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Live Broadcast Wedding TV Korea
[Screen fades in from black. The usual bright set of the Lotte World Tower broadcast station is replaced with an unsettling atmosphere. The camera is shaky at first, then steadies, capturing the two hosts, Kim Hyejin and Park Jinwoo, standing stiffly behind their broadcast desk. The room is eerily quiet, the normal hum of bustling production completely absent.
Hyejin and Jinwoo, usually smiling and brimming with charm, are pale, their eyes wide with fear. Their hands tremble as they grip papers, clearly handed to them by someone else. The camera angle widens slightly, revealing a third figure standing behind them—a man wearing a traditional Hahoetal mask, his face a twisted grin of painted wood. In his hand is a gun, which he taps lightly against the desk.]
[Masked Man]: (mockingly, his voice low but cutting)
“Come on now, don’t be shy… you two are used to talking, aren’t you? Let’s not keep the viewers waiting.”
[Kim Hyejin]: (her voice quivering, trying to maintain her professionalism)
“G-good evening, viewers. W-we apologize for the sudden interruption, but w-we have been asked to bring you a very important message…” (she looks down at the paper shakily)
[Park Jinwoo]: (his voice equally strained, sweat beading on his forehead as he glances nervously at the masked man)
“We… we want to assure everyone watching that… that the hostages are… unharmed and in good condition. They… they are being treated with care.”
[Masked Man]: (leans in, voice dripping with false sweetness)
“That’s right, Jinwoo. Tell them just how kind we’ve been.”
(He taps the gun on the desk again, just enough to make a small, ominous sound).
[Kim Hyejin]: (swallowing hard, her eyes darting between the camera and the masked man)
“The… the situation is under complete control by the attackers.” (Her voice wavers.) “The authorities are… strongly advised not to attempt a storming of the building, as…” (she falters, glancing at the masked man).
[Masked Man]: (mocking tone)
“Go on, Hyejin. Let them know the consequences. You wouldn’t want to disappoint, would you?”
[Kim Hyejin]: (voice barely above a whisper, shaking)
“… as it would result in the loss of innocent lives.”
[Park Jinwoo]:
“Th-this live broadcast will… will return every hour on the hour to give updates and show that the hostages are still alive. You will… also be receiving more information from the attackers… during these broadcasts.”
[Masked Man]: (clapping slowly, theatrically)
“Wonderful! Truly, you’re both naturals at this. Who needs cheesy banter when you can give the people what they really want—truth, fear, and a little suspense.”
[Park Jinwoo]: (desperate, stumbling over his words)
“P-please, if anyone’s watching… we… we are not harmed. We’re just—”
[Masked Man]: (interrupting with a chuckle, moving closer to the camera, leaning down so his masked face fills the screen)
“Ah, Jinwoo, always so eager. But remember, you’re not the star of this show...” (He tilts his head playfully, his voice taking on a mocking sing-song quality). “So, police… I suggest you stay glued to your screens. Wouldn’t want to miss the next exciting episode, would you? After all… it’s all live.”
[Camera cuts back to Hyejin and Jinwoo, both staring blankly at their papers, hands trembling.]
[Kim Hyejin]:
“… Stay tuned. We will return… with more updates.”
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, you’ll be hearing from us alright. Every hour. Like clockwork. Isn’t it just thrilling?” (He steps out of frame, but his presence looms, his voice still dominating the air).
[The broadcast lingers for a moment longer as the camera holds on Hyejin and Jinwoo, who look like they want to disappear into the floor. The tension is suffocating. Then, without warning, the screen cuts to black.
[End of broadcast.]
*******
Jungkook sat frozen, staring at the screen as it blinked to black. The tent was filled with an eerie, stunned silence, each officer processing what they had just witnessed. The usual commotion of a command center was gone, replaced by the suffocating weight of realization. The masked man’s taunting voice still echoed in Jungkook’s head, mocking, playful, like this was all some sick game.
His jaw clenched so hard it ached. This wasn’t a game. This was a nightmare.
“They’re… they’re making a joke of this,” Seokjin muttered, barely audible from beside him, his eyes still glued to the black screen.
