I am definitely preoccupied for the rest of our training session. As I kick Joonmyeon’s (but make sure to let him land a few punches on me, so I don’t look too good at fighting), my eyes keep darting to Sora and Taehyung on the other side of the room. I honestly don’t know what they’re doing. All I can see is Sora flinging punches at Taehyung- and Taehyung deflecting them like they’re slaps from a three-year-old, his eyes never leaving hers. The rest of Taehyung’s friends are periodically sneaking glances at them as well.

Come on, Sora, I think, biting my lip as she aims a rather sloppy kick at Taehyung. Do what I taught you. Get in position, keep your eyes on him- stop letting him block your hits-

Suddenly, the floor disappears from under my feet and I am knocked flat onto my stomach.

“Yes!” Joonmyeon yells, pumping his fist in the air. “I got you! I finally got you!”

“Oh my god,” I groan, straightening up. “That was a fluke! I was distracted!”

“Excuses! I still won! Oh, hell yeah!”

“Shut up!” I lunge at Joonmyeon and tackle him to the ground, mercilessly grinding my knuckles onto the top of his head. “You wanna say that again, punk? Huh?”

“Stop!” he yelps. “I get it, okay? Fine! Now get off! Get off!”

“That’s what I thought-,”

In a flash, Joonmyeon has flipped us over so that he is straddling me. His hands pin my wrists to the floor. He smirks.

“Checkmate,” he whispers, and a shiver goes down my spine.

“No fair,” I mumble. My face is hot. “You- I was-,”

“Shh. You always use excuses when I beat you.”

Joonmyeon’s warm brown eyes are glowing with intensity as he looks down at me. I become hyper-aware of the taut muscles in his arm, the slight heaving of his chest, the way his tongue darts out and wets his cherry-red lips-

Oh, .

I swallow. My mouth fumbles around, trying to form words, trying to snap a retort at him or at the very least tell him to get off, but I can’t. It feels like my voice has completely deserted me.

Joonmyeon’s body tenses. His eyes slowly trail down my body, from the hair coming out of my ponytail to the skin exposed above the low neckline of my blue cami.

And then someone clears their throat.

    Jimin is standing behind me, uncomfortably looking down at the two of us.

I practically fling myself away from Joonmyeon, stammering, “This- this is not what it looks like,” while Joonmyeon simply looks up at Jimin with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry,” Jimin says, warily watching Joonmyeon. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“You weren’t,” I hastily clarify. “I- sorry, we were- uh- I mean, we were just sparring. Nothing else, okay-,”

“No! It’s totally cool! Don’t worry about it- sorry, I walked in at a really weird time-,”

“Oh my god, I probably made this situation way more awkward than it was.” I bury my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m not helping. Okay. That’s totally-,”

“Hey. Seriously.” Jimin places a hand on my shoulder. His eyes are glowing with amusement. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m getting some water,” Joonmyeon utters, abruptly standing up. He picks up his towel and walks away without saying another word. I anxiously watch his retreating back, my cheeks red and my eyebrows furrowed.

“You two are close, right?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah,” I respond dazedly. “Friends.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Jesus. I massage my temples.

An angry, “Goddammit!” rings from the other side of the room. Sora is glaring at Taehyung, teeth clenched and fists raised, as he ducks under another punch. A slight smile grows on his lips as she grows more and more frustrated.

“Stop laughing!” Sora growls.

“I’m not laughs,” Taehyung utters in a cold voice that contrasts with the amused look on his face.

“Go to hell!” And to the amazement of me and the rest of Taehyung’s friends, Sora launches herself onto Taehyung in an act that can only be described as “completely insane”. I shout, “Hey!” and rush over to pull Sora off, Jimin, Jin, Yoongi, and Namjoon hot on my tails- wait, is Taehyung grinning? My eyebrows shoot up in astonishment. This is the most emotion I’ve ever seen on him. Is he some kind of masochist? Maybe he’s into hot girls going ape on his . Who wouldn’t be?

