I know something is wrong the moment my phone rings, waking me up from my slumber. It’s ing two in the morning, and the caller ID is unregistered on my contacts. The fact that it is scarily persistent in having me answer the phone supports my uneasy feeling. I blink my bleary eyes to focus as I swipe the green icon to answer the phone call, half of me still left somewhere in my dream land.

It turns out to be Byun Baekhyun, and he tells me he’d attempted to drive himself home from the club only to realize that he was piss drunk and he has no idea where he is or if he hasn’t already killed a man.

“If you have the half a mind to call me right now, surely you should know that designated drivers are a thing, right?” apparently, he claims that he is too drunk to understand more than two words I’ve said and quickly turns off the call after describing me his surrounding of two trees and a mini market as a location for me to pick him up.

I frown, staring at my phone as I rub the sleep out of my eyes, trying to organize my train of thoughts to process what Byun Baekhyun has just told me. I scroll over my list of contacts quickly, clicking and calling Baekhyun’s manager’s phone number Mrs. Choi provided for me earlier today. Twenty-eight rings later, the manager’s phone number seems to suddenly be out of reach.

I realize that around ten minutes has passed by since Byun Baekhyun’s first call, and every other minute Byun Baekhyun spends drunk and unchaperoned increases the risk of him being caught in a dangerous situation I don’t want to take care of.

Too angry and speechless to process the situation that I’ve been unwillingly dragged into, I haul my off the bed and quickly out of my apartment building, searching for the nearest club from where his apartment is supposed to be while keeping my phone notifications on for any kind of trends or hashtag that includes the word “Baekhyun”, “club”, or “drunk”.

Seoul is just perfect and ready for party-goers at this time of the night, and I’m more than grateful that a cab passed right in front of my apartment’s complex the moment I step outside the lobby still in my pajamas and mismatched bunny slippers. I look at my now-stained-with-asphalt-dirt bunny slippers sadly, and step into the cab quickly.

I tell him the club’s name I see pop up on my notifications thanks to some account that has been tweeting that they’ve allegedly spotted the Byun Baekhyun, while continuously dialing his manager in hopes of getting an idea of why the hell am I the one that’s responsible for chaperoning the superstar’s drunk .

To my beginner’s luck, Baekhyun is indeed asleep in his obnoxious Aston Martin Rapide S (I recognize this from an article I read once about it) in the back alley of a club, far from harm and the public eye thanks to that tweet, and the location is obviously very far from any kind of trees or mini market that he’d previously described to me on the phone. I tip the driver heftily and tells him that he’s not to speak of my discovery tonight, and send him off not before writing down his license plate number in case anything gets leaked.

Miraculously, after the third knock against his expensive car window, Byun Baekhyun jolts awake from his unconscious state leaning against his car’s steering wheel. I motion for him to unlock the car door, and quickly dragged him into the backseat before he can even begin to protest. He doesn’t even seem to be understanding the situation he’s gotten himself into, so I don’t say anything that might get him out of his drunken stupor to avoid convincing the drunkard that I’m not any kind of thief or crazy stalker that might want to kill him.

Not forgetting to curse ninety percent of the time, I drive his car very carefully and very slowly back to his apartment to be inconspicuous and safe. My attempt fails completely, however, when Byun Baekhyun s it up by causing a scene the moment I try to drag him off the car, screaming on top of his lungs that his “precious baby” should not be parked by a mere valet driver. I end up throwing him back into the car and parking the car myself before dragging his limp body to where his apartment is supposed to be (based on the number printed on his apartment card tucked inside his expensive leather wallet), and apparently, it’s on the top floor of the building.

It’s five in the morning now that I’ve caught a glimpse of the time on the wall clock in his extravagant and luxurious apartment. Unfortunately, I don’t even have the strength in me to look around and gape at how big and beautiful it is.

Quickly scanning the outline of Byun Baekhyun’s apartment, I count that the