I Need Good Copia Fics 💔💔

Let it happen

hwang in-ho x reader

Chapter 3

The team your companion procured hovered around the pair of you, Eun-Shin occupying the dull minutes with endless chatter that you yearned to be deceased- the newfound team less enthusiastic about straining the cords within their neck to speak with you. Although your partnership with Eun-Shin promised neutrality, you could feel the pierce of daggers in their gazes, the X patch merely tagging you with a target, a deer in the scope of a hunter. It was ironic, considering you were the cynical one.

Your head settled against the cool frame of the beds, the vibrations thrumming through the metal to your skull, a nice distraction from the isolation. You couldn’t even blame them for it since you’d brought this on yourself by pushing everyone away, portraying a near emotionless front. For all they knew, you would throw their lives away without a second thought- and you would, you convinced yourself. After the last game, their perception of you would be lasting, but somehow, the rush dulled whenever you realized people with actual lives were dying. These people weren’t simply nobodies who lacked depth anymore, you’ve witnessed firsthand the whirlwind of emotions that consumed them- the grief, the horror, even the cruelness. What about the trembling girl from earlier- 95- pleading to everyone for a shred of mercy, to leave? It gnawed at your intricately crafted persona, something that had been engrained into your being since you were young.

“You seem bored over here,” A voice intruded your daze, clearing the fog that dwelled the crevices of your brain. You blinked, a slight surprise flickering briefly in your eyes before your head finally tilted, revealing the origins to the familiar voice- dark eyes meeting e/c ones.

A glance back at the team not so far from you, your tongue formed words, voice free of the feelings that your body teemed with, “I just have nothing to say.”

Young-Il cracked a small smile, releasing a breath of air through his nose- something about his demeanor appearing to disbelieve your answer, seeing right through that cracking persona of yours. He sat beside you, hands wrung together, elbows settled against his knees. “Our group over there is taking safety precautions for lights out,” He revealed, voice harboring a lower tone, hushed from potentially prying ears. “With the addition of another person I thought Jun-hee might feel safer, considering you two are already acquainted.”

“Jun-hee?” You repeated, the name void of memory in your mind, face revealing your lack of awareness.

His eyebrows raised, realization seeping onto his features. “222,” He clarified. “The one you brought to us earlier?”

“Oh. I remember now.”

“So what do you think? Wanna join us for the night?” Young-Il’s gaze drifted between you and your group, the one so eager to leave you secluded. Looking into his eyes, you searched for meaning and explanation behind his question- but alas, his eyes offered no translation. So you took it at face value.

“I’ll do it for her,” You agreed, finally stretching your legs after being sat for so long- trapped within your own thoughts. “It’s not like they’ll notice,” Speaking of your group, referencing their distance from you.

You followed Young-Il, his hand hovering over your back as he introduced you to the rest of the group- your name now known among the individuals apart of it. They were nice, offering a space with them, but still, you found yourself a black sheep, unsure what to say or do- unsure how willing to be. Awkward.

Lights later fell, signaling lights out had began, the six of you situated on mattresses on the floor- you laid between Young-Il and Jun-hee, back soaking in the small comfort of the bed, blanket tugged to your chest snugly. Gi-hun, you learned his name was, sat ahead of you, volunteering to keep guard first- eyes having seen the brutalities of this game once before. While you should’ve been asleep, you found yourself unable to, simply staring up at the ceiling dimly illuminated by the golden piggybank, the silence borderline deafening.

You turned on your side, facing right; where Young-Il slept, oddly sound. You shouldn’t have- you felt strange doing so- but you examined his sleeping face; the creases left from smiling throughout his lifetime, one spent joyously, and his at ease features, which were usually so stern and unrevealing- dark. He appeared at peace, the tenseness from the day’s events ebbing and allowing him to rest cozy. Your eyes then lowered, concentrating on the steady rise and fall of his chest, and you wondered how someone could be so at peace in the wake of disaster, having no inner turmoil- so confident and sure about himself, about his morals. You envied that. You envied his sureness about himself.

At that, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, mimicking the man inches from you- copying that shred of peace tackling his face, your muscles easing. And for once, you had a decent rest.

“Your attention please. The third game will begin momentarily,” The monotonous voice beckoned from the intercoms, stirring the contestants inside, including you. “All players, please wake up and prepare to move to the game hall.”

When you awoke, you’d nearly forgotten of your predicament with Jun-hee’s group- recollecting your memory from the day prior. The previously mentioned girl blinked as she sat up, groggy and squinting from the bright lights raining down on the players, but she still managed to offer you a small smile, one that soothed your already bubbling nerves. You were unaware if you were anxious for the interrogation awaiting you- or if you were afraid of what was to come.

Rubbing your eyes, you noticed the familiar outline of Young-Il directly in front of you, having been his turn to keep watch while the rest of you slept soundly. You hadn’t even heard him move in the night, as quiet as a mouse. He dared a look back, hearing the sounds of the group’s stir- their faces soured by unwillingness to wake, eyes resting on your face briefly. As he stood, you crawled slightly forward, using the frame of the bed to hoist yourself up- hand extended to the other girl to make her attempt less strenuous.

“It was… nice.. being around you, Jun-hee, but I must return to my own group now,” You alerted, unsure how to word your time spent with the group- the kindness of your words tasting bitter on your tongue, so foreign to you. “Best of luck this game.”

And with those parting words, you slipped away to merge with the horde of people, in search of Eun-Shin, eyes skimming across the wave of contestants, each of the faces you spotted just as weary as the last.

An arm locked around yours soon enough, tugging you toward them, shoulder clashing with their’s. “What the-“ You spat, puzzled until the perpetrator’s face entered your vision. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yep. You can’t escape me that easily,” Eun-Shin joked, nudging you with his elbow, the rest of the group to his right. They were never interested in your doings, but you weren’t very intrigued by their’s either. “How was your little sleepover, huh?”

“I just slept. Nothing more, nothing less,” You shrugged, lips smushed into a fine line, boredom plain on your features, this line of questioning gaining you no entertainment.

“Odd that he invited you over there, though,” He mumbled, his expression thoughtful- almost mockingly so. Always trying to pick apart Young-Il for reasoning you couldn’t be sure of. “Seems kinda off. What if he tried murdering you?” His hands mimicked a strangling motion before becoming firm on your shoulders, shaking you back and forth to emphasize his point.

Prying his hands from your shoulders, you responded to the notion, “There were other people there. But I didn’t go because of him, I went for 222. She’s pregnant, so… I felt a little bad,” You attempted to phrase your words less empathetic, not wanting him to believe your frozen heart had started watering. “Not for her, the baby, I mean- the baby didn’t sign up for this,” You clarified, though that sentence only appeared to cement the opposite impression.

“You know, it’s okay to care for people, but here is.. probably not the best place for that,” Eun-Shin stated, eyes flying to the other members of your group, voice lowering to where only the pair of you could hear. “Listen, you’re the only member of this team I can rely on- even if you’re a little crazy. I can’t have you dying on me. Just be careful,” Surprisingly, his statement eased the strange worry of abandonment, feeling a little more useful to them.

“I won’t, and I won’t… do anything..” You gritted your teeth, the words difficult to let out. Change proved difficult. “….crazy… anymore. At least not here while our lives are at stake.”

“Wow, you really have changed. Are you sure you’re really… 11… anymore instead of a clone?” Eun-Shin teased, a joking smile present on his face. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad you’re coming around.”

Eventually, guards escorted everyone out of the room, leading you up the colorful and seemingly endless amount of stairs- up and up you went, trudging unbearably slow up each step, Eun-Shin silent and thoughtful throughout the entire process- probably pondering the next game’s events, wondering the difficulty and severity. Even you couldn’t deny your curiosity, palms a twinge sweaty from what pulsated beyond flesh- and you shouldn’t have felt this way, with your morphing perspective, but ecstasy threatened to seize you, heart hammering and body pumping with the buzz of adrenaline. You clenched your fist, snuffing out the growing intensity- you needed to stay focused for the livelihood of your group, or else you’d easily be sidetracked by euphoria.

Everyone came to a halt at a set of cream colored curtains, which added a sense of mystique to the already anxious crowd, guards stationed in front of everyone, waiting just as you were. Curtains spread apart, the pink clad figures entered, standing on either side of the entrance while the rest of you cautiously followed, eyes darting around the sleek room to study its interior, the center piece of it a trio of galloping horses, reminding you of a carousel. Seeing your reflection in the floor, your eyebrows furrowed, your face lighter- something different in the way your eyes gleamed, sparked with will.

“Players, welcome to the third game. We will begin momentarily,” The intercom chimed. “The game you will be playing today is Mingle. I will now repeat the announcement…”

“Mingle? Do you have any idea?” Eun-Shin peered across the faces of your group, questioning if anyone had any idea about the game. You could only shake your head, “mingling” being the last thing you ever did while out in the world.

“I will now explain the rules of the game. All players will step onto the platform in the center of the arena. Once the game begins, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches this number, enter one of the surrounding rooms, and close the door within thirty seconds- or be eliminated.”

“There’s the answer to your question,” You remarked, eyeing your partner, the five of you approaching the middle of the room. The horses loomed over you, being a mock to all of you down below, just within shooting range.

“Well, this one’s gonna suck,” He muttered, turning to the four staring at him, awaiting a speech- or maybe a game plan, looking to him like they were disciples in need of knowledge. “We’ll try to stick together the best we can- but I doubt it’s gonna be as simple as that, so just… no matter what number they call, don’t panic, just think first and do the most logical thing. We just have to trust one another, and we can all make it out.”

“What if she leads one of us to dying?” 30 directed a pointed glare at you, her eyes peeling from you to your companion.

Before Eun-Shin could respond, you stepped in for yourself, “I understand my actions from the game before frightened you- but I won’t do it again- or not this time. I like gambling, but…. not to the point of someone… dying.”

Eun-Shin appeared surprised at your accountability, eyes flickering to something behind you briefly- darkening for merely a second before he threw his arm around your shoulders, not revealing the sourness on his features. “Plus, we need our token crazy girl- and besides, while she may have taken a risk last game, she did it knowing she could come back from it,” He added, the group’s resentment slightly dissipating as they mulled over his words.

“I guess you’re right… I didn’t think of it that way.”

You sighed, again feeling overshadowed- your words less impactful than that of your peer. You only wallowed under his arm, beneath him as always, a tinge of envy at his ease in dominating everyone- having all of you enamored with him. The effect of extroverts.

“With that, let the game begin,” Music reverberated throughout the room, a catchy tune chorused, and the platform all players stood on jerked as it began its deathly spin- everyone wary and preparing for the moment it would stop. Eun-Shin had a grip on your wrist and 155’s, keeping each of you interlocked and close.

“Ten players.”

“We need five more people,” Eun-Shin declared, grabbing another nearby player. Nerves were scattered, panic settling among some players, the addition of flashing lights helping none- regardless, you found yourself grabbing ahold of a nearby number’s hand, tugging them toward you while the rest of your group clung to anyone near- running with haste to the nearest door once the numbers reached ten and shutting it. Each of you heaved a sigh, backs supported by the wall as a sense of relief washed over you. The game wasn’t over yet, however, so tensions still ran high.

The hand you gripped scarily tight ripped itself from your grasp, the man rubbing the aching spot, wearing a grimace on his face. “I had my own team,” He grumbled, approaching the slot in the door to peek into the open space where stragglers were left defenseless. “My friend.. She’s- She’s out there!” Frenzied pounds reverberated from the knuckles hitting metal, hands frantic against the locked doorknob. “Nari! Please..! Please…” His shouts bled into whimpers as bullets scattered, the sounds jolting you and his reaction shattering you, the tremble of your hands only slightly recognizable. The rest of you inside could only watch in silence, having nothing to say- nothing that could comfort his cries.

He turned to you abruptly, hands springing to the collar of your shirt and slamming your back into the wall, feet hovering inches above the floor- gasps escaping opened mouths at the sudden action. “You did this! Why would you do this!” He demanded, your arms drooped and demeanor showcasing your lack of willingness to defend yourself- because truthfully, you agreed.

“Hey, hey, it’s not her fault,” Eun-Shin’s hand cautiously settled on the player’s shoulder, to which the opposer removed a balled fist from your collar, jamming his elbow into Eun-Shin’s chest, causing him to barrel over, a wheeze torn from his throat. It was the first you’d seen him unable to deescalate a situation.

“It’s fine.. Eun-Shin,” You managed, the pressure against your throat leaving little room to speak, eyes flickering between the enraged expression directly in front of you and the view of your partner on the floor from the corner of your eye. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

He released you, body instantly socked to the ground, regaining all the air your lungs were deprived of for those moments, a blizzard of coughs terrorizing your throat. “I would’ve rather died out there with her than been the reason she died,” He spat, towering dangerously above you, the gleam in his eyes making your mouth go dry. “Touch me again, and your neck will be more than bruised.”

With that, the door clicked, signifying it’d been unlocked- the time until then seeming infinite under the intense scrutiny. Another female inside helped you stand, putting your arm around her shoulder as the two of you walked toward the circle, the aid something you didn’t reject as you were still blindsided.

“Are you okay? He shouldn’t have done that to a girl,” She shook her head disapprovingly, trying to soothe you, a hand on your back- Eun-Shin was busy being comforted by the rest of your group, who were more or less unaffected by the actions when it involved you. “I was scared he was gonna hit you- or any of us if we had tried stepping in. I mean- he did hit your friend.”

“It’s okay,” You sighed, gently removing your arm from around her, lessening the weight against her. “I deserved it.”

“You couldn’t have known, you grabbed anyone you could,” She comforted, a sympathetic look on her face. “Plus, if he really believed what he said, he wouldn’t have let you drag him all the way there. People in grief just need a person to blame, especially here. Everyone is scared to die.”

The tune started again, the platform spinning smoothly, but the repeated and drawn out motion made you dizzy, nausea creeping into your body as you peered further at the puddles of blood, your mind trailing back to the man. Like the woman said, he needed a person to blame- but really, was he unfounded?

“Four players.” The jerk of the platform stopping abruptly brought you back to the hectic situation, Eun-Shin’s grip on your hand causing your gaze to shoot up, “Come on, let’s go. 30, you go with 33,” The woman you had just spoken to. “We’ll meet back with you.”

Along with Eun-Shin, 155, and 77, you darted toward a door, your hands interlocked, footsteps hurried- the hammering of your heart swift and filling your ears. Opening the door revealed a man inside, trembling in fear at the sight of your group. You swallowed thickly, casting a glance at the men beside you. They looked deranged from this angle. You wished you were courageous enough to sacrifice yourself- but instead, you stayed silent.

“Sorry about this,” Eun-Shin frowned, nodding at the other two, who each took one of the man’s arms and shoved him into the chaos- something so ruthless you wouldn’t have expected it from Eun-Shin, your eyes wide, merely watching as the door slammed shut, the duo (155 and 77) guarding the door, in the chance someone would try forcing it open. His eyes fell on you, taking in your appearance. “I put the safety of our group above all. I know it’s hard, but we have no other choice. You understand, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say anything,” You defended, the gunshots a grim reminder of what would happen if you failed to make it inside. You wondered if the man, who’d nearly strangled you, survived, hoping to not summon his wrath later on.

“You were thinking it, I could tell. Come on, at this point, I need crazy you back.”

“You can’t be picky now when you almost killed us earlier,” 155 snarked, stealing a glance out the slot.

“I… understand..” You muttered.

When you exited the room, your shoulders were slumped, an exasperated sigh threatening to leave your mouth. It didn’t matter how you behaved, people were still unhappy- no matter if you said anything or kept yourself tame. What could possibly appease them? Perhaps it was for the best to act how you always did and be how you always have been. Even when you tried to do good, it only resulted in wrong.

The music’s thrum became repetitive, a childish tune used to conduct such dark acts- everyone’s nerves frayed from the amount of people dying with each round, with each countdown, the number of people to be in a room lessening.

“Three players.”

You looked to Eun-Shin, hand on the cloth of his jacket to keep him close. “Okay, okay, 11, 155, come with me, 77 and 30, find another player- quick,” He instructed in haste, the three of you running toward a door while the remainder sprinted in the opposite direction. He slung you inside, the door falling closed behind the trio. His hands were on his knees, recuperating- the flashing lights, the running, the sprinting, the mixture overwhelming.

“Are you… okay?” You questioned, eyeing him.

“Yes. We made it in, didn’t we?”

You nodded and walked toward the slot in the door, watching the guards shoot the individuals scattered about the room, pleading helplessly for the pink figures to spare them- and then you removed yourself from it all, distancing yourself little by little. You’d done it once, and you could do it again, building your cold demeanor back piece by piece, mend the melting heart and make it cold again. You would never see these people again- whether it be because you died, or because you survived.

“Scared?” Eun-Shin asked, noticing your prying eyes.

You looked at him, eyes stern and cold, something he was certain to discern. “No. You?”

“Me either,” He admitted. But you almost scoffed at the statement, believing it a lie.

