Lieutenantbatshit - Kept You Waiting, Huh?

prologue - just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

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A/N: I'm back! Yey! No more sad endings this time, I promise. 😅 Hope you'll like my new series!

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The night fell in the games like a clenched fist. 

The low hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed inside Hwang In-ho’s skull, matching the stuttering beat of his heart. Blood, slick and sticky, pooled at his side where the jagged edge of a broken bedframe had ripped through his shirt and skin hours ago. He pressed his palm over the wound, more out of instinct than hope.

His wound wasn’t deep enough to kill him yet. But enough to slow him down. And in here, slowing down meant dying. 

The air reeked of sweat, fear, and iron. He leaned back against the freezing metal frame of his bunk, staring blankly across the dormitory where the others lay curled like dying insects, clutching stolen blankets, clutching each other if they had to.

His breathing stayed shallow. Any deeper and the pain would carve a new line through him. He barely noticed it now. Pain was just another part of the architecture—another brick in the wall he'd built around himself the moment he realized survival meant killing something inside.

His body screams to collapse. But he can't afford to listen.

Would it even matter if he survived?

The thought drifted through him, detached, like watching someone else drown through a pane of glass. If he died here, it would be easier. No debts. No shame curling in his gut like a parasite every time he thought about his wife sitting alone in a sterile hospital room.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the numbness settle deeper. Hope was dangerous here. Softness was lethal. He had clawed and fought to stay alive through the first game, through the second, through the alliances and betrayals that had stripped everyone down to what they really were. And now?

Now he was just a body pressed into a corner, bleeding out slowly, wondering if the prize at the end was even real.

The blood slid down his side in slow rivulets. His fingers tightened reflexively, staunching it, but the strength was leaving him. He shifts, grimacing, dragging himself tighter into the shadow between two bunks. Just another faceless player trying not to die before morning.

Somewhere, a scuffle breaks out. A choked scream. The wet, final thud of a head hitting concrete. In-ho doesn't even flinch.

He can't afford to.

He wonders if this is how dying feels—not sudden, but slow. A gradual loosening from the world, like slipping under deep water where no one can hear you scream.

Maybe tomorrow, he would bleed out during the next game. Maybe he'd die here, alone in the dark.

Maybe, he thought distantly, it wouldn't be a bullet that took him out. Maybe it would be something stupid like an infection. Or bleeding out under the blank, indifferent gaze of a dozen pink-masked guards.

Guards who wouldn’t even flinch.

Guards who didn't see him as anything but a number.

Soft footsteps edged closer through the rows of battered bunk beds. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. If it was another player, they would slit his throat and be done with it. If it were a guard, maybe they would drag him out early. Spare him the indignity of dying like a stray dog in front of the others.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. A shadow falls across him as he squints up at you, someone with a mask and pink uniform blurring at the edges of his swimming vision. 

Your voice was low and close, like a secret pressed against his half-conscious mind. You knelt, against every protocol, and pressed something against his wound with pressure, making it firm and steady.

“If you live,” you whispered. “Don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

In-ho’s eyes snapped open, his hand brushing against yours as he tried to make sense of what was happening, on why the hell a guard was speaking to him in this manner. You immediately swat his hand away as you hurriedly tend to his wounds.

For the first time in days, Hwang In-ho felt something splinter deep inside the fortress he had sealed himself into. It wasn’t hope — more of the terrifying possibility that even if he lived, he might not be the same man who started the game. 

----

A/N: I'm so happy to be writing another series again! Squid Game started appearing in my FYP again (and yes, I've watched multiple edits of LBH again 😭). Anyway, we're like almost a month away from the new season of Squid Game, I'm so excited! 😆

As the saying goes... Don't forget to leave a comment in this prologue to be tagged on to the first chapter. :)

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@helgathe requested: Call of Duty: Black Ops 1 + the Text Post Meme

*pained expression intensifies*

/cries about call of duty characters on a regular basis

“this is for soap”

CHAPTER 07 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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You woke up to the sound of classical music playing over the speakers, as you stretched your arms out. You seemed to sleep comfortably, feeling energetic. You didn't worry too much about the next game, in fact, you were ecstatic.

