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Chapter Text

To be honest, Wolf had every chance to avoid this situation if he had read at least one romantic manhwa (not even necessarily BL, any romance would have done). It wouldn't even have been necessary to read the whole thing, the first couple of chapters where the main characters usually appeared would have been enough. And even though he hadn’t read anything like that, he could still understand that something was wrong if the night before he hadn’t drunk more than could be considered appropriate for any person, not to mention a young growing body. In short, Wolf hadn’t read any manhwa and he had a hangover, so when he was sitting at the bus stop opposite the cram school and counting to three, he wasn't at all surprised by the fact that some flowers suddenly appeared around the White Mamba, surrounding him like a halo. He only thought that, apparently, they needed to find a new bar, because in their usual one, it seemed, the staff started to mix the alcohol with some crappy shit.

...

The next sign that something was clearly wrong were his own words, spoken to the White Mamba on the rooftop. 'Pretty boys like you'? Seriously? Never in his life had Wolf said such saccharine nonsense to anyone. Not even in an offensive context. In fact, he even managed to think 'What the hell was that?' or something like, but the situation was not good to long selfreflection, so the thought came and went.

...

The third sign went completely unnoticed.

Wolf had just come to his senses. He was lying on the roof, his ears were ringing, his head was splitting, so the lonely, unexpected ba-dump that happened while he was saying the famous 'What a funny bastard' was not registered by either Wolf's consciousness or subconsciousness.

...

To sum it all up: the Universe had been giving Wolf signs that it intended to change the genre, but he hadn't understood them. Well, bad for him, since the Universe rarely takes such small factors into account and even more rarely abandons its plans.

Chapter Text

When the Universe wants to play a matchmaker, it has a bunch of tools and tricks for this. Almost any romantic story is built on these tricks! It's called a 'cliche' or 'trope'.

In general, such things are good helpers, but you still need to somehow take into account the specific situation. For example, it's quite difficult to use the trick "and there was only one bed" if your heroes are unlikely to even end up in the same room, let alone a bed! Also, our heroes can't end up as childhood friends (because Wolf might have been hit on the head a lot, but Gray always had an excellent memory) or, for example, suddenly end up in another world (because we're trying to adhere to the laws of realism here, as much as possible in the setting of this particular manhwa). Or here's another very popular story - a damsel in distress. In our case, of course, none of them are damsels, but that's not the main problem. The main problem is that this trope requires one of the heroes to be in trouble, and the other to come to his aid. And, of course, the trouble does not have to be overly dramatic and life-threatening (a lost wallet with all the money, credit cards and IDs is also a very stressful situation, in which anyone would not refuse help), but it is much more effective when there is a threat to life, health or honor. The classic "cornered by hooligans", in short. But... As you understand, in our situation this will not work. Our two heroes themselves are the embodiment of urban fears (one - for the bad guys, and the other - for everyone else), so very few people will dare to attack them. And even if they do, they will soon regret it. In general, our heroes are not the kind of people who can be cornered. Except ... Except for special situations. And one of such situations just happened one sunny day.

Wolf was going to take a leak in one of the dead-ends. (He wasn't one to do that often, because it was gross, but this particular time there were no cafes or malls nearby, so he had to choose the darkest and creepiest dead-end, which few people went to anyway; in any case, it was better to break the taboo on public urination (once) than to get bladder problems.) Anyway, he went to take a leak, and then THIS happened.

And it must be said here that even if you have a reputation of an absolute psychopath who throws himself at a knife with his bare hands (this had never happened in Wolf's life yet, although he had once fought against a guy with a baseball bat, but rumors are such an... unpredictable thing), you are not immune to having your own little weaknesses and fears. Or big weaknesses and fears. And Wolf Keum, the Mad Dog of Ganghak, had little dogs as his biggest fear. Like the Chihuahua that was baring its teeth and blocking the exit from the dead-end at that very moment. You can laugh at Wolf's fear as much as you want, but he knew better than anyone that little creatures could be the most dangerous and unpredictable. You never know when one of these creatures will grab you by the throat (or smash your head with a flowerpot). So back off, that's the most rational fear of all.

So, Wolf was in a stalemate. The only thing that made it a little better was that he was alone in the dead-end, and no one could see the expression of pure terror on his face. (And it was also a good thing that he had already managed to finish what he had come to this dead-end for. It's not that he would piss himself out of fear, but anyone feels more confident in any situation if their bladder is empty.)

In short, Wolf was in a hopeless situation, figuratively and literally, because even the most rational fear could turn off the will, reason and ability to move. The only hope was that the owner of the hellish creature was somewhere nearby and would appear soon. And it seemed that the Universe responded to Wolf's desperate pleas, because footsteps were heard. Wolf was not afraid of people - any people (not going to mention Donald now; after all, Wolf's situation had already become bad enough). It was people who were afraid of him (and rightly so), so when the owner of the beast would appeare, Wolf could glare at him menacingly and say something like 'take your mutt before I kick it or before I kick you', because people, seeing Wolf, were usually not inclined to analyze the situation, since their instincts screamed at them to first get the hell out, and only then think. All in all, if it was any normal Seoul resident (like literally anyone, except a few other Weak Hero characters), Wolf would get out of the situation with minimal moral and reputational losses. But alas, the Universe had other plans (which Wolf, despite the signs, still had no idea about), so - of course! - the person who appeared from around the corner was Gray. As if one small, dangerous, unpredictable creature wasn't enough! And the key word here is, of course, 'unpredictable', because it was completely impossible to foresee what Gray would do in this situation. Would he set the hellish chihuahua on Wolf? Would he take advantage of the situation and attack Wolf himself? Would he do nothing and leave Wolf alone with this embodiment of horror? Or... would he take out his phone and take a couple of photos... And then he would take the vicious cur (who would suddenly change its anger to mercy and even lick Gray's face) and leave the alley without saying a word... Yeah, he did exactly that.

...

Later, Wolf would learn that Gray hadn't been the dog's owner and had had nothing to do with it at all, and he would come to the only possible conclusion: the small dangerous creatures could understand each other on some level inaccessible to ordinare beings.

Chapter Text

The development of Internet technologies has brought to our life new ways of communicating and meeting people. Various dating apps, chats, forums (like the well-known ShuttlePatch) and so on, but it is good that even with the development of technologies there is still a place for the good old methods of bringing two people closer as if by chance.

The method we will talk about today appeared when the third telephone was set up in the world. It was at that moment that it became possible to dial the wrong number and actually get through to someone. Over time, the number of phones in the world grew, and now almost any combination of digits is most likely someone’s phone number, which means that a mistake in one character is almost guaranteed to connect you with a stranger.

Usually, the 'wrong number' situation develops something like this. Main character (MC) #1 receives a strange message from an unknown number. Something like "it was great to chat last night, let's meet again for a cup of coffee". And then he can either directly answer something like "dude, I'm sorry, but you got the wrong number", and then MC #2 will answer, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I just got a number from a hot chick at the bar yesterday, but apparently she screwed me." And then MC #1 will say, "Dude, that's sucks. I feel for you!" and then one word leads to another - and they're already spending days and nights texting each other, and gradually realizing that they're soulmates.

But if at the 'message from an unknown number' point MC #1 is really bored, then he can pretend to be that girl from the bar, and then again - exchanging messages for days on end, "I think I've found a soulmate in you" ... Basically, everything is the same, only there's an awkward moment when MC #2 finds out that MC #1 is not a hot chick from the bar, but a hot handsome man. Or a shy handsome man. Or some-other-good-trait handsome guy. Not a chick, in short. But everything will be fine, don't worry. After all, in the 'wrong number' cliché, the characters have time to get to know each other enough that their mutual attraction is not determined only by appearance and gender.

But... Let's get back to our heroes. As you know, neither of them is a chitty-chatty type of person. And, let's be honest, the story with the girl who gave the wrong number is unlikely to happen to them. With Gray - because he is Gray, and he is only interested in studying (and well-being of his friends). Besides, if it so happens that Gray asks some girl for her number, then she will almost certainly give him her real one. As for Wolf, he goes to bars and, probably, can ask some girl for her number, but more likely to piss off Hayden, who, as we know, considers himself the king of flirting. But even if this hypothetical girl gives Wolf her real number, he'll hardly ever text her. If only because he won't remember her existence the next day.

So, in short. With our heroes, the 'wrong number' trope looked something like this:

Gray's phone. Incoming messages.

Unknown number. 23:27

Dude, come to the bar X.

Unknown number. 23:42

Are you ignoring me?

Unknown number. 00:13

Did yoo lose your phone again?

Unknown number. 00:54

Ill beaat the sht out of yo in themrning.

Unknown number. 01:25

Vaaloidfa

When Gray checked his phone in the morning (because he obviously slept at night and didn't read messages), he would block this unknown number.

The end.

Chapter Text

What can be more romantic than walking together under one umbrella on a rainy day? (Technically, a lot of things can be, but we will not go into that now because we need to think about our topic of the day.) Basically, rain (preferably summer rain and it should not be too heavy, because a common cold is a separate trope that we might talk about later), evening, early twilight, deserted streets, and them. Two heroes, slowly walking through the threads of rain. The only umbrella is rather small for two, so they have to walk close to each other, their hands and hips inevitably touch, and they shyly move away from each other the first time this happens, but then the touches become more familiar and that little warmth that is transferred from body to body is felt on the skin even after they parted their ways. Well, you get the picture. Now try to imagine our heroes in the place of these abstract heroes. Can you? Well, neither can I. 'Under one umbrella' trop is not for everyone.

But, even if we leave aside all the romanticism, an umbrella is great for the rain, at least from a purely practical point of view. In the rain, it's better to have an umbrella than not to have one, even if you're Ganghak's Mad Dog. Someone might say that carrying an umbrella is not manly enough, real men are not made of sugar and the rain won't do anything to them and bla-bla-bla, but all these someones can go fuck themselves. Or just tell Wolf that he is not manly enough, simply because he does not like to get wet in the rain - and then nature (more precisely, Wolf on it's behalf) will cast out the impudent and stupid ones.

...

In addition to many rational and adult reasons for not liking to get wet in the rain, Wolf had another (also rational and adult, so shut up) reason - his hair. He would never say it out loud, of course, but he believed that his hair contributed significantly to his handsomeness. Those wild locks, those unruly curls – they gave plus 100 points to the image of an attractive bad boy, and - the best part! - required practically no effort. The only thing you had to do to get this effect was to go to bed with your hair half-dried, and that’s it, you’re gorgeous! (Well, maybe it won’t work exactly like that for you – not everyone could be so perfect (if you didn’t take into account a disgusting character and outbursts of aggression, of course)) Unfortunately, the desired result was easily achieved only with a combination of these two factors: damp (not dripping wet!) hair and nighttime contact with a pillow. Under all other conditions, the result was very far from ideal. Wet hair hung like an old floor rag. Or, as Jake once had put it (and he had gotten away with it only because it had been during Union meeting), like the fur of a street dog. And although Wolf proudly bore the name of Mad Dog of Ganghak, the comparison to a mangy, wet dog had nothing to do with either madness or pride.

In short, Wolf usually tried to avoid getting caught in the rain. Hwangmo, who (the only one in the whole world) knew about this whole situation with his hair, carried an umbrella with him if the forecast promised precipitation, and if Hwangmo wasn't around, then an umbrella could always be taken away from someone else. Usually, in Ganghak itself, Wolf didn’t even have to be violent; it was enough to go out onto the school porch on a rainy day - and someone would hand him an umbrella. Because in Ganghak, they preferred a slightly less-irritated Wolf to a very-irritated one.

But on the day, we are talking about now, everything went wrong.

