Chapter 1
I had no idea that tonight would end with me handcuffed against the hood of a police car, or that I’d lose my car, or that its engine—the same one that roared like it had a soul—would be mistaken for the getaway of a criminal. But more than anything, I didn’t know that today I’d dig up something that had been buried for years, something that, at first glance, looked completely ordinary.
It all began before dawn, in a dream that didn’t feel like mine: Tires screaming against the asphalt, impossible curves under the rain, a white car vanishing between red lights. And a woman’s voice, as soft as it was threatening: “Are you ready to disappear?”
I woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding. Outside, the sky was just starting to lighten—silence, calm, a lie.
Friday began with birds singing and clean streets, as if the world were at peace. I walked downstairs barefoot, the floor creaking under my steps. Before I could reach the kitchen, the doorbell stopped me. A small box. Two envelopes. I took it to the living room and dropped onto the couch before tearing the package open to see what was inside. Magazines, stickers, random junk I had ordered weeks ago. I wanted to flip through them, but the clock dragged me back to reality: I was already running late.
I sprinted upstairs, ditched my pajamas mid-step, and got dressed like someone on the run.
When I came back down, the wall clock froze me in place with its silent stillness—the hands stuck in time, dead from a lack of batteries. I sighed and checked my wrist: still early. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t going to be late. I left with my headphones in, the music syncing with my stride. I could’ve driven, but I didn’t. The car needed a break from the asphalt—and I needed a break from everything else.
I walked toward the station, letting myself be carried by the current of strangers—faces passing without stopping, each one bearing its own invisible weight. I liked that: brushing against their lives for just a few seconds, imagining destinies I’d never know. The subway was a bit crowded, so I had to stand, which didn’t bother me in the slightest.
Lost in those thoughts, I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Warm hands covered my eyes—gentle, but sure.
— Guess who is— said a husky voice, still half-asleep, but with a warmth you can’t fake.
— Good morning, Iya— I replied, smiling more with my voice than my face. —What had to happen for you to get up and catch the train on time?—
—You're so funny. But you know, it’s Friday… and this Friday isn’t just any Friday— she said with that signature enthusiasm of hers—the kind that always sounds like a smile, even when I can’t see it.
One of the few things she talks about with that same spark is Bvndit—the K-pop group that changed our lives. We met because of them, at a fan event during their first album’s promotions. I didn’t understand a word the staff was saying, or even the language, and then she showed up out of nowhere, translating everything like it was the most natural thing in the world. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
But her excitement today came from something else.
—Don’t tell me today’s the day you pick up your new car— I said, remembering how we used to watch the older students drifting in the mountains.
—Yes! I can’t wait. As soon as class is over, we’re going to get it. You’re coming with me, right?—
—Of course. But remember, we’re going in my car first, so wait for me at the university entrance.—
—Yes, yes, yes! As soon as I get the keys, we’re heading straight to the mountains… and after that, Seoul.—
She paused for a moment, like she had just realized something. —Look! Right now, we’re passing by somewhere important.—
—What? Where?— I followed her gaze.
A building rose up in front of us, the MNH headquarters, Bvndit’s agency.
The memories hit me without warning. The agency disappearing from the map, the uncertainty devouring the fans—there was chaos, anger, theories. We were at the center of it all, as if that somehow gave us purpose. Luckily, after their return, they announced a comeback just a few weeks later. The reason for the pause had been Chungha’s tour—another artist from the same agency—so it wouldn’t interfere with her first full album. And it worked: Bvndit came back stronger than ever.
—Hey, did you already transfer the songs from the CD to cassette? If you don’t have anything to do it with, I’ll lend you my recorder. No big deal.
—I haven’t been able to. And besides, my Walkman died. I left it on the table with the batteries in, and by morning it looked like it had been struck by lightning —she says, half sad, half resigned.
—Don’t worry. Take mine for now, and this afternoon, if we have time, we’ll check it out. I’ve got a CD player in the car anyway, so we’ll listen to it on the way to the mountains.
—Ah, thank you! I’ll take care of it like it was mine, I promise.
—It’s fine. Look, we’re almost there. We better start getting in the right mindset.
We got off the train, and the university rose in front of us like a stage that never changes. I waved Iya goodbye with a quick gesture. Even though we studied on the same campus, our schedules rarely matched—plus, we were in two different majors.
The campus wasn’t particularly modern; most of the furniture and equipment looked like they were from a decade ago. But that vintage feel gave it a certain charm, like it still carried the essence of the ’90s in every corner. Despite everything, the place had a vibrant energy—students rushing from one place to another, either late for class or looking for a quiet spot to review before exams.
Night had already wrapped the city when I got out of class, and the plan with Iya was still on. The ride home was calm, but something kept me tense: time. I couldn’t afford to be late.
As soon as I walked through the front door, I headed straight for the coat rack to grab my keys. Outside, already waiting under the usual streetlamp, was my Nissan Silvia S13. The white paint reflected the light with quiet dignity, like it knew it didn’t need to show off to command respect.
I never put on a front bumper—not because I didn’t want to, but because, over time, I learned to love it that way. That absence made it unique. Nights in the mountains of Yongin, engines roaring in the distance, headlights cutting through the fog, the smell of burnt clutch… it was there, among wet curves and brakeless students—literally and figuratively—that I found something I hadn’t even realized I was looking for.
I walked over and ran my hand across the roof, like greeting an old friend. It still had the Volk Racing wheels I’d bought secondhand last summer, the Nardi steering wheel, worn down but familiar, the Kenwood CD player on the dash glowing a faint orange. On the passenger seat, there was still a lingering scent of new leather—I’d swapped it out months ago for a sporty one I found at a secondhand shop in Dongdaemun.