You rubbed your eyes as you climbed down your bed, greeting Gi-hun and Jung-bae. You looked around to find In-ho, seeing him across Gi-hun's bed who was already sitting up on his bed. You carefully walked over him as he noticed you.

"Hi," you said shyly, giving him a small wave.

In-ho shot you a look, raising his eyebrow. "Do I know you?"

You tilted your head in confusion, furrowing your eyebrows. You couldn't deny the feeling as if your heart was stabbed. Did he really have no idea who you were? You knew he heard you last night, your eyes meeting knowing that something was there, that you go way back. He held you during the voting process, the same way that he did back when you were kids.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. In-ho stood up and walked past you, his arms brushing against yours softly, but brief. You looked at him, seeing him interact with Gi-hun and Jung-bae. You stared at him intently, trying to figure out if he didn't know you at all, or if he was pretending not to.

The alarm buzzed, a voice on the speaker echoing through the room. "Attention, please. The second game will begin momentarily. Please follow the instructions from our staff."

You shook your head and fixed yourself up, walking down the stairs just when Dae-ho calls out to you. "Miss, you should join us. Let's go up together."

You felt In-ho's eyes on you but you kept your gaze at Dae-ho, whose eyes were jolly, despite the brutality of this place. You gave him a nod as Gi-hun, Jung-bae. In-ho, you, and Dae-ho fell in line out the door.

Players started to walk up the labyrinth stairs, hearing Jung-bae mutter "triangle" in every step. You couldn't help but feel your heart heavy as you made your way upstairs, knowing you were just behind In-ho. You tried to keep your distance or at least not trip, or you would bump into In-ho.

You were led to a room that seemed like a play area, the ones you would see in school. You looked around as if you were in the middle of an activity center in an elementary school. Two circles were formed in the middle, bordered with rainbow colors. You tried to look for any signs if this would be the Dalgona game, but you didn't see any small containers.

"Welcome to your second game. This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes."

You see Gi-hun's mouth drop in shock, his eyes with a hint of worry. Jeong-bae spoke up, "Is Dalgona a team game?"

"It shouldn't be," you said, sighing. Though you've already foreseen how the games could be different now, but you couldn't help but feel guilty for Gi-hun, knowing how the other players depended on his words.

Suddenly, Player 100, who you know as Jeong-dae, appeared from behind, his tone harsh. "Aren't we playing the Dalgona game?"

"No, it doesn't look like it," you noticed Gi-hun's lips tremble a bit, looking down in defeat.

"What's the game then?" Jeong-dae asked rudely, his voice starting to raise.

"I'm not sure," Gi-hun replied, his voice evident with worry.

Jeong-dae snapped as he talked to Gi-hun. "What? You said you'd done this before. That triangle was the easiest. Was that all bullshit?"

"I'm sorry," Gi-hun looked down, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry won't cut it!" Jeong-dae continued, earning the attention from the other players as he raised his voice. "You talked like you knew everything. All these people believed your bullshit. What are you going to do? Will you take responsibility?"

"Hey, hey!" You raised your voice back, much to the group's surprise. "Stop blaming him for everything. You demand too much. You should've thought that the games were gonna be different this time."

"Then you can go and die here, lady," Jeong-dae retorted. "Why don't you just go suck his dick as you're kissing his ass already?"

You glared at him as he tried to walk towards you, only to be blocked by In-ho's body, his eyes staring intently to Jeong-dae as his fists clenched. His voice was low, but enough to be commanding. "That's enough."

Jeong-dae seemed to be taken aback, flinching as In-ho kept his gaze at him coldly. You kept your glare at Jeong-dae as you clenched your jaw.

"Please divide into teams now," the voice on the speakers instructed, a digital timer ticking.

"Yeah, just drop it," the other players said, pulling Jeong-dae behind. "Don't waste your time talking to these nutjobs. We shouldn't have fallen for his nonsense."

