Yoongi wanders through the neon-lit streets at night, the cold wind gently blowing against his clothes. An old maneki-neko stands in the window of a tiny shop, emblazoned with "八方來財."* Trap beats in his head, the scent of incense in the air. Yoongi carries envelopes full of music, beats, and lyrics, wishing that his creative prosperity would flow from all directions. Are inexplicable doors opening to new musical inspiration? A mysterious presence or idea whispers that everything is ready.