12:00 PM

Location: Classified

Three figures stared at a letter on a computer screen. The setting: a dark basement somewhere deep in the darkness of Seoul.

“You ready?” the tallest of the three questioned.

His partner, a glasses-wearing man in his late 20’s smirked. “I was born ready.”

“Then we’re set,” announced the third man. “Unit six sure is in for a treat.”

The man with the glasses nodded. “I can already picture their faces once they read the declaration letter. This will be fun.” With that, he pressed the ‘enter’ button on the keyboard.

“Let the games begin.”

[ Earlier That Day ]

8: 35 AM

Seoul, Korea

Location: Central Square

Why am I always late?

The question entered 24-year-old Yang Yoseob’s mind for the tenth time that morning. “I wish Auntie reminded me about Daylight’s Savings Time,” he mumbled with a piece of toast in hand as he rushed down the streets of Seoul. “If she did, I probably wouldn’t be thirty minutes late on my first day.”

The raven-haired young man arrived at the end of the block and groaned when the walking signal turned red at that instance.

“Aw, come on!” he complained, receiving odd looks from bystanders.

He waited for it to turn back to green before crossing the street.

Come on, Yoseob! You’re almost there! He screamed to himself. 

As he turned the corner, he slammed into a stranger sipping a milk carton but due to time constraints, he continued plowing forward, only shouting out an apology when strings of curses erupted from behind. Finally, after sprinting down the next three blocks, he arrived at his destination: Seoul Police Station #410

Wasting no time, Yoseob flew past the the entrance and the front counter, up a couple of steps, and inside the elevator, and by the time he reached the third floor, he was heaving heavily but there was no time to rest; with the last remnant of his stamina, he charged through the automatic sliding doors down the hall and into the office bowing and yelling, ”I’M SORRY I’M LATE!”

.

.

.

.

.

Silence.

Yoseob straightened himself from his bow and found himself facing the stares of three individuals, two of whom were standing beside the coffee counter and the last seated at a large desk on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you stupid."

The stranger nearest to Yoseob, a feminine-looking boy holding a cup of coffee beside the counter, smacked the brown-haired man beside him with the back of his hand. “Shut up Junhyung,” he said.

Now completely lost, Yoseob scanned the room only to find that it was much less occupied than he thought it would be. “Am I late? Didn’t the meeting start an hour ago?”

The one named ‘Junhyung’ scoffed. “What are you talking about? It didn’t even start yet.”

“B-B-But it’s eight forty! The meeting started at eight! I didn’t set my clock to Daylight’s Savings Time yet, so that’s why I’m late an hour!”

“Dude, there’s been no Daylight’s Savings Time in Korea since 1988.”

-

Meanwhile, a 23 year old man by the name of Lee Kikwang was also heading towards his new work station. He took a sip of his milk and continued singing along with his i-Pod. Just as he was about to take another sip, someone bumped his elbow, causing the milk to miss his mouth and enter his nose.

“Ew, gross!” he yelled, wiping his nose with his jacket sleeve.

“Sorry!” he heard a voice rang from ahead of him, and when he looked up, he spotted a young man about his age rushing away.

Kikwang made a face and pinched his nose despite how ridiculous he knew it looked.

“Aw, I ran out of milk too!” he whined.

In the corner of his eye as he was crossing the street, he noticed something moving fast towards him. Kikwang turned his head and stepped back on instinct when he noticed a motorcycle screeching to a stop in order to avoid running him over. The driver took off his helmet, revealing his styled blond hair.

“Yah, didn’t your parents ever tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?” he exclaimed.

“You caught me in a bad mood.” Kikwang glared, crumbling up his milk carton. The poor blond didn’t know what hit him, until, well, it hit him.

Square in the forehead.

“Dude, you just threw a milk carton at me!” the motorcyclist cried.

“Be a man and it up!”

 With that, Kikwang stormed away. This morning was just not working out for him.

Once he reached his destination, he entered the building, missing the motorcycle that had just pulled up into the parking lot.

24 year old Son Dongwoon took off his helmet and stepped off his vehicle. “Stupid kid,” he grumbled, taking out the keys. “Seriously, what kind of person throws a milk carton at someone they don’t even know?”

 Still mumbling to himself, the blond crossed the road and entered the same police station.

After entering the elevator and arriving at the third floor, he went straight down the hall until he passed the sliding doors. By the time he arrived at his office, his mood had lighten up.

“Hello my new fellow officer-mates!” he greeted loudly and cheerfully. First impressions were golden after all.

“Hi!” he received back from the crowd.

“Sup.”

“Morning!”

“YOU’RE THE NUTJOB THAT ALMOST RAN ME OVER!”

Dongwoon raised his eyebrows. “What kind of greeting is--“ he immediately gaped, recognizing a familiar face from the five in the room. "YOU’RE THAT JELLOHEAD THAT THREW A MILK CARTON AT ME!”

And, well, let’s just say that morning at Department Six did not go well.