Say ‘I Do’ to a Heist

Taehyung let the song blare through the room, the crackle of static mixed with an upbeat melody that didn’t quite fit the gravity of the moment. His crew just stood there, staring at him like he had finally gone completely insane, which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly outside the realm of possibility.

Jimin was the first to break the silence, crossing his arms with that signature smirk that screamed, I’m about to say something smart-ass. “Let me guess. You want us to rob the wedding while jamming out to indie tunes? Maybe we can hold the hostages and ask them what their favorite album is while we’re at it?”

Taehyung, swaying slightly to the beat, chuckled, enjoying the confusion more than he should have. “Oh, Barcelona, it’s so cute when you try to be sarcastic. But no, this…” He gestured dramatically at the old radio. “…is our communication lifeline.”

Hoseok looked like he was holding back a groan, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve lost it. There’s no way this is serious. You want us to… what? Call into a radio show for instructions?”

Taehyung’s eyes gleamed, and he suddenly snapped the dial to lower the volume, the room’s energy shifting as he prepared to drop the bomb. “You’re not thinking big enough, Havana. We’re not calling in. We’re running the damn show.” He leaned in closer, letting the tension build. “I’ll be broadcasting, and every word, every song, every cheesy banter I throw out? It’ll be loaded with code. We’re turning a harmless little radio station into the beating heart of this operation.”

Yoongi blinked from his corner, finally looking interested, though his voice stayed low and lazy as always. “So, you’re saying you’re DJing a whole ass heist?”

“Exactly,” Taehyung grinned, pointing at Yoongi like a proud teacher rewarding his star student. “But this isn’t just any DJ gig. We’re talking about coded messages, hidden signals, entire songs packed with meanings only we can understand. And the best part? The police can listen in all they want and never figure it out. It’s flawless.”

Jimin couldn’t help but snort. “So, we’re supposed to rob Seoul’s elite while listening to ‘Radio Ga Ga?’ Sounds like a great idea.”

Taehyung wagged a finger at him, that sly grin widening. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not just a playlist. We’ll be using the music, the chatter, and even the weather updates to send you the messages you need in real-time.”

Now, this piqued Namjoon’s interest. The ever-logical, ever-serious strategist of the group leaned in, arms crossed, giving Taehyung that look—half suspicion, half curiosity. “You’re saying every word, every song has a code. So what? You’re gonna tell us to move the hostages by playing Dancing Queen?”

Taehyung laughed, tapping his temple. “Close, but not quite. Let me break it down for you.” He stepped forward, gesturing at the radio like a mad scientist showing off his latest invention.

“Phase One: You all tune into the broadcast on your earpieces. It’s an online radio show, innocuous and forgettable—a mix of talk segments, random indie music, and podcasts about God knows what. On the surface, it’s nothing more than background noise.”

He raised a finger, his voice lowering as he began to explain the genius of it all. “But we’ve pre-coded everything. A simple phrase like ‘looks like it’s a cold day out there’ means you’ve got police increasing in your zone. If I play jazz songs, you know everything’s going smoothly. If it switches to rock, that’s your signal to brace for something unexpected.”

Hoseok furrowed his brows. “So, we have to memorize… song meanings? Weather cues? That’s a lot, Seonsaengnim.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, Havana. I wouldn’t make it too hard for you. We’ll have this all down by the day of the heist. It’ll be second nature. I’ll throw you a phrase or a song, and boom, you know exactly what to do. Easy as pie.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “And how do we make sure the cops don’t catch on?”

“Oh, Vienna,” Taehyung cooed, his voice taking on that dangerously playful tone. “That’s the beauty of it. They’ll hear everything we’re saying, but none of it will make sense. To them, it’ll sound like I’m rambling about the weather, discussing what’s trending on social media, or playing some old-school music. They won’t be able to crack the code because, to them, it’s just a dumb radio show. They’d have to know the context to understand the meaning.”

Yoongi tilted his head, finally speaking up again. “So what happens if we need to send you a message? It’s not like we can just call into your show.”

Taehyung’s grin grew even more wicked, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of the madness he was crafting. “Ah, that’s the real kicker. You don’t need to send me anything directly. If something goes wrong or you need my help, you just react to what I say on air. I’ll know if something’s off based on what you don’t do. It’s like a game of chess, Yoongi. Every move you make—or don’t make—will tell me how to adjust the plan.”

Namjoon nodded slowly, the gears in his head turning as he processed the layers of the plan. “So, it’s a constant back-and-forth. You broadcast clues, we respond by acting or not acting, and you adjust the broadcast based on our movements.”

“Exactly!” Taehyung’s excitement was palpable now, his voice almost vibrating with the genius of it all. “This way, we’re always in sync, and no one has any idea we’re even communicating.”

Hoseok sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, what you’re telling me is that while I’m waving a gun around and controlling a bunch of terrified guests, I’ve also got to be listening for your secret code about whether it’s time to move the bridal party or not?”

Taehyung shot him a wink. “You catch on quick.”

Yoongi leaned back, his lips curling into that rare smirk. “You know… it’s insane, but it might just work. It’s unpredictable enough to throw everyone off. I like it.”

Namjoon, ever the pragmatist, let out a long breath. “It’s definitely not what I expected, but it covers all our bases. Communication without direct contact. Seonsaengnim running the show from the outside. It could work.”