For starters, the forecast had lied. The meteorologists had promised a sunny day, but now Wolf was standing on the porch of an office building in one of the most seedy areas of Yeongdeungpo, and the rain was pouring down as if it imagined itself a monsoon in the fucking tropics. And if it was a normal office building – modern, made of glass and concrete, with a reception, air conditioning and all that shit – there would probably be spare umbrellas for those who had forgotten theirs. But it was, ahem, an “office” building. That is, the offices there were rented by companies, which were one another more dubious, and Wolf was sure that more than half of them didn't pay taxes, and at least a third were not even real, legally registered businesses (not that Wolf cared, considering that he himself was there on business for the Union, which was also not quite a legal and full-fledged member of the Korean business community).

So, the forecast was wrong, it was raining, and Hwangmo, who had actually been supposed to go with him, was at home recovering from food poisoning, so there was no one to offer Wolf an umbrella. And since this was a rather shady area, there were no random passers-by who could be "asked" for an umbrella at this time of day. Of course, it would be possible to go into a random office in this building and, let's say, ask to borrow an umbrella... Or he could not even ask, just go in and take it. And if anyone tried to be indignant, one look would be enough to stop any objections. Yeah, perhaps this really was the easiest option.

Wolf finished his smoke, stamped out the butt and was about to go back inside the building to carry out his plan, but at that moment an umbrella appeared in his field of vision. An ordinary black compact umbrella. It was clear that umbrellas did not appear out of thin air on their own, just because someone needed them, so Wolf's gaze moved along the umbrella to the hand holding it, and then to the face of the good Samaritan. And Wolf was almost not surprised when the good Samaritan turned out to have Mamba's face. Well, he was surprised, but much less than he would have been if the story with the Chihuahua had not happened some time ago. Maybe Mamba was stalking him? True, it was not very clear why he would do this. It was unlikely he wanted a revenge or something. In the end, the story on the rooftop had officially ended in Mamba's favor, which was still reminded by the posts on ShuttlePatch (and Hwangmo, who monitored this site, kept Wolf informed of the latest news). The second option was that Mamba was following him because of Union business, but in that case it would be more logical not to advertise his presence, right? Or Mamba could have come here for his own business, but what kind of business could he have in such a rathole? So, unlikely. In short, all Wolf could do was to accept that this was just another strange coincidence. And accept the umbrella, of course. Because why not?

Wolf took the proffered umbrella. And if he were a normal person, he would have simply said "thank you", but it would be too ordinary.

"Why such a generosity? Mercy for the vanquished one or something like that?"

"I'm just concerned about the well-being of other people." Mamba opened the second umbrella (it was a cane-type and red, with a hook handle; honestly, this umbrella looked kind of dangerous for no particular reason) and began to descend the porch.

"Am I really worthy of such concern? I'm flattered." Wolf also opened his umbrella and followed. It wasn't that he was purposefully following Mamba, but the subway station was in the very same direction, and Wolf wasn't going to make a detour in the pouring rain (even with the umbrella).

Mamba stopped for a second, turned around and looked at Wolf. "You are not. I'm talking about those people you were going to take the umbrella from." And he walked on.

"And why did you think I was going to do that?" Wolf sped up a bit and caught up with Mamba, and now they were walking side by side. Still because the subway was that way, of course.

"It was a wild guess. Want to tell that it was not correct?" There was a hint of mockery in Mamba's voice, and maybe even a little interest. Or maybe there was none of that, and the sound of the rain was simply distorting the sounds and adding to the words something that wasn't there.

"Well, now we'll never know!" It seemed to Wolf that Mamba smiled slightly, but the rain was really pouring down so hard that it was impossible to say for sure.

About five minutes later they separated. Mamba stayed at the bus stop, and Wolf walked on, toward the subway station. He intended to never return the umbrella.

Chapter Text

Wolf woke up with a terrible headache. You might think it was a hangover, because that was the most common reason for his morning indisposition, but no. People usually didn't end up at a hospital with a hangover (and if they did, it should be not a simple hangover, but a full-blown alcohol poisoning), and he definitely woke up in a hospital. White walls, a stupid bed, the smell of medicine and other unmistakable signs of a hospital ward.

Wolf tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he remembered was that he and Hwangmo had gone to the bar... No, it still wasn't a hangover. A hangover didn't give you a bump on the head. But alcohol could very well have been involved. He had got drunk and got into a fight with someone? And had lost? That couldn't be true. Even in his drunkest state, Wolf could beat anyone. (Almost anyone, but let's not quibble over words now.) In short, Hwangmo, bar. So, he'd have to ask Hwangmo.

Wolf glanced at the nightstand, but his phone wasn't there. His clothes were nowhere to be seen either. Fuck. He tried to get out of bed, but the sudden rise caused a sharp pain somewhere in the back of his head, so he had to abandon that idea. Especially since the attempt to get up revealed another problem, namely: Wolf was wearing a hospital gown with ties in the back, which left nothing to the imagination when it came to Wolf's ass. And while it was a great ass, not everyone around him needed to know that.

After weighing the pros and cons (pros: the need to find Hwangmo; cons: a splitting headache and a bare bottom), Wolf decided to wait a bit. After all, he was in the hospital. Sooner or later, someone from the staff would come to check on him, and then at least something would become clear. Wolf carefully brought himself into a semi-sitting position and looked around. In the ward of four beds, three were occupied. Wolf's was the closest to the door, the next one was empty, then there was some old man staring at the TV (which was on silently), and on the farthest one, someone was sleeping with his back to the wall. There was nothing much to entertain himself with, so Wolf even tried to stare at the TV, but since his glasses were also missing, it was completely impossible to understand what all those blury spots on the screen were doing. Wolf's eyesight wasn't exactly super bad, but the TV wasn't very big, and it was at an awkward angle for Wolf, so alas. (Apparently, the geezer either had excellent eyesight or was just bad at perceiving his surroundings, so he didn't care what he was watching. He could probably watch a washing machine with the same level of involvement in what was happening.)

Wolf had almost decided that death from boredom was worse than lose of dignity, and was about to get up from his bed and go flash his ass along the hospital corridors, but then the door to the ward opened and a man in a white medical gown walked in.

"Dear patients, good afternoon," the doctor began (he must be a doctor, since he was walking around the hospital in a white gown), "our volunteers will now ask you a few questions, please answer them." He made an inviting gesture with his hand, and the aforementioned volunteers entered the ward. Two guys and a girl.

As far as Wolf could see without his glasses, they were more like his peers than students. They probably were there for some kind of extracurricular activities that gave extra points for admission. Wolf felt a wave of unreasonable irritation. (Okay, quite reasonable. He couldn't stand show-offs who worked their asses off for an extra point.) Apparently, this irritation was written on his face, because the girl volunteer, who had already taken a step towards his bunk, froze in indecision. A few seconds later, one of the guys approached her, said something like "I'll take him", took the papers from her hands and moved towards Wolf.

He looked calm and confident. And he was also quite pretty. Even without glasses, Wolf could say this. Short, very fair-skinned, with gray hair. Wolf immediately wanted to punch him.

"Good morning, Mister Keum." The guy didn't seem to notice the murderous aura that was gathering around Wolf. He approached the bed and now stood and looked at Wolf with some kind of interest, or something... Which only made Wolf's desire to punch him even stronger.

Now that he was standing right next to him, Wolf could get a better look. And the guy really was pretty. Long eyelashes, pink-purple eyes, thin pale lips, thin wrists... In general, he looked like a cute weakling, so it was completely unclear why the inner Wolf wanted to fight him so bad. The guy, meanwhile, continued.

"Mr. Keum," (it was actually quite strange to hear this "mister" because the guy was younger than Wolf by a year at most, but that was apparently how it should be done there) "I will ask you a few questions regarding your experience in this hospital. In addition, after that, you can express your thoughts and comments regarding aspects of the organization of patients' wellbeing that are not covered in this questionnaire."

Honestly, Wolf had to try hard to understand what exactly this guy said. Wolf wasn't stupid, but he definitely had a head injury, and the guy seemed to be deliberately speaking long and complicatedly. Bastard.

Well, considering that Wolf had woken up only a couple of hours ago and did not even remember how he had got to the hospital, he had nothing special to say on the subject. Which he reported after almost every question. The annoying guy carefully wrote down all his "how should I fucking know" and "I have no fucking idea" and moved on to the next questions. Sometimes he raised his head and look at Wolf strangely, and although it only lasted for a second or two, the latter's fists started itching especially furiously. Wolf was usually not into trying to understand the reason for his emotions, so this time he just stared at this pretty boy intensively. Either he was trying to instill fear, or he just wanted to make the guy feel uncomfortable... Wolf didn't know for sure. He didn't really want to wave his fists in a hospital and with a sore head, so all he could do was to stare. However, the sissy seemed completely oblivious to all the threat Wolf was emitting. (Which, of course, was even more annoying.)

After about ten minutes, the twig volunteer finally reached the end of the questionnaire.

"Do you have anything to add, Mister Keum?"

At first, Wolf wanted to say something like "I answered all your questions with "I don't give a fuck", what can I add?", but then he realized that he had something to add.

"Change the fucking TV to better one. This," he pointed to it for clarity, "is impossible to watch."

"I see." The guy made a note in the questionnaire. "Anything else?"

"I'd also like to know why the hell I'm wearing this fucking rag. It's degrading my human dignity."

"May I ask how?" The tone of guy's voice was even and professional, but Wolf could swear that inside, the bastard was mocking him. He could just feel it. Usually, in such cases, it should be said something like "he wanted to wipe that grin off his face," but there was not a hint of a grin or a smile on the pretty boy's face. But Wolf still wanted to do something, and he seriously considered standing up on the bed to his full height and demonstrating it, but, of course, there were pros and cons here too. Firstly, there was still a volunteer girl in the ward, and for all his assholery and insanity, Wolf was still not so terrible as to flash his bare ass in front of her. Secondly, his head still hurt (and Wolf, from previous experience, suspected that he had a concussion) and trying to jump up dramatically could end badly, and getting up slowly would not have the desired effect. So Wolf simply said:

"I would demonstrate, but the situation is not intimate enough." And he pointedly glanced down, reinforcing this with a gesture so that there was no doubt that he meant the area below the waist.

The boy followed Wolf's hand with his gaze and, without the slightest embarrassment, wrote something down in the questionnaire.

"Thank you for your answers, Mr. Keum. We will certainly take them into account for further improvements in the hospital. I wish you a speedy recovery and return to a fruitful, constructive life." With that, he closed the questionnaire and left the room, leaving Wolf to wonder if that was a standard phrase in this hospital or if the bastard had something special in mind when he spoke of a constructive life. Did he know Wolf from somewhere? But Wolf himself could swear that he had never seen him (he would have remembered such an infuriating face for sure!). So, the guy didn’t know Wolf, but he knew of Wolf? And at the same time he allowed himself to behave like that? And he wasn’t afraid of the consequences at all? Wolf’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Hwangmo.

"Hey, listen, that guy who just came out of your ward, wasn't he..." Hwangmo didn't have time to finish, because Wolf interrupted him.

"Did you see the gray-haired bastard who just came out of the ward? Find out who he is."

"Huh?" Hwangmo looked very surprised. "You mean the short, pretty guy in the white coat?"

"Yeah, him. How many gray-haired little bastards have you seen in the hallway? Anyway, find out everything about him."

"Why?"

"Hwangmo, are you trying to discuss my orders? I thought I was the one who hit my head. By the way, what happened?"

"Well..." Hwangmo hesitated. "What's the last thing you remember?"

To be honest, Hwangmo was acting weird too. For example, asking questions instead of answering them. And that was starting to piss Wolf off, too, but he decided not to get angry for now.

"We were at a bar. There were some idiots from Guro there. That's all."

Hwangmo looked at him even stranger.

"Idiots from Guro, you said..."

"Yeah, that's what I said. But you haven't said anything to the point yet."

"Well..." Hwangmo was still hesitating. He wouldn't even look Wolf in the eye. Something was clearly wrong here. "We really were at a bar. You got drunk, we went out for a walk. Then you saw Ma... Then you saw someone you thought you knew. You started mumbling something about dogs and umbrellas and being stalked, and then you start running to chase him. Then you tripped and fell down the stairs. Something like that."

