The night began innocently enough. BTS had just wrapped up rehearsal, sweaty, tired, and collectively craving snacks. Jin, the undisputed “Worldwide Handsome” and “Worldwide Hungry,” was leading the charge down the dimly lit hallway of the entertainment building.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered dramatically, tugging on Jin’s sleeve. “Where are we going? You’re walking like a spy. Are you a spy? Wait—are we spies now?”

Jin raised a finger to his lips, face serious. “Shh. Operation Snack Retrieval is underway. No man left hungry.”

Taehyung squinted, suspicious. “Is this… legal?”

“It’s snacks,” Jin replied flatly. “Snacks have no laws.”

Namjoon, walking in the back, adjusted his glasses with the weight of a thousand broken objects. “Hyung, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, technically we have our own fridge. We shouldn’t be—”

“—borrowing?” Jin cut him off with a smirk. “Namjoon-ah, do you want the pudding or not?”

There was a pause.

“…Proceed,” Namjoon muttered.

The seven of them shuffled like cartoon burglars down the hallway until they reached the break room fridge of another idol group. The sticky note taped to the door said, “PROPERTY OF SEVENTEEN – DO NOT TOUCH.”

“Seventeen?” Hoseok whispered, wide-eyed. “Hyung, this is dangerous. They’re thirteen people. That’s thirteen fists. I have only two cheeks to get punched.”

But Jin was already crouched in front of the fridge like a cat burglar. He yanked the door open dramatically. Inside, treasures glistened under fluorescent light: pudding cups, strawberry milk, a suspicious Tupperware labeled Woozi’s Special Kimchi, and bags of chips stacked like gold bricks.

“Beautiful,” Jin sighed, eyes misting over.

Yoongi, leaning against the counter with arms crossed, grumbled, “Get on with it before someone catches us. I need sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” Jin muttered, stuffing pudding into his hoodie. Jungkook grabbed a bag of chips and ripped it open immediately, crunching loudly.

That was their mistake.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Voices. The door creaked open.

Everyone froze.

There, standing in the doorway, were two members of Seventeen, mid-conversation. They stopped, eyes widening as they took in the scene: BTS, crouched like raccoons caught in headlights, Jin with pudding bulging out of his hoodie like he was smuggling babies, Jungkook’s cheeks stuffed with chips, and Jimin mid-pose with a juice box like it was part of some interpretive dance.

“Uh…” Seungcheol blinked.

“Uh…” Jeonghan blinked back.

Jin cleared his throat and said the first thing that came to mind: “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re stealing our snacks,” Seungcheol deadpanned.

“…Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Jin admitted.

And that’s when everything spiraled.

The next morning, BigHit’s CEO summoned them with a grim face. “Do you all realize what you’ve done?”

“We… ate pudding?” Jungkook offered sheepishly, still chewing.

“No!” the CEO barked, slamming the table. “You witnessed something you shouldn’t have!”

The boys blinked in confusion.

“What… what do you mean?” Taehyung tilted his head like a confused puppy.

The CEO lowered his voice. “In that fridge… you didn’t just see snacks.” He leaned closer. “You saw… the kimchi.”

Silence.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “What’s so special about kimchi? It’s literally in every Korean household. I have three jars in my fridge right now.”

“This isn’t just kimchi,” the CEO whispered. “This is Woozi’s secret underground recipe kimchi. Do you understand? That stuff could destabilize the entire K-pop balance of power if it gets out.”

The members blinked again.

“Hyung,” Hoseok said carefully, “are you… are you saying we’re in danger because we saw… pickled cabbage?”

“Yes!”

Namjoon facepalmed.

But the CEO was dead serious. “You boys are compromised. They’ll come for you. Seventeen will stop at nothing to protect their secrets.”

“Hyung, it was just pudding and—” Jin started, but the CEO cut him off.

“No arguments. You’re going into hiding. Effective immediately.”

“What?!” everyone yelled in unison.

“You’ll be given new identities, new jobs, new lives. Until this blows over, BTS… no longer exists.”

Cut to: The Bangtan Witness Protection Program.

Day 1.

Namjoon found himself standing in front of a high school library. He adjusted the nametag pinned to his cardigan: Mr. Kim – Librarian.

“This can’t be real,” he muttered.

The principal, a stern woman with glasses perched at the tip of her nose, clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome, Mr. Kim. We’ve been desperately short-staffed. These bookshelves won’t organize themselves!”

Namjoon smiled weakly. “I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

Ten minutes later, he broke his first shelf.

“Why are they so fragile?!” he yelled, holding a pile of collapsed wood and scattered books. Students stared at him in awe as if he were some kind of chaotic god of destruction.

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook was standing in a pet store with stars in his eyes.

“Welcome aboard,” the store manager said, handing him a polo shirt. “Your job is simple: feed the animals, clean the cages, and absolutely do not adopt them. Got it?”

Jungkook nodded furiously. “Yes, sir.”

Five minutes later, he was cradling a puppy in his arms. “I love him. His name is Bam Two.”

By the end of the day, he had filled the employee locker room with a puppy, three kittens, a ferret, two parrots, and a turtle.

“Jungkook!” the manager screamed. “What did I just say?!”

Jungkook, surrounded by fur and feathers, looked up innocently. “I don’t understand the question.”

Elsewhere, Jimin was standing in front of a yoga class. He wore pastel leggings and a serene smile, radiating “Instagram guru” energy.

“Welcome,” he purred. “Today we will focus on inner peace… and outer slay.”

The students nodded, rolling out their mats.

Jimin plugged in the speaker. The opening notes of Dynamite filled the room.

“Now, breathe in…” Jimin whispered, striking a pose. “And pop your chest like this. Yes, feel the beat. Yoga is about vibes.”

“Is this… Zumba?” one student whispered.

“No,” Jimin replied, hair flipping dramatically. “This is Joga.”

Back at their safehouse, the members gathered at night to compare notes.

“How was your day, hyung?” Taehyung asked Namjoon, munching chips.

Namjoon groaned. “Three shelves. THREE. I don’t know how wood can just… disintegrate in my presence.”

Jimin giggled. “At least you didn’t get yelled at by a middle-aged lady for turning her yoga session into a concert. She asked me if I was teaching stretching or running a fan meeting.”

Jungkook walked in carrying a box. Inside were two hamsters, a rabbit, and another puppy.

“Jungkook!” Jin shouted. “What is that?!”

“My children,” Jungkook said proudly.

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples. “We’re supposed to be in hiding, not starting a zoo.”

But before Jin could scold anyone further, the safehouse phone rang. The shrill sound made everyone freeze.

“Answer it,” Hoseok whispered dramatically.

Jin picked up, his face pale. “Hello?”

A distorted voice crackled on the line. “We know who you are. We know what you saw. The kimchi isn’t safe as long as you live.”

The line went dead.

Everyone screamed.

Namjoon stood up, panic-stricken. “See?! I told you this was serious!”

“Hyung,” Yoongi muttered, “we’re literally hiding because you stole pudding. This is your fault.”

But Jin wasn’t listening. He clutched the phone, sweat dripping down his forehead. “No one touches my snacks… or my brothers.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “Hyung, you’re getting a little too dramatic.”

“I was born dramatic!” Jin declared.

The room erupted into chaos, voices overlapping: Jimin insisting they needed more incense for protection, Jungkook trying to introduce everyone to his turtle, Hoseok suggesting they rehearse “escape choreography” in case they had to flee mid-dance, and Namjoon accidentally breaking the lamp while gesturing.

They were, without question, the worst witness protection participants in history.

And this was only Day 1.