Once the doors were unlocked, you stepped out, regrouping with the parting teammates. You remained silent while the others chatted a little bit, relieved to see one another alive, but you weren’t apart of that relief.

The music mocked you with its cheerful tone, the spinning leaving you in a slight daze. Your face beamed with disappointment, for a reason you shouldn’t have been disappointed for- people betrayed you countlessly, caring only for their wellbeing, it was foolish of you to believe otherwise, at least for these people.

“Six players.”

Again. Six of you scurried to a room, tensions high and aggravation settling underneath the mask of panic. More people dead- a repetitive cycle that you wondered how long would last. When would you die? How long would you last? Six players was generous this round, but when would it shift again, flipping a switch and catching everyone off guard. The blood on the floor greeted you, shoes slick with the red substance, but that had grown normal after the last game, your shoes stained with pink.

“Attention, players. The final round will now begin,” The intercom announced, slight anxiety spilling into your stomach, organs twisting into knots, the next number to be called unknown- a question of what it would be on every player’s mind. The music doing little to quell anyone’s nerves. “Two players,” The lights dimmed, the light’s enthusiastic flashing and jolt of the platform sending everyone into flight mode.

Your eyes darted to Eun-Shin, having the intention of grabbing him, but his arm was already tangled with 155’s, lips in a thin line as he blankly acknowledged your stare, haste to leave you behind. A sacrifice had to be made- and looks like he’d chosen you for that role, disregarding his earlier statement. Your eyes then darted to your last two teammates- even if it’d been one, you were aware they’d rather die with you than be in a room with you. Because of your attitude, or maybe because of the X patch.

Mouth dry, the time ticked by awfully slow as you stood there. Your face was void of panic or anger- and the thought that this would be your last day alive struck you for a moment, you weren’t fearful of it. You expected it to happen eventually, especially with a game containing such high stakes. You took a small step forward, stealing a glance back at the platform- should you just sit down and give up now? Fighting against it would be shameful.

Before you could decide, your hand had been grabbed, the sudden grip stunning you, but your reflexes acted accordingly, the pace of your feet fast. Maybe you didn’t want to die after all. You were dragged into a room, a pair of hands then firm on your shoulders once safety had been secured, causing your eyes to finally lift from the floor to your savior.

Young-Il?

“What were you doing?” He questioned, eyes fixed on you. His eyebrows were furrowed, seeking an answer, determined to find one within your expression like he were a detective attempting to crack a code. The last thing you’d expected was to be saved- your mind vacant in those moments, merely basking in gloom. “Why wouldn’t you run? Try to find someone, try to get a room?”

“I… was looking,” You defended, though the lie was blatant, and as someone who already saw through the carefully crafted persona, it was even more so- so you crumbled. “Okay… I just didn’t have anyone. I’m not scared of dying, why not accept it?”

Young-Il sighed, arms falling to his sides- seemingly disappointed. “You should value your life more,” He examined your features, the concern on his face clear, but you didn’t understand why. You wouldn’t ever understand why- but you did know him to be caring, he would react this way with anyone so willing to surrender their life. “What’s that on your neck?”

Your hand flew to your neck, the spot sore under the brush of your fingers. “Oh….” You paused, words unable to form on your tongue- all the sentences you could possibly say falling short. What would you say? “I pulled someone into a room with us, and his friend got killed… so…”

“He blamed it on you,” He finished, a noticeable grimace on his face, eyes lowering, the ideas brewing in his mind unknown to you, and for once, you wished you could know. But the mystery surrounding him drew forth a curiosity within you. The door then clicked, signaling it had unlocked- with that, the game ending. “Join my team, Y/N,” His words were less of a question and more of a demand, sounding as if he wouldn’t accept no as an answer, the door still shut.

“For Jun-hee.”

“For you,” He corrected, sending you a final glance before he finally opened the door, keeping you near to him.

His words rattled your brain, and although you yearned to be alone- to be cold, isolated, distant from connection- you stayed with him, your eyes never straying from the number displayed on his back, oddly comforted in proximity to him. Conflicted feelings arose in you, unsure how to return the group’s kindness- or how to accept it, rather. You’d been alone the majority of your life, so affection was limited, gambling and making enemies being your way of survival.

“Once we all get back, somebody should go around and do a head count,” Your ears caught the low tone of Gi-hun, whose eyes darted across the scape, cautious and noting all surroundings. His senses keener since the last time he’d been here, wary of anything and everything- and who could blame him? This was your third day, and already, you felt your sanity crumbling.

“Why?”

“If we figure out what the X and O split is, then we’ll know which of the two sides is gonna have a better shot at the next vote,” He clarified.

“Guess we have to hope more O’s died than we did,” Young-Il remarked, a condescending air to the statement that proved clear as day to you- almost as if subtly pointing out the contradiction Gi-hun faced.

Eyes traced his back, pondering the midst of his mind, the storm concocted inside- what conceived such an arrogance toward the second time player? The pair seemed strangely familiar to one another, though that was impossible, as Young-Il was just another player led astray and down on his luck, but the strive to one up- could you call it that?- Gi-hun struck you as personal. Regardless, it didn’t involve you, and you’d prefer if it remained that way. After all, Young-Il had come to your rescue, one of the few to notice and tend to you- even besides that, you were a new addition to the group, perhaps there was context you lacked.

“You seem thoughtful,” The aforementioned individual commented, nudging you gently to grab your attention.

Chin tilted up to peer at him, you responded, “It’s nothing.”

He didn’t pry any further on the matter, a trait about him you appreciated. “What was your life like before?” His question surprised you, but you were aware he probably perceived it as a simple maneuver of topic- your life having just been chaotic. “Before all of this.” His eyes glimmered with intrigue, dark but there was a lightness.

And for some reason, you answered, treating him like a sinner to a confessional, excusing the frail admission, because you were likely to never see his face again, at least someone would know you- maybe even remember you if he survived, “I gambled. A lot.”

“Is that why you’re here? Debt from gambling?”

“No… I just love gambling in any capacity,” Gaze flitted to the steps, each of them a new color- the gnawing anxiety of being judged gargantuan. Which wouldn’t be completely wrong, most of your bad decisions stemmed from it.

Young-Il nodded, his features lightly submerged in realization. “That explains the last few games,” He noted, drawing your eyes back to him. “So even your life you’re willing to gamble?”

“Yes, but they’re usually… estimated gambles. Here, at least,” You expounded, unusually talkative- you felt like you were rambling a bit. “I don’t want anyone to die because of me. But… that probably sounds like I’m lying.. You think I’ll get you killed?”

His laugh was low, eyes drifting to the floor briefly as a smile crept onto his face. “No,” He rejected, amused by the question you’d posed. “We’ll be killed anyway if we lose the games. I think I’ll take my chances.”

“I guess you’re right..”

Herded back to the room you were originally contained inside, you couldn’t train your eyes any longer to Young-Il, allowing them to wander across the room, scanning for the broken partnership that dangled you above the crushing jaws of death. He was settled among the rest of your team, gaze drooped, appearing very thoughtful and dazed.

A hand hovered along your spine, ushering you toward an area in the back- Young-Il guiding you to the spot his group claimed, feeling so meek, like a rabbit in the paws of a wolf. Uncharacteristic and strange, you reveled in the sensation, your stomach churning with a fond emotion unknown to you.

“Don’t worry about him right now,” He instructed softly, showcasing an assuring smile that bloomed spring in your stomach, butterflies the evidence of such. You’d never experienced euphoria so vivid before- is this how blossoming friendship felt? Was this the sickening sweet symptom derived from affection? You found it more addictive than adrenaline, a new sickness to fester within you.

“Okay.. I won’t,” You relented, heart hammering in your chest, fingers giving a little twitch, a part of you worried he would hear the rhythmic beating.

—

sorry this chapters a little shorter than the rest, but i wanted to get a chapter out for you guys since its been a while!! thank you so much for the support:)) hope you enjoy!!!

happy to say i am FINALLY writing the next chapter of let it happen. LETS GOOOOOO

Let it happen

hwang in-ho x reader

Chapter 2

You concentrated on the ceiling that night, wild ideas festering in your mind, morally conflicted in every way. You shouldn’t be feeling this, they were complete strangers who willingly participated—a portion of them not so willing now, and that’s what puzzled you. You were against becoming so sappy over people who wouldn’t acknowledge your existence in any other circumstance, though the sympathy lingered.

You studied the room’s contents underneath the dim lighting, the other contestants sleeping the day’s events off, letting the exhaustion ebb away, something that came naturally to them, and you wished it did for you too. Your ears pricked, listening to the soft snores and sounds people made while asleep, being the only disruption to the silence. A part of you even wanted Eun-Shin to pop out, to occupy the dreadful quiet, so your mind could be silenced.

Attempting to be quiet, you scooted your weight slowly toward the corner of the bed, legs dangling from the side, the stairs a foot below. Fingers combed through [H/C] strands, massaging your scalp as if it would diminish the questions pooling within your skull. Your eyes squeezed shut, tension possessing your bones, struggling to soothe the restlessness of your body. You should be excited, eager for the second game, but your nerves were frayed, strangely unsettled. Risk typically entertained you—but with other people’s lives at stake, it dulled. Regardless, you assured yourself you would revert to normal tomorrow.

“Are you alright?” The soft voice interrupted the course of silence, your eyes flying toward another bed opposite of you, a bunk lower—the familiar gaze of the tiebreaker connected to your own, turned on his side to better inspect you. You hadn’t even realized his presence there before lights out.

You didn’t expect anyone to be awake at this hour, the dormitory teeming with utter quiet, leaving you embarrassed that someone witnessed your restlessness—noticed your conflicted state.

“Of course,” You confirmed smoothly, brushing off the question, heart hammering at being caught. You avoided the piercing stare sent your direction, feeling the sheer awkwardness creep onto you—something startling about his eyes. “Just can’t sleep, is all.”

“I see,” He acknowledged, giving a slight nod of his head, mulling over the words. “If you’re worried about tomorrow, don’t be. Just try to get some sleep, and start tomorrow off fresh.”

“Thanks,” You dipped your head, the question of why so many people shared their kindness with you dwelling your brain, offering you warmth when you were so cold, it ate away at your resolve. “I’ll try.”

You offered a sort-of smile, nodding again to confirm to even yourself you were fine, everything was okay. Back colliding with the plush of the mattress, you cozied yourself underneath the thin blanket provided to you, rolled onto your side. Your eyes fluttered closed, soaking in the comfort and easing your mind.

The next day, you held a place ahead of Eun-Shin, in an organized line to be served a box of pre-made food, paired with a bottled water. You accepted the items, sparing barely a glance at the guard handing it to you, promptly retreating to the stairs by your respective bed, opening the packaged food. You stared blankly at the food, scraping through it using the spork, waiting for Eun-Shin to join you. Were you really wanting him to join you or did you just expect him to?

“You should eat,” Encouraged one, that’s all you knew him as, holding his own meal and drink within his hands, positioned in front of you, your eyes drawn to his face, surprised by his presence.

“It’s fine. I’ll let someone else have it,” You assured, casting one, final glance at the food before covering it with the lid once more, sealing it away. You wrung your hands, strangely nervous under his eyes, something so intimidating about him that you couldn’t help but be intrigued—a thrum of anticipation striking your chest.

“Are you sure?”

Before you could respond, Eun-Shin lounged beside you on the stairs, sliding the tin lid from the container. You pushed your food into his hands, eager to remove the weight from your hands. “Take this. I don’t want it,” You explained, hands cradling your face when the object left your care.

“Are you gonna introduce me to your friend here?” Eun-Shin raised an eyebrow, chewing a bite of food and savoring the taste, the end of his spork waved toward the tiebreaker.

“One. Read the patch,” You instructed, the patch an obvious signification of his label.

“I’m Eun-Shin,” He extended a hand, clearly referencing his actual name, offering a handshake to the male, something within his eyes calculative.

“Young-Il,” One took the hand, firmly giving it a shake, a friendly smile on his face. The handshake appeared to signal more than just a friendly introduction, a tension you couldn’t pinpoint. And as the three of you conversed back and forth, you observed the two skeptically.

Conversation simmered to a close as the newly trio finished eating—or at least Eun-Shin, and Young-Il, as he introduced, were, the latter of the two deciding to approach some other contestants to get a better feel for the environment and what was to come, promising updates to you—saying such while his eyes only acknowledged you. Eun-Shin’s posture shifted, a questioning glimmer in his eyes.

“He’s weird, don’t you think?” He mentioned, eyes flickering between the details of your face and the area said person chatted, speaking animatedly with the previous winner, their discussion unknown to you—but it did entice your curiosity.

“As weird as anyone else in here,” You shrugged, eyes fixated on the 001 tag on the back of his jacket, a lump of intrigue puddling your skull. Within the confines of this hell hole, all of them were sinners, bound by fate to be unhinged, a desperation that reached inhumane standards. Your mouth welcomed a sip of water, eyebrow quirking. “What makes you say that?”

“Just seems off,” Eun-Shin claimed, eyes averting to his clasped hands, recalling a thought you weren’t aware of. “He seems… dangerous.”

An amused laugh could’ve escaped your lips at the statement—this entire circumstance was dangerous. Compared to the uncertainty of everything, Young-Il would be the least of your concerns. “Danger doesn’t scare me,” You retorted, donning an amused smile. If he was trying to instill fright, it would only prove futile, given your motives for even obliging with these games—it excited you.

He shot you a serious look. “All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t trust him,” He sighed, shaking his head dismissively, surrendering to your indifference, making you ponder what he perceived that left him guarded. “Just be careful if you hang around him, yeah?”

You nodded slowly while processing the statement, neck craning to examine him, features puzzled- brows knitted. “What makes you care what happens? We aren’t friends,” You pressed, a small persistence in your pursuit of solitude, one more attempt to push him away, for better or worse.

“We’re partners, though,” He reasoned, causing you even more confusion, but you listened silently, toying with the idea. Being teammates would supply benefits for both of you. “Next game, let’s team up. We’ll help each other.”

“What if you can’t trust me?” You rebutted, mirth swirling in the depths of [E/C] eyes, the corners of your lips twitching upward in the slightest. You gauged his reaction, awaiting the hesitancy—awaiting him to revoke the invitation.

“I’ll get you back then,” Eun-Shin remarked, elbowing you in the side, his mood radiating, feeling the rays of it infect your mood, almost sickeningly so. Even in the dimmest of moments, there was light.

“Not if you’re dead,” You challenged, deadpan, strict in allowing genuine happiness to infect you—but even you couldn’t deny the feelings seeping into your heart, the weight of empathy and blossoming friendships. How could you have predicted this outcome when dialing that number?

“Because you’ll be dead with me,” He argued, your expression heavily amused despite the grim possibility looming ahead.

Eyes were lured to the altercation unfolding in the center of the dormitory. Player 124 restrained 333’s arms, the latter squirming in his grasp, hands feebly attempting to claw at anything they could reach. 124’s companion, the lavender-haired boy, struck the flesh of his face relentlessly, bruising the supple skin until he slammed to the floor, his violence not finishing there as he launched his foot at 333’s body, distributing all his strength into each kick.

Your hands twitched, about to jump to your feet and intervene mindlessly, but Eun-Shin stopped you, an arm stretched across your form, being a gate to obstruct your movements. “Don’t,” He muttered, glaring at the scene, indifferent to the duo practically trampling the other player. “You can’t go up against two guys,” His statement didn’t relent in spiking your irritation, but you remained sat on the stair, jaw clenched.

“Why don’t you get up then?” You grumbled, smacking the limb away from you.

“Why do you care?” Eun-Shin raised an eyebrow, a faux puzzlement within his features, tone surprisingly mocking as if daring you to oppose. “I thought you didn’t care about anyone—what about the prize money you need so much?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” You agreed, nails digging into your skin to divert the irritation singing your veins. After all, he was right, you shouldn’t be getting involved in nonsensical matters of other people—people you didn’t care about, strangers to you.

“Anyway, I don’t think we should make enemies in here. Let’s stay as neutral as possible,” He planned, nodding his head decisively. “We’re an X and O team, so it makes sense, right?“

“You’re right,” You sighed, head propped against your palm, eyes squinted at the violence.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime?” Your posture straightened when you heard the sound of his voice, focus centered on the familiar player striding toward the trio, a confidence in his stride. Of course, it made sense as to why it would be him to intervene—he was a likable person, the peacemaker type sort-of, caring about others. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners. And two against one?” His movements paused, flashing a judging stare, eyes coldly sweeping over them. “Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shit hole too?” 230 raised his arms, pushing them down again in a swift and erratic motion, approaching the one to interrupt them, his patch tainted by the blood of other’s. “Dude, stop running your mouth,” His hands mimicked a blabbering mouth, gesturing in Young-Il’s face. “And take care of your own damn kids.”

“What did you just say?” One’s expression seemed to turn colder, cold indifference evident within his eyes, a quiet fury you wouldn’t want to be at the receiving end of, although a shred of you admired the courage he harbored to rise, rather than sit back and let the events conspire—you being too closeted from your feelings to be capable. You leaned in closer, eyes witnessing the scene with bated breath.

