This time — for sure — Jimin doesn’t know a flying on why he’s here.

When he opened his eyes, he’s back in the comfort of his bed and duvet in his home in Seoul. And then it suddenly feels too uncomfortable and unsettling, like something was majorly wrong but right going on.

He doesn’t feel the pain from his wrist anymore, though. So, he raises it to his sight and is taken aback when there was no sign of his Casted tattoo.

What the ?

The digital clock on his bedside table is glaring 20:21, and he could hear steps running down the hall like someone was rushing and stuff. He sits up his bed, slightly disoriented and the flashes of light from the beach still ingrained in the back of his eyelids. Without warning, Hana slams open the door, wearing a beautifully tailored tuxedo that accentuated her height and long legs. There’s a slight shock in her eyes when she sees Jimin with a bed head.

“Jimin-ah, why haven’t you changed?” she asked, her voice slowly rising. “The dance is on 8:30! I thought you said you asked someone out! Your tux is in your closet — go change!” And then she’s running to another room.

Jimin froze. Asked someone out? The first and last person he asked out was only — wait. Did he propel fast-forward to the future or something? He reaches for his phone to check for the date and —

June 21st.

Yeah. The end-of-the-school-year dance was tonight, for both the Performing and Visual Arts Department and Arts and Sciences Department. The same dance he asked Kang Min Soo out to just a few days ago — or so he thought, as he racked his brains from his fresh memories of their spring break. He could even still hear her say those infamous words as they sat at that pavement in front of their old houses.

So how did he go from March 11th to June 21st in a blink of an eye? What the was going on?

And who did he ask out to the dance to? Was he living in auto-pilot mode the past weeks and — like an A+ — asked someone else out? What the ? Park Jimin, I did not raise you this way, he thought angrily as he pulled the duvet covering his feet to the side and getting out of bed, thinking of that man facing the mirror with a finger pointing out at his reflection meme.

(Perhaps it wasn’t really the grandest time to think of memes.)

Was he living a parallel world or something? Did he somehow send himself to another dimension in the multiverse and living the life of that Park Jimin or something?

Jimin could physically feel his brain about to explode from the questions.

“PARK JIMIN!”

“IN A SEC!” he replied, rushing to the bathroom.

~

Not a few minutes later — managing to cramp everything within less than 10 minutes — Jimin is inside the large studio for the Fine Arts students, its walls painted with fascinating murals of almost anything. The studio was lit with pretty fairy lights, and the little dance floor in the middle had a little disco ball that spun with different colors of light. It reminded Jimin of the colors seeping out of the Dark Entity, though this one was under a more friendly and warm atmosphere. Art students of different majors are either dancing or talking, holding red cups of drinks in one hand and wearing pretty dresses and sharp suits.

He felt slightly out of place here.

He had discovered