[Minwoo’s point of view]

I watched the golden clock on the wall slowly tick by. It was 7:57 P.M.

By then, the luxurious Gangnam Event Center ballroom was bustling with high-societal guests who were trying to mingle and make connections for their inner circles. There were various types of well-known names around me including actors, singers, CEOs, and politicians.

I could only imagine what sort of scandalous things happened behind closed doors with such influential people. When I walked—or rather, snuck in, I had accidentally overheard gossip that the tabloids would pay big bucks to feature in tomorrow’s headlines.

These people need to touch some grass or something.

I sat at a round table meant to seat five or six individuals, but I hogged it all by crossing my legs over the top. My feet caused a few crystal glasses to tip over. The loud CLANG got the attention of several attendees.

What they didn’t know was that I did it on purpose so the guests, who were giving me the stink eye for being undignified, would think I was already tipsy from the expensive alcohol. I wanted all the attention on me, not on the additional “guests” arriving later.

I leaned my head back and sighed when I saw the current time was 7:58 P.M.

Only a single minute passed? Why did it feel like thirty? It’s so boring and stuffy.

As I waited, I browsed through the pamphlet that came with each seat. It contained the schedule, list of speakers, sponsors, and all that good stuff I couldn’t care less about. How anyone considered it entertainment, I would never know.

My hair and suit matched the formal theme. The red bowtie squeezed my neck too tightly and gave me a sense of claustrophobia. Unlike the other patrons, I wore a white surgical mask to cover the lower half of my face. It was out of place and definitely suspicious. To be honest, I was surprised security hadn’t approached me yet to ask who I was, since this was an invitation-only party.

It was astonishingly easy to get in through the back. In today’s world, that was foolish, but it was the best-case scenario I could have hoped for.

The clock read 7:59 P.M.

If our cameraman and tech genius Jihoon did his easy-peasy job of infiltrating the building’s security room, hacking into its lighting system, turning off the rotating cameras, and deleting all of that night’s surveillance footage, our plan would begin in…

3… 2… 1… 8:00 P.M.

Half of the chandeliers switched off, leaving a warm glow that resembled a club atmosphere. The aristocrats had worried expressions, like they were wondering if the power was going out. Some asked the staff when it would be restored while others mumbled complaints in their champagne-induced stupors.

Within seconds, the speakers blared a deep bass that shook the glittering, marble tiles under our feet. My bones vibrated. The chairs and glass rattled with every booming pulse. The whining turned to questions and wide eyes.

Beside the dance floor, a lady screamed and dropped her drink before pointing at whatever she saw across the room. It made everyone’s heads turn there quickly.

A server had frightened them. The disguised woman wore a U.S. President Nixon mask that I knew was purchased at a Halloween store in the clearance aisle.

She jumped on the stage, causing the mid-sized orchestra to quickly scramble with their million-dollar instruments behind the curtain. Imposter Nixon aggressively danced with the beat. Her body defied gravity as she bent her spine unnaturally. The contortion moves had everyone gasping in horror. I wanted to laugh because if that was faint-inducing to them, how would they survive the real world on the streets?

Then she stopped her bone-snapping freestyle and transitioned into hip-hop. With all the attention fixed on her, another woman in the crowd took the chance to reach into her rhinestone-encrusted purse to retrieve a Ghostface mask. She shoved her bag at an old geezer then copied the same energetic routine.

At different points in the song, more people came forward wearing different masks. A cat. A demon. A motorcycle helmet. They were everywhere. People could see them on the stage, on the center’s open floor, on the buffet tables and spilling food... Like I said, they were everywhere.

Many of the visitors tried to flee, but the doors were blocked by the party crashers. As all of that was going on, I never bothered to look up from my pamphlet. Why, you might ask. Because I was the one who choreographed it.

I didn’t need to see which part they were at since I remembered each move by heart. I grabbed the mask hidden inside my blazer and secured it to my head. It was the tragedy mask representing theater. Our identities couldn’t be revealed since we were risking arrest and a decade behind bars.

