Say ‘I Do’ to a Heist

Barcelona

Jimin adjusted the Hahoetal mask on his face, glancing over at Hoseok, who was checking the hallway. The mask didn’t exactly make breathing easy, but it did add an extra layer of intimidation—which Jimin was more than happy to use. The two of them walked through the luxurious reception hall of the Lotte World Tower, their footsteps echoing as the room went silent, all eyes turning to them.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Jimin’s voice boomed with all the authority he could muster. “If everyone could just, you know, not panic, that would be really great.“

Through the main entrance of the grand ballroom, Jimin could see his “security detail” standing guard, stoic in their Hahoetal masks, stationed at the exits and every point that led anywhere but deeper into the building. Perfect. He gave them a slight nod of approval. No one would be slipping out for a breath of fresh air anytime soon.

“Alright, beautiful people,” Jimin continued with a chuckle. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to be collecting everyone’s phones and electronic devices. So if you’re thinking about tweeting, texting, or even just snapping a cute little selfie, well… let’s just say it’s not gonna happen tonight“

He started walking down the line, glancing at each hostage’s face, name by name, while Hoseok held out a velvet-lined bag with a ridiculous flourish. Jimin flipped through the list, keeping track as each guest reluctantly handed over their devices, unable to mask their resentment.

“Yoo Ha-rin,” he called out to the famous actress near the back. She trembled as she offered her phone, clearly terrified of the repercussions. He took her phone, then looked her over, eyebrow raised. “Now, Yoo, you’re a pro at putting on a show, right? How about less of the drama? It’s just a phone; not like I’m asking for your Oscar speech.”

He smirked at the stunned silence, ignoring the whispers and worried glances as he continued marking down names. Reaching the next group, he saw Chairman Lee Byung-chul gripping his phone, his face turning red with indignation. The man looked like he was about to explode with self-righteous fury.

“Oh, Chairman Lee,” Jimin cooed, taking the phone from his reluctant hand. “Please don’t look so scandalized. I know what you do in those boardrooms. This is just a minor disruption compared to the messes you make.”

Hoseok burst out laughing as he moved to the next guest, Minister Kim Do-hee, who wore a stony, composed expression. She reluctantly handed over her phone, her fingers shaking slightly.

“Do-hee, Do-hee,” Jimin chided with faux sympathy. “What a powerful figure, and yet here you are… helpless. How does it feel?”

She didn’t respond, her face locked in a mask of disdain. Hoseok gave a little shrug. “Guess some people are only tough with their security detail around,” he muttered.

Jimin continued down the line, and when they reached James Wilson, the foreign diplomat, he raised an eyebrow. “The golden ticket himself,” he muttered under his breath before smirking and holding out his hand. “James, old buddy, how’s diplomatic immunity holding up? Not so useful now, is it?”

Wilson, giving him a bitter look, dropped his phone into the bag without a word.

As they continued, Jimin’s attention was drawn to a young, ridiculously handsome man in a tailored tux who was staring at them with narrowed eyes. “Well, well, well,” Jimin muttered, flipping through the guest list. “Woo Jungho, Korean drama heartthrob. You’re a long way from the set, aren’t you?”

Jungho crossed his arms defiantly. “You guys really think you’re going to get away with this?”

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling behind the mask. “That’s adorable, Jungho. Maybe if you play your cards right, we’ll let you be the hero later.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hoseok. “Do we need a hero?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Depends. Can he run in slow motion?”

Jungho scowled, clenching his fists, but when Jimin extended his hand expectantly, he handed over his phone with a muttered curse. Jimin tilted his head, amused. “Save it for the screen, superstar.”

They continued down the line, collecting devices and ticking off names. Occasionally, Jimin would make a snarky comment to ease the tension—or maybe just because he enjoyed watching them squirm. But underneath the bravado, he was keeping an eye out for any signs of defiance, any glint in the eye that suggested someone might be stupid enough to try something. Thankfully, they all seemed thoroughly terrified, even the ones who acted like they were above it all.

“Han Yejin,” Jimin called out, spotting the bride herself, her face frozen in fear. Han Yejin, the Instagram sensation with enough plastic to rival an entire hospital wing, had her eyes wide with terror, clutching her new husband Lee Sanghoon’s arm like a lifeline. The tension was so thick it was practically begging to be broken, and who was he to deny them that? She held her pristine phone out, but her gaze was defiant.

