Seoul, 2089 A.D.
As an experienced time travel tourism agency employee, Namjoon knew trouble when he saw it.
It was usually the little things that gave the clients away. Their outfits, for example. Especially the ones who were clad in all black. They got those a lot, clients who wanted to use time travel to see their recently deceased relatives or lovers again. Namjoon hated turning them away, but he had no choice. The company did time travel tourism. They brought people who wanted to be present at a major past event back to the exact date and time, found a location far enough but with a good view, and made sure the clients didn't intervene with anything, meddle with history. That was all. All they did was watch from afar. No saving the lives of assassinated presidents. No talking to dead relatives, no matter how much they missed them.
Namjoon hated handling that type of client. They usually ended up breaking down in front of Namjoon's office desk because a death in the family was always devastating and he understood how terrible it must be to feel like that, like god I just want to talk to her again, just one more time, but he had work to do and as much as he sympathized he didn't really want to spend hours comforting crying clients (who never ended up utilizing their services anyway because time travel tourism was not the closure they were looking for). But at least they weren't the rich kind. And damn did Namjoon hate dealing with the rich kind.
Namjoon could tell before the two visitors even walked in through the glass doors that they were the rich kind. Again, it was the clothes that gave them away. The smaller one, leading the way, was dressed in an oversized orange jacket with a palm tree pattern and ripped skinny jeans. A pair of obnoxious sunglasses were perched on his head. The way he carried himself screamed spoiled rich kid . Probably never had to work a day in his life.
His strawberry-haired friend, following close behind, seemed slightly hesitant, less sure. His wide eyes darted around the office in silent awe. His demeanor didn't scream spoiled rich kid , Namjoon had to admit, but his entire outfit was Gucci. Case closed.
The thing about rich clients was that they always made outrageous requests and wouldn't take no for an answer. They didn't want those simple package tours, the tried-and-true itineraries (one of the most popular ones being the one-day Jurassic Age tour for example-Namjoon had brought at least a hundred groups on those and could probably do the tour guide speech with his eyes closed). They wanted customized twenty-day trips. They demanded to stay in five-star resorts even in eras where those didn't exist. They complained about not having flushing toilets when they themselves were the ones who asked to be brought to the Stone Age. No amount of reasoning ever worked with them.
Namjoon took a deep breath and readied himself to deal with the two new clients. He hadn't even spoken to them and he already knew their request would be outlandish.
"Big Bang," said the small one in the lead. Namjoon might have found his droopy eyes and high-pitched voice adorable if his whole demeanor hadn't spelled pampered little shit . "We want to see Big Bang."
Namjoon put on his most professional and convincing smile. "You want to... see the Big Bang? As in, when the whole universe was first born? I'm afraid it would be impossible, as there won't be breathable oxygen and we won't be able to ensure your safety-"
The boy scoffed. "I don't mean that. I mean Big Bang. The band!"
"The... band?" Namjoon sent a pleading look at Yoongi, his coworker. He was completely at a loss. Namjoon didn't know enough about bands of the early 21st century.
