem likely to be much of a help, if they'd thought J-Hope was dead for a year. And now Yoongi had to create an escape plan with an injured head. "Honestly, I don't know anything about him, really. I was just curious," he croaked, trying to look as earnest as possible. 

"Curious?" The stringy boy's eyes narrowed. "Why?" 

"Because he's a Zero." 

"What?" Was all the boy got out, when the attention of both boys was drawn to the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Yoongi looked up in surprise. A shadowy figure stood there, outlined by the moonlight streaming in through a now-opened window. When did that happen? "Hello," the intruder said, "I came in through the window. Hope you don't mind." 

The stringy boy looked even more shocked than Yoongi. "J-Hope?" He stuttered in his disbelief. "You're here? Now? How-" 

"Shh, Twiggy," the figure said in a placating tone, "don't try to think. You're not cut out for it." 

Yoongi peered up, trying to get a glimpse of the boy in the dim lighting. He could finally see him more clearly when he moved closer, looking down at where the injured boy lay on the floor. It was certainly the same Jung Hoseok from the file, though he looked older than he had in the picture.  

"I don't get it - you're gone for a year, and then you suddenly show up here like some sort of - of -" the boy called Twiggy mumbled. 

"Ghost?" Jung Hoseok suggested, grinning in the pale moonlight. "Creature of smoke and shadows, ghost, living legend - people are so creative in their descriptions of me. But really, Twiggy, you should stop with this whole 'hunting me down' nonsense. It involves too much thinking and brain-power for the likes of you, and I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself." 

Twiggy's mouth hung open, completely dumbfounded. 

"Besides, I'm not here to talk to you, anyways." J-Hope's eyes met Yoongi's and held them. "I hear you've been looking for me." 

Yoongi looked back up at him, a little awestruck. So this was J-Hope, the ghost who could only be found when he wanted to, the boy everyone had heard of but nobody really seemed to know. And this was also Jung Hoseok, whose fate had been intertwined with Yoongi's the moment he'd been chosen as his mission target. This was the anomaly. The flaw in the system. The person he had to destroy. "Yes," he answered truthfully. "Everywhere." 

Jung Hoseok quirked his head to the side, a smile dancing about the edges of his lips. "Everywhere, huh?" He reached down, helping Yoongi up and keeping him steady. "Well, Twiggy, we'll be leaving now. You can close your mouth." 

Twiggy seemed to regain his senses. "Leaving? I don't think so," he hissed, making a swipe for J-Hope's arm. 

Hoseok dodged easily, bright laughter spilling from him. "What do I keep telling you about all this thinking business? Now," he suddenly scooped Yoongi up into his arms, avoiding another swipe by the desperate Twiggy, "I'll be departing with my dear injured friend here, and I'll hopefully not see you again for a long, long time. It's been a pleasure, as always." And he took off at a run, still carrying the boy. 

Yoongi looked up at him, trying to focus through his dizziness. He could only form one, hazy thought. 

I've looked for you, everywhere, and I've found you. 

Finally.