There are no sirens to herald you. No ringing gunshots, no yells echoing off the high grey buildings. Nothing except your pounding footsteps as you sprint hand in hand with Wooyoung through the streets. It is so typical of the authorities to gatecrash your evening. So unfair. All you were doing was hanging out at a bar with Wooyoung when suddenly it was stormed, and you had to grab as many soju bottles as you could and run. Wooyoung pulls you through the streets and eventually into a side alley. He lets out a giggle as the black cars purr past.

"They're terrible," he splutters, clutching at his stomach. Too much soju already in his system.