Hoseok looked at the radio, then at Taehyung, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “Only you, you crazy fucker. Only you would turn a heist into a damn radio show.”

Taehyung grinned, the satisfaction of his crew finally understanding the brilliance of his plan washing over him. “Damn right. So, boys, get ready to become the stars of the weirdest broadcast Seoul’s ever seen.”

*******

The smell of grilled meat and kimchi wafted through the room, thickening the air with a mouth-watering sizzle. Taehyung sat at the head of the long, makeshift dining table in the hideout, watching his crew with a quiet intensity, his fingers wrapped loosely around a glass of wine. They weren’t at a public place—too risky. Instead, they were hidden away in one of the safehouses Taehyung had meticulously planned, somewhere no one could track them down. Not yet, anyway.

Hoseok had taken over the grill, flipping the meat with a surprising level of skill for someone who usually dealt with fists instead of food. “This is way better than any steakhouse,” he declared proudly, waving the tongs in the air like they were his next weapon of choice. “When this heist is done, I’m opening my own restaurant. ‘Havanas’s House of Meat,’ or something. I’ll make millions, minus all the bullets.”

Jimin snickered, leaning back in his chair with that half-smirk on his face, fingers tapping rhythmically on the side of his drink. “A heist and a restaurant? Bold move, Havana. What’s next? A cooking show where you beat up anyone who critiques your seasoning?”

“Oh, I’d watch that,” Yoongi muttered from his end of the table, lazily picking at his food. “I’d even hack the ratings so you get five stars.”

“Please,” Hoseok said with mock offense, flipping the meat with flair. “My food doesn’t need hacking to get five stars.”

Jimin raised his glass, smiling as the others began to laugh. There was a tension in the room—nervous energy, masked by jokes and light conversation—but it was there. They were on the verge of pulling off the heist of the century, and everyone knew it. The stakes were high, and though they trusted Taehyung’s plan, no one could quite shake the weight of what they were about to do.

“Well,” Namjoon said, his tone a little more serious as he sliced into a piece of meat. “Let’s hope we’re not too busy running for our lives to start any cooking careers.”

Taehyung swirled the wine in his glass, watching them, amused at how easily they tried to distract themselves. They were his crew, and yet, even now, they didn’t quite grasp the scope of what he was trying to achieve. He had spent years studying, planning, perfecting every detail of this heist. They were pawns in a game he was determined to win, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy watching them joke around like this.

As the laughter began to die down, Jimin glanced around the table, his eyes landing on Taehyung. “Hey, boss,” he said, tilting his head with a mischievous grin. “Does this grand heist of yours even have a name? You’ve got all the plans laid out, every detail thought through—but I haven’t heard a damn name.”

The table went quiet for a beat, everyone turning to look at Taehyung. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smile. “A name, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimin continued, leaning forward like this was the most important question of the night. “I mean, every great operation needs a name. What are we calling this thing? ‘Operation Steal Everything’?”

Namjoon shook his head, biting back a smile. “That’s terrible.”

Jimin shrugged, undeterred. “I’m just throwing ideas out there. Someone else has got to have a better one.”

Hoseok, ever the optimist, chimed in with a mouthful of meat. “How about ‘Havana Nights’?”

There was a collective groan, and Jimin slapped his forehead. “We’re not naming it after you, Havana.”

Yoongi, looking as bored as ever, didn’t even glance up from his plate. “Say ‘I Do’ to a Heist,” he deadpanned, and the room went silent for a second before Jimin burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Jimin gasped between laughs, pointing at Yoongi. “That’s the one. It’s genius!”

To everyone’s surprise, the rest of the crew nodded along, as if Yoongi’s joke was somehow the most brilliant thing they’d heard all night.

Namjoon even smirked, adjusting his glasses. “It fits. A wedding, a heist, a little bit of chaos. It’s ridiculous, but I kind of love it.”

Yoongi looked up, genuinely surprised by the reaction. “You’re kidding, right?”

Hoseok grinned and raised his glass. “It’s perfect. We’ll walk into that fancy hotel, crash the wedding, and everyone will say, ‘I Do.’” He winked dramatically, adding, “To getting robbed.”

Taehyung chuckled, leaning back in his chair and watching them with amusement. It wasn’t what he had expected when the conversation started, but there was a certain charm to the absurdity of it. “Say ‘I Do’ to a Heist.” It had an edge of mockery to it, as if they were laughing in the face of what they were about to do. And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly the kind of attitude they needed.

“Alright, then,” Taehyung said, finally speaking up. His voice was smooth and confident, cutting through the remaining laughter. “It’s settled. ‘Say ‘I Do’ to a Heist.’” He raised his glass, eyes gleaming with that dangerous spark of excitement that seemed to always linger in his gaze. “To chaos, control, and one hell of a heist.”

As they clinked their glasses together, the atmosphere shifted slightly. The jokes were still there, the mockery of their own situation—but underneath it all, there was a sense of purpose now. The heist was real, the risks were real, and the tension that hummed beneath the surface was starting to rise.

But for now, they let the nervous energy carry them through the meal, pretending for just a moment that they were just a group of people having dinner together, not a crew of criminals about to pull off one of the most dangerous operations Seoul had ever seen.