Jeong-dae eyed you from up and down, a smirk forming in his lips. You shot him a disgusted look. You noticed In-ho stood still, his eyes not leaving Jeong-dae. The old man scoffed as he brushed Gi-hun aside. "Previous winner? What a lunatic." He stopped in front of you as he glared at you. "Whore your way out of this game."

Your eyes flared with anger as you followed your gaze to Jeong-dae. You felt a hand on your shoulder, his thumb circling around it. You looked up and saw In-ho, looking at you. You averted your gaze and removed his hand from your shoulder. If he could act like he didn't know you, then you could too.

"I'm sorry," Gi-hun turned to you and In-ho, looking down.

"I still trust you," In-ho said as Gi-hun looked at him, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'd like to play the game with you, if that's okay?"

Gi-hun nodded and turned to you, giving him a nod back to let him know that you'll be joining. Jung-bae and Dae-ho joined as well, completing the team of five. You could see In-ho looking at you, but you tried hard not to meet his gaze, as you didn't want to deal with his mixed signals. If anything, your life in this game depended on it, and you had to stay focused.

The time seemed to pass by fast as you see players forming groups. You noticed Player 120 still looking for a team. You looked up the time, there was only two minutes left. You cheered for her on your head, hoping she would at least form a team to win.

"Excuse me," a young woman approached you, as you felt a poke on your shoulder. "Can I join you?"

Jung-bae looked at her worriedly, his fingers counting your group. "Sorry, we've already got five people."

"Please help me," her voice pleaded as she touched her belly, earning a small gasp from you. "I'm pregnant."

You needed to think fast. You couldn't risk a pregnant woman to join the other groups. You wouldn't know how the other groups would react if a pregnant woman joined them. She was fragile. If something happens to her, especially her unborn child, the guilt would eat you up to your grave.

"You can join them," you spoke up, as Dae-ho stared at you in horror. "I can find another group. I see Player 120 who doesn't have a group yet, I'll join her instead."

"Are you sure?" Gi-hun asked, a hint of worry evident in his voice.

You touched his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll manage." You turned to the rest of the group, giving In-ho a subtle glance. You noticed him looking at you intently, but you started to speak. "Take her in."

You gave them a wave, making your way towards Player 120 who was with Player 095 this time. As you were about to approach them, someone grabbed your arm from behind, stopping you on your tracks.

"What are you doing?" The familiar voice said, knowing it was In-ho.

"Go back," you said, looking at him in the eye, but you wished you didn't. You forgot how narrow his eyes were, illuminating its brown color, close to a coffee bean. You swallowed, trying to compose yourself. "There's only a minute left. Let me go."

You removed his hand from your arm and walked away, successfully approaching Player 120 and 095.

"Hi," you said, giving them a small smile. "Will it be okay if I can join you?"

Player 120 nodded. You gave Player 095 a smile. You noticed your team needed two more people. Looking around, you saw Player 149 and 007 approaching your team, their faces catching a hint of hope as they noticed you only needed two from your team.

"Come join us," you extended your hand, motioning for them to join. Player 149 sighed in relief, a wide smile forming in her lips.

"Time for team selection is up," the announcer's voice echoed through the room. Each teams formed a line from each circle. To your luck, your team went at the back of In-ho's group, his back facing you. "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. Here are the mini games, ddakji, flying stone, gong-gi, spinning top, jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini game."

Player 120 turned her head to you, your eyes hinting a bit of shock when she spoke. "I'm Hyun-ju. Choi Hyun-ju. What's your name?"

"Y/N," you said. "I'll play what you pick for me, Hyun-ju."

Hyun-ju nodded as she turned to the others, asking what they were more confident in playing. 149, who introduced herself as Geum-ja, will be playing gong-gi. Yong-sik decided to play flying stone, then Young-mi wanted to play ddakji. Jegi was picked by Hyun-ju, leaving you with spinning top.

"We're all set," you said, giving them all a reassuring nod. "Let's do this."