"I saw someone I knew and chased him?" Wolf looked at Hwangmo as if he'd grown a second head. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Hwangmo was joking. "Me? Chasing?" Wolf didn't run after people, even if he wanted something from them. They were either brought to him, or he knew where to lie in wait for them. Chasing someone? Nope. What a bullshit. "And who was it?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe it was someone only you knew?" Hwangmo still didn't look him in the eye, but right now there was no sense that he was completely lying. Fine. He could put off the interrogation for later.

"Okay." Wolf leaned back on the pillow. "Find me that bastard anyway."

"I'll do my best. But why?"

"I don't know yet." Wolf answered honestly. "I just saw him and immediately wanted to punch him. He's kind of cheeky, or something."

"I see." Hwangmo nodded. "By the way, I literally just dropped by for a minute. You have an appointment with the doctor soon, he'll tell you everything about your head. And I brought you some things." Then Wolf noticed that Hwangmo was holding a bag. "Clothes, glasses, a phone, a charger. If you need anything else, text me. I'll stop by tomorrow."

Hwangmo stood up and headed for the exit. At the door, he stopped and turned around.

"Are you sure you want to get involved with this guy?"

"I'm not going to get involved with him! I just want to know who he is. Just in case. I have a feeling."

...

After leaving the room, Hwangmo leaned against the wall, he felt really exhausted. Shit. It was all very strange, and he didn't know how to handle it.

The problem was that the only time Wolf had ever gotten into a fight with the Guro guys in a bar had happened in May. And now it was August.

The other problem was that Hwangmo had actually seen who Wolf had been trying to chase. Well, he assumed that Wolf had been trying to chase Mamba, although he still didn't understand how dogs and umbrellas were connected to the situation.

The main problem was that there was no way to predict how Wolf would react when he found out (or remembered?) everything that had happened since May. About Mamba, the rooftop, and all that. Then he would also understand that Hwangmo had lied to him a little.

Well. Wolf had an appointment with the doctor in about 10 minutes, and that's when it would become clear that he had lost his memory. Hwangmo had 10 minutes to get the hell out from here. He decided not to change his number yet, but also decided to call his mother's cousin who lived in Busan. To find out if he could sign up for a fishing boat. And then - if it became necessary - he might even be able to escape to the Philippines. And let Wolf deal with Mamba himself.

...

Meanwhile, the Universe was upset that the classic "amnesia" trop didn't work out the way it wanted. And the Universe had tried really hard for that one! It had been not easy to bring together a drunk Wolf and Gray, who had been returning from cram school, at the very place where there had been a barely noticeable pothole in the pavement right before the stairs, so that Wolf had tripped and ended up in this particular hospital. And there, Wolf, who had lost his memory, should have been charmed by the pretty volunteer at first sight. Of course, the latter would had have to be cold and cautious at first, but gradually Wolf's persistence and charisma would had have melted his heart. Of course, there would have been a dramatic ending, where Wolf's had his memories back, and the heroes would hadn't not been able to decide what they should do for some time, but, of course, everything would have ended well. After all, this is the power of romantic tropes! But, alas. So now the Universe will have to come up with a different scenario.

Chapter Text

This time everything was precisely planned down to the second (again).

At 3:31 PM, Wolf was scheduled to get off the bus #6631 at a stop three blocks north of the hospital.

Three minutes later, at 3:34 PM, Gray was scheduled to get off the bus #6637 at a stop four blocks south of the same hospital.

At 3:36 PM, Wolf was scheduled to line up at a tteokbokki cart two blocks from the hospital.

At 3:37 PM, Gray was scheduled to stop to give directions to tourists, which would then make him to wait three minutes for the next green light three blocks from the hospital.

At 3:43 PM, Wolf was scheduled to get his tteokbokki and move on, trying to eat on the go.

At 3:44 PM, Gray was scheduled to stop to tie his shoelace two blocks from the hospital.

At 3:46 PM, Wolf was scheduled to reach the crosswalk, where the light was supposed to turn red. He was supposed to spend the next 4 minutes finishing his tteokbokki, and at 3:50 PM, he was scheduled cross the road one block away from the hospital.

At 3:52 PM, Gray was scheduled to enter the hospital building and head to the reception desk, where his supervisor was supposed to leave him his plan for the day.

At 3:54 PM, Wolf was scheduled to stop in front of the hospital and think about having a smoke.

At 3:56 PM Gray was scheduled to finally get the papers he needed (the girl at the registration desk was new and a little confused).

At 3:57 PM Wolf was scheduled to finish his cigarette and go into the hospital.

At 3:58:14 PM Gray was scheduled to get into the elevator and press the button for the fifth floor.

At 3:58:21 PM Wolf was scheduled to jump into the already closing elevator doors.

At 3:58:41 PM the elevator was scheduled to stop between floors. And stay there for the next hour and a half, because it so happened that all the elevator repair specialists and rescuers were called to the nearest business center, where as many as 10 elevators were stuck in different places between the fifth and thirty-eighth floors. (Just in case, it should be noted that only one elevator was supposed to get stuck in the hospital - with our heroes, so the absence of elevator repair specialists and rescuers would not have affected the lives and health of other patients, visitors and medical staff.)

So, everything was verified literally down to the second, and as a result, our heroes were supposed to spend a whole hour and a half in the elevator, and since they were already not completely strangers to each other, these ninety minutes were supposed to bring them a little closer, laying the foundation for something big and beautiful, but... Everyone knows about the butterfly effect, but in this case, the pigeon was to blame.

As you know, the flapping of a butterfly's wing in the northern hemisphere causes hurricanes in the southern. In our case, everything was not so dramatic, but, according to the Universe, it would have been better if it was. In the end, it would have been easier to redirect a suddenly emerging hurricane into a deserted part of the Pacific Ocean than again (again!) try to organize everything so that these two would come together at the right time in the right place. But first things first.

The pigeon we are going to talk about was not special or something. He had hatched in an ordinary pigeon family, in the Yongsan district, in the attic of a house not far from the National Museum of Korea (and not that it was important for our story, but in general the pigeons of Yongsan Park had a somewhat snobbish view of other pigeons, but more on that another time). Our pigeon (it would be convenient to call him by his name, but - alas - pigeon language is too difficult to transcribe, and we will not call him something like David, because we already use many Western names; so we will just call him Pigeon) was not the stupidest pigeon in the world, but he had two qualities that made his life very difficult: poor coordination and adventurism. Adventurism is not so bad, but poor coordination is practically fatal for birds, so the fact that Pigeon successfully lived to the age of two could be considered as proof that in addition to clumsiness and a tendency to change places, he also had great luck. And all three of these qualities are directly related to our story.

Early in the morning of the day in question, Pigeon woke up and in his tiny brain there appeared the thought that he needed to fly west. Why, for what - such questions didn't bother him. He was just a pigeon, after all. But this thought itched in his ready for travel brain (just like when a place itches that you can’t reach; a terrible feeling, you wouldn’t wish it on anyone). It itched, itched, itched... And so, about twenty minutes later, Pigeon got ready and flew west. And if he simply flew west, he would have reached Yeongdeungpo quite quickly, well ahead of the events planned by the Universe, but he was Pigeon, and he had problems with coordination and keeping attention, so he first flew to Noryangjin, then to Mapo, then rested on Yeouido, and only then reached Yeongdeungpo. And then it all happened.

At 3:31 PM, Wolf got off the bus #6631 at a stop three blocks north of the hospital.

Three minutes later, at 3:34 PM, Gray got off the bus #6637 at a stop four blocks south of the same hospital.

At 3:36 PM, Wolf got in line at a tteokbokki cart two blocks from the hospital.

At 3:37 PM, Gray stopped to give directions to tourists, which made him to wait three minutes for the next green light three blocks from the hospital.

At 3:40 PM, Pigeon decided to sit down and rest. As a place for rest he chose a tree next to the tteokbokki cart. He aimed to land on a branch closer to the trunk, but as it had been said, he had serious problems with coordination, so instead of landing neatly and gracefully on the branch, he crashed into the trunk almost at full speed. And fell down.

And everything would have been fine if there wasn't a trash can below. But there was one, and Pigeon fell into it, causing the can to tip over, and that as a result startled a dog that was sleeping nearby. The dog, awakened by the crash, jumped up and ran wherever its eyes looked. The path was short, because dog's eyes were looking in the direction of the tteokbokki cart, and a second later the dog crashed into the owner of this cart. Not hard enough to knock him down, but at that very moment he was handing over a glass of tea (luckily, cold) and a portion of tteokbokki (and it, unluckily, was not cold) to a customer. Of course, if it were sitcom or something, the drink and the tteokbokki should have spilled on Wolf. But no. Because they spilled on the woman standing in line in front of him. It was her order, and she got it, although not quite the way she would have liked. But she was lucky, too, because the hot tteokbokki and the cold tea landed on her almost simultaneously, so she managed to avoid getting burned. But she couldn't avoid stains, and the cart owner immediately rushed to help the woman remove at least some of the them.

Wolf looked at his watch. It was clear that the owner would not return to his work in the next four of five minutes, and Wolf could not wait any longer, so he decided to eat later and headed towards the hospital. This happened at 3:41 PM, two minutes earlier than the time planned by the Universe. And in this case, Wolf would have managed to reach the crosswalk while the green light was still on, and would have reached the hospital at 3:48 PM, and even taking into account smoking one cigarette, he would have entered the building at 3:51 PM. Gray would not have even reached the hospital by this time.

In general, the whole plan was going to hell, but then Pigeon intervened again. He had just climbed out of the trash can and, having shaken himself off a little, was going to fly away somewhere quieter. To begin with, he flew 30 meters and landed on the edge of the sidewalk. It was not surprising that he flew in the direction of the hospital, because in the opposite direction the entire line (except Wolf, who left) was helping a woman get herself together, and it was noisy. After resting a bit, Pigeon got ready to continue. He spread his wings and, taking off at an angle of 45 degrees, began to gain altitude and... And crashed into a cyclist, who - coincidentally - was also riding in the direction of the hospital.

Taken by surprise, the cyclist swerved the steering wheel and almost crashed into Wolf. Wolf, despite some myopia, had well-developed peripheral vision. He also had excellent reactions, so he managed to notice the approaching threat and jumped to the side. True, he jumped not very successfully, catching his foot on the curb, and in the end he still fell. But not hard. The cyclist got more damage. Pigeon, despite the second collision in a couple of minutes, quickly came to his senses and flew on (he really had a lot of luck!).

Another lucky guy that morning was the cyclist. Although he didn't think so right now. A pigeon had crashed into him, he'd fallen (and although his clothes and protection items had prevented him from getting abrasions, he'd definitely got bruises), and the guy he'd almost crashed into was staring at him menacingly. Although "menacingly" was probably not a strong enough word to describe the way he was staring. The guy had started to get up from the ground, still staring at the cyclist with the clear intention of maiming, if not killing, him, and the cyclist had decided that the sensible thing to do was run away. Of course, in order to run away, you first have to stand up, and he couldn't do that. The guy's aura was simply overwhelming, and all the cyclist could do was slowly crawl away. The guy stood up and walked up to the cyclist, who was trying to press himself into the pavement and blend into the background. The guy looked at him for a few seconds, clenching and unclenching his fists, then looked at his watch and, cursing under his breath, turned around and walked towards the hospital. The cyclist decided that if he passed by any temple - it didn't matter which one - he would go in and thank the higher powers. Maybe even donate some money. It was 3:44 PM.

At the same time, Gray stopped to tie his shoelace, two blocks from the hospital.

At 3:46 PM, Wolf reached the crosswalk, where the light just turned red. For the next 4 minutes, he just waited and was angry, because he had no food, his jeans were dirty, and his mood was generally bad. But the events returned to the original timeline, which made the Universe very happy. At 3:50 PM, Wolf crossed the road one block from the hospital.