“Look, Yejin,” he said, tapping the list with his pen. “You can keep the attitude, but I will need that phone. And don’t think your millions of followers will save you here.” He dropped her phone into the bag. “Consider it a detox from the social media circus.”

“Lee Sanghoon,” Jimin said, turning to the groom, drawling his name with exaggerated grandeur, “the golden son of some tycoon empire, huh?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, watching Sanghoon swallow nervously. “Listen,” Sanghoon managed, voice trembling but trying to sound steady, “we can work something out. I’ll pay anything, just don’t hurt her.”

Jimin let out a sharp, mocking laugh, loud enough that a few of the other hostages flinched. “Oh, relax, Romeo. You don’t have to jump into hero mode just yet. In fact…” He gave small chuckle. “You should actually be thanking us.”

“Th-thanking you?” Yejin stammered, her carefully manicured facade cracking.

“Oh, absolutely,” Jimin said, all sarcasm and charm. “You just took your vows, right? ‘In good times and bad,’ and all that mushy stuff? Well, congratulations! You’ve just hit the ‘bad’ part a little earlier than expected. See? Now you can find out if this little arrangement of yours can actually survive a crisis.”

Jimin leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially as he looked between the two of them. “Think of this as a test of loyalty,” he whispered. “See who cracks first. I’ll be taking bets.” He straightened up, “Come on, Sanghoon. All those zeros in your bank account couldn’t buy a more dramatic bonding experience. Consider it a honeymoon bonus.”

Hoseok snorted from a few steps away, amused by the whole ordeal. “I mean, if the marriage survives this, it’s golden. So maybe in a way, we’re helping you two grow closer.”

Jimin clapped his hands, turning back to the group with an air of finality. “Alright, folks. Here’s the deal: from now on, you’re going to play nice, stay quiet, and, who knows? This whole thing might even be a fun little story you get to tell someday. ‘The time we were held hostage on my wedding day.’ You know, real dinner party fodder.”

He looked around, smirk tugging at his lips. “Any questions?”

Not a single hand went up.

*******

Vienna 

The quiet hum of jazz drifted through each earpiece, a smooth, velvety sound clinging to the edges of the crew’s thoughts like a lullaby with a dangerous edge. Namjoon leaned against the wall near the ballroom, fingers tapping to the rhythm. The music wasn’t blaring in the open, just the steady pulse through their ears, each beat a reminder that Seonsaengnim was watching, listening, making sure they stayed on course. As long as the jazz kept playing, they were right on track.

Next to him, Yoongi stood in silence, his eyes dark and calculating behind his Hahoetal mask. They’d spent the last ten minutes establishing control over the ballroom, making sure the hostages knew exactly who was in charge. So far, the jazz was still going. But as Namjoon stole a glance at Yoongi, he caught something—a flicker of tension, a tightness around his mouth, as if even Yoongi could sense the calm was teetering on a razor’s edge.

Before Namjoon could ask, a shadow crossed the doorway. Hoseok slipped into the room, a fraction of hesitation betraying his usual easygoing demeanor. “Vienna,” he started, keeping his voice low as he stepped closer. “You got a sec?”

Namjoon straightened, his gut prickling with the kind of dread only Hoseok’s uneasy tone could summon. Yoongi caught his eye and gave a brief nod to one of the masked men stationed by the cameras—a small gesture, just enough to cover their absence without alerting anyone else. Together, the three moved down a dim hallway, leaving the muffled whispers of the hostages behind. As they rounded a corner, Jimin was already waiting in a small lounge, leaning against the wall. Despite his casual stance, the slight crease in his brow betrayed his concern.

Namjoon shot a questioning look between Hoseok and Jimin. “Alright, what’s going on?”

Hoseok sighed, scratching at the back of his neck before locking eyes with him. “We’re down a guest.”

Namjoon blinked, taking a moment to register. “You’re joking,” he replied, though he knew Hoseok’s idea of humor didn’t stretch quite this far.

“Wish I was.” Hoseok’s voice held a resigned note. “It’s Lee Jae-sun, the groom’s older brother. We went through every name, every face. He’s the only one unaccounted for.”

“Terrific,” Yoongi muttered, dryly sarcastic. “Out of all the guests, it had to be someone important.”

Namjoon clenched his jaw. “He wasn’t supposed to be a problem. Any shady ties or family grudges we should know about?”

“None that came up in Seonsaengnim’s intel,” Hoseok replied, clearly as frustrated as Namjoon. “Guy’s the quiet type, hangs in the background. But he’s not here now.”

