The moon hung low and smug over Seoul, casting its silver smirk across empty streets and shuttered convenience stores. Somewhere, a drunk salaryman tried to duet with a traffic cone. Typical Tuesday night stuff.

Meanwhile, five dangerously pretty men in hoodies, face masks, and suspiciously coordinated sneakers lurked in the shadows near a closed tteokbokki stand.

“Why are we even out here?” Abs grumbled, flexing through his oversized hoodie. “I could be moisturizing.”

Romance sighed, smoothing down his rose-pink bangs like a swooning prince in exile. “Because this,” he gestured dramatically at the deserted sidewalk, “is the only time we can walk like normal humans without being tackled by someone’s halmeoni.”

Mystery barked once in agreement, chewing on the plastic lid of a banana milk.

And then it happened. She walked into view. A girl in a long coat, cheeks flushed from karaoke, laughing to herself in the aftermath of a K-ballad too passionately sung. She glowed. Or maybe that was the neon light bouncing off her earrings. Whatever. She looked like the beginning of a K-drama plot twist. And all three of them felt it.

“Oof,” Baby said first, adjusting his sweater collar like it owed him rent. “She’s cute.”

“I said it first,” Romance countered, already fluffing his hair and preparing a tragic backstory to whisper into her ear.

Abs narrowed his eyes, stepping between them both. “She’s got muscle appreciation energy. That’s my type.”

Romance scoffed. “You think everyone’s your type.”

“And I’m usually right!”

While the three of them quietly bickered and shoulder-checked each other like competitive flamingos, Jinu leaned against a lamppost, deeply unimpressed. He checked his phone—Rumi had just sent him a blurry selfie of her glaring at Mira mid-yawn. He smiled.

“Mystery,” Jinu muttered, glancing over. Mystery tilted his head, expression unreadable behind his bangs and face mask. He was watching quietly, texting Zoey a selfie with a pigeon.

Finally, Jinu stepped forward, arms folded.

“Alright, enough.” he said coolly, commanding instant silence from the chaos trio. “Abs, you tried to pick up someone at the gas station this morning. Romance, you wrote a ballad about a cashier. And Baby—let’s not even talk about your TikTok DM history.”

They all looked sufficiently scolded. Baby pouted. Abs flexed in defense.

“I declare,” Jinu announced, gesturing like a king bestowing a royal decree, “that Baby gets the first shot. He’s the maknae. And for once, he should go first before you two trample another potential love story.”

Romance blinked. “You’re serious?”

Jinu nodded. “Dead serious. This is his k-drama moment.”

Mystery raised a single, approving thumb.

Baby froze, eyes wide.

Then Abs shoved him. “Go, idiot. Before I change my mind.”

Romance sighed. “I’ll write the OST either way.”

And so, Baby Saja took one deep, spicy-scented breath… adjusted his sweater… and began his very first solo mission of love.