Zelo and I exchange an uneasy look.

“Who are you?” I snarl. “What do you want?”

“Oh, Lia. You shouldn’t be asking that. You should be asking, ‘What can you do for me?’”

His voice is quiet, husky. The events of Saturday night flash through my mind and an involuntary shudder passes through me.

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t usually ask psychos I don’t know for help,” I snap. “Don’t you think it’s a little creepy that you know me and I don’t know you?”  

The man laughs, and Zelo clutches my hand, looking absolutely unnerved. “I think it’s kind of y, actually,” he tells me in an amused voice. “Mysteries can be fun. Like the mystery of who ordered the death of your parents.”

I shoot up so quickly that the chair I am sitting on tips backwards and crashes to the floor. Himcha, Zelo, and Sora rise, gaping in astonishment, as they stare at the phone in my hand.

“How do you know that?” I hiss.

“Hmm. Kim Lia returns to the underworld, and then hunts down Wonho, asking about a bingo book. I can put two and two together.”

I clench my fists to prevent them from shaking. “Tell me what you know.”

    “Hey. It can’t be that easy.” The man’s tone is chiding and playful, like I am a kid he is scolding for eating all the cookies in a box. It freaks me out. “How about this. There’s a masquerade ball taking place this Friday that I’ll be at. If you can find me by midnight, I’ll give you a hint as to who is behind your parents’ deaths.”

    “I already know who was,” I growl. “BTS.”

    “Hmm. Partly. But- no, I won’t spoil anything. I’ll tell you if you find me.”

    I am silent. Fuming.

    “I’m looking forward to meeting you, Lia,” the man purrs in a velvety tone. “I’m a fan. Hopefully we’ll get to see those incredible fighting skills on Friday. See you then.”

    And then he hangs up before I have the chance to say a thing.

    The next moment, my phone buzzes with a text. I have received a baby blue invitation with the address, time, date, and dress code of the event printed in fancy cursive.

    Zelo, Himchan, Sora, and I are stunned into silence. We stare at my cell phone. There are various degrees of alarm, fright, and panic on their faces. Zelo’s grip on my hand is crushing. Himchan’s hand is resting on Sora’s shoulder, who looks like she is about to cry.  

But I am looking at the invitation with a flinty, cold gaze. My face betrays no emotion.

“Friday it is, then,” I utter.  

I am quiet during the entire drive home. Sora is speaking rapidly, nervously, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turn white.

“I mean, you can’t go,” she babbles. “You absolutely can’t. It’s too dangerous. You’re walking into a place you don’t know to find a guy you don’t know, either, and you’ll be in enemy territory and you know what could happen and, god, no, you can’t, you absolutely can’t go, Hyo, if anything happens to you I don’t know what I’d do-,”

I don’t want to talk.

I want to think.

What the man was saying made sense. Himchan said that BTS was formed a year or two ago- after my parents were killed. Why would they have wanted to kill my parents? Was it a personal vendetta? How did they even get into contact with ZE:A? Questions are floating around my head at a dizzying speed. I need to find the answers.

But how will I find the answers when I don’t even know how the man looks like?

All I remember is the feeling of his hands roaming my body. The sensation of his lips on the nape of my neck.

I clench my jaw, look out the window.

This is so ing wrong.

The next few days are a blur. I neglect my schoolwork and instead stay in the gym almost every day. Her attitude towards exercising has not improved, but she hides her distaste because she can tell I am in no mood to hear it.

When I am not training, I am formulating strategies for Friday night. Zelo, Himchan, Sora, and I have stayed up until 2 in the morning for the past three nights, discussing all the aspects of our plan as well as different backup plans. I will have to go in alone- Zelo and Himchan are recognized gangsters, and there is no way I’m bringing Sora into this type of high-risk setting.

Sora is still vehemently protesting my decision to attend the ball. She reminds me of this often, her persuasion tactics ranging from casual asides to how suspicious the party is to full-blown rants on everything that could go wrong.