“I like you better like this,” I hear Taehyung mutter, which, for some reason, makes Sora even angrier. Her hands clench around his hair and start mercilessly tugging at his dark brown locks, which finally causes me to snap out of my stupor and drag her off of him. Taehyung collapses to the floor, looking up at Sora with an immensely pleased expression as she angrily attempts to claw her way out of my grasp.

“Can you calm down?” I hiss. “What the hell are you doing?”

“He’s pissing me off! He wasn’t even trying, okay? All he was doing was leaning away from my fists, like a little -,”

“And you still couldn’t land a hit on me,” Taehyung drawls. “Sad.”

“You little- I’m going to kill you!”

“Fight, fight, fight,” Jin chants under his breath, causing Yoongi to chortle with laughter.

“Okay, you know what?” I let out a deep breath of air. “We’re leaving. Sorry about this. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Hyo,” Jimin says, and when Sora’s back is turned, I mouth, Explain this later.

I don’t even know what’s going on, he mouths back.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Taehyung, or will I have to find out myself?”

Sora throws me a cross look as she flings herself down onto her bed. “It’s complicated.”

“Obviously. Start talking.”

“We have to plan for what I’m going to do at BTS’ street fights and stuff- it’s only a few days away-,”

“We have time. Quit stalling.”

Sora gives me a long, scornful look. I glare right back.

And then she sighs.

“I just don’t like him, okay? He’s been a to me my entire freaking life. I hate how he always looks down on me, and I just- he’s awful. Got it?”

I wince. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” She sighs. “I shouldn’t have gone all crazy on him. He just really pisses me off. And, I mean, it was kind of liberating beating him up like that.”

I snort. “You didn’t even beat him up. He was laughing the whole time.”

“Ugh, stop! I know. One day I’m going to spar with him seriously.”

“You do that.”

Joonmyeon texts me later that night, while I am coaching Sora on how to wield a knife.

come over

why, I text back.

now.

A sense of foreboding rises in my stomach as I throw on a jacket over my tank top and boy shorts. “I’ll be back,” I tell Sora.

“Where are you going?” she anxiously asks.

“Joonmyeon’s.”

“What? Seriously? Hyo, the street fight’s in a few days-,”

“Go to sleep. You’ve been practicing long enough. You’ll be fine.”

“Hyo-,”

But I rush out the door before she can say anything else.

Why does Joonmyeon sound so serious? Did something happen to him? My fingers anxiously rub over the steering wheel as I drive to Joonmyeon’s. I was already apprehensive about seeing him after our awkward... moment this afternoon, but this just makes me even more worried. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I race through the revolving doors of his apartment complex, throwing a hasty nod to the doorman, and hurry into the elevator, jabbing the number 22.

I am slightly trembling as I knock on his door.

A few moments later, I hear the lock click open.

Joonmyeon is staring down at me. His normally prim, styled hair lies floppy on his face. There is a strange look in his eyes as he draws closer, closes the door behind me. A pungent scent hangs in the air- alcohol.

“Have you been drinking?” I ask incredulously.

“You came,” Joonmyeon scoffs in a harsh tone I have never heard before. His eyes scan my body, and suddenly I become very aware of how little I am actually wearing. “You actually came.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask warily.

He snorts. “Because. You’ve been so caught up in something else for the past few months that I didn’t think you had time for me anymore.”

“Wha- Joonmyeon, what is this about? What is even going on?”

“Are you dating Jimin?” he asks bluntly.

My eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously? Are you kidding me? No! Why would you even think that?”

“Then what is it? You’ve been hiding something from me.”

    “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where is this even coming from?”

    “Just tell me, Hyo. Tell me everything.”

    The two of us look at each other for a long, long moment- my eyes round and fearful, his cold and demanding. My stomach clenches. I’ve seen Joonmyeon pissed more in the last few weeks than I have in the last year. And yet again, my body is flooded with hatred towards the gang world.

    I could have led a normal life.

    Could have.

    “Forget it,” Joonmyeon utters. He grabs my hand and yanks me to the door.