The cyclist crossed the same road ate the same time. He also had to go that way, so after he had avoided serious bodily harm, he also got up and hobbled to the crossing a couple of minutes later than Wolf. He didn’t dare get back on his bike next to this dangerous guy. But as soon as he found himself on the other side of the road, he immediately got on the bike, because that way he could get away from this psychopath faster. But, of course, the collision affected him not only physically, but also mentally, and so he rode, constantly glancing warily at any pigeon around him. You never knew which one of them might decide to throw itself under the wheels. And he also glanced warily at the people around him. Because who knew which of them also had a murderous glare and fists. Anyway, when he rode past the hospital entrance (and past Gray) at 3:51:46 PM, he was covered in cold sweat and with a grimace of pain on his face.

At 3:52 PM, Gray entered the hospital building and headed to the reception desk, where his supervisor was supposed to leave him a plan for the day.

At 3:54 PM, Wolf stopped in front of the hospital and lit a cigarette.

At 3:56 PM, Gray finally got the papers he needed (the girl at the reception desk was new and still a little confused).

At 3:57 PM, Wolf finished his cigarette and entered the hospital.

At 3:58:14 PM, Gray was supposed to get into the elevator. And he really was going to do that, but for some reason he remembered the cyclist he had seen in front of the hospital. And he decided that extra physical activity never hurt.

"Are you going to get in?" While Gray was thinking, Wolf also reached the elevator. Neither of them were surprised to meet each other here. After all, their previous interaction had also taken place in this hospital (though Wolf, who had quickly regained his memory, preferred not to recall the circumstances under which he had ended up here, much less the fact that he had been seriously contemplating demonstrating the full beauty of his ass to Gray).

"No. I need the fifth floor, I'll take the stairs."

"Good for you." Wolf's appointment was on the seventh, and he would have easily taken the stairs too, but he didn't want to. So he stepped into the elevator, pressed the button, and watched Mamba walked away towards the stairs while the doors were closing.

At 3:58:41 PM, the elevator stopped between floors, and for the next hour and a half, an angry and hungry Wolf thought that it was worth taking the stairs sometimes.

Chapter Text

Like some days before, this day was kind of lousy. Wolf had had to deal with Hyeongshin's problems, and then Hayden had ruined the mood with his disgusting mug, so Wolf had started drinking early, about six pm, and - since he hadn't really eaten all day - was already pretty drunk by half past seven. And, being drunk and self-confident (and obviously not learning from his mistakes), he told Hwangmo that he wanted to take a walk and didn't need an chaperon. (Hwangmo, although a little worried, decided that if one particular idiot wanted to end up in the hospital with a concussion (and amnesia) again, then who was he to stop him.)

So, after some time (unknown, since the phone had died) Wolf found himself in some place (equally unknown for the same reason).

Seoul was a big and densely populated city, so usually people were everywhere, and there was always someone to ask for directions, time and money for the subway. But it was this way for ordinary people living in ordinary Seoul. But if it happened in the world of manhwa, then - unsurprisingly for you and me - nothing was impossible. And now Wolf was somewhere (he wanted to hope that he was at least still in Yeongdeungpo, and not wandering in Yangcheon or Gwanak in this drunken semi-consciousness ), and around there was not a single passerby, not a single store or any other sign of life. Only walls, dumpsters and doors that looked like they had not been opened since the 625 War. Wolf rummaged in his pockets. Cigarettes, some cash, a dead cell phone. Not so bad. If he found a bus stop or subway station, then he would be able to get home. All that was needed was to find a bus stop, and for that he had to at least start walking, which was what Wolf did.

He walked for a few minutes, and all around there were only walls, walls, walls. As if he was in some kind of labyrinth in a fucking game. And it was all pretty weird, and Wolf even thought that he was still drunk and passed out, and this was all a drunken hallucination. Or a hangover dream. In that case, one could well expect some monsters to appear, but instead of monsters, a girl appeared.

The girl had appeared out of some alley and was walking about fifteen meters ahead of Wolf. As far as Wolf could see in the dusk, her school uniform was unfamiliar to him (which, honestly, wasn't surprising, because almost all the schools whose uniforms he regularly saw for one reason or another were all-boys schools, and girls usually didn't go to bars in school uniforms). Otherwise, there was nothing remarkable about her. Not very tall, a little bony, with skinny legs. Blonde, shoulder-length hair. She looked more like a 2nd (3rd at best) year in middle school than a high school student. Which made her presence here and now even stranger, if to think about it. The area didn’t look safe (or even inhabited, to be honest), there were few streetlights, no people at all – in short, not the kind of place a girl should wander into. Maybe something had happened to her? Was she lost, or had she been robbed, or was this some stupid challenge like 'spend a night in an abandoned house'? And honestly, Wolf didn't give a damn. The only thing that interested him was that she might know where the nearest subway station was. But since she looked like a middle schooler, he didn't really want to talk to her (because he didn't want to look like a pervert or creep or some other weirdo). So, deciding that sooner or later they would get to civilization, Wolf decided just to walk a couple dozen meters behind (he somehow didn't think about the fact that this was also pretty creepy and perverted, but he was still slightly drunk, there could be some problems with logic and judgement).

Meanwhile, the girl was acting weird. It seemed like she was in no hurry. She walked slowly, even somehow uncertainly. And she had not turned around even once, which was completely inexplicable, because Wolf's footsteps were very distinct in the silence of these damned alleys, and any normal person would have turned to check who was following them. Or at least sped up. But not her. But - again - Wolf didn't give a damn.

Few minutes later Wolf stopped for a moment to light a cigarette, and when he looked up, he saw two people coming out of another alley. They looked like some C-tier hooligans. Not even B-tier.

"Cutie, why are you walking around such a dangerous area alone?" One of the C-tiers, in a red tracksuit, caught up with the girl in a couple of steps and threw his arm over her shoulder. "Want oppa to walk you home?" The girl didn't answer (or answered so quietly that Wolf didn't hear from where he was standing), but bowed her head even more.

Wolf, of course, wasn't going to interfere. At least not yet. Firstly, being a knight in shining armor - and medlling in other people's affairs in general - wasn't his style. Secondly, they might have known each other. Thirdly, although harassing middle schoolers was something that Wolf personally considered disgusting (and perhaps could even compromise his principle of non-interference), there was no reason to play out the "damsel in distress" situation yet. It was unlikely that these idiots would dare to do something truly bad right here.

"Your backpack seems pretty heavy." The second idiot, with a shaved head, approached the girl from the other side. "This oppa will help you carry it." He put his hand under the backpack, as if he was going to assess its weight, but in doing so, his hand slid across the girl's bottom. She jerked to the side, but Red-tracksuit was on that side. Shaved-headed chuckled and tried to take off the backpack, but the girl seemed to be holding on to the straps tightly. "Why are you so clinging to it?" The tone suddenly stopped being sweetly-friendly. "Do you have something to share there?"

"Why don't you answer when your elders ask you a question?" It was the first one again. He, too, no longer tried to sound even slightly friendly. "You have to be polite with oppa..."

"Fuck off!" It came suddenly, and at first Wolf didn't even understand who was yelling, because the voice was clearly male, but it was clearly not one of the two C-tiers. And only when the left 'oppa' (the one in the red tracksuit) suddenly jerked his head, recoiled and grabbed his nose, and the right one immediately received an elbow in the ribs, Wolf realized that it was the 'girl' who was yelling.

"You crazy bitch! You're fucked!" The red-suited dude had already come to his senses and was ready to pounce upon the 'girl', but at that moment another girl in the same uniform appeared from the alley and, with a precise movement, hooked the collar of the guy's jacket with the handle of her umbrella and pulled towards herself. The idiot fell, then tried to turn over and get up, but got hit on the back and legs with the umbrella and went quiet for a while. The first "schoolgirl" at that moment kicked the shaved-headed in the shin and then hit him in the jaw. He recoiled from the blow, but the difference in weight class was too much, so he tried to rush into the attack again just immediatelly, but then a hand fell on his shoulder. Judging by the way he crouched, the hand was really heavy. Literally and figuratively.

Wolf stood there staring at all the action. The cigarette smoldered in his hand, unsmoked. Wolf hadn't got to meet in person (he had been already unconscious by the moment when it had been possible; and for the best most probably), but Hwangmo had showed him pictures in the ShuttlePatch, so he recognized Ben Park right away.

"Didn't they teach you to be polite to girls?"

"Girls?? It's a fucking dude!" The shaved guy tried to justify himself, but didn't try to break free.

"You have to be polite to guys too." Ben Park patted the shaved guy on the shoulder and turned to the blondie. "Teddy, are you okay?"

"That bastard tried to grope me!" The blondie - Teddy - swung at the shaved guy.

"No, he didn't!" Red-tracksuit, who was trying to quietly crawl away, tried to say a word in defense of his comrade, but not very convincingly. At this point, the second girl (or 'girl'?) took out her phone and took a photo of both of the beaten guys.

"Just in case. I strongly recommend that you don't behave like that again." 'She' spoke rather quietly, but Wolf immediately realized that 'she' also wasn't 'she'. Moreover, the voice suspiciously resembled... And then 'she' looked in his direction.

"Hi." And the voice could be confused, but those eyes Wolf would recognize from any distance and in any lighting. Even if this time they were framed by dark shoulder-length hair.

"Hi." Wolf threw away his smoldering cigarette and went to Mamba and the others. He had been previously going in this direction anyway, and the Eunjangs probably knew where the subway was.

"Are you with them?" The blondie looked at him with hostility, but without much fear. Probably because Mamba and Ben Park were nearby.

"With those wacky perverts?" Wolf quickly glanced at the perverts in question and spat contemptuously. It must be said that even if they had been already scared before (and Wolf could confirm that Ben Park was scary), when Wolf approached, their fear turned into real horror. He did have a reputation after all. But it seemed that they had no idea that the second 'girl' was actually White Mamba. Otherwise, they would have definitely shit themselves.

"Then why did you follow me? It was you, right?" The blondie didn't look convinced, but screw him, because Mamba was absolutely calm and didn't show the slightest hostility or wariness, which meant he didn't consider Wolf involved. And, yeah, Ben Park was clearly strong and dangerous, but Wolf - although, perhaps, it was a little presumptuous of him -  considered Mamba to be the only real opponent among those present, and therefore only his opinion mattered.

"I was looking for the subway. And I don't like blondes, so don't think too much about yourself."

"Thanks god." The blondie snorted and turned to Mamba and Ben. "Listen, guys, maybe we can go already? Another five minutes in these rags - no offence to Alex's cousin - and I won't be responsible for myself."

Mamba looked at the idiotic duo again. Their whole appearance expressed if not remorse, then understanding of their fate and an intention to take the righteous path. Even if not, they certainly wouldn't risk doing any more crap in this area.

"Sure, let's go." Mamba put his phone away, straightened his skirt and walked down the alley. Ben Park and the blondie followed him. Wolf decided that there was nothing stopping him from doing the same.

The subway - fortunately or unfortunately or 'was it really this close all this time?' - was literally five minutes away, and soon our heroes went their separate ways. The Eunjangs went to the bathroom to change (because the blondie kept complaining about his outfit; unlike Mamba, who seemed to feel quite comfortable), and Wolf, of course, went straight to the trains, because it would be pretty weird to tag along with them to the bathroom. He was thinking of good night sleep and possible hangover in the morning.

...

So... Yeah, this could feel as quite dissaponting. This could have been a story about how one hero would intervene, helping a girl deal with bullies, for which he would get favor points from the second hero for helping... Or the walk to the subway could have been longer, and this could have been the time and place for a little conversation, a few jokes, an explanation of what all that had been, after all... Of course, provided that our heroes would have been in the mood for a conversation. But they weren't.

And one might ask: but what about the Universe? Why hadn't it intervened? What was it doing that evening? The Universe was having a break that evening. It needs it sometimes too.