“Every single gang in the city is out for your head,” she agitatedly informs me. “You heard what Himchan said about Red Velvet placing a bounty on you. What if someone recognizes you or something? And that weird guy’s after you, too- oh my god, Hyo, please don’t go. You could die!”

I don’t care. This is my only lead on the reason behind my parents’ death.

I have to pursue this.

    Boom.

    My fist slams into the black punching bag.

    An image of my parents’ bodies lying in their caskets flashes through my mind. Silence rings in the air.

    Boom.

    I slam the heel of my foot into the punching bag.

    Techno music thumps in my ears as a hand trails up my inner thigh.

    Boom.

    Nine bleeding bodies lie in front of me.

    Boom.

    Chorong and Yongguk are tucking me into bed. Chorong kisses my forehead, whispering good night.

    Boom.

    Gunshots rain upon Zelo and I as we cower behind bushes at midnight, clutching packets of white powder to our chests.

    Boom.

    Boom.

    Boom.

    Boom-

    “Whoa,” someone says, grabbing my arms, and I whirl around, anger flashing through my eyes, my fists raised-

    Park Jimin is standing in front of me, a slightly stunned look in his eyes. I stare at him for a few frenzied moments. My chest is heaving and my heart is pounding and I swear for few seconds I forget that I am in the campus gym- no, I am 14 years old and back on the streets, blood on my cheeks and desperation in my heart-

    “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

    Jimin’s eyes are searching my face. His hands linger on my arms for just an instant.

    “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

    “Yeah.”

    My breath comes out in short pants. A dizzying wave of fatigue suddenly hits me and my knees buckle; Jimin catches me just in time.

“When was the last time you ate?” he murmurs. “You look really tired.”

. When was the last time I ate? I’ve been physically straining myself too much for the past week; I need to take care of my body so that I have enough energy for the masquerade ball tomorrow. I straighten up and steady myself, gently removing his hands from my arms.

“Yeah, I haven’t eaten in awhile,” I say. “I- I’m going to go get some food. Thank you for helping me.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jimin says. My eyebrows pop up in surprise.

“There’s really no need,” I hastily say, but he shakes his head.

“It would if you passed out on your way there. I’ll come with. Hey, guys,” he calls to his friends, who are lifting weights on the other side of the gym. “I’m going to get food with Hyolin.”

They stare at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?” Jin says, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Jimin. He looks as confused as I do.

“Food. Hyolin. Give me ten minutes.”

“Jimin-,”

“Let’s go,” he says, leading me out the door.

We are walking to the dining hall, side-by-side, eliciting a few curious looks. In what world would nerdy, uptight Park Hyolin be seen with popular Park Jimin? I peer at him from out of the corner of my eye. Someone wanted this boy killed. Although I have not heard anything about him in the gang world so far, he must be doing something weird.

He is really attractive; with his immaculately styled hair, rich brown eyes, and toned, muscled body, I can truly see what all the hype is about. I open my mouth, intending to thank him once more, but what comes out is, “You know my name?”

Jimin shoots me an amused look and chuckles. “Of course, Vice Prez. I’m not that oblivious. Although I never knew you could punch so hard. You almost knocked my teeth out back at the gym.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry about that. I was just getting really into it, you know? Working off that stress.”

“I’m sure. It must be rough handling honor classes and the student council and everything.”

And my parents’ murders, and a search for the people who are behind all of this, and the fact that every gangster in Seoul wants me dead.

“Yeah, school’s tough,” I say airily.

“Yeah.”

We arrive at the dining hall and, after I buy a double serving of kimbap for us to share, the two of us take a seat at a table. Jimin begins chewing on a piece of kimbap- and then stops to watch as I practically inhale the food.

“Damn,” he whistles. “Look at you go.”

“Sorry,” I mumble through a mouthful of rice. “I’m so hungry. I feel like I haven’t eaten in ages.”

“Don’t mind me.” Jimin rests his head on his hand and grins at me. “Just keep eating.”