“I said save the lecture for your own damn kid,” Purple hair persisted, taking a brave step forward.

Young-Il grabbed his neck, fingers stiff against a pressure point on his nape, rendering him almost entirely immobile. His accomplice joined the fight to provide support, unable to accomplish even a single punch before one delivered a sharp, directed kick above his ankle, 124 cradling the limb in his hands, barking out in pain. Sending a final blow to his knee, 124’s back hit the floor, moaning in pain while he rolled across it.

“I told you, he’s dangerous,” Eun-Shin whispered, your eyes being peeled away from the events occurring beyond you, wanting nothing more than to roll your eyes at the comment—why was he so insistent?

“Okay, he knows how to fight, I’ll give you that,” You responded, tone low, so they wouldn’t escape to prying ears. “But when you think about it, we’re all just as dangerous to one another. Look at the situation we’re in.”

“I know, I know, but come on, it’s not normal to have that much precision in combat, think about it,” Your temporary partner insisted, motioning with his eyes to the altercation happening before them—where 230’s face was being pummeled, body slung across the floor when the exchange finished. Crouching to his level, Young-Il settled hard fingers around his throat, fist raised in threat while his opponent sputtered.

“I’m sorry,” Choked 230, fingers making a flimsy attempt at prying his hand off. “Please… Let me go…”

The dormitory erupted with claps as Young-Il returned to full stature, his grasp on the player abandoned, processing the praise oozing from fellow players. Even you found your hands smacking together in tandem with the crowd, a bubbly feeling spilling into your veins, uplifting your spirits—a rush, but not from adrenaline.

His eyes lifted from the floor, catching yours instantly, being situated in his direct line of view, as if he had known where to look from the start. You acknowledged the stare with a curt nod, forcing a subtle smile to speak wordless approval—like a good job. His shoulders settled slightly after that, the tension diminishing in his muscles, a sort-of relieved expression coating his face.

Head bowed, a bashful smile creeping onto his face from the overwhelming support, his hand traced the back of his head, retreating from the center of the room promptly, haste in escaping the attention. Your eyes followed, curiosity engulfing them— and if you were a cat, your lives were sure to run out.

Your clapping slowly came to a halt as you noticed Eun-Shin’s silence, his hands not in a clap, not moving at all, his expression rid of amusement. “What’s wrong?” You pried, an eyebrow quirked.

“I just don’t trust him,” Eun-Shin shook his head, disregarding the conversation completely. Looking closely, you could notice the clench in his jaw, the twitch in his brow.

“What happened to being neutral? Not making enemies?”

“We’re not enemies, I just don’t trust him,” He clarified matter-of-factly, appearing satisfied with that response, ending the conversation short, and leaving you to sit there, trying to configure the deeper meaning.

Arousing the players’ attention, the buzzer signaled that the doors were opening, a barrage of guards entering, the overhead voice greeting the players, robotically animated, “Attention, please! The second game will begin momentarily. Please follow the instructions from our staff,” Guards stationed themselves in a line at the center of the room, weapons on full display—to intimidate the players, ward them away from the idea of protest. Truly addressing you like the trash you were.

Eun-Shin helped you up, the pair of you walking toward the middle, as everyone else was, but maintaining a safe distance from the guards. Your chest tightened, unsure what to expect, but fright wasn’t a feeling that struck you. You studied the contestants around you, scanning for familiar faces amongst the surge of players. Young-Il - 456 - 222, all littered the crowd.

Twenty-five stood next to you, a grim seriousness to his expression, brows creased together, a look on his face you wouldn’t typically see, the sight causing you query.

Bright pastels blessed your vision as the players traveled up the stairway, in an orderly line. You were gifted the view of the back of 222’s head, mimicking her footsteps. Left, then right. Eun-Shin hovered behind you, analyzing the pathways as his shoes padded against each stair.

Eventually, you all arrived at a set of doors, which opened to reveal a large room, two circular rainbows decorating the floor, various guards stationed on either side. “Welcome to your second game,” The intercom echoed, the players’ minds brewing. “This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes.”

Eun-Shin poked you, signaling to accompany him. The pair of you conducted a sweep over the other players, picking and choosing who would be the most fitting. Unknowing of what the game would include, picking people proved difficult—but you didn’t really care about who was on your team, the less you knew the better. The risk could only heighten the experience.

You familiarized yourself with your new teammates. One female, patch labeled 30, and two males, their patches reading 77 and 155. Eun-Shin handled the duration of talking, having the friendlier demeanor out of you two. In a way, you felt pushed out of the loop, having the conversation steered from you, standing still and assuring yourself this was for the best.

“Can I join your team?” A small voice grabbed your attention, making you shift to face the person it emitted from. 222. A pang of sympathy hit you at the recollection of her pregnant state, but your team had filled quick—as well, no one in it seemed necessarily useful.

“We’re full now, but I’ll help you find a better team,” You assured calmly, letting your makeshift ‘partner’ know you would return in a moment, unsure why you made the decision to aid her. Stealing a glance at the X patch on her chest, your stomach knotted, the O patch suddenly feeling heavier.

Sifting through the bustle of the crowd, shoulders narrowly dodging other players, her hand grasped the fabric of your jacket to keep balance, your eyes scouring the crowd, though you weren’t sure what to look for. Soon enough, your eyes spotted a patch reading 001—a familiar enough face that you felt 222 would be in capable hands, even if Eun-Shin would state otherwise.

“She’s joining your group,” You stated soundly, gently nudging the girl toward them, disrupting whatever conversation consumed them previously. Your face exuded the lack of willingness to anything less than.

“Uh, sorry, we’ve already got five people,” 390 gestured to their newest acquaintance, eyes drifting between the pair, an awkward and apologetic smile strewn on his face. You glowered behind the girl, lips pressed into a thin line, your empty gaze analyzing Young-Il to occupy the seconds, his eyes just as cold, unsuspecting.

222’s hand settled against her rounded stomach, giving the group a pleading stare. “Please help me. I’m pregnant,” She persisted, their eyes trailing to her stomach on reflex, as if to confirm her words.

The shift in their features was evident, the discussion of whether to let her join blatant. They wouldn’t have the heart to turn away someone pregnant, remains of respect still intact within their morals. Spinning around, 222’s head dipped, thanking you for the help. You offered a small smile in return before sauntering off, ignorant to the rest of the group teeming with curiosity. Eun-Shin had been speaking animatedly to your team when you regrouped, a part of you wishing to do the same.

“Time for team selection is up. The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one,” The intercom explained to the players, cogs turning in your brain as it processed. “Here are the mini games; Number one, the Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gong-gi. Number four, spinning top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini games and cross the finish line in five minutes.”

“What game do you want?” Eun-Shin’s eyes were directed to you, gifting you the first pick. His features were a mixture of nervousness and an unusual confidence, his brain at work on unknown subjects. On the other hand, your heart pulsed, the speed at which it beat picking up, perspiration slight on your hands—a heavenly combination, but a mere buzz compared to the rush of adrenaline.

“I’ll do Ddakji,” You answered with ease, thrumming your fingers along your knee as you enjoyed the feeling washing over you, mischief clouding your mind. “You?”

His eyes were contemplative for a moment, squinting as he thought. “I’ll do Gong-gi,” He shifted, abruptly turning his head to ask the other players their roles between the last three options, discussing briefly until they reached a conclusion. His eyes connected to yours, flashing a small smile. “30 is doing Jegi. 77 is doing Spinning Top, and 155 will do Flying Stone.”

You nodded, showing your approval on the matter. “Sounds good.”

“Team one and two, get ready,” The overhead speech sounded, the respective teams lining up on opposite sides, their feet being cuffed together—a mutual effort having to be put forth.

You watched in wait of the tribulations to occur, to which you would merely observe, sit there, uncaring and unflinching if their bodies fell. Their arms hugged, swallowing any fear cursing their being, the smallest beads of sweat dribbling down their faces to display stress.

“Do you think they’ll do well?” You could hear Eun-Shin’s inquisitive murmur to the rest of your team, their answers not privy to you—you weren’t upset, you instilled into your head, you should’ve expected to be sidelined- you weren’t even friends, only a beneficial exchange of resources, both of you sharing an utter lack of skill. It was the familiarity from the first day that kept you together.

“Let the game begin,” The feminine voice declared, a shot springing from a square guard’s pistol, the time’s devastating tick beginning its toll— the players hobbling forward, carefulness in their walk, chanting out “One, two,” to track each step until they arrived to the first mini game.

Your eyes darted from the clock back to one of the teams, watching the designated player brush his lips against the blue square piece, striving for even a wisp of luck, focused on the opposing origami settled on the flooring. Slamming the blue onto the folded paper, it successfully flipped the red tile, the men exchanging cheerful glances - already off to a good start, wasting no time at all. Peering over to the team opposite, their side wasn’t as lucky, their succession having not been accomplished.

“Please do not step over the line,” The intercom reminded, the leading team trying their hand at flying stone. Missing the first throw, they released disgruntled groans, the luck not accompanying them to the next game. Arms drawing close, they wobbled forward, tripping over their feet and collapsing, creating a hard-to-watch spectacle for the next participants. Seeds of mischief infected your mind at the sight.

“It’s pitiful, in a way,” Eun-Shin whispered, attention flocking back to after the conversation with the others grew dull. Amused eyes flew to him, indifferent to what he spoke, the importance of it. “The time is too short, and there’s so many hurdles..”

“Your gong-gi better be good then,” You commented, planting your expectations, assured by your own skill within your chosen game- the premise being simple, an intentional decision.

“Come on, you picked the easiest one,” He stated, and your lips twitched, the words ringing true.

“But I’m relying on luck,” You provided a frail defense, undermining the skillset to weaken his confidence, keeping hush about your knowledge of ‘tactics’ in the game, “There’s no tactic to it.”

“You… don’t have any tactic?”

Your smile widened at the uncertainty dwelling his tone, directing your attention back to the struggling players. “Don’t you think it’s more fun without one?” You pondered, eyes fixed on the team stuck on flying stone, studying the panic that slowly intruded their faces, time ticking on carelessly.

“Not if it gets me killed,” Eun-Shin’s eyebrow twitched, sweat ridden hands clasped together, disbelief pooling his being. Only amusement seeped vivaciously from you, thoroughly entertained by his reactions.

“All of us would die with you, don’t feel too bad,” You added and motioned to the dampness of his palms, the only evidence of his fragmented nerves. “Are you gonna be able to play gong-gi with those?”

“Are you good at gong-gi?” His whisper stunned you, eyes skeptically flitting to him, the question only raising hesitancy within you.

“Why do you ask?”

“If you want to test your luck, shouldn’t you do something more difficult? The stakes are higher,” Eun-Shin’s composure emanated confidence, shoulders straightening, as if proposing a challenge, something you wouldn’t - no, couldn’t - turn away from. You did less stakes only for their wellbeings. “Ddakji is easy to come back from. Gong-gi, on the other hand,” His gaze landed on the team struggling at said game, a gesture to show proof of his claim.

“Okay. I’ll play gong-gi then,” You agreed, [E/C] eyes sweeping across him, the tension within his body appearing soothed- the pace of your heartbeat increasing as you shouldered the most substantial gamble of your life. Anxious, but thrilled. “Seems like you’re too scared.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to be the reason we fail,” He confessed, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth, sight downcasted. “I know I’m a coward.”

“You are, but you also voted out,” You could feel the weight of the O patch, the bloodshed it consisted of, stomach bunched into knots at the toll of your decision. “You didn’t wanna be here, so it only makes sense for me to carry that weight. Well, as long as no one else kills us first, right?”

“I think you can do it,” Eun-Shin asserted. “You’re good at stressful things.”

The timer eventually beeped, signaling the end of the first round, gunshots raining down on the failed players, presenting a stark reminder to what would occur if you were unable to cross the finish line. Your teammates instinctively ducked from the sound, sheltering themselves. Eyebrows knitted, you viewed the gore blankly, distancing yourself from the severity and permanence of it all.

“The following players have been eliminated. Players 16, 45, 178, 189,” The intercom listed, indifferent to the brutality. “198, 254, 286, 341, 395, and 416.”

“We should have left!” Someone stood, shouting defiantly toward the side of the room your team occupied. Everyone’s eyes flocked to the perpetrator, his eyes drifting from person to person. “We’re all gonna die now! We’re all gonna die because of those who voted to continue!” The knot in your stomach tightened, but a sick part of you reveled in the detriment of it all. “What are you going to do now? You think you can survive? Look at them!”

You glanced at Eun-Shin, you didn’t know why- perhaps a shrivel of you hoping he would say something in disagreement to offer a semblance of assurance, but he remained silent, staring down at his hands, a silent agreement lingering in the air. The man spoke correctly, after all.

“Attention, please. Players, please wait while we tidy up the venue,” On cue, guards proceeded into the room, operating a forklift donning a set of coffins, pink taping stretched across the sides, meshing to form a bow at the lid. Your eyes traced the bodies aligned within the circular rainbow, dried blood splattered across their tracksuits, the guards carrying coffins to place them inside. The scene didn’t quell anyone’s unease on the games.

“Open it,” Ordered a guard to the subordinates, who rose to full stature, in slight defiance. “That’s an order,” The pair of circles pried the lid from the coffin respectively, showcasing the body inside to the triangle. They peered in, lodging two more gunshots into the flesh- the reason of such, you were oblivious, but it left an eery impression.

“The next teams, please get ready,” The intercom chimed, stirring you from the daze that encapsulated you, the thud of your heart bleeding out across your eardrums.

Twenty-five tugged your jacket, rising to his feet assuredly—having the easiest game to accomplish, of course his worries diminished. Brow quirked, he smiled slightly, which didn’t dissuade the anxiety pooling your stomach, a light buzz of adrenaline supplying some comfort. “Getting scared?”

Standing beside your group, the majority of players observing carefully, you shot him a soft glare. “I’m not a coward like you,” You declined, shaking your head to dismiss the brave claim. Gaze averting, you scanned the terrain, processing the pitied stares you received, exhaling to free yourself of care. If you died, so be it.

The group you were apart of stepped up to one of the rainbows, determined smiles exchanged among them, a sense of courage possessing their spirits. You were smushed between 77 and 155, arms entangled, 30 and Eun-Shin on either side of the line—your movements being reliant on others felt odd.

“Teams three and four, get ready,” Your eyes slid to the panicked faces stationed across from you, 120’s and the elderly woman’s recognizable faces within it. 95 seemed to be on the verge of tears, mustering every last bit of restraint to stay composed- another woman prayed incessantly, chanting out.

“We’ve got this,” Eun-Shin encouraged, acting bravado for the team’s sake. “Don’t panic, don’t stress.”

The gunshot rang, your team making hurried, but synced, steps toward the first game. The guard clutched a rectangular shape, the ddakji pieces resting inside, waiting to be taken. Eun-Shin picked the blue square, the guard dropping the red, flat on the ground in response, ignoring the sounds from the opposite team.

He stiffened, eyes narrowing in concentration, adjusting the ddakji piece in his hand before slamming it down- successfully flipping the rival piece. The guard created an O symbol with their arms, the intercom announcing they’d passed.

You hobbled forward, adrenaline flooding your veins the closer you got to your game, the time’s tick dreadfully slow. Only one more game, and then you’re up.

155 was quick to retrieve the stone, knees bending to crouch, envisioning the throw as he modified the aim, you watched, spread from him—as far as the restraints allowed—granting him more space to perfect the toss. Seconds- that dragged on like hours -escaped you, his hand finally giving a steady jerk, the stone smacking the piece in the center, tumbling over. Assuring their pass, the guard gestured an O, your group teeming with smiles.

Courage filled your teammates as you waddled to gong-gi, the 4 minutes that remained, a good sign, and the eruption of cheers serving as encouragement. You slid the pieces into your hand, the guard positioning the platform on the floor.

You leveled with the surface, tossing the five weighted pieces onto it. You tossed one into the air, slipping another into your clutches, repeating the motions until you missed a catch—the purposeful dodge quite evident to everyone spectating, 3:40 bright on the clock, drawing concerned glances.

“Sorry, my hand slipped,” You excused feebly, lacking any seriousness to your tone, restarting the ordeal from the beginning before you, again, slipped up on the second round, the pieces scattering across the black form and another fail dispelling from the intercom. Your teammates panicked, stressed from the reoccurring fails.

“Take this more seriously, come on, we still have two games left,” 30 scolded, eyebrows pulled near, fingers wrung together to soothe the anxiety that bubbled into irritation.

Blank [E/C] eyes caught a glimpse of the speaker. “My hands must be sweaty,” The palms of your hands scraped across the fabric of your jacket erratically, frantic to dry your hands.

“Okay, stop, just try again,” Eun-Shin lead, prying your hands from the clothing and guiding them back to the board. “We still have time, don’t panic.”

