I wake up just after dawn to the soft sunlight streaming in through the curtains I forgot to close. Lying in bed for a few minutes, I meditate for the first time in a long while, calming my nerves. It’s been a while since I’ve let myself get psyched out like this, and it’s been even longer since I woke up feeling anything but peaceful, but the meditative technique I learned from Monkey does the trick.

Sighing, I get out of bed, grabbing my phone off the other pillow and dragging on a pair of athletic shorts. I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep, even though I’ve only had a few hours.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” I mutter to myself as I plod to the kitchen, trying to trick my body into thinking I got more sleep than I did. My muscles ache, warning me off any funny business. Good thing I specialize in it.

Groaning, I toss my phone onto the kitchen counter and stretch, easing my body into wakefulness. I’m doubling over when my phone buzzes.

From: Taehyung

To: Minho

Hyung, we have a schedule planned for most of today, and. Manager hyung says we might end early but probably not, so we’ll let you know!

To: Taehyung

Araso.

A few more stretches, then I’m alert enough to make breakfast without injuring myself. Singing softly, I gather my ingredients and start cooking.

Rat emerges from the boys’ bedroom, sniffing like his namesake. “Food?” he asks plaintively.

I toss a bottle of water at him. “Hydrate first.”

He sighs and perches on a kitchen stool. “Okay.”

My brother watches me cook for a while, then rests his head on his arms. “We’ve missed your cooking.”

“Don’t tell me it was instant ramen again.”

“Tiger hyung tried to make stir-fry, but the whole base started filling with smoke so...”

“Say no more,” I grimace. My poor upholstery. It must smell like the aftermath of a fire back at base.

Rabbit wakes up not long after and pads quietly to the kitchen, getting a bottle of water for himself. “Morning.”

“Make coffee,” I reply. He complies.

I finish up and carry the dishes over to the kitchen island. I’ve made egg pancakes with scallions and some fried ham. It’s too early for anything heavier.

We eat in silence for a while.

“Plans for today?” Rabbit inquires.

“BTS boys are busy. Haven’t thought of what else there is to do.”

I dump my dishes in the sink, then plop on the couch. I turn on the TV and start flipping through channels.

“Wait, that one,” Rabbit calls out.

I go back to the previous channel. It’s a show called I Can See Your Voice.

“What is this?”

“I think I saw a clip of it at some point. You’ll like it.”

I watch for a while, contemplative. “This looks fun.”

“I think they audition for each episode’s contestants. Check it out,” Rabbit suggests nonchalantly.

I turn and stare at him. “Who are you and who have you done with my brother?”

He blinks and sips his coffee. “No comment.”

J-Hope’s POV:

We spend the day split between two talk shows, but we finish early enough at night that some of us still want to go out.

“Hobie, Cakeshop?” Namjoon inquires, poking his head into our room.

I was lying on my bed, but at the sound of his voice I convulse and roll off the bed, trying to hide the photo in my hands.

“S-sure,” I reply, as if I’m not crumpled next to my bed.

He walks over and plucks the photo out of my hand. “Is this you?”

It’s a photo of me and Jinhee. She’s looking at the camera, eyes placid and face peaceful. I’m looking at her, holding out a piece of paper, probably my homework. It’s also one of the rare photos of us, in color no less.

Our maknae appears in the doorway as if he just smelled something interesting. “Let me see.”

The two of them pore over the photo, fascinated, as I scramble to my knees, then my feet.

“Who’s that?” Kookie asks, as Namjoon holds the photo out of my reach.

Taehyung enters the room, looking questioning. “What’s going on?”

Rapmon passes him the photo. “Baby pictures.”

“A family friend, okay, that’s a family friend,” I concede, panting. “Can I have it back now?”

“The friend you were thinking about in the car?” Kookie asks.

I flush. “Yes.”

“Then you haven’t seen her in a long time,” Tae points out. He’s still studying the photo, looking serious.

“Her eyes don’t look Korean,” Rapmon observes. Tae looks shocked at this revelation, and squints even harder at the photo before finally handing it back.

“Did she move away or something?”

“Yeah.” I stow the photo away in my books and change the subject. “Cakeshop?”

“Call,” Kookie says.

Qilin’s POV:

It’s night. I’ve spent the day brushing up on the Hallyu wave, watching music video after music video. Well, mainly BTS videos. It’s all I’ve done today, but it’s dark out now and I’m restless. It gets me thinking.

For the past few years, I’ve led a secret life that not even my brothers knew about. I’ve gone out to clubs multiple nights a week, dancing and rapping and bboying my way to underground stardom.

If I were back in Hong Kong, I’d sneak out. But who’s to stop me now?

 “I’m going out,” I say, decided.

“I’ll come,” Rat says immediately, getting up from where he’s sprawled on the couch.

