The speakers alternated between hyper-polished K-pop tracks and the heavy, electronic basslines of foreign club hits. Under the flashing neon, the boundaries of Kirin's strict hierarchy dissolved completely.
Sora moved with the effortless, fluid grace of a top-tier trainee, while Chae-rin traded her frosty, stone-cold demeanor for a sharp, high-energy rhythm that proved her pedigree as a future idol. I mostly focused on not stepping on anyone's feet, my massive frame bouncing awkwardly but enthusiastically to the beat, completely fueled by the lingering warmth of the sweet soju.
Eventually, our lungs burning and our shirts damp, we drifted toward the neon-lit bar. The girls took the high stools, while Han Min-gyu and I leaned against the polished glass counter, shouting to be heard over the pounding track.
Min-gyu wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, a loose smirk on his face. He leaned closer, his voice cutting through the noise.
"So, San-ah! How is the Hongdae circuit? Better than the nightlife back in Ukraine?"
A sudden, sharp chuckle escaped my lips. My brain instantly supplied a vivid memory of the summer village parties at my grandmother's local club back in Smila—a damp concrete room, a single flashing colored lightbulb, a broken speaker blasting ninety-degree bass, and local guys drinking homemade moonshine or beer out of plastic cups.
They have absolutely no idea what raw, terrifying village fun looks like, I thought, thoroughly amused.
"It's fine," I yelled back to him, raising a thumb. "Very sophisticated!"
Suddenly, the bartender glided over, sliding two vibrant, glowing cocktails with small paper umbrellas directly in front of Sora and Chae-rin.
"On the house for the beautiful ladies," he shouted with a smooth, practiced wink before disappearing into the crowd.
My jaw literally dropped.
Min-gyu let out a loud, barking laugh at my shocked expression, reaching over to physically tap my chin upward.
"Pick up your jaw, Mountain! That's the automatic benefit of walking around with the top visuals of the school. Look, the girls have already drunk enough soju—they'll leave the sweet stuff for us anyway."
I cleared my throat, the liquid courage from the green bottle giving me a sudden wave of uncharacteristic clarity. I looked at the freshman president—the guy who had tackled me in the cafeteria, the guy who had spent weeks treating me like a threat.
I leaned in, screaming directly into his ear over the mounting crescendo of the music.
"Hey, Min-gyu! Sorry about the previous stuff! The karaoke room... the sofa... it was a total disaster of timing!"
Min-gyu turned his head, straining to hear me clearer over the deafening bass. He blinked, a slow, genuine smile breaking through his arrogant exterior. He waved his hand dismissively, his shout echoing right back.
"It was just a massive misunderstanding! Everything's fine, San-ah! Don't worry about it!"
Siren sound
BUM. BUM. BUM.
The opening, metallic horns of BIGBANG's "BANG BANG BANG" detonated through the club's sound system.
My blood turned to absolute ice. A violent wave of embarrassing, highly volatile memories crashed into my brain—the mask, the baseball cap, the stage vault, and the frantic escape through the Hongdae crowd. My eyes widened in pure, unadulterated panic.
Before I could blue-screen completely, Sora and Chae-rin let out identical, excited squeaks. They rushed toward the overflowing dance floor, their winter jackets long abandoned on the stools. They stopped at the edge of the crowd, turning back to face us with bright, flushed faces, luring us with waving hands.
"Come on!" Sora shouted, her eyes sparkling under the purple strobes. "You boys are too slow! Hurry up!"
They were clearly having the time of their lives. Min-gyu grinned, thoroughly hyped by the track, and reached down to grab the abandoned cocktail, preparing to finish the sweet liquid in one massive, single go.
I leaned closer to him, my voice dropping to a serious, dramatic register. "Min-gyu! In Ukraine, we have an ancient, sacred tradition for bonding brotherhood during a drinking session! A treaty of honor!"
Of course, if not for the amount of soju under which the freshman president was currently operating—because compared to my massive, barely tipsy frame, Min-gyu was visibly drunk, though he could still completely control his movements and think clearly—or my own total lack of situational awareness, this would have been considered a public hazard.
I was offering him the Brüderschaft (brotherhood-drinking).
Min-gyu scoffed, shaking his head against the music. "What?! I can't hear a word, Mountain!"
"Don't worry about the vocabulary!" I yelled.
I didn't wait for approval. I reached out, grabbed his right wrist, and forcibly intertwined my forearm with his, locking our elbows together in a tight, binding loop.
Min-gyu's eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated surprise. He went completely rigid, his mouth slightly open as he stared at our linked arms.
Before he could pull away, I used my strength to raise my drink closer to his mouth, while simultaneously lunging his hand—and the cocktail he was holding—straight toward my own lips. Our arms were locked, our glasses raised in a synchronized, cross-over trajectory.
"Drink!" I commanded.
We both drank. The sweet, tropical cocktail disappeared down our throats in perfect, synchronized rhythm.
As the cold liquid settled, I unlocked my elbow and let out a deep, satisfied breath. Every single argument we had accumulated over the past month—the cafeteria brawl, the karaoke room incident, the cold war over Chae-rin—seemed to instantly evaporate into the sticky air of the club. Or, at the very least, my delusional Ukrainian soul deeply hoped so. This was how men bonded back in Cherkasy, and if it could survive a village club, it could survive Hongdae.
I left my barstool, my boots hitting the sticky floor with a confident click. Min-gyu was still standing by the counter, looking completely dazed, staring at his empty glass as if trying to calculate the exact geometry of the ritual he had just participated in.
I turned back, a massive, mischievous grin breaking across my face. I grabbed the sleeve of his streetwear jacket and physically dragged him off the platform.
"C'mon, Min-gyu-ah!" I roared over the music, pointing toward the flashing lights where Sora and Chae-rin were waiting. "The chorus is coming! Look alive!"
Min-gyu blinked, the daze instantly melting into a loud, barking laugh.
"You really are a madman, San-ah!"
Together, the Foreign Representative and the Freshman Kingpin plunged headfirst into the heaving, neon-drenched crowd, completely unified under the bass of the first night of winter.