You threw the five pieces across the small table, tossing one into the air and hastily retrieving another, mimicking the motions repeatedly until all of them grouped in your hand. Again, you scattered the pieces along the board, propelling one into the air and then snaking two more pieces into your grasp— cycling through the movements, the risk of dropping them increasing with each round. Finally reaching the climax of the game that would decide your fates, dormant beads balanced on your knuckles. Eyes fixated on them, you thought briefly- you could end everything here.

You heaved the pieces into the air, your teammates looking on with concern strewn on their features, sweat lining their skin, and you caught the gong-gi toys in your fist, unraveling your fingers to show the guard the achievement.

“Pass.”

Your teammates cheered- and you could hear fellow contestants praising the efforts demonstrated, a flutter of something entangling your chest at the connection everyone shared in that moment. As you neared the next game, your eyes tore through the crowd, the prided faces of individuals eliciting a genuine smile from you, the warmth overwhelming.

77’s hands weaved the string around the top, doing so quickly but cautiously, not wanting to take the unnecessary risks you did (on purpose!)—2:30 seconds remained, providing a decent amount of time for them to secure a place passed the finish line.

“Don’t panic, it’s okay if you mess up, clearly,” 155 soothed, casting a pointed glance at you. 77 nodded, looking between the two of you, fingers poised around the top delicately before he projected it across the floor- the toy steadying itself by rapidly spinning, more of the crowd rising to witness the events with open eyes.

“You got it!” 30 beamed, prepared for the final role upon them, the five of you folding your arms more closely, an unspoken surge of certainty rushing through all of you.

“You must kick the jegi five times,” The overhead instructed, 30 pulling the reflective toy into her hands, giving it a gentle pitch into the air, leg positioned to strike it. The thud of her shoe hitting the toy grasped you, the last testament to if you survived or not—something about your life in the hold of someone else filling you with even more adrenaline, attention narrowed on the pound of your heart.

“That’s five!” She cheered, gripping 77- if they were unrestrained, she would’ve leapt for joy.

Eun-Shin grinned, giving 155 a slight shake. “Let’s go, we can finish this, we have plenty of time,” He gestured them to move forward in tandem, 1:30 minutes flashing on the clock, the chants of the crowd spurring you to move faster- the feeling encompassing you the greatest rush you’d ever felt.

Once the ribbon at the end of the line was torn in two, you could hear the shouts of the spectators, all in mutual excitement at the victory, even your teammates cried out, an embrace shared between the group that was unexpectedly kind, an affection nearly foreign to you.

You spotted 222 apart of the mass, hopping eagerly like everyone else around her- to the concern of her team-sending a smile in your direction that you managed to return, a genuine one. The double victory proof that everyone could succeed.

After your ankles were freed, the teams reigning triumph were escorted out by some guards, the pep in all of your steps evident- the close encounter with death ushering relief into their systems at what didn’t happen, savoring the closeness to their companions within the present, unknowing if the next game would shatter it.

“Good job, everyone,” Eun-Shin complimented the lingering players, determination a flood in his eyes, but a sense of unease still drummed within them.

Back in the clutches of the dormitory, everyone distanced themselves, retreating to the usual places they lounged. However, the remainder of your teammates joined you at your spot, involved in conversation with Eun-Shin that didn’t require your input. Your head inclined, being supported by the frame of the beds, quiet as your rush ebbed, consumed by a daze.

More and more people filed into the room, a silence washing over the dormitory, the dwellers talking amongst one another- the shock of the previous moments diminishing as they cozied inside. [E/C] eyes studied the blood staining your shoe, the white now speckled and tarnished by a putrid red. You wondered if that had been 222’s fate—or even Young-Il’s, the regret of your vote clinging.

“Come on, cheer up, we got through it,” Eun-Shin’s elbow jabbed your side playfully, his new companions’ eyes shifted to gauge your reaction, lips pulled into a frown at the gesture. “It makes me think we could get through anything,” He smiled at the other three, the trio laughing in agreement, but the comment puzzled you.

Eventually, the door opened one last time, presenting the final batch of players to make it out- 222 among them, a touch of relief easing the tension in your posture. Eun-Shin hesitated, the words on his tongue simmering as his attention, like everyone else’s, landed on the group. You managed a small smile as they plodded by, their own, heavy eyes trailing across the contestants left warily- 222 shooting a little wave in your direction.

After everyone settled, piecing together frayed nerves, the buzzer blared, the door making way for the pink-clad guards. “Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game. Here are the results,” The square clicked a button, the lights dimming in an instant- the piggy bank eating more stacks of cash, persuasive to the temptations of players. “In the second game, 110 players were eliminated. The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

“It’s still under 100 million?”

“It’s not even 80 million.”

“Only 110 people died? Is that all?” Everyone’s intentions were keen to the money, frantic and indifferent toward the bloodshed. Morals wore thin, desperation blatant. It reminded you of the person you were before arriving, the moments spent here supplying an opposite effect. “Did you count them right?”

“That’s all? But you shot all those people!”

“Count them again!” 100 demanded, the features on his face wrinkled, soured.

“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not,” The square mediated, the doors behind him parting to allow a pair of guards to roll the vote buttons inside. “Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice,” Circles arranged the buttons in the front center of the room, just below the stairs. “Feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.”

Hand flat against the patch on your chest, you were certain on what decision you’d make, standing to your feet and heading to the back of the room, huddled among everyone else- a flock of aimless sheep in a pen. Your eyes portrayed no indications of your partner, quickly abandoning question about his whereabouts in exchange for rivaling thoughts, always engulfed by the space.

“This time, the vote will begin with Player 001,” The guard explained. “Player 001, please cast your vote.”

Your eyes were fixed on him, ambling toward the red and blue buttons, a sureness in his stride. The sound of the button resounded, filling the spacious room, his vote slotted under the X, surrendering the circular patch for an X one. You witnessed a few more people strut forward, making their own decisions of whether they should stay or leave, the votes maintaining a steady balance between the options.

“Player 011.”

Heaving a sigh, you approached the set of buttons, hand pressing your chosen button without hesitation. You peeled the weighted O patch off, trading it for an X one and flattening it to the velcro. You stood close to Young-Il on the red side, his friendly smile an assurance that your decision was proper, melting away any anxieties.

“What changed your mind?” His cool eyes darted to you, using this chance to speak to you without interruption. His eyes traced your features under the blue-red lighting, memorizing each crease.

“Just seemed right,” You brewed, lips pressed into a thin line, [E/C] eyes studying the intricacies of his face briefly before peering at the voters- joining either red or blue. “You?”

He nodded in response to your reasoning, not acting on the curiosity spawned in his eyes. “I’m just ready to be done with this, I think most of us are,” He sighed, wringing his hands, a dry chuckle leaving his throat—his sentiment something you agreed on.

“Player 025,” You shifted your attention from the conversation to Eun-Shin, his back facing you. His gaze strayed between the votes casted, back to the buttons present- finally pressing the O, adding yet another vote to supply the blue. Your mouth hung slightly ajar, the decision stunning you.

“Did you not know?” Young-Il inclined his head toward you, the volume of his voice low, clearly referencing your so-called partner’s vote, diverting your attention.

“No,” You admitted. “It doesn’t affect me though.”

Dark eyes studied you, and it felt as if he could see right through your words, staring into depths even you weren’t aware of. “He should’ve told you, but I understand your feelings,” He spoke, a hand hovering over your back as an attempt at comfort, smiling assuredly and retracting the light touch.

The corner of your lip quirked, the gentle motion oddly considerate. “I appreciate it, Young-Il,” You bowed your head in thanks, bashful under his scrutiny- his undivided attention placed on you.

His eyes shone in realization. “I don’t think I ever got your name,” He pointed out, a finger gestured toward you, lips slightly curved- the thought having never crossed your mind. “I got your friend’s but never yours.”

“We aren’t friends,” You corrected softly, stealing a peak at him, the defiance in your eyes small. “But it’s [Y/N],” You answered after a moment of pause, a slight bafflement riddling your features. “Not even Eun-Shin knows that.”

His eyebrow twitched, a gleam of something unknown swirling his eyes, expression unreadable to you. “I’ll be sure to remember it then.”

You both stared back at the wavering votes, a player having just casted his vote, the O’s snatching the leading place—33 to the 36, leaving everyone in suspense of what side would win.

“Everyone!” 456 commanded the crowd’s attention, no matter the separation of the groups, gesturing his arms to gather everyone’s focus. Young-Il left your side, approaching the walkway- at the line drawn between the sides, your eyes following unabashed.

“Are you all out of your minds?” He shouted, scanning each of the faces scattering the O section. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game?” He stressed, irritation puddling his features, baffled at their decisions.

“We have to stop,” He insisted, striding down the line, his cold gaze sweeping across the players. “We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money. You’ve got to survive first, or there won’t be a next step,” His arms swung, trying to drill the explanation into their heads- desperate to escape.

“What do you think we can do with a mere 70 million?” 100 stepped forward, his determination to stay unaffected. “I don’t know how much you owe, but for most people here, that doesn’t even cover 10% of their debt. Am I right?” He looked around, pointing to the crowd, seeking approval from fellow O’s. “There’s no next step for us! That money won’t change anything!”

“With that amount of money, I won’t last long,” A member of his posse spat, his finger aimed at the golden hue of light above them, stacks and stacks of cash illuminated.

“It was 25 million after the first game, now it’s 78 million. After one game, the amount more than tripled!” 100 emphasized, steering the conversation in his favor. “If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

“But I can’t do this anymore,” A girl whimpered, your eyes scouring the area for the source- finding that anxious girl from earlier, 95. Tears puddled on her cheeks, the dampness glistening beneath the crimson lighting. You swallowed thickly, the sob lacing her voice tying knots in your stomach. “Please. Please let me out of here…” She blinked, glancing away from the array of eyes fixed on her. “I really want to go home… I don’t want to die…”

“Young lady, you’re young, so you’d probably have another chance,” Another man offered sympathy, watery eyes squinted as he maintained a semblance of composure. “But I don’t.”

95’s fingers tangled, clasping in plea. “Please,” She croaked, trembling.

“My family and I have no future,” He sniffled, expanding on his perspective. “My business failed, and now I owe over 500 million. I’ve got to make at least half of that here if I want a real shot at a fresh start.”

“What if you die here?” Young-Il interjected. “If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family,” He raised his voice, and you could visibly see the gears shifting in the previous man’s head, staring down at the floor- in shame or contemplation. “Don’t you see?”

“Don’t get fucking scared!” A man released, not sharing the sentiment, perhaps not understanding it. “Ddakji, red light, green light, spinning top. It’s not like the games are that difficult,” He spun around, lacking empathy toward the eliminated players. “Look,” He directed everyone’s gaze. “There are still 255 players. Way more than half of us survived! We’ve made it this far, so let’s do it one more time!”

Your eyes connected with Eun-Shin’s, both of your features cold and saddled with the realization of the awkwardness, now situated on opposite sides of the spectrum- where tensions were rising. After every moment you’d shared with him, it felt strange seeing him with the blue patch, the choice seeming out of character. But evidently, this place stirred change- the chants of the people to stay evidence of that, disregarding the grave consequences.

Young-Il garnered your attention by resting a hand on your shoulder, muscles giving a jolt at the unexpected contact. “Are you okay?” His face served as a strange comfort amidst the morphing surroundings, scrunched with concern as his eyes darted around your face.

“I’m alright, I was just surprised by his choice,” You explained, features troubled- brows furrowed, lips pressed thin. Your voice lowered, addressing yourself more so than Young-Il, “He never struck me as the type.”

“This place changes people,” Young-Il sighed, gaze casted toward the rise and fall of the votes- an almost disappointed gleam in his eyes. He then looked to you, providing a hopeful expression. “I’m sure he’ll come to his senses, if we don’t leave today.”

“Maybe,” You sighed, accepting defeat.

The votes between O and X rampaged onward, remaining at a steady balance until the number of O’s became overwhelming, outnumbering the votes to leave. “The results are 139 for O and 116 for X,” The guard announced, dread washing over most of the X voters. On the other hand, you didn’t find yourself harboring any feelings of disappointment or relief, remaining unbothered. “Based on the majority vote, we’ll proceed to the third game tomorrow. Thank you.”

With that being said, you returned to your usual nesting place, the red patch on your chest gathering fleeting glances by O contestants. Eun-Shin approached you cautiously, lip jutted, awkward to speak to you.

“Are you scared to talk to me?” You prodded, looking up to him, unimpressed. Your voice appeared to surprise him as he situated himself beside you hastily. “What made you vote to stay?”

“Yesterday, remember? You decided to continue because of your debt, I’m doing the same,” Eun-Shin answered, wringing his hands, eyes dropping to the limbs before shifting to you. “What made you vote to leave?”

“It’s just a waste,” You shrugged, throwing out the first thing that came to mind to lessen the amount it appeared you care.

“Is it a risk you can’t take?” Eun-Shin challenged, bumping his shoulder against yours. He then offered a hand to you, a truce, that you could either accept or decline- a slight puzzlement consuming your face. “We’re still an X and O team, partners- all neutral?”

Your eyes drifted between the outstretched hand and his face, mulling over the words contemplatively.

“Only because you’re so insistent,” You smacked his hand away, refusing to shake it.

—

sorry to cut it off at this BUT. i wanted to put a chapter out for you guys 🤲

also i accidentally misarranged the sequence of events 💀 so pls ignore that it won’t happen again

anyway, thank you all for the love on this, hope you enjoy! (also i am so sorry if my characterization for in-ho is terrible 🤲😭)

chapter three

The Last Mask (08)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 08 - Distance

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 09

PREV : Chapter 07

The dormitory buzzed with the sounds of light chatter and footsteps as players moved about, their voices mingling in an uneasy hum. You lay on your bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, eyes closed in a futile attempt to block it all out. Sleep was your goal, to escape the heavy thoughts weighing on your mind, even if just until tomorrow.

The faint voice of a guard announcing that dinner would soon be distributed echoed in the background, breaking through your quiet cocoon. Then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. You didn’t bother to open your eyes.

“[Your name], are you okay?” Dae-ho’s familiar voice called gently.

You kept your eyes shut. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho sighed as well, the sound carrying his frustration. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” another voice chimed in. You recognized it immediately as Young-il. It seemed Dae-ho wasn’t the only one who had come to check on you. Keeping your eyes closed, you listened as Young-il added, “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

“Yeah, in a way, I kind of understood him. Because I felt that way too by the counter,” Dae-ho agreed.

A softer voice joined the conversation.

“Big sis, are you okay?” Jun-hee asked.

You finally opened your eyes, taking in the sight of Dae-ho and Jun-hee standing on the right side of your bed while Young-il lingered quietly on the left.

Turning your gaze to Jun-hee, you offered her a faint but reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

“And we have a pregnant lady too,” Dae-ho continued, picking up where he left off. “She shouldn’t be here any longer.”

He leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, sighing heavily. “I understood him but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

The weight on your bed shifted slightly. You glanced down to see Young-il sitting on your bed at the far corner near your feet. His calm demeanor radiated reassurance as he addressed Dae-ho. “There’s no use thinking about it now. The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

The three of them glanced in the same direction, momentarily distracted. You were about to close your eyes again when Dae-ho straightened up, his usual energy returning as he turned to you.

“Everyone is lining up to get dinner. Come on,” he said.

You shifted onto your side, pulling the blanket closer. “You guys go on ahead. I’m too tired right now.”

Dae-ho frowned, his tone firm. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach. You need to eat. We did the hexathlon for who knows how long and didn’t even get breakfast. You must be starving, so come on.”

“But I’m so tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I just want to rest before the next game.”

“Don’t be like that,” he urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence fell before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho scoffed, waving off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up-”

“It’s okay,” Young-il’s calm voice interrupted unexpectedly. “You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

The sound of retreating footsteps followed as Dae-ho and Jun-hee headed off toward the dinner queues. The dormitory buzzed with chatter and movement, but your focus remained on the quiet presence sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You really should eat,” he said after a moment, his tone gentle. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

You sighed, not turning to face him. “I’m just so done to even think about food. I wanted to go home really bad but we were outvoted.”

There was a pause before the bed shifted as Young-il stood up. His footsteps faded into the background, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the strange ache in your chest – a pang of something like abandonment. By him.

You immediately shook off the thought. It wasn’t his fault. You were the one adamant about not eating, and he had respected your decision. You had no right to feel upset, and you certainly couldn’t blame him for the fact that you had a crush on him.

Maybe he just saw you as a friend. Someone to look out for, like Jun-hee. Nothing more. It was your own fault for letting your feelings get in the way, for reading into his kind gestures as something more than they were.

You tried to tune out the chatter and bustle of the dormitory, sinking into the quiet within your mind. For a fleeting moment, you felt yourself drifting close to sleep.

Then his voice broke through the haze. “[Your name].”

Your eyes fluttered open, the sting of fatigue making them ache. You turned your head and saw Young-il standing by your bed. In his hands, he held the evening’s dinner: a round bun and a small carton of milk.