Chapter Text

Wolf woke up - this shouldn't come as a surprise to you - with a terrible headache. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he knew for sure that as soon as he did, his head would explode from the bright light (he really should have spent money on curtains with a timer, it would have saved him from mornings like this more than once).

Wolf tried to swallow, but he couldn't. His mouth wasn't just dry. It felt like a giant sandbox, which cats had used to do their shit.

And, as usual, his memories of the previous evening were very fragmentary. And in order to assemble a more or less understandable picture from these fragments, he had to call Hwangmo first. To do this, he had to find his phone, and to do this, he had to open his eyes, which now, of course, seemed like just not the most pleasant way to commit suicide, but there was no point in lying flat any longer either.

Wolf gave himself thirty seconds to prepare for the inevitable, and then he finally opened his eyes. His premonition (and experience) had not deceived him. Sunlight felt like Wolf was hit on the head with a dozen baseball bats at once. Wolf winced, sat up and looked around.

He was undoubtedly in his own bedroom, in his own bed. And he had fallen asleep right on top of the blanket and fully clothed. And in one sneaker. The left one.

Well, it could have ended worse. At least he was at home, and not in the police or under a bridge. So this could already be considered a small victory.

The next small victory could be considered the fact that he managed to get out of bed on the first try. Yeah, when he had got up, the bats had hit his head with renewed force, and he had staggered and almost fallen back, but after all he stayed on his feet.

Having made sure that he was standing relatively firmly on his feet, Wolf looked around more thoroughly. There was no phone in sight. Of course, it could be under the bed or behind the nightstand, but he was in no condition to move furniture or bend over. So he could only hope that the phone would be in the living room. Or that after washing and drinking a couple of glasses of water he would feel better and would be able to look under the bed.

First he went to the refrigerator, because there should have been a bottle of cold water there (and, fortunately, there it was). After half a liter of the blessed liquid, he found the strength to, firstly, take off his left sneaker, and secondly, quickly inspect the living room for the phone. But it wasn’t in the living room either. And neither was the right sneaker. Apparently, he would have to look for both under the bed, but first he had to wash up. Therefore, the next place to visit was the bathroom. Especially since by this point his bladder had also made itself known.

In the bathroom, heading to the toilet, Wolf glanced at his reflection. Solely to understand if he had bruises or other injuries on his face, because he didn’t really trust his own feelings at his condition. And he was right not trusting, because he had a pretty big shiner under his left eye. How he had got it, he didn’t remember, so that was another question for Hwangmo.

Stopping in front of the toilet bowl, he began to unzip his fly, when he suddenly realized that something was in the right front pocket of his jeans. He looked down and saw a piece of blue fabric, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a collar torn from a shirt. The question 'whose shirt it was' was added to the list of questions for Hwangmo.

After Wolf had rehydrated, relieved himself and washed his face, life began to seem more bearable, but at the same time he also realized that his shirt smelled of beer. Well, even if it didn't, it would probably be a good idea to change.

When Wolf took off his shirt (his T-shirt, by the way, also smelled of beer; and there were also a few stains that smelled like fried chicken), he found a phone number on his left forearm, written in ballpoint pen. Had he tried to pick up someone yesterday? But why was the number written on his hand and not in his phone? Maybe because he hadn’t had his phone at the time? What if he had lost it yesterday, and that's why he couldn't find it now? That was a problem, of course. Not the biggest one, because he could buy a new phone, but it would slightly delay the conversation with Hwangmo. And the conversation was really necessary, because Wolf himself still could remember fucking nothing .

And then the phone rang. His phone. Or some other phone that happened to be in his apartment, and at the same time happened to have the same ringtone (a song, consisting mainly of the English words 'fuck' and 'bitch').

When Wolf found the phone (it was indeed under the bed; the right sneaker was still missing, though), he saw Hwangmo's name on the screen. Just in time! Wolf answered the call.

"What the hell happened yesterday?"

"Hello to you too. How are you doing?" Hwangmo sounded like a man who wasn't suffering from a terrible hangover. And that was a little unfair. They had definitely started drinking together yesterday.

"Pretty shitty. So what happened yesterday?" Wolf remembered something that had happened a while ago and decided to clarify. "It was yesterday, right?"

"Yeah, it was. No amnesia for you this time. Although you tried really hard."

"Don't be an asshole and tell me what happened."

"Well..." Hwangmo was silent for a couple of seconds. "Honestly, I'd like to know myself. I was hoping you'd tell me."

"Did you dump me yesterday? We definitely came to the bar together."

"I actually dragged your vomiting body home." Hwangmo sounded a little offended. But only a little.

"Oh, so it was your fault I lost one of my sneakers!"

"No, when I found you, you were already wearing only one..."

"Found? Can you like give me some details? We definitely started drinking together. And then?..."

"And then you went outside to smoke, and about 20 minutes later, when I was starting to worry, I got a text from an unknown number. It said that I could pick you up from the alley behind the bar. I went there, found you vomiting between the dumpsters, and brought you home."

"And that's it?"

"Pretty much."

"And you don't know whose number it is?"

"I called, but no one picked up."

"Did I got a shiner there?"

"Well, most likely. At least it wasn't me who did it. Although I wouldn't rule out the possibility that you could have fallen on something and hit yourself. On a dumpster, for example. You were totally wasted, dude."

"Nope." Wolf touched his black eye. "I know the difference. This is definitely the work of someone's fist."

"I really want to know who it was, but alas! Okay, since you're alive and relatively well and don't know what happened to you either, I'll leave you to restore your water balance and memory. Text if you remember anything."

Hwangmo hung up, leaving Wolf with even more questions than before.

After sitting and thinking for a while, Wolf wrote to Hwangmo and asked him to send him the phone number from which the message had been received yesterday. And after thinking a little more, he took a photo of the collar he had found in his jeans pocket and also sent it to Hwangmo asking if he knew who might have such a shirt.

The answer came quickly.

"Did you fight with the Eunjangs yesterday? The color looks like their uniform. And the number is 010-620-0001."

Eunjang uniform? Now Wolf himself remembered that they really did have blue collars. So he had ran into someone from the Eunjang yesterday? And that someone had left him with a black eye as a souvenir? No matter how drunk Wolf had been then, he could only have got punched in the face by Mamba. Maybe, by Ben Park too. Although why would they text to Hwangmo after that? Why would anyone text to Hwangmo at all? There were still more questions than answers, and his head, having calmed down a little, began to buzz again, so Wolf decided to leave this for later, when he had more information. For example, he could call the number that Hwangmo sent.

Wolf dialed the digits and pressed 'call'.

He heard several short rings, and then he was immediately sent to voicemail. The same thing happened on the second and third attempts. Deciding not to waste time on this now, Wolf sent a message and went to the kitchen. The hangover wouldn't go away, so he had to resort to the simplest, but extremely effective remedy - spicy ramen.

(Here, I will use my position as the narrator to say that this message wasn't destined to be read, at least not anytime soon, and for the same reason that calls immediately went to voicemail: back in the third chapter of this fanfic, Gray had blocked Wolf's number.)

After eating the ramen (Wolf had made a double portion and poured hot sauce over it to ensure that the last bits of the hangover would be knocked out of his head and body), Wolf decided that he could finally find out who he had been trying to hit on yesterday (or who had been trying to hit on him, which was more likely). He dialed the number, looking at the digits on his hand, and pressed the call button. After a few rings, a pleasant female voice said:

"Korean Alcohol Research Foundation Hospital. How can I help you?"

...

The signs that the Universe gives us can be different.

For example, if in the morning before leaving the house you discover that the heel of one shoe is broken, and the cat has puked in the other one, this may mean that it is better for you to stay home today. Or, this may mean that it is time for you to take your cat to the vet, and yourself to the mall for shopping.

Or if you run into a certain person time after time, in the strangest circumstances, then perhaps the Universe is hinting to you that you should take a closer look at this person. Perhaps they are your destiny. Or they are a stalker and you need to file a police report and get a restraining order. This is also possible, so be vigilant and be safe.

And if the Universe made it so that Wolf's potential destiny in human form had written the number of a rehabilitation clinic on his hand, this could only mean one thing: the Universe (and Gray) were hinting to him that it would be a good idea to quit drinking. Would Wolf listen to this? We can find out in the next chapters!

Maybe someday we'll even find out what really had happened in that alley, although the chances are very small. Of the two people who had been there, Wolf didn't remember anything (and - spoiler! - would never be able to reconstruct that evening), and Gray... Gray had promised himself (and the passed out Wolf) that he would never tell this story to anyone. And Gray was, is and always will be a man of his word.

Chapter Text

As you know, Wolf's only friend was Hwangmo. And Hwangmo was friends with almost everyone, including Jack Kang. And Jack was friends with Minjae, who really loved going on blind dates. And although Jack hated these dates, he still sometimes agreed to keep Minjae company. Hwangmo, in turn, was a romantic, so he had nothing against such things. And here we return to Wolf, who was not currently in any kind of even remotely romantic relationship and did not strive for it (despite all the tricks of the Universe), and no dating activity interested him in principle, but... There was always some 'but'. In this case, the 'but' included a story that we won't tell now, but which had enough influence for Wolf to give in to Hwangmo's persuasion (aka blackmail) to be the fourth guy on a group blind date. And, since it was going to be a four-on-four date, nothing much would be required of him. Just to show up, be there, if possible not be too rude and not too scary, or just be mysteriously silent (being silent and a little scary would be acceptable also, some girls could like that) - and that's it. One hour, maximum an hour and a half - and he could go for a drink (or not, if he suddenly decided to seriously think about some improvement in his lifestyle).

In short, the day promised to be not difficult, but rather boring. Or something like that. 

...

About five minutes had passed since the start of the date, and for the first minute or two Wolf had even tried to engage in the conversation (he really owed Hwangmo a lot, like really, really owed him), but it was hard to feign any interest. Plus the menu wasn't something Wolf would enjoy even as a distraction or consolation. In general, this place was a typical date spot, on a pedestrian street, with a bunch of pastries and cakes and drinks that could give you cavities just by looking at them, neither of which Wolf particularly liked, so he was sluggishly drinking his Americano (the bartender had looked almost insulted by the order, but fuck him).

Apparently, Jack was in about the same condition and mood (and also with an Americano). Considering the rumors circulating in the Union, it was generally unclear what he was doing here. Either this guy, Minjae, had some serious dirt on Jack, or (which was more likely, since Minjae did not look like a villain capable of blackmail; he looked like a happy loser, kind of) Jimmy once again had done some shit, and therefore the main couple of Yoosun High was currently in a quarrel, and Jack came here to spite his boyfriend. But, of course, Wolf didn't give a shit.

Opposite to Wolf and Jack, Minjae and Hwangmo were clearly enjoying the chatter, which on the one hand was in Wolf's favor, because they almost did not try to involve him in the conversation, and on the other hand, it made his stay here even more pointless from his point of view. So, five or ten or fifteen minutes passed (time could flow very strangely in a black hole and on group dates), and Wolf was about to 'remember' some urgent matter or go out for a smoke and never come back, but then Mamba sat down at a table on the sidewalk across the street.

And, of course, Wolf didn't care about Mamba at all. Absolutely, not in the slightest, not a bit, but... What's that saying? Know your enemy? It was not like he and Mamba were real enemies at this point, but it was also impossible to consider the Union and Eunjang's affairs completely resolved, so could they still be considered potential enemies? Anyway, watching Mamba a little could definitely help Wolf survive this date, so why not? Mamba could surprise. Wolf knew that from experience.

The first thing Mamba did when he sat down at the table was take out a notebook and start looking through some notes. And at first, Wolf, of course, thought that this was a strange place to study - after all, it was a street with cafes for dates - but the law did not prohibit studying wherever you wanted, so it could be just written off as Mamba's oddities, but then she showed up.

