Every Tuesday, Dongwoo has a busy day at college filled with lectures and tutorials and time spent in practising with other Dance students in the theatre. At 6pm, his last lecture – about ethnomusicology with the ever excitable Professor Lee Minwoo – finishes and he races across campus to his friend Woohyun’s room. There he shares a light meal with Woohyun and Woohyun’s room-mate slash best friend, Kibum, while they all chat about their days.

Once their meal’s done, he’ll have a shower after Woohyun. Afterwards, those two will bid goodbye to Kibum, hop in Woohyun’s car and make their way to a certain club.

Club Paradise is a strip club. It’s not up-market. It’s below ground and generally ill-lit and smoky. A significant portion of its patrons are people you wouldn’t want to run into on a dark night. But the couple who run it treat their workers well, pay on time, and aren’t averse to kicking out an abusive customer even if he’s balling. In other words, six days a week, it is an utterly unexceptional strip joint. However, every Tuesday is gay night and one Wednesday a month is ladies’ night. For the past six months or so, those nights are all that’ve been keeping Dongwoo (just about) on top of his expenses.

They get dressed up and made up and stride out to work the floor. The punters give them tips. Once the guy’s tips add up to a certain amount, he’ll put on a public dance. They’ll pick up more tips during the public show and maybe convince a few punters to take them for a private dance. Woohyun’s already danced twice tonight and they haven’t even been there long. Dongwoo glances over to where Woohyun’s surrounded by a small crowd of admirers. He’s giggling while one of the men is playing with his mesh top and two others are petting Woohyun’s wavy, black hair. Woohyun’s been working here almost two years and has built up a loyal crew of admirers. They’re not bad men. They just want some affection and to see a show. If a new punter tries to cross the line with their favourite dancer, they’ll soon tell that guy where to get off.

A sigh escapes Dongwoo’s lips. He’s got his own admirers, sure. It’s just that only two of them happen to be here tonight and neither are big spenders at the best of times.

He spots one of Woohyun’s admirers taking him away for a private dance. Dongwoo squares his shoulders, puts on a dazzling smile and hikes up his green booty-shorts. If he wants to eat this week, he’s going to have to make tonight work and that’s all there is to it. The strains of ‘Sweet Cherry Pie’ fade out and Jinki collapses (literally) off the stage – luckily his customers had anticipated as much and easily catch him. Dongwoo chuckles. If equilibrium-deficient Jinki can put on a show, then one of the stars of the School of Dance could give these johns a show they’d never forget. All he needs is a few more tips.

“Dongwoo-sshi!” a female voice calls. Dongwoo whips his head around, eyes wide in surprise.

“Sera-noona! What are you doing here?”

“Had a profitable night last night and the kids are away on a church retreat, so we thought we’d come support you boys.”

The thin, elegant woman, feathers in her auburn hair, gestures behind her to two women who seem to have come in and immediately got into a heated discussion with the barmaid, Eunji.

“Sem-noona, Hyunah-noona! You’re here too.”

The three women also strip at Club Paradise. They’ve given Dongwoo good advice in the past and have never been shy of coming to liven up ladies’ night or even gay night. On hearing Dongwoo, Sem and Hyunah reluctantly put on hold their debate with Eunji and waltz over to give Dongwoo a peck on each cheek.

“Dongwoo-sshi, how are you doing?”

Dongwoo scratches his nape – inadvertently getting hair-glitter on his fingers.

“Kind of a slow night, Noonas. Most of my regulars didn’t make it. I don’t suppose you could put some of that ‘support’ my way.”

The women exchange a look and, with impressive synchronicity, whip out their purses.

“These losers don’t know what they’re missing,” Sera scoffs.

“Blow them away,” Hyunah adds, neatly folding a couple of big notes between her perfectly manicured fingers before slipping them into Dongwoo’s tip jar.

Dongwoo tugs a few blades of grass between his fingers. He’s on a hill, silent and still. There’s a concrete path nearby, a couple of metal benches – one with a homeless person sleeping on it – and some sparse patches of trees and bushes. Dongwoo hauls himself up and casts his gaze around. The view doesn’t look any more familiar than it did five minutes ago. A residential district by the looks of it. Low rise blocks of flats. What might be a secondary school to the east. A church spire visible behind it. Most businesses safely shuttered, although Dongwoo can hear a noraebang somewhere close by.

He shivers in the cold. His outfit wasn’t made for wandering around hills on January night. He plods over to sit beside his pole and gazes up at the twinkling stars.

Yes, his pole’s here too. Dongwoo doesn’t know why. It’s just standing here, apparently anchored securely in the turf – as if it were the most natural place in the world for a stripper’s pole to be located. Rubbing some warmth back into his bare arms, Dongwoo tries once again to remember.

He was dancing. It was going well. Supremely well. After the noonas paid for his first dance, he wasn’t long in grabbing the attention of a few more customers. One business man took him away for a private dance. That guy had been a little grabby, but that one dance ended up paying Dongwoo’s rent for the month and then some, so Dongwoo could let it slide mostly.

The tips kept coming. A while later, he was back on one of the stages for his second public show. Dongwoo was giving it his all, getting down to Britney Spears’ Slave 4 U. Maybe the sudden turnaround in his fortunes was fuelling his giddy feeling or maybe he just really liked this song. Either way, the punters were thirsting for him. The noonas were loving it, cheering him on from their table. Even Woohyun stopped to share some of his tips. (To be precise, Woohyun crawled up with a note between his lips and used his teeth and tongue to slide said note into Dongwoo’s g-string. That little act probably earned this both 10 times the original note).