You frowned, confusion overtaking your grogginess. You had thought he left for good after respecting your persistence.

Resting your cheek against the pillow, you mumbled, “I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not mine,” he said, his tone even. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. He held two sets of the dinner: two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise overtook you as you sat up slowly, your blanket slipping down. “You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t.”

You blinked, completely perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, waiting patiently.

“I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how,” he said simply, leaving the specifics a mystery.

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant admiration, before reaching out to take the meal he had gone out of his way to bring you.

“Now, come,” Young-il said, gesturing toward the corner where you always hung out with Gi-hun and the others. “Let’s sit with the others.”

You glanced down at the bun and carton of milk in your hands before nodding. As you got up from the bed, you spoke to him, “But is this really all we’re getting for dinner? I thought it’d be as much as yesterday’s lunch.”

Walking side by side toward the corner, Young-il replied, “It’s a way to weaken the players and increase eliminations.”

You turned to him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you saying the longer we stay here, the less food we’ll get?”

Young-il met your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “It looks that way. Yesterday, we had a bountiful lunch. Tonight, it’s just a bun. The pattern isn’t hard to see.”

You sighed in frustration, the weight of his words settling in. “That makes it even more important to leave this place as soon as possible.”

Reaching the corner, you were greeted enthusiastically by Dae-ho. “You two, come sit down!”

Gi-hun had sat at his usual spot at the far end, and you settled down beside him. Young-il took the place on your other side. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were already seated on the lower steps in front of you both, their postures relaxed.

You glanced around and noticed that your group was missing one member – Jung-bae. A small distance away, you spotted him tucked between the bunk beds as though he was deliberately hiding.

You assumed he felt guilty for voting O, isolating himself from the group out of shame.

You and Young-il began eating your buns in silence. Everyone in your group was eating, except for Gi-hun. His posture – legs wide, arms resting heavily on his knees – spoke volumes about his disappointment over the recent voting results.

A loud sigh from Dae-ho broke the quiet. He stared at Jung-bae’s back for a moment, chewing on his bun, before calling out to him with the familiar hyungnim honorific. “Jung-bae!”

Meanwhile, you sighed at the meager dinner, placing your left elbow on your knee and resting your forehead against your palm. Your right hand held the bun, and you murmured, “Just this bun alone won’t be enough.”

Dae-ho suddenly stood and strode over to Jung-bae. “Hey, just come back here.”

“No, no, I’m good here,” Jung-bae replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, come on,” Dae-ho said, grasping his arm firmly. He pulled Jung-bae to his feet and dragged him back to the group. “You should’ve gone farther away, then. It bugs me seeing you sitting there all pathetic.”

Jung-bae froze when they reached the group. His eyes darted between the three most visibly stressed members of the group – Gi-hun with his somber stance, you with your hand still resting on your face, and Young-il sitting with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, chewing silently. None of you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jung-bae said, fidgeting nervously with his milk carton. “Jun-hee, [Your name], Young-il, I’m sorry. Gi-hun, I’m sorry.”

When no one responded, he continued. “I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle my debt. So-”

“Jung-bae,” Young-il interrupted, his tone calm. “You of all people shouldn’t have done it. It’s not twice as righteous.”

Young-il’s comment was a pointed reference to the meaning of Jung-bae’s name. You removed your hand from your face, took a bite of the bun, and stayed quiet.

Young-il sighed, glancing briefly at the others before adding, “But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right?” Jung-bae said quickly, leaning toward Young-il with a glimmer of relief. “It’s not entirely my fault.”

Dae-ho placed a hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Alright, to be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn’t enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game.”

Jung-bae’s face lit up with sudden relief, and before anyone could react, he lunged forward and hugged Dae-ho head-on. Startled, Dae-ho awkwardly tried to push him away.

“You did?” Jung-bae exclaimed.

“I said I get it,” Dae-ho replied, finally managing to pry himself free.

Jung-bae turned to Young-il, sighing deeply.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He settled on the lower staircase next to Young-il and continued, “But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn’t we? If we stick together one more time, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He turned toward Jun-hee, his voice brimming with confidence. “Jun-hee, I’ll make sure we survive the next game-”

“The next game?”

All of you froze and looked at Gi-hun. His tone was dark. “In the next game, we might have to kill each other.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, horrified. Could it really come to that? Could there be games where you’d have to compete against your friends? The thought made your stomach churn. You’d barely eaten, and now even the bun in your hand felt like a weight.

Young-il’s calm voice broke the silence. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. There’s nothing we can do now, so let’s try to stay positive.”

Despite his attempt to ease the tension, Jung-bae had gone pale as well. He swallowed nervously, his hands fidgeting with his milk carton.

Young-il continued, his voice steady, “We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again.”

But Gi-hun’s words lingered, casting a shadow over the group. Everyone, including you, sat in heavy silence, lost in their thoughts. The idea of being pitted against your teammates felt unbearable. Your appetite vanished completely, and the bun in your hand now seemed like an impossible task to finish.

Could Gi-hun have experienced such a game in his previous run? Had he been forced to turn on a friend here? The questions swirled in your mind, filling you with dread.

Then you felt it – a hand gently resting on your knee. Startled, you looked down and saw Young-il’s hand. When you glanced up at him, his expression was warm and reassuring. He gave you a small nod toward your unfinished bun and said softly, “Eat it whole. Let’s do our best again tomorrow.”

Young-il withdrew his hand from your knee and held out his milk carton to Jun-hee. “Here, Jun-hee. You can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game.”

Jun-hee hesitated. “No, it’s okay.”

“Take it,” Young-il insisted gently. “I don’t drink plain milk.”

After a moment, Jun-hee finally accepted the milk, though her reluctance was still evident. You couldn’t help but smile warmly at the gesture. The way Young-il looked after Jun-hee was heartwarming. He must’ve been a good husband, you thought.

“Thank you,” Jun-hee said softly.

Jung-bae suddenly held out his bun to her. “Have my bread too. I don’t deserve to eat.”

Dae-ho immediately pointed at Jung-bae’s milk. “I’ll take your milk then.”

Jung-bae shot him a pointed stare, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

You had just exited the women’s restrooms and stepped back into the dormitory when you saw them. Lingering near the door that connected the restroom to the dormitory stood Lee Min-jae and his two friends.

Min-jae noticed you immediately and waved. You hesitated for a moment before offering a small, uncertain wave in return. Hoping to avoid further interaction, you continued toward the corner where the rest of your group was seated.

However, your heart sank when Min-jae and his friends moved deliberately to block your path. The dormitory was vast, filled with hundreds of players, so you didn’t feel afraid. Still, you silently hoped they wouldn’t press you again.

Min-jae greeted you with a bright smile. “Hey there. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh,” you replied, feigning innocence. “Hi, Min-jae.”

He stepped slightly closer, his tone friendly. “So, are you free to hang out with us now? We’ve got a spot over there.”

He paused, gesturing vaguely toward a corner of the dormitory where his group had set up.

You hesitated, searching for a way out without offending him. “I… uh, I need to get back to my group first. They’re waiting for me.”

Min-jae’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. “It’ll just be for a little while. You can catch up with them later. Come on, I just want to get to know you better in a private spot.”

“I… I don’t know. I really should-”

Min-jae’s tone grew firmer, though he kept up his friendly demeanor. “Don’t be like that. Just for a bit. It’s just us hanging out. No harm, right?”

Min-jae’s friends were watching you intently, though their expressions remained neutral. You forced a polite smile, knowing that one wrong word or tone could create a vengeful enemy in this precarious game.

You said carefully. “Maybe later. I just need to check on my group first.”

But Min-jae’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew more hardened and insistent as he stepped closer to you. “Please? Just a quick chat with us. You’ve been hanging out with those uncles all day. Switch it up for a bit.”

Before you could respond, one of his friends – the tall man with number 277 – joined in. “Yeah, come on. We’re not asking for much. Just a little time to get to know you better.”

“Exactly,” chimed in the other friend, player 304. “It’s not like we’re asking you to stay forever. Just stop by. We’ve got a good spot over there.”

Their persistence made your chest tighten. You forced another smile, trying to remain composed. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I need to get back. Maybe another time.”

“Why not now?” Min-jae pressed, his tone still friendly.

As you searched for another polite excuse, a cold, steady voice cut through the conversation.

“She said no.”

You turned quickly, your eyes landing on Young-il. He was striding toward you. His gaze was fixed on Min-jae, sharp and unyielding. Although his expression seemed calm, a quiet intensity simmered beneath the surface. The restrained fury in his eyes made you speechless. It’s like he was ready to act the moment it became necessary.

Min-jae’s smile faltered slightly, though he tried to recover. “Oh, hey. We just want to have a chat with her. It's okay, right?”

Young-il moved deliberately, stepping between you and Min-jae with an air of quiet authority. His back faced you, shielding you from them. Though his expression remained calm, there was a palpable edge to his presence that made the air feel heavier.

“You’re pressuring her,” he said evenly, his voice carrying a subtle warning. “That’s not how conversations work.”

Silence settled over the group like a heavy weight. Min-jae’s friends exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier confidence clearly shaken.

You couldn’t help but stare at Young-il’s broad shoulders, struck by the way he carried himself. He didn’t need to raise his voice or show aggression; the calm intensity in his posture spoke volumes.

Min-jae hesitated, his expression flickering between defiance and calculation, before forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. With a mock gesture of surrender, he raised his hands and said, “Alright, alright. I get it. I apologize. I didn’t realize I was being forceful.”

His attempt to glance past Young-il toward you betrayed his unease, though. He called your name softly, adding, “Sorry about that.”

Young-il held his gaze, the silence stretching as he stared at Min-jae with deliberate calm. Then, with a slight turn of his head, his expression softened as he looked at you. He gestured subtly, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

You followed Young-il as he led the way back to the corner where your group had gathered. His stride was steady, and though he didn’t say anything, his presence alone made you feel a little more at ease. You glanced back briefly to check if Min-jae and his friends were following, but they were nowhere in sight, already lost in the dormitory’s usual buzz of activity.

Just as the two of you were about to reach your group, Young-il gently grasped your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered on you, his tone shifting slightly as he asked, “How does he know your name?”

There was an edge to his words, though it didn’t feel like it was directed at you.

“He asked during the voting earlier,” you explained simply. “We were in the crowd, and he came over and introduced himself.”

Young-il’s eyes studied yours, moving from your left eye to your right, then briefly to your lips. You froze under the intensity of his gaze, unsure of what to make of it. After a few seconds that felt much longer, his focus shifted back to your left eye.

He finally lowered his gaze and said firmly, “If those boys bother you again, tell me.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. His gesture sent a wave of warmth through you, and you felt that familiar flutter in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach. He is really worried about you.

But even as you stood there, you couldn’t forget the fact that he was married. As close as you two had become, he’d never once mentioned it to you.

You averted your gaze, creating a small but deliberate space between you and Young-il.

“Thanks, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The pause lingered, and though you didn’t look his way, you could feel his confusion, as if he was trying to make sense of your sudden distance. Without waiting for a reply, you joined the group, sliding into the spot next to Jun-hee. Behind you, Young-il remained standing, silent and likely still perplexed.

As the group fell into casual conversation, you focused on Jun-hee, Jung-bae and Dae-ho, purposefully keeping your interactions away from Young-il. Whenever he made a comment directed at you or tried to reassure you about something, you responded with a polite smile but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, you turned your attention to someone else, engaging them in light talk to avoid any further connection.

This is for the best. For you, for him, and for his wife.

“Lights out in ten minutes,” the announcer informed, the voice echoing through the dormitory. “Please prepare for bedtime.”

Your group was in the middle of executing Gi-hun’s plan. The idea was to claim four beds in one spot to create a secure sleeping area underneath the beds and on the floor between them. Everyone had agreed to the plan, though not without a few questions.

The men were handling the heavier tasks, carrying and arranging the mattresses and securing the area, while you and Jun-hee carried pillows and blankets, standing off to the side as they worked.

“Is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under there,” Jung-bae said, his tone doubtful.

Gi-hun explained, “Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us.”

Dae-ho, crouching beside Jun-hee, looked over with wide eyes. “What? Who?”

Meanwhile, Young-il approached you and gestured for the pillows and blankets in your arms. You handed them to him one by one, watching as he placed them on the mattresses.

“The prize money still goes up if we kill each other,” Gi-hun continued. “It’s part of the game they designed.”

Young-il, now standing after arranging a mattress on the floor under one of the beds, spoke up, “Gi-hun, I think you’re overreacting. Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Young-il. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here.”

He stepped closer to Young-il, his tone firm. “You have no idea how people can change in this place.”

You stared at them, noticing the tension in Gi-hun’s face and posture. Young-il paused before nodding apologetically. “Alright. I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun gave Young-il one last look before turning back to address the group. “We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you should decide the order.”

You exchanged glances with the others. Dae-ho was the first to speak up. “Other than that, we have to figure out who’s sleeping where.”

Jung-bae pointed to the floor between the beds. “Jun-hee should sleep here, near the wall, surrounded by beds. It’ll be safer.”

“Then I’ll take the spot under the bed beside her,” Dae-ho said, glancing at Jun-hee for confirmation. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jun-hee nodded. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’ll take the spot under the bed on the other side of Jun-hee,” Jung-bae added. “It’s best to have two ex-Marines covering your sides.”

Jun-hee smiled in response.

Young-il turned to you, his voice soft. “Which spot do you want to take?”

You paused, glancing at the arrangement before pointing to the space directly under Jun-hee. “I’ll take the middle floor.”

That left the beds on either side of you empty until Young-il spoke up. “I’ll sleep under the bed on your left. That means Gi-hun will take the one on your right.”

“Now we just have to decide the order for keeping watch,” Dae-ho said, looking around the group.

“I’ll take the second watch, after Gi-hun,” Jung-bae said quickly.

Dae-ho raised his hand. “Third watch here.”

You spoke up just as Young-il reached to grab the leftover pillows and blanket from your arms. “Can I keep watch too?”

All eyes turned to you, surprise clear on their faces.

“How about the last watch?” you added. “I can wake up early.”

Dae-ho was the first to respond. “Ladies don’t have to. You and Jun-hee should take a full rest.”

“Yeah, no need for you to worry about keeping watch,” Jung-bae chimed in. “We’ve got this.”

You hesitated, feeling their protective tone press against your resolve.

“But it’s fine if I take the last watch,” you said, lowering your gaze briefly. “I want to freshen up before the next game anyway.”

Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged glances, clearly about to argue, when Young-il’s calm voice cut through. “Okay, you take the last watch.”

Everyone turned to him in confusion, while you blinked at him in surprise. Young-il glanced at the others briefly before settling his gaze on you.

“I’ll take the fourth watch, after Dae-ho,” he said evenly. “Then it’s your turn. But I’ll keep watch with you. It’s not safe for you to do it alone.”

The group nodded in agreement and that was the end of discussion. You, however, stayed quiet, your thoughts swirling. Young-il’s calm decision left you unsettled. The idea of him accompanying you brought a flutter of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress. You’d been trying to create some distance, to remind yourself of his marriage. Yet here he was, volunteering to accompany you.

It left you torn. A part of you appreciated his thoughtfulness. But another part of you couldn’t shake the complicated feelings his actions stirred, leaving you wondering how you’d handle the quiet hours of your shared watch.

A few minutes passed as the six of you settled into your designated spots. The announcer’s voice broke through the murmurs in the dormitory to announce bedtime. Moments later, the lights switched off, leaving the soft golden glow of the half-filled piggy bank overhead to dimly illuminate the vast room.

Dae-ho and Jung-bae were already lying under the beds, while Jun-hee rested on the mattress positioned on the open floor between them.

“This sucks,” Jung-bae muttered from his spot. “Feels like I’m hiding under my old desk at school.”

Dae-ho chuckled softly. “Pretend it’s a fun sleepover. We’re just missing the snacks and ghost stories.”

As their quiet exchange continued, you glanced over and noticed Gi-hun was sitting at the front, keeping watch.

Then, you felt a presence close beside you. Turning your head, you saw Young-il crouched beside you on your mattress on the open floor. He paused, glancing at you apologetically as he moved to sit down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, referring to him intruding your space.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

Young-il shifted onto the edge of your mattress before sliding onto his own spot under the bed beside you. You watched as he settled in before you finally lay down and pulled the blanket over yourself.

The space felt smaller now, the awareness of his presence lingering. You never thought you’d be this close to him, sharing such confined quarters. But as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away quickly. He’s married. You shouldn’t let yourself think about him like this.

You closed your eyes, wishing for sleep to come quickly and pull you away from your restless thoughts.

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones!

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Monolith

copia x witch!reader

No matter what life you’d lived, you were always sentenced to a young death, dying at exactly twenty-five each time- no matter how you struggled to coax the curse, avoid what fate destined, death proved imminent, giving not a care to your sensitivity, leaving you to grapple with the predetermined destiny over and over again. Memories of past lives would surge in your brain, often around your teen years, inciting a wave of paranoia that would stretch to the last decade or so of your life- grasping at straws, skimming through every page of every book to find a solution, something to end this cruel cycle. Or maybe you yearned to find a justification to it, and you believed you did, in one life- perhaps beings of the earth just weren’t meant to wield the abilities you did, so the gods, or whomever was in charge, had to force their hand, leveling the grounds you treaded among mortals, whose mortalities outlasted you.