“Joonmyeon-,” I begin, but he shuts the door in my face.

Joonmyeon and I avoid each other for the next few days. I cannot allow myself to become completely consumed with stress about him- the street fights are coming up, and Sora needs to be prepared- but I catch myself miserably staring off into space more often than not, thinking about him.

Even Zelo and Himchan can tell that something’s wrong. They assume it is anxiety about the street fights. I don’t bother correcting them.

And then finally, before I know it, Zelo, Himchan, and I are sitting in an alleyway in Taebaek, nervously watching Sora arrive at the street fights through the camera located in her sunglasses.

“Everything good, Mina?” Himchan says into the mic.

“Mhm,” Sora hums.

The entire place looks packed. Burly men imprinted with bold tattooes, scrawny teenagers with wide eyes, and beautiful women wearing nothing but lingerie bustle around the area, shouting to each other and laughing with each other and trading weapons with each other. I can see a few individuals exchange dirty looks as well, but there seems to be some unspoken rule: no one engages in a fight. Rock music blares above it all, so loud that I can practically feel the bass in my chest through my headphones.

“How have the cops not broken this up already?” Zelo murmurs. “This is a hotbed of crime. Nearly everyone here is wanted for illicit gang activity.”

I narrow my eyes, peering at the scene on the screen. “Taebaek’s police force is . They couldn’t do a thing about this. It’s way too much for them to handle.”

Zelo slowly shakes his head. “This is awful. They need help.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t have worn a jacket, Mina” Himchan says, ogling the girls on the screen. “See? All these other girls are just wearing bras and skirts. No jackets.”

“Shut up, you bastard,” I hiss, punching Himchan in the arm. “It’s winter. Do you want her to catch a cold? And she’s dressed scantily enough. You look good, though, Mina,” I say into the mic.

“Thanks, guys,” Sora says out of the corner of . “Okay, do you guys see anyone that could be from BTS?”

Himchan scans the screens around us. “Look for big congregations of people, or someone seated at the center of everything- oh, hey. Do you see that?”

A handful of muscular figures are standing in what seems to be the center of the entire gathering, surrounded by groups of gorgeous girls. Every man sitting down has at least one girl sitting in his lap and five girls giggling around him. My lip curls in distaste.

“That’s definitely BTS,” I say.

“Got it.” And Sora marches towards them.

“Sor- Mina, no!” I exclaim, shooting up. “Don’t go to them! That’s too risky!”

“Stay back, Mina!” Zelo breathes.

But she ignores us and continues towards them. My entire body tenses as I watch her. My hand clenches around the hilt of the knife at my side.

“Calm down,” Himchan says, but even he looks worried. “She has her knife.”

“She barely even knows how to use it! What if something happens?”

“Just hang on...,”

Sora is getting nearer and nearer to the men. One of them sees her. His eyebrows shoot up, and he waves to her, gesturing for her to come and sit in his lap. I hear Sora take a deep breath, steadying herself. She is so close to the man that I can see the lustful expression on his face-

And then suddenly, the man’s expressions transforms into one of fear. He backs away, stammering, “H-Hey-,”

Sora whirls around but her cam goes black and all I can hear is a gasp!

And then everything goes silent.

“Mina!” I scream, tearing off my headphones, and I sprint out of the alleyway and towards the street fights, not even stopping to see if Zelo and Himchan follow. Desperation is rising further and further up my throat- no, I cannot have let Sora get hurt, why did I ever agree to this, how has she been caught already it has literally been five minutes since she arrived at the fights no no no no how please don’t let me be too late, please, please, please, I should have been there with her, I should have been closer, -

I am running so fast that my entire body is burning. The open fields where the street fights are being held are drawing closer and closer. I can see the swarms of people gathered there- but they are all oddly still. They all appear as though they are looking at one thing in the distance.

And when I finally arrive at the fields, I see what it is.