Jimin crossed his arms, a smirk barely visible beneath his mask. “Well, well. Missing VIPs. Guess this just got interesting. What do we do now, General?”

“Cut the sarcasm,” Namjoon shot back, but there was a reluctant grin tugging at his mouth. “This is serious. If we’re missing someone, that throws everything out of whack.” His eyes flickered upward, as if trying to mentally reach Seonsaengnim through the music. “The jazz is still playing. Means we stay on course.”

“Oh, sure. Just keep on keeping on like we’re blind to a runaway guest who’s probably calling the cops,” Yoongi deadpanned, eyes glinting beneath his mask.

“No,” Namjoon said firmly, crossing his arms. “If he was contacting anyone outside, Seonsaengnim would have cut the feed right then and there. The fact that it’s still going… he’s aware. He’s got eyes on us.”

Jimin leaned closer, his tone dripping with faux admiration. “So we trust our dear Seonsaengnim has it all under control, yeah? Easy for you to say, Vienna. You’re the one playing field general here.”

Namjoon gave him a deadpan stare. “I don’t see you volunteering for command, Barcelona.”

Jimin feigned a gasp. “Me? Command? I’d sooner lead a troupe of circus clowns. The shoes would at least be comfier.”

“Can we stick to the point?” Hoseok cut in, his usual levity noticeably absent. “Lee Jae-sun’s still out there. What’s the plan?”

Namjoon went quiet for a moment, mind racing through each contingency like a chessboard coming to life in his head. “First, we check the security footage. Cairo, you’re good with that, right?”

Yoongi tilted his head, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “Good? I’m an artist, thank you very much. I’ll go over every frame if I have to.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon replied. “Havana, you and Barcelona do a sweep of the upper floors. If he’s hiding, he’s close, just somewhere out of sight.”

“And if he’s not?” Jimin asked, a bit too eagerly, though his eyes were sharp with intent.

“Then,” Namjoon said, his tone ice-cold, “we get creative. Seonsaengnim wanted controlled chaos, not a circus. If we have to… nudge a few people into line to keep things in control, so be it.”

Hoseok gave a low chuckle, clapping a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “You ready for some detective work, Barcelona?”

“Let’s just say I’m ready to make our missing guest… feel very welcome,” Jimin said, flashing a grin beneath his mask.

With one last nod, the crew split up, each moving like shadows through the hotel’s dimly lit corridors.

*******

Havana 

Hoseok adjusted the Hahoetal mask on his face, giving it a tap as he turned to scan the room. The ballroom felt like a strange blend of eerie silence and nervous chatter, all of it underscored by the faint jazz music drifting from Seonsaengnim’s radio broadcast. Smooth, like the mastermind wanted them to think he had everything under control—which, Hoseok was pretty sure, he did.

“Alright, Sanghoon, where are you hiding?” he muttered, pushing his way through the small clusters of hostages.

Finally spotting Lee Sanghoon, Hoseok sauntered over. The groom looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, his grip tight around his new wife’s hand. And what a picture they made: him, the flawless son of a tycoon with a private fortune that could probably pay for all their bail, and her, Seoul’s social media queen, dressed like a fairy tale come to life but with her mascara threatening to smudge.

“Mr. Groom,” Hoseok greeted in a cheerful tone, though his eyes held a sharper edge. “Mind if we have a little chat?”

Sanghoon stared at him, jaw clenched. No response. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

“Aw, c’mon,” Hoseok chuckled, but his voice dropped an octave. “Don’t make me ask twice.” He pulled the gun from his waistband, holding it just where Sanghoon could see but keeping it casual, almost like it was part of the ensemble.

That got a reaction. The bride, Yejin, went pale as her perfectly manicured nails dug into her husband’s arm. She let out a small, terrified whimper, and Hoseok had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Rich people—always so dramatic when they had a little danger thrown their way.

“H-Honey…” she stammered, gripping her new husband with a desperation that suggested she’d just now started taking those “till death do us part” vows seriously.

“Alright, alright,” Sanghoon hissed, eyes flicking from Hoseok’s gun to the masked men around the room. “What do you want?”

“Oh, you know,” Hoseok shrugged, putting on an easy smile beneath his mask. “A little honesty, some quality conversation. Let’s start with your brother. Where is he?”