But you weren’t evil. Not a single bit. Every life you spent relentlessly in attempt to figure out something to help the next you to succumb to this looming curse, the promise of brutal demise weighing heavy on your shoulders. The pain of living each life thoroughly and having it torn from your grasp saddled your heart, all the people you’d grown fondness for never to be seen again and lost to the jaws of time, struck with heartache by your loss, but they were human enough to forget and recover from it, while you were stuck with memory upon memory of it all. Thus, a life of solitude crept upon you, isolating from everyone and anyone, though you craved nothing more than affection and love. It was a foolish and unrealistic yearning.

In your last life, you recalled a church-like building, and you emphasize like, because its aura completely differed from the holiness of a church, the only likeness between them the structure and grandiosity of it. The interior you’d never reached during your last life, a festering sickness overcoming your body in the last days of life, bones brittle and stomach shrunken. It was as if you were confined to that rotten bed as punishment for the discovery, the remainder of your days spent in utter agony- the hopefulness you had with each death diminishing there, but you’d returned like always, reviving that shred of light that still beamed, drawing you closer and closer.

So you stood feet away from the church, five years of your meager life to go, and you were keenly aware of how fast those years would pass by. It seemed a plentiful amount, but in reality, it couldn’t be further from it, and with those little years you had, you strived to finish your last life’s work. Feeling the same allure your past self burdened toward this place.

Shedding a sigh, you encroached on the land, surprisingly you felt welcomed rather than intrusive as you did on most properties. Witches weren’t often celebrated within society- being burned and stoned in old days, so the openness of this area must mean something. You hoped, at least, you didn’t want yourself to become stray and disappoint the you’s who rose before, all dying in various ways that only elicited a tremble as you pondered what awaited you.

Fingers curled around the door knocker, you gently hit the door a few times, briefly pausing, unsure if you should wait for an invitation or mosey on in, settling on the latter after no response. Guilt almost stemmed from your impoliteness, almost, you were years from dying and lacked another choice. Desperation clawed at your insides, the impending doom you’d felt for years now- and beyond that, millennia- never something you’d become accustomed to. It was normal, even for mortals, to fear death, so that supplied a sense of humanity.

The hallways were bare, yet you sensed the presence of many- filtering in the multitude of differing individuals. On the surface, it bore the guise of a church, but there was something more, carrying a supernatural element to it, although you were yet to witness any of it, sparing little time to admire the insides and seeking someone to speak with, striding further along the chamber that echoed your footsteps.

“Do you require assistance, my child?” Hinged with an accent, a voice garnered your attention, your body moving to direct your focus to the male. You weren’t certain if you should divulge everything, so you only responded in approval, conflicting thoughts consuming your mind- to do this, or to do that- analyzing the crimson drapes he donned, an ornate, inverted cross catching your eyes.

“And what is it that troubles you?” He pressed gently, gaze analytical as he studied your features- as if he could predict the torment you’re fated to suffer, you almost snorted, the predicament you were in far above comprehension to even you. That hopelessness swirled you, thousands of years without resolution, and you really believed this would help…? But if you sat and did nothing that would result in a wasted life as well.

“A library,” You blurted out, meeting his eyes unflinching, his striking and whitened eye hammering no cowardice into you as it might other humans. “Do you have any books or knowledge of witchcraft?”

The answer appeared to invoke surprise and intrigue simultaneously, a question he’d perhaps never been asked in his lifetime. “I’m certain we do, I’d simply have to fish it from the library for you. May I ask why you’re interested in this?”

You glanced to the floor, mustering a response. If they had books of it, surely they weren’t to scrutinize- additionally, past you located this place, there had to be something truly special about it for them to be harshly punished by the gods, a punishment to ensure you could make no escape from the bounds of fate. “I’m a witch,” You finally answered, eyes fluttering closed briefly as you awaited a response.

“Ah, uh, I see, I see, my child, I will fetch those books for you then,” You couldn’t decipher whether his tone held disbelief or interest- maybe both?- but nonetheless, he scampered away to retrieve the books you requested, and you were satisfied with that.

You began frequenting that church more, learning more about its inner workings and inhabitants, the days whisking away into months, and you felt the crushing weight of fate, if only you had more time, if only it didn’t slip through your fingers. And you still found yourself finding nothing to aid your cause, stress accumulating fast.

After months of nothing, you settled in the confessional at the church, thinking it may help to relieve yourself of the ever looming deadline, the anxiety of it, Cardinal on the other side, ever so curious as to what’s troubled you to the point of needing a confessional. You’d grown closer these months, but there remained a distance between you, the reasoning for which unbeknownst to him, and you grappled having to eventually leave it all behind. Despite the many you’s before you, you’d grown fond of this man, letting yourself feel again after centuries. The emotion was pleasant, budding sensations rising within you, but you despised the vision of dying and having to restart, leeching off of him for your own selfish wants, that you knew would only have one ending.

“What’s been troubling you, mia cara?” His soothing voice traveled through the wood separating you, his voice, albeit prompt, laced with concern. It made your heart ache, a painful throb that shallowed your breaths, and you swallowed the thickness in your throat, forcing the words from your throat.

“I’m.. gonna die. I don’t know how to stop it,” You exhaled, the silence in that box suffocating.

And perhaps it was coping, or he didn’t understand, but he responded a beat of silence later, “We all die, cara. It’s.. a frightening subject, but it helps you to appreciate the things in your life more.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you left the conversation at that, not clarifying what you’d meant, for fear of ruining the closeness you shared- or maybe to pretend everything was normal, for once in your many lifetimes. It felt strangely joyful graced by his presence, demonstrating your abilities and basking in the moment, taking breaks from your strenuous search to do leisurely things- you’d tell yourself you would catch up on it later, but really, would you?- in the end, it didn’t matter as long as you were with him. You couldn’t surrender that, not yet.

His touch was warm, so differing to the coldness you’d grown used to, the warmth he radiated addicting, not only in his touch but his personality- so kind and caring, gentle even if his background made it appear otherwise, handling you like prized porcelain, looking to you in admiration, and caressing you as if you’d break at the slightest pressure. You hadn’t experienced such longing before, the yearning brimming your being, sinking its teeth into you- and that was dangerous.

One day, a year since your first meeting, you two sat in the shadow of a tree, a book splayed in your palms, the pages yellowed and corners nibbled away at by the mice nesting in the labyrinth of the walls. Aged, a book hardly picked from the many, but you’d discovered it when you ambled into the library, and now you sat beside the Cardinal, rather close, elbows grazing one another. If you weren’t absorbed by flipping the pages, you might’ve held his hand- or at least wanted to.

“You’re always reading, always studying,” He spoke, accent tinged voice cutting through the calm breeze, you analyzed the words on each page, scanning for any mention of curses- he watched you, examining the intricate sketches on the pages, things he could hardly understand, but he was enamored by how concentrated your stare was. “I admire that. Your, uh, strong will, and capacity to learn. You are truly magnifica. Un'opera d'arte, addirittura.”

“I think highly of you as well, Cardinal,” You admitted, eyes still trained on the page, half-focused on feebly translating the latin inscribed page. “You’re truly… une bouffée d'air frais.”

“French? Smart girl,” He complimented, the smile he flashed melting your insides, your focus crumbling ever so slowly- blindsided by emotions, rather than your goal. “When did you learn?”

You hummed absentmindedly, recalling the memories of your past, tracing all the way back to the conception of the American Revolution. Being a medic, experiencing the war’s brutality firsthand, you’d learned French from the allies- as well, being alive amidst so many eras of time, you were bound to pick up a few languages.

“I had some friends who spoke it,” You responded, narrowed eyes facing the page, but you spared him a glance and a wistful smile. “I can teach you sometime. Would you be open to that, Cardinal?”

“Of course, mia cara. Tutto per sentire la tua voce,” You couldn’t understand his words, but you could sense the meaning behind them, heart thumping in your ears. You felt it and were aware he could too.

The next year your bones could predict the sickness filtering into them, just a tad bit weaker than they’d been the year prior, subtle but you realized it, and if you were to receive cruel punishment for basking in the company of your adored, then you would accept it. You still looked for an answer, but the chances of that dwindled by the day, your goal being nearly sidetracked entirely. But you couldn’t ignore it, or hide it, forever. By the third year, your symptoms worsened, little by little, and were delving into bodily signs- blood spilling from your mouth, climbing up your throat, heeding a deadly warning. And so you finally decided to repent, for your selfish desires, settling inside that confessional once again with your Cardinal just inches away, across the panel of wood. Long before this, he’d noticed something was wrong- you just swayed him otherwise, dismissing his concern, but you couldn’t be greedy any longer. You couldn’t brush off his feelings in place of your own. So here you were, prepared to truly confess.

“Copia,” Typically, you’d use his proper title in these circumstances, but you were serious. Very serious. And that frightened him, mind spinning with outlandish ideas, pointing toward the worst outcome possible, and your tone confirmed that. But he didn’t want to believe that. “I’m gonna die… and I really don’t know how to stop it.”

His heart cracked hearing that, your tone accepting and not necessarily sad- but very disappointed, regretful. “Tell me more, cara, what do you mean?” He nearly pleaded, heart thudding, a pit forming in his stomach.

“I’ve died so many times. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. It’s a cruel cycle, I guess a curse. I’ve tried finding everything I can in all of the lives I’ve lived, and it’s never enough,” You confided, toying with your fingers to distract your mind. “I have two years left. Always bound to die young, at twenty-five. And I should have told you, that day we met. It was selfish of me to put you through such pain.”

“Don’t say that, amore mio,” Copia rejected, his legs trembling, running a frenzied hand through his hair, nerves frayed and running wild, this admission worse than what even he imagined. “We still have time to figure this out, we can talk to my brothers, surely they have wisdom to share. There has to be something we can do.”

“Copia, please don’t be sad over me,” You murmur, head leaned against the wood, listening to the little movements he made. “I’m already dying, I’m sick, I’m being punished for my time spent here. But I want you to know I don’t regret any of it, truly you have been a breath of fresh air, so kind and loving, and I haven’t felt that way in so, so long. I still have two years left, but I can’t imagine my body will be in the best shape.”

You heard the door on the other side creak open, and his footsteps, your stomach twisting, at the thought of his abandonment. You couldn’t blame him if that’s what he’d chose to do, you’d lied from the start and subjected him to the same amount of pain you were experiencing.

But then your door opened abruptly, arms embracing you and a head falling into your lap, the sniffles evident, and your heart shattered at the sight, cradling his head in your hands, a few tears streaking your own face. Your hands traced under his jaw, tilting his chin up, so he could face you. Thumbs glided across his cheeks, wiping the tears from his face, the paint around his eyes smearing from the movement. You admired his features briefly, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

“I’ll find you in my next life, Copia. I promise. We still have time it’s just, not the best conditions. It’s too late for my body this time, but it won’t be for the next,” You vowed, nose brushing with his. “My only question; are you… willing to wait? I’d.. understand if not, it’s a painful slew of emotion.”

“Amore mio, I would wait the rest of my life if it meant seeing you for just a second,” He held your face, thumb tracing your cheek fondly. His eyes were reddened, and it brought you pain to think about how he’d fare with you gone- and how you’d done this to him. Dragged him down into the pits to accompany you. He lifted his pinky, lightening the mood using the childish gesture, but his face remained somber, a smile he showed to make you feel at ease. “Pinky swear?”

Intertwining your pinkies, you mustered a small smile. “Pinky swear.”

When the fifth year arrived, and your twenty-fifth birthday subsequently, your body was eager in finally succumbing to death, and Copia tugged you close to his heart, shattering as the warmth dwindled from your body, skin greying, but you were free of the suffering that kept you captive- and that helped a little in breaking the shackles of grief. His heart mourned, and he delved into studies, flipping through every page of every book, talking to anyone who withheld necessary knowledge- all in preparation for your inevitable return. He just wasn’t certain how long it would take to see you again, but he lived by his declaration, dedicating all of his time to you, your memory.

He’d taken the roles of his predecessors before you’d returned, and it worried him, a part of him unsure if you would even want to crawl back into his arms, after all, age was catching up to him- a decade or two passing in his wait. But he remained as loyal as he’d been, yearning to see your face just one last time, he even found himself praying to Satan more frequently, pleading him to lead you back, back into this church, back into his grasp; where he would hold you and never let go, not again. It was excruciating being without you, the memories of you so long ago now, yet fresh in his mind, at the forefront of it.

He’d strayed to his room, stress riddling his bones and drowning them in fatigue, the touring and loss of partnership taking its toll as it would anyone. He sat at a table, forcing himself to peel his eyes through another old book, eyes lidded from the tiredness threatening to consume his being. Working until his shoulders were stiff, back was throbbing in pain, his head eventually colliding against the plush of his arm, sleep winning this battle.

The next morning the sound of his game console stirred him awake, grumbling Italian curses under his breath at the interruption. His blankets were draped across his body, the plush feel of his bed beneath him, a contrast to the hard desk he’d fallen asleep on- rubbing his eyes using the back of his hands, to wake himself up. Another day, more work to be completed, but firstly, he’d have to figure out who was in his room, who’d moved him so carefully it didn’t jolt him awake.

And when his eyes finally focused, the morning bleariness ebbing, he witnessed locks of h/c hair, so similar to yours. He gave his eyes another rub, scared this vision was just a symptom of overexertion. But no, they were still there, the pressing of buttons loudly evident, their head lulling side to side as they maneuvered whatever game they were playing. Only to see if it really was you- or just some lookalike. The bed echoed a soft creak as he stood to his feet, slowly approaching the figure. And at the noise, their head turned back, a game over screen flashing vibrantly on the box tv.

“Mia cara,” Left his lips, expression blank, yet brimming with so much unspoken emotion simultaneously. You ditched the controller on the sofa, practically running into his arms to embrace him, face nuzzled into the fabric of his shirt, memorizing the scent you’d missed oh so much. “It’s really you,” Copia’s hands were firm, clinging to you as if you’d vanish and never return.

“It is me, I’m finally back like I promised I would be,” You murmured, voice a bit muffled from your face buried into his chest. The moment you’d waited and longed for. You stared up at him, cupping his face in your palms, a small frown on your features. His hands traveled to your forearms, thumb gliding across the skin, a gentle caress. “My love, you look so tired and stressed. I was worried how you’d be when I’d gone, I’ve never wanted you to treat yourself so strictly and harshly. You, too, deserve to live a life of fulfillment and happiness.”

“Is there a.. such thing as fulfillment and happiness without you by my side? I waited for the day I could see you again, I did all of my research, just to make sure when you’d return, you would be back for good,” His eyes pierced yours, hand gliding to yours and pulling them from his face, leading you to the rustled bed. “Tell me; how are you? Did anything I’ve done help?”

“Copia,” You exhaled, prepared to tell him all that’d occurred in your time apart. “When I died, it was black for a while. Nothingness. I wasn’t even truly aware of my own existence. But a voice called to me,” Your hands were enveloped by his, scooting closer, knees brushing together. “And he had sympathy on my pitied life- lives. He didn’t agree with the gods above casting me into this decided fate, my punishment for being… simply different. So he allowed me to return to life under his guidance, and lead me right back to you. He told me about you, how you’d pleaded so much for my sake, and I’m eternally grateful for all you’ve done for me. All you’ve surrendered just to be with me.”

“And I would do it again in a heartbeat, mia cara,” His arms encased you, smothering you in the warmth you’ve craved for a millennia. “I’ve longed to have you back in my arms, to feel the warmth of your body as it left me so cold. Satan has heard my prayers, seen my yearning, and returned you to me.”

“I’ve missed you so dearly. You made me feel warm even when I went cold,” You confessed, soaking in the affection you were receiving so boisterously, not been able to feel truly at ease until Satan’s voice coaxed you from the abyss that heavens damned you to. Your fingers trailed down his spine, up and down, a repetitive, comforting motion. “Tell me, what has happened here while I’ve been gone? What have you been up to?”

He smiled, a lopsided one, your stomach doing somersaults. You were happy, for once, reclaiming all the pain you’d experienced, and letting yourself bask in the afterglow of this un-realness. “Well, I’m Papa, now,” He mentioned, fingers coiling around yours. “I’ve been touring with the ghouls, you know? I’m pretty popular these days actually.”

“I’m glad to hear that, seems you’re finally getting the recognition you deserve,” You planted a soft kiss on his nose, content to be in his presence again, sending a glance toward the tv screen flashing red lettering. “I couldn’t really figure the game out… The controls are… confusing.”

“Let me teach you then.”

-

just a lil one shot pooks

sorry it cuts off abruptly i wasn’t sure how to end it 🧐

constantly thinking about the fact ali’s wife and kids probably think he abandoned them ✌️

so him.

