Loud upbeat music blasted through the surround system in the dimly lit nightclub, its bass so loud that it’s almost impossible to hear each other while talking in a normal volume. Bodies were swaying along with the music on the dance floor, sweating out what they’ve got, attracting attention from the opposite whether intentionally or not. Turning spotlights shine piercingly, adding to the profound noise when one looks at the situation in general.

Up on the platform, the dj bustles around, pretending to adjust the knobs and buttons with one hand while the other cups the branded headphones he has on. He was enjoying his job; he does not really need to do much because he already has a whole playlist of upbeat songs perfect for clubbing loaded into the cd player. Those knobs and buttons are actually not supposed to be fiddled with any more. To be honest, no one really knows or cares. As long as there is good, loud music, it’s perfect.

The experienced bartender expertly shakes up martinis, vodkas, beer and everything else alcoholic or not and serves them to his rich and well-dressed customers waiting on the high stools located at around the counter. One however, stood out from the rest. He had on a tight black pants and a big hooded sweater, its hood covering his freshly dyed jet-black hair. The said man stretched out his arm and swiftly picks up his drink he had ordered from the bartender, the two intricately-designed rings on his fingers reflecting the light shining onto them to the eyes of those watching him, especially curious ladies with too much make-up on their faces and too little cloth covering their skin. Sipping his cold drink, he turned and walked towards the staircase leading to the second floor, not looking anyone in the eye, afraid he would get recognised.

The lounge on the second floor was less hectic than the first. Though there were railings where you can look down to the dance floor, the lounge was quieter. Few men and women crowded around a table in the booth at the extreme corner, smoking and chattering into the distance. A young couple who looked like they were barely legal were smooching and roving their hands on each other, their drinks and a plate of two slices of rich creamy velvet cake left untouched on the table.

Jiho looked around for an unoccupied booth but he didn’t want to seem lonely so he slid into a booth in which a man in a business suit had his head onto the table, passed out from drinking too much. He reeked of alcohol and nicotine and zinc but Jiho did not bother, though the tinge of dried blood on the man’s lips and philtrum got him thinking that the man had probably got himself into trouble earlier on. Tapping his finger to the beat against the wine glass, Jiho immersed himself into the bass of the music, nodding his head in tune with it.

He sat there for as long as he could remember, slowly getting high on the music and the smell of nicotine and not actually the alcohol. That one period of time where he wasted his life, like a drunkard, his alcohol tolerance had increased and now, one glass of alcoholic beverage won’t faze him much. That night, he had told every one that he wanted a break from work. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but one particular person kept bugging him and wanting to tag along with him. It was only when Park Kyung realised how serious Jiho was in wanting to be left alone did he stop pestering the latter.

Kyung must still be in the studio finishing up what Jiho left behind, Jiho had thought but looking at the time on his smartphone, it was way past midnight. The boys should’ve gone back to the dorm, preparing to sleep. Then when he realised he had been there for more than two hours, his stomach started rumbling and he recalled that he had not eaten a proper meal for the whole day but rather snacking on salted crackers and chips to tone down the hunger.

As if on cue, the screen of his phone lighted and buzzed shortly after on the tabletop, urging Jiho to pick up. Jiho does not need to know who was calling as his caller logs were mostly of Park Kyung’s. He answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Yah, come back quick,” Kyung said hastily.

Zico acted indifferent. “Why should I?”

“Did you have an ex-girlfriend that I didn’t know of or something?”
 

“What are you spitting, son?”

“No, I’m serious. The bell rang and Jihoon freaked out because no one in his right mind would visit someone in the middle of the night. So Yukwon got up and I followed behind and when we opened the door, this cute little boy carrying a bag pack was standing there and staring up at us and we stared back at him,” Kyung rushed.

“So?”

“And then Jaehyo hyung came out and when he saw the boy, he ushered him in because there was no one else outside and Jihoon had been complaining to him how there were ghosts lurking around and Jaehyo hyung got fed up,” he continued.

“And why are you telling me this?”

“He looks just like you, Jiho,” Kyung breathed.

All hell breaks loose. What's gonna happen next?