Dongwoo decided to try a new move. He’d never done this move successfully and if he got it wrong now, he’d likely crash and injure his back. But Dongwoo was ready to throw caution to the wind. He’d been practising. He’d almost got it. Tonight had to be the night. He felt euphoric. He knew he’d nail it. Get some height. Kick one leg out just so. Let go of the pole and –

He was here. On a hill. In the cold. He’d picked up the pieces of his costume – shorts, tank top and boots – that had been scattered unassumingly on the neatly mown grass. After getting dressed up again, he’d looked around, never straying too far from the pole. How had he got here? Why was he here? Most importantly, where was here?

A scream pierces the night. Dongwoo shuffles behind his pole as if that could hide him. (The homeless man grunts and rolls over). The scream is followed by masculine shouts and jeering. Dongwoo’s skin crawls. A whimper escapes his lips and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

A boy comes into view. Dreadfully skinny, with a pretty face and messy brown hair. He looks about 15 and he’s running for his life, eyes wide with terror. The boy whips he head around to check his pursuers’ distance. He trips. An awful sound of flesh scraping on the concrete path. Leering faces come into view. Three men. Fine suits. Obviously drunk and probably something more as well. Middle-aged, certain to each have a wife and children. Unshakable confidence. The boy cowers on the ground, pleading for them to leave him alone. They keep advancing.

Dongwoo trembles. He’s seen a few of these men before and that’s a few too many. He hates them and he’s terrified of them. If not for a bit of luck and help from Woohyun, he’d have been in that boy’s position by now. He’s petrified but he knows he has to do something. If nothing else, those monsters will notice him and his glittery clothes soon enough – then it’ll be bad for him no matter what. So he might as well do something. So maybe that queer kid won’t hate the world quite so much as he might otherwise.

Before Dongwoo knows what’s happening, he’s leapt up, emitting an animalistic bellow and is racing towards the attackers.

It’s a blur. He punches one. The pain of his knuckles colliding with the man’s jaw is real enough. On the other hand, the way said man flew back, the force of the punch careering him down the hill… clearly that’s a product of Dongwoo’s imagination. It must be. Likewise, Dongwoo roundhousing the next man – Dongwoo’s never kicked anyone like that, let alone with enough force to make blood spurt out their ear. He springs into the air and scissor kicks in front and behind, getting the third man firmly in his solar plexus – sending him the way of the first assailant – and getting the second, staggering assailant in the side of the head. The man wobbles, slick blood oozing from his mouth, the collapses.

As he catches his breath, Dongwoo’s head clears. That doesn’t make sense. Dongwoo can’t fight. As a general rule, he’s a coward. But there’s a man out cold on the ground and a snivelling, shaking teenager picking himself up. What just happened?

“Thank you,” the boy squeaks. Now that Dongwoo gets a better look at him, he can see an ugly bruise blossoming on the boy’s face.

“It’s fine. Are you OK? Can you get home?”

The boy nods.

“Uh-huh. I live just over the hill. My parents are away and I… er…”

He hangs his head. Dongwoo draws him into a quick hug.

“Hey, it’s OK. I’ve done stupider stuff, I’ll bet you.”

The boy coughs out a short laugh. He wipes his eyes roughly with the back of his hand and looks Dongwoo up and down.

“You… Who are you anyway?”

There’s a sick feeling in Dongwoo’s stomach. It had been there since the fight finished, but he’d ignored it. At the boy’s question, it spikes. As if spiders are scuttling in his guts.

“I have to go.”

Dongwoo stumbles back to his pole. It feels like the right thing to do. And is the pole glowing? Or maybe that’s just Dongwoo’s nausea obscuring his vision. The sound of running footsteps and a female voice calling his name.

Drowned out by the strains of Slave 4 U.

And applause.

And Dongwoo finishes his routine.

The johns are wild for him and his new move. He gives his a playful spank as he collects his outfit and all his tips. He’ll be living on this night for a very long time with a little thrift (and Dongwoo’s good at thrift). He sashays into the back rooms, smile carefully place, the image of a beautiful boy, face marred by a yellow bruise filling his mind.

When his friend doesn’t come out shortly, Woohyun goes to check on him. As the one who introduced Dongwoo to this world, Woohyun’s quite protective of his hyung. He finds Dongwoo dressed in his outfit, sitting at his make-up table with his chin in his hands. Woohyun snaps his fingers close to Dongwoo’s ear. The man shrieks and jumps in his chair.

“Uwah! Don’t do that, Woohyun-ah!”

“Sorry,” chuckles Woohyun, without a hint of remorse, “Were you drowning in your own handsomeness? Don’t worry, Hyung. I know that feeling.”

Dongwoo laughs. Woohyun’s good at making him laugh. The younger man pulls up a chair beside Dongwoo and rubs his shoulder.

“Seriously, are you OK? Did something happen?”

“Man, I’m fine. There’s nothing. Only, er…” Dongwoo plays with his fingers. How best to phrase, Did I, per chance, teleport mid-show?

“Was everything alright with my show?”

Woohyun slaps his back.

“I get it. You’re fishing for compliments,” he teases, “You were great. That one move in the middle – that was insane. You were all twist and then wibble and then-“ Woohyun continues his highly technical description using wild arm gestures to illustrate. Dongwoo can’t help but giggle at him.

“Bet you made bank.” Woohyun pokes his arm.

Just then, Sem pokes her head inside.

“You boys ought to get back out here. Jinki spilled a tray of drinks over some newcomers. We’ve got angry queens left, right and centre out here.”

The friends nod and make their way out, hand in hand. That quiet hill seems like a dream to Dongwoo. The boy’s face is fading from his memories.