I frown at him. “No.”

“Why not?” he complains.

“Because...” I trail off. My brothers don’t know about my double life, but maybe that’s less important than not being jumped because I insisted on going out alone. “Okay, fine. But you can’t let yourself be seen in connection with me.”

“Where are you guys going?” Rabbit calls out from the cave.

“Itaewon.”

“You’re going to dance?” Rat asks as I head into my room to change. He doesn’t sound surprised. I re-emerge and stare at him.

“You didn’t really think we didn’t notice you sneaking out?” He makes it a question.

I’m struck speechless for a long moment. “God damn it. You knew all along?”

“Actually, it was only me, and I only ever caught you once. I followed you and realized it wasn’t your first time sneaking out,” Rat admits. “We taught you too well.”

I groan. “Okay. Yes, I’m going to dance.” Facepalming, I head back into my room.

I arrive in Itaewon on my sweet, sweet ride. It’s a matte black Kawasaki Ninja 300, dialed up like my beautiful Mercedes. I left Rat to his own devices. He can keep up, or not.

I can hear the music pumping already from different locations in the area. I head into Cakeshop, and I can feel that the energy is different from back in Hong Kong. There’s a more even mix of genders, but beyond that, something seems to flavor the air that’s just slightly different from my usual haunts. I slip on a mask and a hat for further disguise, because I’m here not as myself, nor as anyone else. This is the identity I went by in Hong Kong night life. Genderless, faceless, and, to begin with, nameless. Underneath my mask, I’m as much me as I ever was.

“Qilin, where are you?” Rat’s voice in my earpiece.

“Walking in.”

“Damn it, I’m here too and I can’t see you.”

I look around, but I can’t find him either. The place is packed.

There is a stage up in the front, empty at first, but as I watch, someone comes up and the whole venue quiets.

“It’s time!” The MC announces, and everyone cheers.

“What’s happening?” Rat’s nervous voice.

“Volunteers for tonight’s freestyle dance battle?” The MC asks, saving me from having to answer. He scans the crowd. Pushing and shoving starts happening, some half-hearted protests. Two unwilling contestants are pushed forward. Two others confidently step up.

“We need one more,” the MC says, when the four arrive on stage. “One more contestant, or the show will end too early.”

“Oh no, nononono,” Rat mutters.

“Relax, now you can watch me,” I laugh under my breath.

I slide through the crowd and step up to the front of the stage.

“Alright, a fifth!” The crowd cheers as I walk up the stairs.

Hoseok’s POV:

Namjoon, Jungkook, and I slip in through the doors of Cakeshop, sticking to the shadows. We’re wrapped up and unidentifiable for the most part, but our hair can’t be completely covered without us looking like serial killers, so we can’t risk the uncommon color tipping anyone off. Not to mention, wearing sunglasses is a big no-no when trying to be inconspicuous at night.

“It’s your lucky night,” Namjoon comments. “Looks like we just caught the freestyle  dance competition.”

I shrug. “It’s not usually that good.” We take up spots near the back and watch.

The last contestant is all in black: black hoodie, black mask, black cap, black pants. The three of us look down at ourselves and groan. “They’re going to think we’re with him, and that we’re all in the same idol group.”

With unspoken accord we all slink back into a corner, unnoticeable. The view of the stage is a little far, but still acceptable.

We can already hear people in the crowd wondering if he’s an idol.

Namjoon mutters, “God, I should hope no idol is reckless enough to perform on stage.”

Qilin’s POV:

The five of us fan out. The two confident ones look me up and down, seemingly unimpressed, but they don’t even spare a glance at the other two, who are awkwardly avoiding looking at the crowd. I look back at them placidly and bow.

“What shall we call you?” the MC prompts. I’m last in the line up. It gives me a little time to decide whether to use the name I earned in Hong Kong, or to make my way without it.

“Viper.” The young man at the far end, one of the confident ones.

“J-Jane,” the shy young woman says.

 “Queenie,” the next girl says arrogantly, flinging her hair behind her and pushing her chest out. I laugh, a quiet, low sound that only the nervous boy next to me hears. He looks at me, startled.

It’s his turn, and “Siri,” he blurts out, then blushes. I grin at him when the crowd jeers, because I glimpsed the Deathly Hallows stud in his left ear and recognize the Harry Potter reference for what it is. He’s pretty cute, with his hair flopping slightly over his eyes. Not a bad body, either, though not as built as I’m used to.

Then it’s me, and I’ve made up my mind. To start nameless, like I did in Hong Kong. “No name,” I say.

The crowd murmurs.

“No face, and no name? We have a special one here tonight,” the MC laughs, but accepts it.

“Oh, I’m special,” I agree, a wicked smile hidden under my mask.