Despite the fact that Wolf had no desire to waste time on relationships and other romantic nonsense, he still had eyes and an idea of beauty, and she fully corresponded to these ideas. Fair skin, small face, thick hair, long legs... In short, she was as close as possible to the fantasy of almost any highschooler (well, except for Jack and Jimmy, maybe? But that was not for sure), and she came up to the table where Mamba was sitting, they exchanged a few words, and then she sat down opposite, smiling charmingly.

And a couple of lines above it was said that she was the embodiment of the fantasy of any highschooler, but, frankly speaking, Wolf in this case did not include Mamba specifically in 'any highschoolers', and was a little surprised that such a girl came on a date with Mamba. (And what could it be, if not a date? In a date cafe on a date street?) Anyway, for some reason Wolf thought (not that he often - or ever - thought about it, but now that he had thought about it, he had that thought; I know it makes little sense, but that's how it was) that Mamba should have different preferences. Not that he could formulate them clearly, but they definilety had to be different.

Maybe they really were different, because Mamba didn't look particularly interested or excited. Although who the hell knew what an excited Mamba looked like? But anyone could definitely tell from the girl that she liked Mamba. Like a lot. She laughed, played with her hair and sat a little strangely, apparently trying to show her most advantageous angle. In short, she behaved terribly annoyingly from Wolf's point of view.

Wolf was torn away from watching the Eunjang guy by the sudden mention of Eunjang at the table.

"...Eunjang High, by any chance?"

"What??" Wolf turned sharply (he was sitting at the very edge) and almost spilled the rest of his Americano on himself.

"I said, do you happen to know anyone from Eunjang High, by any chance?" One of the girls (Wolf, of course, did not remember her name, or any of other girls' names) was polite enough to repeat the question.

"Why?"

"My friend's cousin goes there, and my friend saw him with his classmates once, and some of them, she said, were just super handsome."

"And?"

"My friend's cousin said they don't go on blind dates, but maybe they don't go on blind dates with him? Because he's a bit of a loser, according to my friend..."

It had never occurred to Wolf to evaluate the Eunjang guys' appearance (well, except for one particular Eunjang guy, and we all know who I'm talking about; and it was not like he actually had ever thought about his appearance, but, as was said, he had eyes), but even from his male point of view, in Eunjang High, even if not take to account you-know-who, Ben Park or that blond guy could fit the definition of if not super-handsome, but okay-handsome. And it was not like Wolf knew many other Eunjangs, but the chances that it had been one of those three were very high. And from his point of view, if it had been one of them, then maybe this cousin (whoever he was) had said no to setting up a date because the friend wasn't good enough for this kind of acquaintance herself. Well, unless she was at least a little bit like the long-legged giggling girl who was now flirting with Mamba...

Wolf glanced out the window to have another look at the giggling, long-legged girl, but she was gone. Instead, another girl was sitting opposite Mamba.

"What the fuck..." Wolf almost spilled his Americano on himself for the second time, and everyone at the table turned to see what had caused this reaction.

"Is that Mamba?" Jack seemed to speak up for the first time since the start of this date.

"Who?" The girls, of course, didn't know anything about ShuttlePatch, so they couldn't immediately figure out where to look.

"That guy." Hwangmo pointed at Mamba. "He's probably one of those Eunjang guys your friend was talking about."

"Then it makes sense why her cousin refused to set up a blind date." Another girl sighed. "I mean I am not confident enough to think of myself as a match..."

"Yeah..." The third sighed. "I can see what a perfection of skin this girl has even from here. I wouldn't look like that even with filters..."

And Wolf agreed. Almost. This second girl was also beautiful. Not like the first one, who was rather a bit aggressively and maturely beautiful, but this one was sweet and gentle, a quiet, homely girl, but still very beautiful. But – if someone was crazy enough to ask such a question – Wolf would say that Mamba’s skin looked better even from this distance, and he had actually seen it up close, and in completely different situations, so he could judge objectively. If someone asked, yes. But, fortunately (or unfortunately), no one was crazy enough to ask such questions.

This girl did not flirt as openly as the previous one. To be honest, it was not clear whether there was any flirting at all. They just talked, calmly, even seemingly seriously, as if they were discussing a school project or something. Even Mamba’s dates were not like everyone else’s! Suddenly, Wolf's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he looked up to check. It was nothing important, just spam, so he turned it off completely and glanced at the table across the street again.

The second girl was no longer there. Mamba was sitting alone, writing something in a notebook.

"That was quick..." Said the second girl (whose fate was to remain nameless, and who was the 'second' only because she was sitting second from the left). "I wonder what the outcome was? Did they agree on a second date?"

"She seemed quite pleased when she left. So I guess yes?" The first nameless girl suggested.

"What is he writing there? Notes on the date?" The fourth girl chimed in. (And she, unlike the other three, was not destined to remain forever just the fourth girl, although that story isnot in scope today. But if you are interested, her name was Minji, and a couple of months from now, after hundreds of messages and a couple of walks in the parks, Hwangmo will officially ask her out on a date, but - as was said - that will be a completely different story.)

"Yeah, that sounds kind of like him..." Wolf muttered. Not that he knew much about Mamba, but from what he knew – that really sounded plausible.

"Do you know him?" Minji (who was still just the fourth girl for Wolf) asked. She seemed to be addressing Wolf, but was looking at Hwangmo.

Neither Hwangmo nor Wolf (who, however, was not going to) had time to answer, because a new character approached Mamba's table, and this again attracted everyone's attention, because this time it was a guy. And he was also quite handsome.

"Damn... It's kind of depressing..." The third of the nameless girls muttered.

"Yeah..." Minji agreed. "It sucks when you have to compete with other girls, but when the competition is doubled... There's no chance at all."

The guy and Mamba were chatting, meanwhile, and Wolf was trying to figure out what was going on. Did Mamba have a few dates? Or were they not dates? The first girl had been definitely heavily flirting, for the second one he couldn’t say for sure, and this guy... This guy seems kind of nervous and even blushing, so it could be a date and could be not, and there was no way to find out...

And it was not like Wolf cared about Mamba’s personal life, but when the blushing guy stood up 10 minutes later and said goodbye to Mamba, Wolf also stood up and, leaving Hwangmo’s “Where are you going, dude?” unanswered, went outside, walked up to Mamba’s table and sat down opposite.

“Is this seat occupied?”

“Not in the next 10 minutes, but I’d appreciate it if you left before that.”

Mamba was taking notes in his notebook at the time and didn't even look up. However, Wolf suspected that he had noticed the interest in him from their group for quite some time, and therefore wasn't surprised by Wolf's appearance.

"Are you afraid that I'll scare away the next one?"

"Not really, but it could disturb my schedule."

"Your schedule? How many more of them are on your schedule today?"

"Three." Mamba finally finished taking notes and looked at Wolf. "So, do you want something?"

"Not really."

"Do your friends want something?" Mamba nodded towards the cafe, where seven people (yes, even Jack) were watching the proceedings with bated breath.

"Not rea..." Here Wolf glanced at Mamba's notebook. On the open page was a table with words and numbers in different columns, but everything was written in small handwriting, and therefore it was impossible to understand what all that meant unless he leaned over the table. Which Wolf was not going to do. But there was another option. "Actually, yes. Everyone is interested in your notes. What it's all about?" It was very bold and not entirely true, but why not?

"Just notes. Of their needs, motivation, schedule. Staff like that."

"Huh?"

"I can't take all of them." Mamba shrugged. "I need to choose four. And my notes help me to decide."

And of course, it was still possible that Mamba really was speed dating, and really was compiling tables with coefficients to evaluate potential candidates, and really was going to collect a harem for himself based on the results of interviews, but the idea seemed about as plausible as Mamba collecting followers for a cult... Anyway, it was easier to ask. And Wolf was just about to do that, but Mamba beat him to it.

"It's about tutoring and not about whatever you imagined." Yeah, that actually made much more sense than anything that had flashed through Wolf's mind. Mamba looked at his watch, and then glanced toward the cafe, where seven spectators were practically glued to the window glass. "I think it's time for you to get back to your company, my next candidate is due in 5 minutes."

For a few seconds, Wolf considered staying just because, but ultimately decided that he wasn't in the mood to piss off Mamba today.

"Yeah, have fun." Wolf stood up and, after another moment of thought, headed for the nearest alley, taking out a cigarette as he went. Perhaps he should finally text Hwangmo that he had 'some business' to attend to. But only after he had a look at Mamba's next candidate. Definitely.

Chapter Text

The people in Wolf's life could be set into several categories.

The first category: family. His relationship with his parents was more or less normal (taking into account severe workaholism and slight indifference of both of them), and he rarely saw his more distant relatives and tolerated them only to a certain extent.

The second category: Union. This one included all members of the Union whom he at least recognized, but who had no other characteristics.

The third category: true Union. This included Jake, Myles (okay, had included), Jimmy, Forrest, and everyone else who was more than a nameless background figure.

There were individual categories for one person for Hwangmo (friends), Na Baekjin (no comment), and Mamba (also no comment).

Recently, the category "Eunjangs" had been added (just because, you know, they were everywhere).

And there was the category ‘enemies’. And the word ‘enemies’ here didn't mean some irreconcilable Shakespearean feud (yes, they had studied Shakespeare; yes, Wolf even remembered something), but simply people who at the moment infuriated Wolf the most and whose mug at the moment was causing a really bad itching in Wolf's fists. For example, earlier - before he had got his own category - Mamba had briefly appeared here. And even earlier - Grape. In general, people usually stayed in this category exactly until Wolf beat them up. Well, or they him, but so far only one person had managed to do this, yes. In short, the category 'enemies' was highly dependent on the mood, wind direction and retrograde Mercury, and right now there were three names in it. Or two. Depending on how to perceive Mokha Duo. One was that red-haired pervert whom Wolf had encountered during their foray into the Octagon. The second were just Mokha. From the very beginning, from the day Na Baekjin had introduced them to the rest of the Union, they had been pissing him off. Well, it was mostly Baek Dongha's doing, of course. Do Seongmok's contribution was just that he was just there with his bull-like body. But Baek Dongha was annoying enough for both of them.

And so now Wolf followed Do Seongmok, hoping that the latter would lead to his long-haired friend, and there Wolf would settle the matter between the three of them once and for all.

In turn, Hwangmo followed Wolf. Not for any kind of physical support, but to make sure he didn't get another TBI along with amnesia. Hwangmo was a good friend.

Anyway, when Do Seongmok (followed by Wolf, followed by Hwangmo) turned into the alley, everyone had different expectations. Wolf was looking forward to a great fight that would allow him to deal with all the stress of the last days (weeks? months?). Hwangmo was anticipating another headache. Do Seongmok wasn’t looking forward to anything and just wanted to meet Dongha and go home.

So the sight in the alley was unexpected for everyone.

As Wolf expected, Do Seongmok led him to Baek Dongha. What he didn’t expect was that Mamba would be there too. And Mamba was VERY there. He towered over Baek Dongha, who was kneeling, beaten, tearful, and his annoying long hair was caught in the door in the wall (it seemed to be a transformer box or something else technical), and part of it was wound around the Eunjang’s fist.

"Repeat." Mamba's voice rang out in the alley like the voice of a punishing deity. Wolf felt his knees went weak for a moment.

Do Seongmok jerked, trying to rush to his friend's aid, but Wolf, who had already overcome the sudden attack of whatever-knee-weakening-shit he had experienced, grabbed him by the collar and pulled back, jabbing him in the side with his fist for emphasis. Do Seongmok tried to break free, but Wolf jabbed him in the side again and advised him not to twitch.

"I... I shouldn't..." Baek Dongha sobbed. "I shouldn't fight without a reason."

"That's not what I said." Mamba's presence was overwhelming. It even seemed like at this moment his shadow covered the entire alley. (In reality, the cloud had blocked the sun out, but still.)

"I... I won't fight unless it's for self-defense..." Baek Dongha whined, and Mamba loosened his grip.

"Now apologize."

