This City Is No Place for Goldfish [BTS Fanfic]
1.1
The train screeched to a halt like it was throwing a tantrum.
A final grunt of effort, a puff of steam — and then, silence.
Y/n steeped down onto the platform, leather boots clicking on damp concrete, coat too clean for this town, eyes too curious to hide. She looked like she belonged in a University corridor — not this rain-slicked, rust-tinted neighborhood where the walls had ears and the alleys had moods.
A crow squawked somewhere above. The air smelled like old coal, pickled cabbage, and rain-soaked cigarettes.
A whistle blew behind her as the conductor leaned out the window and called,
"𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘴 𝘢𝘵 6:40! 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸! 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦! "
The doors slammed shut. The train trundled off like it regretted ever stopping.
Y/n stood alone on the cracked platform, boots planted, Duffel sliding down her arm. The sky above Deasun was low and gray, and the distant buzz of a neon sign blinked like a dying firefly.
Inside the tiny station office — a cramped box of dust, tea-stained cups, and faded BTS calendars (not 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 BTS, just "Busan Train Schedules") — she leaned over the counter, trying not to look 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 lost.
A man with a comb-over and gold watch sat sipping barely tea. A tiny television buzzed in the background playing a re-run of "𝘑𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘯 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺".
Y/n stepped up to the counter, notebook in hand.
The man looked up slowly, like it pained him to move.
He gestured at her coat, her clean shoes, the way she was standing like she expected the world to make sense.
"You look like seoul, Daesun doesn't like seoul".
Y/n
I'm just here for research.
He grunted. Then leaned sideways and shouted out the window—
"𝗠𝗔𝗣 𝗚𝗨𝗬! 𝗚𝗢𝗧 𝗔 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗢𝗡𝗘!"
Five minutes later, a man shuffled in with a rolled-up sheet of paper under his arm and a mysterious limp that no one asked about. He wore a fisherman's hat, mismatched socks, and a suspiciously clean jacket. He smelled like ginseng and menthol.
He slammed the paper on the table.
"Official Map of Daesun City, updated in 1989! "
He paused. The added, "More or less. "
It was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯. In pen. With uneven arrows and small scribbled note like "𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗼𝗴 (𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝘄)" and "𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗳𝘂 𝗹𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝘂𝘀𝗸."
Map Guy beamed. "That'll be 200 won."
1.2
She stood in the middle of a narrow street where three alleys forked into seven, all with the same name: "𝗕𝗲𝗼𝗺𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝟮-𝗴𝗶𝗹. " A bicycle brushed past her. A dog barked. Somewhere, a child screamed "𝘮𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯! '
She unfolded the map again.
Y/n
How is everything labeled 'left of the fish shop'?
Y/n
There are five fish shops!
She turned in a slow circle, muttering.
She sighed, dragging her duffle behind her.
Y/n
This thesis better win a damn award.
And now it was flapping like a wonderful bird in the wind as Y/n fought to keep it open.
Y/n
Left from the train station, turn at the second fish market, go until you see a laundry line with red socks...?
Which socks? Everyone had socks.
And every alley looked like it hadn't seen sunlight since 1974.
She turned around again, almost walking into a bamboo broom propped against a wall.
A voice hit her from somewhere below.
"𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗶𝗿𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁."
1.3
Jin-ho
"𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗶𝗿𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁."
Y/n blinked. Looked down.
A kid stood there, maybe nine or ten.
Ragged cap. Mismatched slippers. Popsicle stick in his mouth like he was some mafia boss in training.
He looked her up and down like she was a walking embarrassment.
He asked, like it was a slur.
Jin-ho
Figures. You look like someone who ironed their socks.
Y/n
I did not iron my—why are you even—?
Jin-ho
And you talk weird. Like a teacher. Or a tax office.
Jin-ho
Also, you're holding the map upside down.
He rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. Then snatched the paper from her hand and flipped it around with a dramatic sigh.
Jin-ho
There. North is that way. You're walking straight into the market dumpsters, not the residential side.
She blinked again, heat creeping up her neck.
The kid clicked his tongue and started walking away.
Y/n
Wait! Can you show me the way to this address?
She held out a slip of paper. He glanced at it, then made a face.
Jin-ho
That's past the billiards bar. Near the boss's place.
He paused. The smiled — wide and wicked.
"Jin-ho! Don't be rude to strangers! "
A shout cracked the air. A second later, an old woman appeared form between hanging laundry and fish crates like some mythical boss of the block.
Tiny. Wrinkled. Curlers still in her hair.
But the way everyone else moved out her way made it very clear:
The kid — apparently Jin-ho — immediately dropped the attitude.
Jin-ho
I was just helping her, Halmeoni.
The halmeoni didn't buy it.
She walked up to Y/n, squinting her eyes.
Halmeoni
You lost? You look lost. You smell lost.
Y/n
A little. I'm looking for this address.
She handed her the slip. The halmeoni glanced at it once.
Halmeoni
Ah. Near the billiards bar. Yoongi's side of the neighborhood.
Halmeoni
Tch. That rascal. Always smoking and scaring people. Don't worry, he's only dangerous on Thursdays.
Halmeoni
Oh. Then walk fast.
She turned on her heel and shouted,
Halmeoni
Come! I'll show you the shortcut.
Y/n hurried after her, map crumpled in hand, while Jin-ho trailed behind chewing a second popsicle like he was watching a comedy show.
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