The groom’s face darkened, and he glanced away. “My brother’s not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Hoseok replied, tapping the gun lightly against his leg. “But here’s the thing, Sanghoon. We did our homework, you know? According to the guest list, he was supposed to be here, so… care to explain?”

Sanghoon’s gaze grew harder. “He didn’t show up, okay? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, but it is my business,” Hoseok said, voice lilting with mock sweetness. “See, we like to keep track of everyone, and your brother going AWOL? Kinda throws off my whole vibe here. So unless you want your dear Yejin to do some ugly crying, I suggest you tell me where he went.”

At the mention of her name, Yejin let out a terrified sniffle, her grip on her husband tightening even more. Sanghoon glanced over at her, his face softening just a bit. He let out a long sigh, finally muttering, “Fine. We tried to contact him before the ceremony, but his phone was off. He’s… he’s like that sometimes.”

Hoseok tilted his head, eyebrow raised under his mask. “Like what, Sanghoon? Mysterious? Unreliable? A bit of a ghost?”

Sanghoon’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything more.

“Right,” Hoseok sighed, exasperated. “Well, thanks for that stunning insight.” He gave a short, mocking bow before slipping the gun back into his waistband and striding away, leaving the happy couple with their trembling hearts and no answers.

As Hoseok headed back to his crew, he caught Jimin’s eye across the room. The other man gave him a thumbs-up and a smirk from where he was, apparently keeping the hostages in line with his signature blend of charm and sarcasm.

He made his way over to where Yoongi and Namjoon were gathered by the door, their backs turned to the hostages as they discussed something in low voices.

“Vienna, Cairo,” Hoseok called, his tone casual but his words carrying a certain weight. Both men looked up as he approached, and Namjoon’s eyebrows raised.

“Well?” Namjoon asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“According to Prince Charming back there,” Hoseok said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “the brother was supposed to be here but never showed. Phone’s off, too.”

“Just didn’t show up?” Yoongi asked, leaning back with a lazy grin, though his eyes held a calculating gleam. “Sounds like someone’s got cold feet. Or maybe he knows more than we think.”

“Cairo, we’re not doing the conspiracy theories yet,” Namjoon cut in, though there was a spark of intrigue in his eyes as well. “But… it’s strange.”

“Tell me about it,” Hoseok muttered. “And Sanghoon didn’t seem too eager to share. Probably knows something but isn’t about to spill the beans with his Barbie bride clinging to him like a life vest.”

Yoongi took out his phone, quickly tapping away. “I’ll check online, see if there’s anything about the brother. If he’s some tycoon’s son, you’d think he’d have a few digital footprints. Any recent social media, news articles, anything.”

“Think you can find anything on him?” Hoseok asked.

Yoongi gave him a flat look. “Havana, I could find out what the man had for breakfast last week if he posted about it. Give me a sec.”

As Yoongi’s fingers flew over the screen, Jimin sidled over, clearly curious about the conversation. “So, our runaway guest of honor is still missing?” he asked, all playful interest.

“Seems that way,” Namjoon replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “And it’s not exactly great for us. A missing guest means an unknown variable, and unknowns are… tricky.”

“Tricky?” Jimin echoed, grinning. “Or maybe we’re due for a bit of excitement.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Barcelona, this isn’t one of your poker games. We need to keep it smooth. No surprises, no wild cards. That brother showing up or getting the police involved? That’s a wild card we don’t want.”

“Mm,” Jimin hummed, casting a glance over his shoulder toward the ballroom. “Fair enough. But hey, at least the bride’s providing free entertainment. I mean, did you see her mascara running? That’s at least ten grand in waterproof beauty products wasted.”

Yoongi finally looked up from his phone, frowning. “Nothing. Not a single mention of him on any news or social media. It’s like he doesn’t even exist.”

“Wonderful,” Namjoon muttered, his expression souring. “A ghost brother on our hands. If Seonsaengnim were here, I think he’d have a few choice words for our thorough research.”

Hoseok snorted. “Well, if Seonsaengnim has anything to say, I’m sure he’ll let us know. It’s not like we’re exactly swimming in free time over here.”

Yoongi smirked. “He’ll be fine. Besides, I’m sure he’d appreciate knowing we’ve got things under control.”

Namjoon glanced toward the ballroom, where the hostages sat in tense silence, guarded by their masked detail. “Then let’s keep it that way. No surprises, no improvisation. We’ll stay on schedule and make sure this ghost brother stays exactly that—a ghost.”