“I feel like a circus attraction,” I tell him, rather disgruntled.

“Behold, the 19-year-old Wonder Eater! She can eat her body weight in kimbap!”

“Stop!” I laugh, the tension dissolving from my shoulders. Jimin cracks up when he sees me giggle and damn, this is surreal- I can’t believe I’m joking around with Park Jimin. God, I feel like I haven’t even smiled in so long. I turn around to chuck our empty paper plate into the trashcan, chortling-

Joonmyeon is standing near the entrance of the dining hall with his friends, watching me and Jimin with a stony face.

And then I suddenly remember the dozens of unread texts from him on my phone, the multiple calls I let go to voicemail because I was training.

.

“Joonmyeon,” I begin to say, scrambling up from my seat. “I’m-,”

“Forget it,” he intones. His voice is glacial and dread rises further and further up in my chest, drowning my heart. Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, Jongin, and Sehun are looking at me impassively, yet I can sense their accusatory stares.

“Joonmyeon, I’m really, really sorry,” I say, grabbing his arm as he turns to walk away. “Look, I can explain-,”

“This isn’t what you think it is,” Jimin adds. “Hyo was really exhausted from working out, so I brought her here so she could get some food.”

Joonmyeon appraises Jimin with cold eyes. “Oh, so she’s actually talked to you? Wow. I haven’t even gotten that in the past few days. Actually, I haven’t even seen her.”

“Can we-,” I close my eyes. “Can we talk in private? Please?”

“Fine,” Joonmyeon utters, and chills run down my spine because he has never been angry at me, goofy, easy going Joonmyeon, my best friend who always makes me laugh, who has clasped me to him after I have woken up screaming from countless nightmares, who has gotten annoyed at me occasionally but never, ever angry like this. Jimin, along with the rest of the boys, looks incredibly uneasy; I don’t think any of us have ever seen Joonmyeon so mad. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and lead him to another table.

“Joonmyeon,” I say. “I-,”

“I don’t know what’s been up with you lately,” he says quietly, cutting me off. “You’ve been so distant, Hyo. We rarely hang out anymore, I can’t find you half the time, and you’ve stopped responding to my texts. Is there something happening? I can’t believe you haven’t told me what’s going on. I’m your ing best friend.”

I blanch. He cursed. Joonmyeon cursed.

And maybe it’s a byproduct of the fatigue, or the fact that I have no idea what to do in this situation, or- god- maybe just the pure desperation I feel right now, but I have to blink back tears.

When Joonmyeon sees this, his expression softens significantly. He takes a step towards me, gently cups my face in his hands.

“Hyo,” he whispers. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Joonmyeon lips are mere inches above mine. His eyes are flooded with remorse and concern and- and love. A lump grows in my throat.

“Do you remember my nightmares?” I finally breathe, my voice trembling.

His eyes widen. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me-,”

“They’re back,” I tell him. “In full force.”

And now tears are dripping down my face and Joonmyeon thinks it is because I am so overwhelmed with fear and anxiety about my dreams when in reality I am crying because I have finally realized the distance between me and Joonmyeon, the fact that I could never truly be close to him because he doesn’t know what I am capable of, why I even have nightmares, who Kim Lia is. Our friendship was a delusion. I will never be able to reveal the truth to him.

“I- I haven’t been sleeping because I don’t want to get them,” I stammer as Joonmyeon wraps his arms around me and rests his temple on my head. “I tried working out to get rid of the stress but it didn’t work and I- I didn’t want to burden you-,”

“Jesus, Hyo,” he whispers. “Don’t ever think that. Ever. I will always be here for you. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, wrapping my arms around him.

“When you have another nightmare, call me. I’ll take care of you. Got it?”

I give him a small smile through my tears. “Got it.”

The guilt clawing up my stomach right now is indescribable.

A/N: LMFAO YA GUYS I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAP.... ANYWAY T MINUS LIKE...... 6 HRS TILL MY BDAY!!!!