Jungkook’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fury and helplessness washing over him. His fists tightened, knuckles white. He could feel his pulse in his temples, the heat rising in his body. How could anyone think this was fun? People’s lives were on the line. Diplomats. Civilians. People with families.
He shot up from his chair, slamming his hands down onto the table, rattling the equipment. “This isn’t some twisted TV show! They think they can fucking toy with us, like we’re their audience?!” His voice was sharp, fury simmering just under the surface, his outburst slicing through the stunned silence.
Captain Park, who had been staring at the screen with the same horrified expression as everyone else, finally turned to Jungkook, eyes heavy with concern. “Jeon, we need to stay calm. We can’t lose our heads now.”
Jungkook’s glare flicked toward him, but he knew the captain was right. Losing control wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change the fact that there were explosives rigged all over the building, that the hostages’ lives were hanging by a thread. But staying calm while they had to watch these masked lunatics mock them on national television? That was easier said than done.
Seokjin let out a breath, leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Did you see the way that guy talked to them? Like this whole thing is some kind of… twisted theater. ‘Every hour, like clockwork’… What kind of person thinks like that?”
“A psychopath,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. “A fucking psychopath who thinks they can manipulate us. They think they’re smarter, that we’ll just play along with their game.”
Captain Park crossed his arms, his expression hard. “This isn’t just a hostage situation. They’re controlling the narrative, manipulating the public’s view of this whole thing. If they keep broadcasting every hour, it won’t be long before the public starts to sympathize with them.”
Jungkook shook his head, pacing in front of the command table. “Sympathize? We’re dealing with maniacs, not some group of political revolutionaries! This is all for show. They’re not doing this to make a statement—they’re doing it because they can. Because it’s entertaining to them.”
Seokjin leaned forward again, tapping his tablet. “We need to get inside their system, find a way to shut them down before the next broadcast. I’ll dig deeper. But they’ve locked down everything tight.”
“Work faster,” Jungkook snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts. “We have to take control back. We can’t just sit here and let them feed the public their narrative.”
“We still don’t know what they want,” Captain Park interjected, frustration seeping into his tone. “No demands, no clear motive. All we know is that they’ve rigged the entire building with explosives, and they’re using a damn wedding like it’s bait. If we make a wrong move—”
“They’ll blow the place to hell,” Jungkook finished for him, his voice dark. He paused, eyes flicking back to the screen that was now static. “And every time they go live, it’ll just get worse. The longer this goes on, the more power they have.”
Seokjin bit his lip, clearly deep in thought. “We need more intel. I’m working on getting us a line into their communications, but it’s not going to be easy. Whoever’s behind this knows what they’re doing.”
Jungkook swore under his breath, slamming his fist against the table again. “It’s not just whoever. It’s that bastard in the mask. He’s playing us. And he’s enjoying every second of it.”
His mind raced, trying to grasp some kind of strategy, something they could do that wouldn’t lead to a bloodbath. But all he could see was that sickening, twisted mask looming over the broadcast desk, mocking them. He couldn’t stand it—knowing that they were just sitting here, watching, waiting, while the attackers held all the cards.
“I’m not just going to sit here and wait for them to pull another stunt,” he growled. “I want to know who the hell that guy is. I want every single piece of information we can get on those bastards.”
Captain Park nodded, though his face was grim. “We’ll put all our resources into tracking down any leads. But for now, we need to focus on keeping the hostages alive. That’s our priority.”
Jungkook gritted his teeth. He knew the captain was right. But as he stood there, glaring at the blank screen, he couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. The longer this went on, the more the masked men would play their twisted game.
“Get me something,” Jungkook demanded, turning to Seokjin. “A name, a signal, anything.”
Seokjin nodded, already lost in his work, typing away furiously. “I’ll get us something. But it’s going to take time.”
Jungkook didn’t have time. None of them did.
He glanced back at the blank screen, knowing that in less than an hour, it would come alive again, and they’d all be forced to watch another round of the masked man’s sick performance.
And they still wouldn’t be any closer to stopping him.