I turned the key, and the engine roared to life with that deep, rough tone I loved so much. From the glovebox, I pulled out one of the CDs I’d brought with me when I first came to Korea—a mix of songs that had stayed with me when I didn’t know the language, the streets, anyone… not even Iya. I slid it into the stereo and let the saturated sound fill the interior.
The night had a different flavor—not just because of what we were about to do, but because of that subtle intuition that we were living something that, without realizing it, would one day become nostalgia. I drove through the lit-up streets, letting the hum of the engine drown out every thought. Traffic came and went, but I floated through it, untouched by urgency, like the world had hit pause just for me.
I parked across from the university, right by the main entrance. From there, I could see students pouring out in waves, dragging backpacks and yawns behind them. Some turned to look at the Silvia. They noticed. Of course they did. It was the kind of car you couldn’t ignore—especially at a university where more than a few had grease-stained hands and gasoline in their veins.
I liked watching them look. I knew some of them had their own cars hidden away in family garages, just waiting for nightfall. Because that’s how it was: by day, we were students, part-time workers, obedient sons and daughters. But at night, it was a different story—one written in tight corners and unnamed roads.
It wasn’t just about speed. It was about belonging. About escape. It was a language only we understood. We’d meet at discreet spots, places where we supposedly “just talked”—at least that’s what we told the police. But in truth, that’s where we took off the masks we wore during the day and showed who we really were.
The smell of burned rubber and the echo of engines bouncing off the curves defined those nights. It was a world within a world, a space where every car reflected its owner’s identity, defying the unspoken rules about how we were supposed to be or look. No one judged here. Here, we were free.
I still remember how it was in the beginning—when I first went to a meeting, there were only a few of us, most of us scared of getting caught or just unsure of what we were walking into. But things have changed. Now, it’s not just about cars. The place has turned into a stage where everyone can express themselves, where they find the freedom to be who they want to be—no filters, no judgment.
I leaned against the Silvia’s door, letting the night breeze mess up my hair a little. It hadn’t even been five minutes when I saw Iya across the street, wearing that wide smile and carrying that energy that never left her, even after a long day of classes.
—I’ll never get tired of looking at the Silvia —she said, giving me a hug—. It just looks so aggressive.
—And soon you’ll be driving your own car, —I replied, opening the passenger door for her to hop in.
—You’re going to love it, just wait, —she answered with excitement as she buckled her seatbelt.
I turned the key, and the Silvia’s roar echoed down the street, drawing a few more looks our way.
—What kind of car are you getting? —I asked, still curious. Iya had always kept her choice a secret; I didn’t even know what her dream car was.
—I had a few options in mind, but you know, the delivery job doesn’t pay much, —she said with a grin—, so I settled on a Nissan 240SX. I think it’s the best I can get around here.
—A 240SX? That’s so cool! —I said with an approving smile—. Now we can finally practice drifting in the mountains without you risking my Silvia. But seriously, once you get it, take it to the shop for a full check-up.
—Sounds good to me, —she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear—. Actually, I’m not a fan of the black paint it comes with, so I’m planning to repaint it. Something… cooler.
—And what color will it be?
—Red. But not just any red—a deep, blood red. Something that stands out, even in the dark.
—I like it… You’re going to have an impressive car. By the way, is this the place where we’re picking it up? —I asked as I took the next turn.
—Yeah, right here, —she nodded, looking toward the building across the street—. Wait here a second, I’m just going to let them know I’ve arrived. Maybe they’ll just hand me the keys and we can head out right away.
After a while, just like she’d said, Iya came back with only the keys in her hand, spinning them around her finger with a light smile.
—Why just the keys? —I asked, a bit confused. When I bought the Silvia, they handed it over to me right away—though, of course, that was in a much simpler place.
—It’s not ready yet. You know how these auctions are, —she replied, shrugging.
I knew exactly what she meant by “auctions.” If you were lucky, you could find a hidden gem online that just needed some love. Other times, it was just the chassis and a few engine parts. It was a gamble—but that was the thrill. You bought it, fixed it up your way, turned it into something new. Even if there weren’t many options, we had creativity. We made incredible things with what we had and what we were allowed to use.
—That’s how the game works, —I said, turning the key to fire up the engine.
—I hope they call me before sunrise. I don’t want to go another day without a car.
—They will, you’ll see. In the meantime… wanna grab something to eat? I’m starving.
—Yeah, I know a spot nearby. You’re gonna love it.
I drove through the streets as Pocari Sweat ads and Binggrae Banana Milk promos lit up every corner. Even at night, the city seemed to buzz with energy.
At a red light, something in the rearview mirror caught my attention: a white car was speeding toward us—and behind it, three police cruisers in hot pursuit. In less than ten seconds, the driver pulled off a flawless move, using a truck as cover to shake the cops. Then, with a perfect drift, he turned left right in front of us. The smell of burnt rubber lingered in the air as the car vanished around the corner.
—Did you see that? —I muttered, eyes still locked on the road.
—Yeah… that was insane, —Iya replied, eyes wide open.
The light turned green, and I had barely driven twenty meters when the cop cars reappeared—but this time, they were after us.
—No way… —I muttered under my breath, frustrated, sighing as I slowed down.
In an instant, the officers surrounded the Silvia. One shouted, while the others shone their flashlights into the car.
—Wait, it’s not me! This is a mistake! —I tried to explain, but no one was listening.
They made me step out of the car with my hands up, and before I could even react, they had me in handcuffs.
From the patrol car, I watched the tow truck haul away my Silvia. I don’t even know where it came from. A knot formed in my stomach as I saw it drive off, like a piece of me was leaving with it. Iya stood frozen on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do. And just like that, in a matter of minutes, everything had gotten complicated.
I had nothing to do with the white car, but now I was stuck in a mess that wouldn’t be easy to get out of.