And then Wolf (and Hwangmo, and Do Seongmok) noticed that there were two more people in the alley. One, with glasses, was clutching something that looked like some kind of strange device or box to his chest, and the other, the red-haired one, was clearly trying to look more menacing than was possible for him, and Wolf immediately recognized both of them. They were the two who had been dragged to the rooftop before Mamba. When he met their eyes, he felt uneasy. He gripped Do Seongmok's collar even tighter. However, Do Seongmok no longer tried to break free. He, too, seemed to be trying to comprehend what was happening.

"I..." Baek Dongha sniffled and glanced quickly at the two other Eunjang guys. "I'm sorry."

"Do you mean it?" Mamba's voice was quiet, but - damn! - was it scary. Almost like Na Baekjin's. Wolf felt both intimidated and amazed.

"Yes, yes!" Baek Dongha was really miserable right now. "I am sorry. I am really sorry."

"Okay." Mamba let go of his opponent's hair and took a step towards the door to free him completely. "If you do something like that again..."

"No, no, no!" Baek Dongha, as soon as he was finally free, began to crawl away, not even trying to get up. "I won't do!"

"And?" Mamba was still threateningly looming over him with all of his five feet of height.

"And I'll focus on studying!" Baek Dongha squeaked and pressed himself against the wall, as if trying to completely merge with it.

Mamba nodded and stepped back. He picked up his backpack from the ground, turned to look at his friends, and then noticed that they had another audience.

"Oh. Hi." He nodded to Wolf and then to Hwangmo. "Do you need something?"

Hwangmo wanted to say something, but Wolf beat him to it.

"No. Not at all. We were just passing by. Yeah?" He shook Do Seongmok. The latter nodded, continuing to look at Baek Dongha, who was still pressed against the wall.

Honestly, both of them looked so pathetic right now that the mood to fight them quickly disappeared. It's not that Wolf was empathetic or some shit, but Baek Dongha had clearly already gotten what he deserved, and fighting Do Seongmok alone was no fun. Wolf let go of the latter's collar, and Do Seongmok almost fell down like a puppet whose strings had been cut, but pulled himself together and walked on weak legs towards Baek Dongha, who was still sitting on the ground.

"Okay." Mamba nodded and turned back to his friends. Their gazes, in turn, darted between Wolf, Dongha, and Mamba himself. "Let's go. We're almost late." Mamba's friends snapped out of their stupor and walked towards the exit of the alley. As they passed Wolf and Hwangmo, they both tensed up, as if they were still expecting a blow. Hwangmo, who was nervously shifting from foot to foot, also seemed uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

"Uh... Hey, guys." The two quickly turned around and looked at Hwangmo, unsure if he was talking to them or not. "Can I have a few minutes?"

"Are... Are you talking to us?" The guy with glasses swallowed nervously.

Hwangmo nodded. The Eunjangs turned to Mamba, who in turn looked at Hwangmo before answering.

"I think we have a few minutes to spare."

Receiving this almost-blessing, Hwangmo relaxed a little. He nodded towards the other end of the alley.

"Can we talk there?" Mamba's friends still looked like they were expecting a trick, but Mamba's calmness (and, most probably, his general presence) apparently reassured them of the safety of this unexpected and strange interaction.

While the three were talking (or rather, only Hwangmo was talking), Wolf was deciding whether to make a small talk with Mamba, and if yes, what it should be about. Something like 'you beat that long-haired prick up good, total respect' didn't seem like a suitable topic (although it was absolutely true).

The 'long-haired prick" meanwhile, with the help of his silent friend, got up from the ground, and they both slowly hobbled away. No one stopped them.

Mamba was typing something on his phone. Wolf was smoking. The question of the need for a small talk was still itching a little somewhere in the corner of Wolf's brain, because the interaction seemed somehow unfinished, and Wolf didn't like leaving things unfinished. But a suitable topic had not yet appeared. And just as it occurred to him to run through their recent encounters in his head, to catch something there, Hwangmo finished whatever he was doing and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Let's go?"

Mamba and his friends were already passing by, and Mamba nodded goodbye to Wolf. The moment was gone.

...

"What were you talking about with those two nerds?" Later that evening, Wolf and Hwangmo were sitting on the roof, enjoying the sunset. And beer.

"I was apologizing. Maybe you should do that too." Hwangmo crumpled up the empty can and threw it into the trash can with a well-aimed toss. "I mean, in the last couple of months I've seen Mamba more often than I've seen my grandma, and she lives next door, by the way. And something tells me this isn't going to stop."

"Yeah. Maybe." Wolf finished his beer and threw his can in the trash can as well. The can almost flew over the edge and bounced off the rim with a soft metallic thud. Wolf took another one from the cooler bag, opened it, took a sip, and stared at the horizon. The sky that evening was of a strange purple-pink color.

Chapter Text

Of course, it was all Hwangmo's fault. Who’s else? Wolf himself, of course, wouldn't have gone to the mall, but he had nothing better to do until the evening, when he was supposed to be attending a family dinner, and Hwangmo, who needed to buy something, offered to keep him company. Judging by the stores they visited, deep down inside Hwangmo was a girl of about 8, but perhaps he was simply looking for a gift for his sister or cousin. Perhaps that's why he had invited Wolf to tag along: to not be only one suffering.

So, Hwangmo had dragged Wolf along to the mall, but hadn't brought a single umbrella. And apparently he hadn't even bothered to check the weather forecast, which elevated his potential crime against Wolf's hair from 'accident' to 'malicious negligence'. There were still a few hours until dinner, it was raining outside, and Wolf had thought of buying an umbrella, but he dismissed it. He was about to excuse himself to the food court (which, really, wasn't a good idea, since he was planning to at least enjoy the meal at the upcoming dinner), when Hwangmo suggested going to a movie. Wolf didn't really like movie theaters but agreed because, why not? Especially since it was an action movie, not some cheesy drama or rom-com.

...

Actually, Wolf's dislike of movie theaters was a half of the truth. The other half was that Hwangmo didn't like going to the movies with Wolf. He'd simply forgotten about it for a moment because they hadn't done anything like that in a while. But he quickly remembered why it wasn't on his list of favorite pastimes.

Everyone—even the very good people—had some flaws. Small, big, strange, cute—but they were there. Everyone had them. Wolf, on the other hand, consisted of the flaws almost entirely, and that was something that Hwangmo—as his only friend—understood better than anyone. Some of Wolf's flaws were frightening, some tolerable, but one was particularly annoying. Wolf, usually not fond of any kind of chit-chat, became very talkative when watching a movie.

"Who hits like that?" Wolf whispered, leaning slightly toward Hwangmo, who was sitting in the next chair. "He swings his arm back so far that you can beat him up to the pulp before he even starts his punch."

"Hmm..." Hwangmo muttered, unwilling to engage in conversation. Which, however, didn't stop Wolf from commenting.

"Why is he still running down the street? He just ran past Dongdaemun Market; it would have been easier to lose a tail there, wouldn't it?"

"Dude, keep it down..." Hwangmo hissed back, because despite Wolf trying—really trying!—to whisper, his voice was still quite loud.

Wolf chuckled and leaned back in his seat, his entire demeanor expressing irritation and displeasure. Hwangmo knew the lull wouldn't last.

...

Fifteen minutes into the film, and Wolf would have broken his face if he'd facepalmed every time something utterly stupid happened onscreen.

Of course, some might say that Wolf was in no position to criticize someone's fighting style, because his own was far from graceful... Wolf knew this perfectly well. He knew he could have been more technical and used his moves more effectively. He knew it, but he didn't want to change anything. He was happy with his fighting style. And anyway, no need be a chef to criticize someone's cooking. And if someone tried to put dirty carrots in broth, anyone should have the right to tell them they're an idiot. And the people onscreen were definitely idiots which put dirty carrots in broth. Metaphorically.

"Why doesn't anyone ever turn off their cell phone when they're hiding?" Wolf asked another rhetorical question.

"Dude, can you just shut up?" the man sitting in front of him muttered, and Wolf felt his mood, soured by the circumstances and the dumb movie, lift. Nothing lifts the mood like the prospect of a fight.

"Make me." To support his words, Wolf kicked the back of the chair in front of him.

"Dude, I just want to watch a movie. Do you have to be a dick?" The man turned around. "Oh, yeah, that's your default option. Hey, Wolf." Jake—and it was him, and Wolf would have noticed sooner if he'd been paying any attention—smiled. "But I really do want to watch a movie, can you keep it down?"

Wolf, of course, hadn't expected it to be Jake. And, of course, he'd long wanted to find out if the latter was as tough as everyone thought, and on any other day he would have simply started a fight without a second thought, but today he had to weigh the pros and cons first. Family dinner could be a much less pleasant affair if he showed up with a face battered by Jake's fists (Wolf knew perfectly well that no matter the outcome of the fight, he wouldn't emerge unscathed). On the other hand, if he had a black eye and a split lip, for example, he could use that as an excuse to skip that dinner...

"I understand your frustration with the characters' behavior in this movie, but not everyone is ready to discuss it while watching." The guy to Jake's left also turned to look at Wolf, and suddenly it was Mamba. Fighting both Jake and Mamba at once wasn't Wolf's plan—not today, not ever—so perhaps it was wiser to shut up and try to focus on the plot, but still, some part of Wolf couldn't just say, 'Yeah, sure'.

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try." Wolf grinned and leaned back in his seat.

He didn't last long, though. Five minutes later, he leaned over the back of the Mamba's seat and said:

"The guy just got hit in the foot with a heel. Twice. And a second later, he's still moving like nothing happened. You of all people know that's crazy bullshit."

Mamba didn't turn around, but nodded in agreement.

"I don't know what idiot staged these fights, but any highschooler in Yeongdeungpo could have done better," Wolf continued.

"Gray, is he bothering you too much?" came a voice to Mamba's left. "Maybe we should escort him out?"

Wolf looked in the direction of the voice. Ben Park was sitting next to Mamba.

For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him before that it was rather odd that Jake and Mamba were sitting next to each other. Now, however, he thought it was even odder. As far as he remembered, Ben Park had beaten Jake up some time ago, so why would the Eunjangs be hanging out with him?

Wolf looked around. Sitting on Ben Park's other side was a rather tall guy with green hair. Wolf didn't recognize him. But further on sat a familiar blond boy, who was currently saying something to the green-haired dude, casting wary, angry glances at Wolf. Apparently, this lanky fellow was also from Eunjang High.

Wolf shifted his gaze to the right. Behind Jake, he could see that fancy-pants Dean Kwon and a couple of other people from Daehyeon, whose names Wolf couldn't remember.

And all of these people were now looking at Wolf, and their looks very displeased. Only Mamba was calm.

"No, it's fine," Mamba assured Ben Park, then turned to Hwangmo. "Would you like to trade seats?"

"Mmm..." Inside Hwangmo, the loyalty warred with the desire to watch a movie in peace. The latter won out. "Yeah, sure."

Luckily, they weren't sitting right in the center of the row, so the switch didn't take long, and Hwangmo landed safely in Mamba's old seat. Jake said something to him, and they both quietly laughed and fist-bumped. Then they turned back to the screen and continued watching. Wolf was a little offended by Hwangmo's acquiescence, but he decided to put it aside, because Mamba was now sitting next to him, and seemed to be not averse to discussing all the idiocy that had unfolded onscreen. And there was plenty to discuss! Like, at the very moment the protagonist jumped out of a third-story window, landed on the pavement with straight legs, and immediately ran on.

"What the fu..." Wolf began, but a cold hand fell on his lips, cutting him off. The next moment, he felt breath on his cheek.