There is a large, raised platform sitting in front of an clearing bordered by thick red ropes. A handful of tall, powerful-looking men wearing black face masks are seated around one central figure, who is wearing a black suit and a black mask... which contrast with the white chrysanthemum tucked in the lapel of his suit jacket. Sora is seated in one of the men’s laps, a terrified expression on her face. The man has an arm around her waist and a knife at . Even from this distance, I can see that she is trembling.

. . My stomach sinks. I whip my knife out and look for a way to circumvent the crowd- maybe create a distraction so I can rescue Sora and leave-

“She’s here!” someone suddenly booms. A ripple runs through the crowd as everyone turns to face me. The people surrounding me snarl, withdrawing knives, axes, and spears. I tense, my knives held at the ready.

“Don’t touch her,” a voice says from the platform. I turn. The man- my lip curls- is staring straight at me, a smirk twisting his lips upwards.

“Let her walk,” he commands in his husky voice.

And the crowd instantly parts, allowing me a direct path to the stage. Jeers and hisses echo all around me- I hear someone snarl, “Let me have at her!” and “You ain’t , !” I scoff. Please. I have been in the gang world for years. My skin is thicker than any of theirs. Do they really think their insults can scare me?

No, their words cannot intimidate me. But the man sitting up on the stage, with the beautiful flower pinned to his jacket and the cruel sneer on his lips- he most certainly can.

“Lia,” Sora breathes when she sees me. The relieved look on her face immediately turns to one of panic. “Lia, get out of here, now-,”

“Shut up,” the man holding her growls, roughly yanking her back, and Sora whimpers in pain. The man standing in front of me tilts his head towards the person holding Sora.

“V, there’s no need to be so harsh with Sora,” he says in an amused voice, and a jolt of shock runs through my body. Sora. They know her real name.

Which means...

Do they know who I am?

My mind flashes to Joonmyeon.

Oh, no. No, no, no-

“It was suicide sending Sora here,” the man drawls. “We recognized her immediately. But we were able to bring you here using her, at least.”

I am silent.

“It’s interesting,” the man continues in a light voice. “Kim Lia. Everyone here wants you dead- not just for the lovely bounty Red Velvet’s placed on your head, but because you’re one of the only remnants of the old gang world. We drove them all out years ago. Yet here you are in front of us.”

“Who are you?” I utter.

“Mmm. I think you should be more focused on how you’re going to save Sora. There’s a way you can get her back, you know.”

“And how is that?”

“Simple.” The man leans back in his chair. “You fight for her. These are the Taebaek street fights, after all. You battle an opponent. If you win, you get Sora. If your opponent wins, they get Sora.”

“What if I don’t like that option?”

“Unfortunately, it’s your only one. So what do you say, Lia? Are you up for it?”

I glance at Sora. She is staring at me fearfully.

I just need to win. I have my knives. I have my guts. I can win.

“I’ll do it,” I growl.  

“Wonderful!” The man claps his hands together. “J-Hope, who’s next on the singles lineup for tonight?”

A figure sitting on the man’s left consults a tablet in his hands. “Sana.”

The crowd erupts into murmurs. “I’m here,” a soft voice says. I turn. A beautiful, long-haired girl is gliding towards me, a tranquil expression on her face. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This girl would look more at place in a library or in one of my college classes. What is she doing at a place like this?

“Here are the rules,” the man called J-Hope announces. “Fight until your opponent is unable to continue. No guns. No outside interference. If you don’t conclude the fight in 10 minutes, it’s a draw. Sana, what will be your weapon of choice?”

“These,” the girl says. She holds up her knuckles, and I realize with a jot that she is wearing brass knuckles embedded with thick spikes. I don’t even want to imagine how a hit from those would feel like.

“Lia?”

I turn to J-Hope. “Knives,” I say, holding up my twin blades.

J-Hope nods, and then turns to the crowd. “This fight is now open for bets.”

I whip my head around in indignation. Seriously? People are going to bet on this? The crowd seems just as surprised, too.

And then someone says, “1 million won for Lia Kim.”

My jaw drops. Slowly, I turn around.

The man is staring down at me from his seat, a pleased smirk on his face.

Oh my ing god.