South Korea’s government was among many that made it illegal to do permitless flash mobs and battles. They deemed them “public disturbances.”

I was the last one to go. The song built up, the tempo quickened, then at the drop, I threw my piece of scrap paper into the air and pounced on the table to join them. My body matched the bass’s rhythm, making us one entity. The table was about to snap in half under my powerful stomps.

I immersed myself in the music with just a smidge of awareness so I wouldn’t lose my balance. The thing was rickety as heck. For a party with such a huge budget, they sure did skimp on the furniture. I figured the money flew straight into the building owner's pockets instead.

Jihoon appeared from the shadows and hustled over to me to get footage of the group leader in action.

Might as well give them a show, right?

I went against the flow and back-flipped off the table then ran towards a trio of older women. They clutched their pearls at my sudden approach. Not breaking eye contact with them, I lifted my shirt to expose my sweaty six-pack abs. The prim and proper ajummas (“middle-aged women”) covered their eyes, no doubt mortified by the young man practically humping the air.

Right before the song finished, five security guards barged in with their batons drawn.

“Hey! Stop!” the middle one yelled.

Like always, whenever the fun ended, we booked it out in pairs in case security decided to go after one of us. It was also easier to lose them by splitting up if we became the unlucky ones getting chased.

That day was ill-fated for me. A single officer came rushing my way, and my escape partner Ha-rin was at my side.

“Where’s your date?” I asked and laughed.

I was referring to the elderly man who still had her costume prop. She was still in her horror movie mask as we pushed through the crowd.

“Shut up,” she retorted.

We sprinted through the labyrinth of hallways until we hit a section that split like a “T.” Ha-rin went left. I turned right then looked back at the frantic officer. He ultimately decided to go after her. I figured he assumed a woman in heels would be slower.

Thank you for your sacrifice, Ha-rin, I thought, despite not really feeling worried.

I navigated the large maze until I reached my hidden spot to change clothes. My crew had specifically chosen it. A few days earlier while it was open to the public, they had scouted the place for any areas that wouldn’t be used that night, so there wasn’t a soul around.

Perfect.

A fake bush had even been planted there earlier to conceal my backpack. I took off my suit quickly and replaced it with gym clothes and a baseball cap. After I shoved the clothes into the bag, I took off my mask and tossed it in too.

ZIP.

I headed towards the nearest exit. Once outside, I could blend in with normal people, but… I stopped mid-step and stiffened when I saw a guy with baby-pink hair gawking at me. Every alarm bell rang in my head. We stared at each other in an awkward pause.

Why the heck is someone here? Was he at the party? How much did he see? My face. Oh man, my face! I’ve been exposed!

Then Pretty Boy started to say something.

“Hello, can I—?"

I didn’t want to listen. I dashed past him to flee. He didn’t follow. Once I got out of the alley, I stopped running as the locals surrounded me. It was difficult to relax because I was in fight-or-flight mode. My legs itched to rush home, but if I did that, it’d look fishy.

Security guards scrambled around the building searching for any well-dressed offenders. That was why we made changing outfits part of our escape plan.

Crap, crap, crap.

I was in deep. Like, real deep.

I stood at the bus stop, casually glancing around to see if anyone suspected me. The couples out enjoying their nights didn’t care about my presence. The coast was clear. For good measure, I leafed through random apps on my phone, pretending to be ignorant of the chaos my crew had caused just five minutes ago.

I hopped on the first bus that arrived. It didn’t matter where it went, I just needed to get out of Gangnam. I sat down in the very back and sank into the seat while pulling my cap down over my eyes. The breath I let out was long and drawn.

That pink-haired dude seemed familiar somehow, but I couldn’t put a finger on why. My brain was too overstimulated to remember, but was there any point even stressing about it? Seoul had almost ten million people. What were the chances of bumping into each other again?