"I want you to know," Mamba whispered, his lips almost touching the Wolf's ear, "that there is a few very simple tricks to quickly knock you out till the end of the movie." The whisper sent shivers down Wolf's neck and spine. He already knew Mamba could be intimidating without raising his voice (that scene with Baek Dongha had been very memorable), but that wasn't all he felt now. He didn't understand what exactly he felt, but it was a strange sensation inside, as if his insides were being tied into knots and then untied and then tied again. And Mamba continued to whisper. "So if you want to comment, you'll do it in a way that only I can hear. Is that clear?" Mamba pulled back a little and, without removing his hand from Wolf's lips, turned his face towards. "Is that clear?" he repeated barely audibly, looking Wolf in the eyes, and Wolf nodded. If anyone else had allowed themselves to do even one of these things, Wolf's fist would have been counting their teeth long ago, but...

"Very well." Mamba removed his hand from Wolf's face and turned to the screen. Wolf nervously licked his lips and turned to the screen as well. He was sure he'd prefer to remain silent for the rest of the movie.

However, as we already know, it was stronger than him. When another fight started, Wolf lasted exactly 15 seconds before opening his mouth. And then immediately closing it. He slowly turned his head and saw Mamba looking at him. As if he knew this was the moment Wolf would break down, and so he waited to see what would happen. And as if he found it amusing. Fuck him.

Wolf leaned his head back against the back of his chair and pretended to yawn. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mamba stop looking at him and return his attention to the screen. Wolf waited another half minute or so, then casually leaned toward Mamba and whispered very, very quietly, "It seems they've completely forgotten they're making a modern action movie, not a story about flying monks or something."

Mamba covered his mouth with his hand, hiding a chuckle. Wolf took this as a good sign.

...

When the movie ended and they all started filing out of the viewing room, Wolf overheard Jake say to Hwangmo, "There's a next part of that zombie movie coming out next week, and the guys and I are going to watch. Want to join us?"

"Why not! Who else is coming?"

"The same. Me and my guys and the Eunjangs."

At that moment, Wolf caught up with them. "Since when have you been hanging out with the Eunjangs? I heard Ben Park kicked your ass."

"Well, that's exactly what happened," Jake confirmed nonchalantly. "But I personally haven't had any problems with them before, and don't have problems now. And it's kind of strange to hear that from you!" Jake lightly nudged him in the side with his elbow and winked.

"What the fuck you're talking about," Wolf snapped back weakly, though it was pretty stupid to deny that he and Mamba had spent the entire second half of the movie exchanging comments and jokes.

"Yeah, if you say so." Jake winked at him again. "Anyway, you're welcome to join also."

"I'll pass, I don't want to see your mug that often." With that, Wolf walked ahead. He wanted a smoke. He could ask Hwangmo about the next week movie later, closer to the point.

...

"Are you sure it's okay to invite Wolf?" Hwangmo asked while he and Jake were walking together to the subway after the movie. They both needed to be home soon, otherwise they'd go with the Eunjangs to eat 'the most divine fried chicken in all of Seoul', according to Ben Park.

"Yeah. I don't see a problem." Jake shrugged. "We'll just buy those two tickets for the back row and ourselves for the middle, and pretend we don't know them."

Chapter Text

The alarm sound burst into his head and began to act like a ferret with ADHD on steroids: bouncing off the walls of his skull, jumping on his eardrums, and trying to play soccer with his eyeballs. It all felt a lot like a severe hangover, even though Wolf was almost 100% sure he hadn't had drunk the night before. Almost 100% sure. Because the experience of the past few months had taught him that memory couldn't always be trusted. That same experience had taught him that the best way to find out what had happened was to ask Hwangmo. Especially since the last thing Wolf could recall, after racking his brain, was him and Hwangmo—along with Jake and the Eunjangs—in the movies. So Hwangmo had to know something.

The alarm ferret continued to rage, and Wolf, without opening his eyes, rolled over onto his stomach and reached for the nightstand where his phone usually lay. Contrary to expectations, his hand didn't touch a hard surface, but something soft. Wolf opened his eyes.

His hand was resting on a pillow. Someone else's pillow. Not that Wolf could recognize his own pillow (he wasn't even sure what color it was; white, probably), but it couldn't possibly be his, because it was lying on not his bed. And the bed was definitely not his, because it was at least twice as big as his own.

In short, Wolf woke up in a stranger's bed and had no idea where he was or how he had got there. It looked like he really needed to stop drinking. But first, he needed to call Hwangmo.

Wolf crawled across the bed and finally managed to turn off the crazy ferret. He unlocked his phone and...

The phone wasn't his either. Yes, it unlocked with his fingerprint, but it was a different model and—more importantly—the home screen wallpaper was a photo of Mamba. A photo of the fucking White Mamba.

Mamba was sitting on the beach, leaning against a motorcycle. His head was half-turned, and he was looking at the sunset. And although—probably because of the lighting and shadows—he seemed a little older than his usual self, it was definitely him.

Wolf locked the phone and closed his eyes.

Then he opened his eyes again and unlocked the phone again. This time, using the pattern. The phone unlocked. Mamba and the motorcycle were still there.

Wolf leaned back on the pillow (not his pillow!) and began to think.

The fingerprint and the pattern indicated that the phone was probably his.

Everything else indicated he had probably gone crazy.

...

About five minutes passed—and nothing had changed. He was still in a stranger's bed, in a stranger's apartment. And this apartment was presumably empty. There was no shower noises, no clattering dishes, no snoring, no television—in short, no sounds indicating anyone else's presence.

Wolf finally decided that waiting for a sign from above was futile and picked up the phone again. Trying not to stare at Mamba's photo, he quickly checked the call log.

Along with a bunch of unfamiliar names (who the fuck was Park Humin??) and obscure abbreviations (MedExYeon, with a heart; who even did that??), there were some entries that made perfect sense. For example, 'Bastard Na'. And—hallelujah!—Hwangmo.

Wolf immediately pressed the call button. Hwangmo answered after three beeps.

"Morning, dude." Hwangmo's voice sounded sleepy, ragged, and creaky. It sounded like a hungover, basically. "Are you dying? You better be. Like, literally. Because otherwise I don't know why you're calling me at this ungodly hour, when I'm dying, almost litarelly, and precisely because of you."

Apparently, they had been drinking together yesterday. But it was better to clarify.

"Did we drink yesterday?"

"No. I drank yesterday. And you got completely wasted."

Wolf didn't want to argue over differences in terminology. There were more important questions.

"Why do I have a picture of Mamba on my phone?"

"Because you're a sap?" Hwangmo replied. Despite his intonation, it sounded more like a statement than a guess. Although neither made any sense. Wolf was about to refute that, but Hwangmo continued. "Listen, I understand it's been a month, and you're sad and pathetic, but you need to hold out for another one. If you keep drinking like this, you'll be dead of cirrhosis by the time Sieun gets back. He probably won't be happy about that."

"Who?"

"Sleep it off, man." Hwangmo sighed wearily. "Just sleep it off first. And don't even think about calling him now. What's the time difference with Germany? Seven? Ten hours? Anyway, it's the middle of the night there." And he ended the call.

Wolf sat for a while, staring at the phone. None of this made the slightest bit of sense.

After some thought, he opened the gallery to look at the photos. He had initially wanted to look at the messages, but the letters had been jumping before his eyes, even when he had been just looking at the call log, so that wasn't a good idea.

The photos on the phone were... weird. Most of them were of documents, random places like alleys and someone else's apartments (sometimes these photos featured chalk outlines, like in crime movies), and equally random objects.

The second most common were photos of Mamba. Mamba in a white medical gown. Mamba on the couch reading a book. Mamba in a suit, holding a glass, at some very formal-looking event. Mamba, Mamba, Mamba.

In some of the photos, Ben Park, the blondie, and other Eunjangs were present alongside Mamba in various combinations.

There was even a photo of Donald. And on the one hand, it didn't make any sense—why would anyone (especially Wolf himself!) keep a photo of that bastard on their phone? But on the other hand... Donald was wearing some crazy costume with a rainbow wig, and the angle was so bad and he looked like a complete idiot, so just looking at the photo made Wolf smirk with satisfaction. So, it was understandable why it was there.

Among other oddities, it was striking that everyone was older, at least ten years older. Except Mamba. He looked only about five years older, although that didn't make any sense. Apparently, it was all due to good genetics. And good skincare routine.

So, the oddities kept multiplying, but even taking that into account it didn't seem rational to spend the whole day in someone else's bed, no matter how comfortable it was. He needed to find some water and aspirin and get the hell out of here. But first, he needed to take a leak.

Wolf got up and went to look for the bathroom. When Wolf walked inside and headed for the bowl, he caught a sight of his reflection. Or what was supposed to be his reflection. Except Wolf looked terrible in the mirror. Puffy, disheveled, and 15 years older than he should have been. However, the extra five years could probably be chalked up to a hangover. What couldn't be chalked up to a hangover was the scar on his stomach. The scar didn't look like a normal operation outcome, but more like a knife memento. Wolf examined himself more closely. Another, smaller scar was on his thigh. It seemed that this Wolf had had a rather eventful life.

After emptying his bladder, Wolf examined the bathroom. There were two toothbrushes, two razors, and several jars of some kind of skin care products. Clearly, two people lived here. And Wolf was beginning to guess who they were.

The living room added further evidence to support his suspicions. On the coffee table next to the sofa (the same sofa where Mamba was reading a book in one of the photographs) lay a police ID card. The name on the card was 'Keum Seongje', but the photo showed Wolf from the mirror.

Wolf sank onto the couch and began to think. It seemed like there were three options.

First: he'd gone crazy.

Second: he'd somehow ended up in some other reality where his name was Seongje, he was a police officer, and apparently lived with Mamba. And judging by Hwangmo's words and the heart in the contact name (MedExYeon), he was completely head over heels. Apart from the fact that he knew nothing about this Wolf's (Seongje) life for the last ten or so years, that wasn't the worst option.

But there was also a third option, the most obvious one: he was sleeping and having a very strange and very realistic dream.

It was strange he hadn't thought of it before. Apparently, it was all because of the terrible headache he'd inherited from the local Wolf-Seongje (and it really sucked – to suffer from a hangover when you hadn't even had a signle drink yourself). Anyway, he had to check that out. And although Wolf doubted such a realistic dream could be interrupted by a pinch, starting with the most basic and simple method seemed reasonable.

He closed his eyes and, after a moment's hesitation, pinched his forearm.

Either he misjudged the force applied, or perhaps it was the hangover still lingering, but after the pinch, his vision darkened. Well, it darkened even more, since his eyes were already closed.

He opened his eyes and...

...stared at the screen, where some people were currently running after a guy in a red tracksuit. The knowledge that the guy in the tracksuit was the main character surfaced in his mind.

"You're just in time," Mamba whispered from the next seat. "You slept through the flashback about the main hero's childhood, but you didn't miss much."

Wolf looked at Mamba, echoes of the sleep swarming in his head, but with each passing second they grew more fuzzy and incomprehensible. It seemed Mamba had been there. Or hadn't he? Or he had but not exactly? Wolf shook his head, trying to shake off this weird feeling. Suddenly, a strange thought occurred to him. He couldn't say why he had thought of it, but it seemed important. He leaned toward Mamba and asked,

"Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?" Mamba looked at him strangely and shook his head. "I can teach you if you want?"

...

Meanwhile, Keum Seongje, a Seoul police detective, woke up in the living room of Yeon Sieun's apartment (which, in fact, was more often their apartment). He was sitting on the couch in his underwear. There was a mark on his arm, as if from a pinch. He didn't remember falling asleep on the couch, didn't remember pinching himself, but he could well imagine it could have happened. Yeon Sieun had gone to Germany for two months to attend some forensic course, and Keum Seongje, having held out for almost a month, had got drunk with Hwangmo yesterday. Thinking he should call the latter and find out if he was even alive (Keum Seongje himself was clearly far from being alive), he went to the kitchen in search of water and aspirin.

He would never know that the Universe had decided to perform the "A Look into the Future" story on one of his multiverse versions, but had mixed up the realities and sent this version to the wrong future.

He would never know, because for the entire 22 minutes he had spent in the parallel universe, he had been sleeping peacefully, sprawled in a movie theater chair. And there, his head hadn't hurt.