Masterlist. . . all my published works :p

Let it happen - hwang in-ho x reader

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

Ghost BC

monolith: copia x witch!reader

Let it happen

hwang in-ho x reader

Chapter 001

Danger appealed to you. The adrenaline that flooded your veins, and the rattle possessing your bones, in tandem with nauseating discomfort, served as sweet side effects that enhanced your addiction, the craving for more. You allowed fate to steer your path—toying with actions and their consequences.

Gambling had become a hobby of sorts, but lately, it’d grown dull to you, lacking the risk that once kept you entertained, a monotonous back and forth of losing money and easily gaining it back, recycling the same old tricks used by the same old people. You sought a higher price.

It was no surprise when you accepted a suited man’s invitation to play a game of ddakji, hands comfortable around the red-colored piece, eyes drifting between your opponent and the blue origami settled against the subway floor.

Normally, a child’s game would be the last thing to entice you, but this game included a catch; if you triumphed, 100,000 won would be gifted to you, and on the flip side, something that beckoned your interest more so, if you were defeated, you would be rewarded a slap—a potentially painful consequence. You’d have to see.

Exerting no effort, fate being the one to decide if this round was your loss or his, you threw the paper onto the blue piece, the red failing to flip the blue. Eyes lifted toward your opposite, you pointed to the side of your face, tapping your cheek expectantly—a slight thrum in the rhythm of your heart’s beat, a delightful sensation of wait and adrenaline.

The rough texture of his hand to your cheek caused a dull throb, the area tarnished by a pink outline of his hand, the color and pain spreading throughout the skin, nerves seething. Your lips twitched upward for the briefest moment, crouching to retrieve the red piece before regaining your previous position, flipping the ddakji tile around in your hand.

“Not bad,” You compliment, slamming the tile onto the other, successfully flipping it with ease. Your eyes glimmered with mirth, meeting the male’s entertained stare. True to his word, he placed a stack of cash in your palms, an unfaltering smile stretched across his features.

“There are more games just like this,” He spoke, words smoothly cutting across the silence of the station, fingers sliding a beige card from his pocket and extending it toward you. “The risk you want, it’s there, and money? That’s there too.”

You were never one to turn down an opportunity for risk and adventure, anything to quell the thirst for a rush. The card displayed three shapes on the front, an ominous trio of a circle, triangle, and square. Flipping it over, a number was listed, aligned with an unknown symbol.

The mysteriousness surrounding the circumstances lured you in, ensnaring you like an animal—and you found yourself dialing the number later that night, in the darkness of your room and the comforts of your sheets. Back propped against the wall, legs sprawled across the mattress, you lifted the phone to your ear, ears awaiting instruction.

Once the other line answered, they posed the question of if you were interested in joining the game—which should’ve been evident, as you were calling. Nonetheless, you affirmed that yes, you wanted to partake. Questions brewed in your mind, the process of reaching this game was so concealed that it made you ponder—reaching the conclusion that yes, like the man earlier stated, it did offer risk, perhaps more risk than you’d ever taken. But that theory only solidified your decision to join.

“First and last name. Date of birth,” The monotonous voice requested, focused solely on the given task. The user on the other side of the line exchanged no information, nothing that clarified the happenings that occurred within these ‘games’.

“[Y/N] [L/N]. [DOB],” Your head wavered slightly, tipping to the side, fixated on the traces of light seeping inside beneath the crack of the door, which seemed unusual—you didn’t recall turning them on, as you had immediately retreated to your room.

Your attention swiftly returned to the call as the voice began to list an address, accompanied by the date to be there, scribbling the digits and letters on a slip of paper and tucking it inside the page of a book. The call ended shortly after, relinquishing your focus on that matter and directing it to the lights.

Without hesitation, you strode to the door, brandishing a pocket knife that you kept hidden within the hold of your fingers, using your free hand to swing the door open. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone broke in, angered by a loss in gambling—their sums of money yours to surrender to debt.

“If you’re in here, it’s best you just stop hiding,” You coaxed, feet padding softly against the floor as you carefully crept down the hallway, fist clenching around the pocket knife. “You really don’t want to start something you can’t finish.”

Something slammed into your head suddenly, stance stumbling back in surprise and colliding with the cold floor despite futile attempts to grip the wall, clutch on the weapon never ceasing. You peered up at the perpetrator, recognizing the features instantly.

“Knew it,” You muttered, standing up, a throb resonating from the back of your skull. “What do you want? Your money back? We played a game, fair and square. You just.. happened to lose,” Your shoulders casually lifted momentarily in a shrug, unbothered by the crowbar directed at your face. Now this was the risk you truly adored about gambling.

Shaky hands wielded the crowbar, sweat glistening on the man’s face. “I need the money—my money- back,” He demanded, mustering a sharp glare that couldn’t intimidate the weakest. You eyed him. “Show me where my money is.. o-or else,” He waved the weapon, to further demonstrate his willingness to use it on you, completely desperate.

“Why? You practically pushed the money into my hands,” You laughed as you slipped the knife further into your sleeve. “If you can’t accept the consequences of gambling, then don’t do it,” You released a sigh, arms dropping to your sides. “Oh, well, looks like I have no other choice, huh?”

“Tell me where the money is,” He ordered, this time his voice held more confidence at the indication of him having the upper hand. He gestured you to move using the object, raising an eyebrow. “Now.”

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” You raise your hands, turning around and continuing to walk, guiding him into the lit kitchen. Your hands grazed the counter, pocket knife gliding softly onto the surface, back facing the intruder, simultaneously shielding the knife block from his sight.

“Is it in here?” He questioned, eyes anxiously darting around.

“Can I ask you something?” You spoke, silently unsheathing one of the gleaming blades, examining your reflection in the shining silver. You didn’t waste a moment in wait of a response, continuing regardless, “What made you decide to gamble all that money, and why do you now want it back? What makes you resort to violence to get it? After all, you lost a game you wanted to play.”

A glance back at him, you could witness the tremble your words elicited from his body, fingers loosely wrapped around the object from the intense quiver in his hands. “My… mother… She’s sick. It was her money I used, it’s… only right,” He nearly whimpered, knees threatening to give out. “I know I’m a bad person, but… she isn’t. She doesn’t deserve that.”

You turned around, knife hidden behind your back. His words struck a chord that rattled your brain, bringing you back to the memory of your late parents and how deathly they appeared in their last moments. You recalled being penniless and in shambles, unable to prevent what happened in any way.

You frowned, staring at his crumpled form before yanking the weapon from his hands without any difficulty. You tossed it aside, kicking him down and aiming your knife at his neck, the blade digging into the skin slightly. “If you’re lying to me, I will gut you,” You gritted out, the edge of the blade summoning a single drop of blood.

You straightened your back, bruises blossoming across the plump flesh of his face as it received a few hard kicks, tears escaping his squinted eyes, although he never attempted to defend himself. “Don’t make me feel bad, you hit me first…” You muttered, a foot prodding his face, a pout tugging down your lips.

Leaving him alone in the kitchen, you entered your room to retrieve the money, strings of incoherence grumbled out as you scavenged the drawer, fiddling with the key to unlock it. When you returned, you dropped a stack of cash onto his chest, his body under intense scrutiny by the intimidating blade. “Now get out. Or I’ll kill you right now,” You stated coldly. “Don’t force me to make a lesson out of you.”

He scrambled to his feet, a clumsiness in his hurried movements, head bowed and hands lifted in surrender, tearing the front door open and hastily exiting, leaving behind an eery silence that consumed all. Your head swiveled from side to side, dismissive of the situation—consequences of your actions, you supposed.

Days passed in haste, the time blurring together, until it reached the given date. You endured the cold, jacket hugged close to your frame, patiently waiting for something to happen, for someone to appear. Eyes traced the barren street, shooting down to your lit phone screen.

You scrolled through empty messages, aimlessly, distracting yourself. You lacked attachments and connections within the world, in constant solitude, and that’s truly why you were so willing to participate, so willing to risk your wellbeing for something you knew nothing of. The money wasn’t what enticed you, it was the danger that was alluring.

A car paused in front of you, drawing your attention. You approached the window, announcing your name for the masked driver. The door to the backseat slid open in confirmation, inviting you inside. You crawled into the vehicle, noticing others were unconscious in the seats, deep in the slumber that consumed them. You relaxed in the seat, head comfortable.

Smoke soon filtered into the car, emitting from the vents, creating a fog of the interior. You struggled to breathe, throat tight, eyes beginning to squint wearily before falling shut entirely, the same, deep slumber possessing your body, settling limp in the seat.

When you awoke, your eyes were confronted by a bright light that encompassed the spacious room, classical music spilling into your ears that engulfed the entire room. A soft grumble left your mouth, pushing yourself up and slinging your legs over the edge. You stretched your arms, the drowsy effects taking their time subsiding.

Observing the room, everyone bore a striking resemblance—by the simple fact that they were all dressed in green tracksuits, varying in numbers. You peeled your eyes away, directing your attentive gaze to the number assigned to you. Eleven.

You scrambled out of bed, trailing down the steps to stand and watch the crowd from afar, shoulder pressed into the metal bar that framed the stack of beds. People appeared to congregate amongst each other, each individual just as confused as the next.

A loud buzzer sounded, the doors at the center of the room opening with them, revealing numerous figures, attire pink and faces masked, each marked with a shape—the same trio of shapes symbolized on the card. They summoned everyone’s attention with their entrance.

“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you,” Greeted the square guard, center of them all, voice warped and unidentifiable. The anonymity of their front—and authority—stood out to you, head falling forward to analyze the figures closely, still desiring to maintain distance from everyone.

“Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize,” The instructions were simple, almost too simple for you.

“Excuse me,” Shouted someone in the swarm, everyone’s eyes drifting to the individual, who stepped down from the platform, appearing more visibly. Eyes lowered to the patch on her chest, reading 120. “You said I’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me. So how can I believe that?”

“I apologize. Please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.”

“What’s with the mask then?” Another woman mentioned, tilting her head to the side, lips tugged down and arms crossed. “Is your face also a secret?”

The male situated beside her agreed, eyebrows pressed together, a slight irritation twinged their tones, a reasonable irritation given the unusual circumstances. “Yeah, why are you hiding your face?” He added. “Is this some kind of illegal gambling house?”

Being a gambler yourself, you knew not even they followed these measures. There was something more behind this than mere games—a hidden catch that would surely stun everyone, but you arrived prepared for the worst. Bordering on debt, living day to day, being attacked in your own home—how could life get any worse?

“Even the dealers don’t cover their faces in those places.”

“To ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality, it is our policy not to reveal the faces and identities of staff. Please understand,” The guard recited, the policy arousing suspicion within the crowd.

“Did you take off my clothes and put these on me?” A girl lifted her jacket into the air, harboring an accusatory tone.

“What’s with these shoes? My shoes are limited fucking edition,” Purple hair entered your view, the displeasure on his face evident, a white shoe being the center focus of his statement. “They’re hard to find. You gonna replace them if they get ruined?”

“These don’t fit and the color sucks,” Griped the previous girl, lip jutted. Her eyes shifted to the guards, eyes lighting up in realization, a smile spreading on her features. “Can I just have what you’re wearing instead? The pink is cuter.”

“I’m sorry, but that is not possible. You must be in your uniforms for the games,” He declined, being the enforcer of rules.

“What about my phone-?”

You rolled your eyes, taking a step back and settling on the stairs, face supported by your palm to study the stir of the crowd. You were thoroughly brought to boredom by the superficial complaints, blocking the voices from your mind until a loud slap reverberated across the room. You scooted closer to view the video projected on the screen.

“—Age thirty, used to run a YouTube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared. You’re wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. Current debt level: 1.8 billion won,” The guard challenged, videos of players being slapped plastered across the screen, the figure reciting each outspoken player’s debts for all to hear.

“Player 100, Im Jeong-dae, 10 billion won in debt,” The final announcement elicited gasps, astounding everyone with the large amount, the highest debt in the room quite likely. Your eyes tore through the crowd, searching for the man as was everyone else.

“What are you looking at?” He shouted, startling the people around him, a scowl staining his features. “Do you think it’s easy to get a 10 billion won loan? They don’t lend that kind of money to just anyone, only to those who are capable of paying it back!”

“Yet you haven’t,” You voiced sardonically, the crowd’s attention unexpectedly in your hands. You gestured casually, unbothered by the stares. “All of you are in here for the same reasons, really,” The crowd began to grumble amongst themselves, debating your words between one another.

“All of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff-edge,” The guard affirmed, providing evidence to your claim. “When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will. You have one last chance to decide,” There was a pause in their sentence, allowing everyone to mull over the words carefully. “Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors, or will you seize the opportunity we are offering?”

The lights dimmed and sounds echoed from above, a golden, hollow pig emerging from the ceiling. The golden hue that emanated made it appear more majestic, more enticing.

“What you see now is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored,” The guard revealed, using the sight to persuade the players further. “After each of the six games you will play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank.”

“How much is the prize money?”

“The prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won in total.”

“And one of us will get it?”

“We will give you the details about the distribution of the prize money after the first game,” The guard explained. “For these games, you will be given a special new advantage.”

“What is it?” Interrupted 100, heads turning to spare a glance at the old man.

“After each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether the games continue or not,” They clarified. “If the majority votes to stop the games, you can leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point.”

“Are you saying that we’ll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?” A player interjected, your eyes shooting toward them. 456.

“That is correct.”

Eventually, after the initial shock diminished and scribbling your signature on a consent form, you traveled through the building in a line, stopping to take an identification photo. Your lips quirked, portraying a knowing smile as the camera flashed, unperturbed. You continued following the line up the staircase that felt as if it would never end, spirals upon spirals. Patterns of taunting color lined the walls, making for a colorful palette.

Another player, 25, cozied himself beside you, choosing to fill the uncomfortable silence and quell his nerves with idle chatter. You had met these types of people before—who wouldn’t have anything to do with you until it served them purpose. But you decided to play nice and entertain him, it didn’t affect you really.

“What do you think the game will be?” He asked, eyeing you curiously.

“No idea,” You shrugged as you maneuvered through the hallway. The curved paths seemed to go in every which way, it would be easy to find yourself lost. Your answer induced a sag in his shoulders, disappointed at the lack of awareness they harbored going into this, but they did sign up for it.

“It can’t be that bad, though. The ddakji dude, you remember?” Twenty-five nodded along to your statement, recalling the individual. “He said they have games like that, so it can’t be anything but child’s play. The game itself doesn’t matter to me as long as it has an edge to it.”

“Shouldn’t you be hoping it doesn’t-? I mean, the easier it is to win the more likely you’ll get the money,” He argued, an eyebrow raised.

“Come on, you can’t be that dumb,” You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed at your opposite, his lips reacting with a frown to your comment. “They’ll make these games as hard as possible to prevent anyone from reaching that cash. Think about it, what person is gonna hand out that type of money so easily?” You persisted in your journey, the pair of you treading the stairs, legs coated in a dull ache. “You should accept that this won’t be easy, life never works that way.”

“Maybe, you’re right,” He sighed, ending the conversation of his own volition. You didn’t mind that conclusion.

Soon after, the players were ushered into an open space, the sight of a large—robotic?—girl greeting everyone, as the monotone female voice overhead welcomed them all into the area and instructed them to wait on the field.

You examined the terrain, the closest you would get to being outside for a few days. The walls were decorated realistically, but not enough to convince anyone they were authentic—only the sky above could be believed, the birds in the sky serving as witness to the happenings.

“Looks like a doll, do you have any ideas now on what it could be?” Twenty-five questioned, a finger aimed at the object, a soft glare shot his way from you.

“How would I know? It’s not everyday you see this type of shit,” You retorted, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets as your neck craned to inspect the doll. “Is there any game you know that involves a giant robot doll?”

“No-“ He was cut off by the doors slamming behind them, shocking the crowd, his attention captured by the sound.

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light.”

“That’s not so bad,” Twenty-five muttered beside you, you could hear the relief in his voice. You weren’t satisfied with the announcement, knowing there had to be more beyond just a kid’s game—could it really be as simple as that? He nudged your side with his elbow, sharing a small smile. “Looks like you might be wrong about this one.”

You scowled. “I wouldn’t be so relaxed yet. You never know what hurdles they might add.”

“Cross the finish line in five minutes without getting caught,” The voice further instructed, though you were sure most didn’t need an introduction to the game.

“Everyone!” Shouted a man, who’d pushed his way to the very front. You recognized him from earlier—456. He waved his arms, gathering everyone’s concentration. “Everyone, listen up! Pay attention!” His yells silenced the field. “Listen carefully! This is not just a game. If you lose the game, you die!” His speech sparked your curiosity, abandoning twenty-five to be in the front, keen to listen to his words.

“We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” A player scoffed, expression incredulous.

“Yes, that’s right! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere!” He shouted, attempting to convince the players. “If you get caught, you die!” He pointed to the doll stationed at the finish line. “That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I think he’s trying to scare us, so he can win the prize money,” A murmur of agreement washed over the crowd.

“You should listen to what he says. Who would give money away so easily, there’s always a catch,” You raised your voice, defending the man’s statement despite the insanity it reeked. Irritated eyes flew to your direction. “You think a billionaire is gonna empty their pockets for ‘trash’ like us for no reason?”

“That’s insane! It sounds like a movie,” One sneered, the posse he’d accumulated regurgitating various excuses to one another, lies to comfort themselves from the potential truth.

“If you die, there’s no one to blame but yourself,” You sighed, arms crossed over your chest. They were a herd of sheep, used to monotony, believing everything they were fed.

The whirring of the doll’s movements commanded your attention, the machine spinning around to face the tree and resting a hand against the bark. The sight felt unreal to you.

“Don’t be alarmed or panic!” Called 456 again, his expression showing his determination and seriousness about the matter, which lead you to believe him. His eyes brimmed with sincerity, and you could tell his eyes had been testimony to this before, a witness to something truly horrific. Even beyond his eyes, his face was extremely gaunt, and it seemed as though he’d not been sleeping properly. “No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!”

“Let the game begin,” With that, the timer flicked on, the numbers boldened with red, and the girl began her chant.

“Green light,” Everyone carefully took forward steps, a slight worry dwelling the back of their minds about 456’s words—his words only ignited a rush within you, heart thrumming in anticipation of what could come.

“Red light.”

“Freeze!” He shouted to reaffirm that everyone stay completely stalled, paralyzed in their positions as the mechanical head whipped around, dark eyes scanning each of you. How well, you weren’t sure, the distance between you being a great one, but regardless, your motions stilled.

“Well done! You just need to stay calm like this!” He guided, maintaining his stance. You weren’t far from him, studying him from the corner of your eye, intrigued by his persistence—after everyone labeled him an idiot, scoffing at his claims, he still persisted. “We just have to move and stop at the right time then we can all win and survive together!”

“Green light.” Again, everyone cycled forward, making a rush to stride toward the finish line, feet digging into the sand to halt when it announced red light.

“Freeze! Don’t move and stay still! Just relax!”

You were toward the front, as still as a statue, not even allowing yourself a breath. The time ticked, a countdown that hammered stress into the players. You found the situation entertaining—no one had the courage to move even a muscle and test 456’s theory despite their barrage of insults. Idiots.

Everyone migrated like that for a bit, running as it declared green light and stopping abruptly as it announced red light, a back and forth that didn’t break until a gunshot infiltrated the air—the first contestant to die before them, just as 456 claimed, bodies slamming cold against the dirt.

“Nobody move!”

Not an ounce of sympathy inhibited your body—you didn’t have any connection to them, and they likely weren’t keen to 456’s words; otherwise, they wouldn’t have moved. This only furthered your interest, curiosity bubbling, pondering the next games—was it sick to slightly enjoy this, bearing a risk in every step made.

More shots followed, ringing out as screams echoed throughout, players retracting from the area instinctively, to hide from the bloodshed and violence, which only resulted in their own blood shed.

“No! Don’t move!” 456 reminded, desperation in his voice, yet still, people attempted to flee, gunshots ensuing shortly after. “Stay still!”

Your eyes struggled to keep entertained by the view in front of you, not wanting your eyes to stray toward the casualties littering the sand. Your ears deafened to the shrill sound of bullets, the pound of your heart reverberating across your skull, palms a heap of sweat, veins pulsing with adrenaline—the symptoms an addictive mixture.

Death lingered feet from you, daring anyone to make the irreversible decision to move, the crimson-stained sand proof of what would occur. Death never frightened you, though, and if that was your luck, to die here, you would bear it, having nothing to live for anyway.

“Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, “green light”. If it shouts, “red light”, and your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated,” The overhead voice repeated, the word eliminated being more than described, the irony made you want to laugh.

“Green light,” Everyone remained still, but you challenged them by marching forward, unaffected by the mess of red behind you, needing to continue progressing—there was a finish line for a reason. Your motions abruptly halted when the latter was proclaimed, adrenaline offering a sweet high to occupy you. The risk was truly unlike any other.

You continued this cycle for two more rounds before everyone began to mimic the actions, huddling closely together in lines, as 456 instructed. Rather than guarantee your safety by using someone else as a shield, you were positioned ahead of them all, in the center-front of the crowd, in a situation where you could easily become a target.

Eventually, your feet slid across the finish line, kicking up sand with it. You congratulated yourself for being the first player across, without any aid, heart thrashing at the thought of the risk the future games burdened. Were they going to be easier- worse?

More people crowded behind the finish line, relief coursing their veins, falling flat onto the sand, shouldering such heavy relief, as the first game wrapped up.

Twenty-five’s knees were bent, strands of hair clinging to the sweat on his face, accepting deep breaths into his lungs greedily, recovering from the stress. He sauntered toward you—why, you didn’t know, you weren’t friends. A hand patted your shoulder, half leaning into you for support. “You… You…” He heaved, struggling for breath, chest overwhelmed. “You were right.”

You snorted. “That guy knew about it before me,” You flicked a thumb toward 456, who’d guided everyone, raising their chances of survival.

“Why did you decide to go ahead?” He asked, plopping onto the sand beside you, bafflement glimmering in his eyes, knees hugged to his chest. You decided to sit beside him, criss-crossed, resting your elbows on your knees—finding there was nothing else to do while waiting for everyone to cross the finish line, the time ticking.

“Because I don’t care what happens,” You answered, eyes flickering from the field and your opposite, unsure why you were even responding. “You shouldn’t be worried. Just trust yourself and nothing will happen.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Twenty-five grumbled. “It’s hard to accept that you could just die any second, especially from something like a children’s game.”

“I guess,” You shrugged, glancing toward 456, who yelled to the stragglers remaining on the field, encouraging them. “We’ll see what the vote says.”

“Hey,” Twenty-five shook you, interrupting your observing of the field, watching for what would happen next. “What are you gonna vote? To stay or leave?”

Your lips thinned, pressed together as you mulled over the question. “To stay. I think,” You pondered, tone questioning. Truthfully, you were at a loss, 456’s words ringing in your mind, but you weren’t one to be vulnerable. “I don’t really care about anyone here, not even myself, so why would I care if they die?”

“You must really need that money, then, huh?” He snorted, somehow unbothered by the statement, perhaps he could understand the reasoning.

“Sure,” You nodded, aware your debt troubles weren’t nearly as bad as the others—simply floating the line between debt free and debt full.

“Look at that,” Twenty-five’s finger aimed at the field. Turning, you witnessed 456, along with 120, rushing toward the finish line, a wounded man- 444- smushed between them, his arm’s draped around their necks as he limped, their teeth gritted, perspiration evident on their features, the time ticking closer to zero.

You leaned forward, concentrated on watching the scene unravel—stunned, in a way, that they could act so selflessly, a trait you could only wish to possess. Your eyebrows furrowed, nails digging into your palms, a part of you hoping they succeeded. They looked so determined.

The trio fell across the finish line, a second to spare, an exhale leaving your mouth. “That was close,” You breathed, twenty-five wiping the sweat from his forehead, murmuring an agreement.

One last shot fired, deeming 120’s and 456’s risk useless, 444’s body collapsing, blood spilling onto the sand. They truly weren’t letting anyone through easy, one mistake and you’re out.

A noise from above redirected everyone’s attention, the ceiling emerging and concealing the outside as it shut, the severity of everything settling on everyone’s shoulders—unsure faces peering around.

Back at the dormitory, silence swallowed the entire room, everyone shocked by the events, questioning the reality that revealed. You were seated on a stair, quiet as everyone else, near another girl, patch reading 222. She used the frame of the beds to support her head, hands clasped, thumb gliding across her knuckles. Examining a little more closely, you noticed a subtle bulge within her clothes, quick to avert your eyes—pregnant in this situation?

“What’s your name?” Twenty-five whispered, scooting in beside you, a semblance of relief at the disruption of the silence, though you weren’t too fond of his comfortable-ness. A perplexed expression saturated your face, an eyebrow raised.

“Why do you need my name?”

“Well, I don’t wanna just call you by a number,” He said it as if it were obvious. And maybe it was. But you didn’t want to form a semblance of connection to anyone, it would only weaken you. Spending the majority of your time secluded, close with enemies and distant to friendship, it became natural, to be just one—you were all you needed.

“It’s fine, is it really that big of a deal?” You groaned, frowning, head cocking back briefly. “After these games, we won’t have anything to do with each other.”

“You never know, we might make it out of here as friends,” He defended, letting go of an exhale. You glared at the wall, so you wouldn’t be forced beneath his scrutiny, silently listening. “My names Eun-Shin, whether you tell me yours is up to you, but I don’t wanna be called a number for days on end.”

You contemplated, focused on collecting the fragments of your thoughts, piecing them together. Silent for a long moment, his statement puzzling your brain, you finally acknowledged him, expression nearly deadpan.

“My names-“

A buzzer sounded, stirring them from their conversation, alerting that the doors were opening, a multitude of guards entering. Terror struck the people, scrambling to their feet, creating as much distance as possible between them. You stayed still, quiet.

“Congratulations for making it through the first game,” The guard spoke, tone lacking anything joyful. “Here are the results of the first game,” On cue, the numbers on the screen lowered—down one digit to the next. “Out of 456 players, 91 have been eliminated. 365 players have completed the first game. Congratulations again for making it through the first game.”

“Sir! Please don’t kill us!” An older woman pleaded, yanking a male along with her, fright evident in her features. What normal person wouldn’t be afraid, there was so much left unknown. She dropped to her knees, pleading vivaciously. “Please don’t kill us, I’m begging you!” She bowed her head, as if in repent for sins that she didn’t commit. “As for my son’s debt, I will do whatever it takes to pay you back! Please forgive us!”

Hands latched onto her son, dragging him into the floor with her. “Don’t just stand there. Beg for his forgiveness,” She scolded, continuing to bow, cries escaping her throat.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” The son included, hands cupped together in plea. “I promise I’ll pay it back!”

“There seems to be a misunderstanding-“

Multiple people joined the pair on the floor, pleading to the figures to spare their lives. Twenty-five—Eun-Shin—remained beside you, eyebrows creased in concern for the other players. You faced the spectacle, the tiniest lurch of sympathy gnawing your stomach, even potentially second-guessing your choices. To stay or leave. Biting back empathy, you reminded yourself these people wanted to be here—hell, they signed their name on the dotted line just like you did.

“We are not trying to harm you,” Assured the guard, which didn’t ease anyone’s anxieties, after witnessing the exchange outside. “We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

“Clause three of the consent form,” 456 pointed out, voice loud enough for all to hear, approaching the front of the crowd, heads turning to observe the encounter. “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?”

“That is correct,” The square gave a nod.

“Then let us take a vote right now,” The player demanded.

Everyone clustered at the back, the decision of pressing O or X bringing you dread. O, you told yourself, another fraction of you reciting X. Thankfully, time was in your grasp, as your number would be one of the last few to be called—the voting starting with 456, rather than 1, and unsurprisingly, his palm landed on X, decision having been solidified from the start.

Eun-Shin was no where in your sight, but standing beside you happened to be 222. Glancing at her, your mind debated which button she would press. Recalling her circumstance, the answer was clear, she would likely vote to leave. But you didn’t know her, you weren’t obligated to vote for the wellbeing of others, so you tended solely to your own motives—others’ blind belief not your mistake.

“Are you okay?” Whispered the girl beside you, 222 sparing a glance at you, half of her focus on the votes. Her voice surprised you, shattering your daze.

You eased your muscles, softening the clench of your fists, heart beating so rambunctiously you wondered if she heard it. “Yeah, why?” Your demeanor appeared less than frantic, small mannerisms being the only indication otherwise.

“You looked tense,” She answered, sharing a brief, tight-lipped smile to signify she meant no harm. You managed one in return, facing the front with your thoughts even more discombobulated—pity, or maybe empathy, coiling around your heart.

“Wait a minute, everyone! Wait” 456 interjected as they reached the halfway mark, the purple-haired player, the one who droned about his shoes, having just casted his vote. Your eyes flew to the source. “You can’t do this. Come to your senses! Don’t you see? These aren’t just any games. We will all die if we keep playing!” His arms gestured wildly to showcase his desperation to get the point across, eyebrows drawn close. “We have to get out of here now. With a majority vote, we can! We must stop here!”

“Who do you think you are?” 100 stalked to the opening in the middle, shouting out, irritated. “Why do you keep egging people on like that? You scared us by saying they’d shoot us before the game even began!”

“That’s right!” A female agreed, stepping forward. “He was going on about how we’d die, and I almost did, because I got so nervous!”

“How did you know they were going to shoot us?” Another player pointed an accusatory finger at 456, something that made your jaw clench, encouraging you to brush through the crowd, so you could be at the center of the action. The conflict oddly exciting to you. “Are you one of them?”

“Are you conning us all by pretending to be a player?” 100 accused, scowling at 456.

“You wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him, most of us wouldn’t,” You stated, stirring the pot further, though this was merely the truth. “Use your head, for once, instead of following delusion.”

“She’s right. That’s completely uncalled for,” An X encroached, 390, gesturing to his friend. “Without him, we wouldn’t have survived!” His finger drifted to another player, daring a few steps forward. “And you! I saw how scared you were. Your legs were shaking,” His victim merely scratched his head, eyes downcast. “You should thank him, not treat him like a fraud!”

“And who the hell are you? Are you conspiring with him?” He sneered back.

“Rude. How old are you?”

“Older than you. What are you going to do?”

The mother from earlier swatted 390, intervening before it escalated into violence, grabbing everyone’s attention. “None of us would be alive if it weren’t for this gentleman,” She gestured to 456. For some reason, her plea and desperation made you feel bad, how tearful it was. “So enough with the greed. Let’s put our lives first and get out of this place! Okay?”

Shouts broke out between the voters, the disagreements bubbling to a boil. You found yourself trapped between the urge to join and instigate, or leave it alone, neither option sounding all that appealing. The flurry of comments caused you to question everything even further, skull bouncing with the two choices.

“I’ve played these games before!” In a moment, the room quieted, 456 ensnaring their attention, even you were stunned by the declaration—the expression on his face deriving more confusion from you, mind scattered. “I’ve done this before! I knew about the first game, because I’d played it before! I played the games here three years ago! And everyone who was with me….” He paused, eyes tearful when reflecting on those past memories. “.. died here!”

You blurred with the crowd, eyebrows pressed together, avoiding the confrontation to process your thoughts, split between the two options. 456’s words struck you, the chilling gleam in his eye, traumatized and scarred, was persuasive—but you still desired to play, leaving you at an impasse.

As the numbers thinned to the last chunk, your stomach churned uncomfortably, that nauseating discomfort you normally craved, but this time, it only soured your disposition, pure anxiety that fed off of you. You breathed in, willing the dread to fade in an instant, your assigned number called forward.

Each side eyed you, silently yearning for their desired button to be pushed, all for them—but you weren’t answering for them. You approached the buttons, not an ounce of reluctance in pressing O, the choice yours and yours alone. Every action you demonstrated had either your best or worst interest in mind—risking the wrong action to suffer the oh-so-right consequence. You smoothed an O patch on your chest, joining the lot of blue. Even if X votes overtook the O’s, you wouldn’t mind, you lived life however it occurred and would tolerate the results of it.

The last individual was finally announced, each side waving the symbols of their chosen side, chanting, and you watched the male stride to the front of the room, the final player, who would settle the tie—deciding the fate of everyone inside.

He paused, faced with the two, shining buttons, taking a moment to finalize his decision, hand hovering between the two choices before it finally landed on the O, the decision to stay overwhelming. His eyes scanned the crowd, the slightest quirk in his lip.

You were perched on a bed, simply watching the antics occur. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or not. You also chose O, but you remained internally conflicted—a part of you crippling with sympathy for those who wanted to leave, seeing their pleas and cries to go home.

Eyes followed the tiebreaker, hand supporting your face as you analyzed. Your eyes met his, to which you averted your stare. You weren’t scrutinizing him, you simply wondered why he would want to stay. You certainly had reasons, but what about everyone else? Money, was the blatant answer, but what else—they were willing to throwaway lives for their own greed, each one just as sick as you.

“You voted O, I thought you were gonna change your mind at first,” A voice interrupted—the side next to you dipping as Eun-Shin sat beside you. You noticed the X bright on his patch. “It’s like you forced yourself to press O.”

“I didn’t force myself,” You dismissed instantly, shooting a glare his way. “I just had my mind made up when I voted.”

“If you say so,” He sighed.

The pair of you thought about the occurrences of today, the bloodshed, and the future games to be held, a tinge of excitement streaming your consciousness at the countless ideas of what could happen—but glancing toward your sort-of companion, you couldn’t help but imagine his potential fate, and it made your stomach knot in unease.

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guys, i apologize for the lack of interaction w in-ho, but i promise u we will get there 😩✌️

chapter two is out now