You felt Geum-ja's hand rubbing on your back, bringing comfort to your spine. She gave you a smile as you smiled back. "Thank you so much for letting us join you, Y/N. You're an angel."

"We're here for each other. It's the right thing to do," you said. "Are you sure you can play gong-gi?"

"I played gong-gi with bullets back in the Korean War," Geum-ja said with determination in her voice, which you chuckled. "These stones are nothing."

You bowed your head and turned to the set in front of you, seeing the first two teams gather in front. Though you couldn't help but see In-ho despite his back turned to you, stealing glances at him. You see his head turned to Gi-hun, hearing them strategize.

"That leaves jegi and spinning top," you heard Gi-hun say. "Which are you good at?

"Well, I'll play what you pick for me, Gi-hun," In-ho replied, earning a confused look from Gi-hun.

"You know my name?" Gi-hun widened his eyes, much to his shock. You noticed In-ho glancing at you as he pointed his finger at you.

"Oh, your friend was calling you by your name, so I thought I'd try it," In-ho said as you squinted your eyes a bit, confused with the sudden acknowledgement. "Does it bother you?"

Gi-hun sighed softly, shaking his head. "No, it's fine."

In-ho shot you a brief look as he kept his attention to Gi-hun, waiting for Gi-hun's decision on which game he'd like to play. You hear Gi-hun say that he would be playing jegi, leaving In-ho with spinning top. You felt a bit of butterflies on your stomach, a small smile forming in your lips as you thought the both of you would be playing the same game. You quickly shook your head to suppress those thoughts. You were in a dangerous place, playing a deadly game. Instead, you turned your head to the players who were setting their locks to their legs. All players motioned their bodies to the first two teams to get a better view. That meant you and In-ho sat side-by-side, his knee brushing a bit against yours.

The first two teams lined up in each circle with each guard positioned with the games. Five games for each player with a five-minute timer. You calculated that each mini game should be completed in a minute, much better if less than of it. You see the players holding each other as their legs were locked. Their movement should be precise, with one wrong leg, everyone could stumble, eating more of their time.

Communication is key in order to complete this game. You figured gong-gi would be the most nerve-wracking game of all. You were never good at playing gong-gi despite In-ho teaching you back then a lot of times.

"Let's go!" You hear Thanos shout, the sound of a gunshot echoing through the room. Both teams chanted as they walked towards the first mini game, ddakji. The first team flipped it on the first try, the other team failing to do so. You can't help but feel a shack of nervousness into you, wondering what would happen if the other team doesn't make it on time.

A thought sprang on to you. This game is played by groups, meaning it would also be a group elimination. You stared in horror as the second team still failed to flip the paper, cheering for them internally as you hoped for them to make it out.

The first team made it out to the second mini game, flying stone. The announcer instructed to not step on the line, seeing the team move back a bit. Player 198 aimed at the stone as he threw it, only to not reach the stone. You heard the other players gasp, as he asked the guard for another stone, only pointing to the one he threw.

You figured you had to move fast. If you had to pick up whatever game you failed, you had to do it fast. You felt the pressure build on to you, knowing how you have to spin the top in just one try. You were confident, sure. But the last time you played spinning top was with In-ho.

You didn't realize the second team already made out ddakji and flying stone already, advancing them to the third mini game, gong-gi. The first team continued to miss, eating more of their time. You knew right then and there that they wouldn't be able to survive, knowing how the three remaining games can take too much of their time.

This is where you realize how time truly is of the essence. Back when you were kids, you played the whole day and enjoyed every single bit of it. Right now, you were playing to survive, to see more of the light outside.

You couldn't see much of the players playing gong-gi, as it was played on the ground with a small table on it. You only heard the sound of stones being raised and thrown. If you had to play this game on your own, you would require silence. The thought of having to play that in a room where all eyes were on you would definitely end you up dead, a relief washing over you that you wouldn't be playing it this time.

"Y/N," You heard Yong-sik call out, turning your head to him. You could see the worry in his face. "You can play spinning top very well, right? Are you sure?"

"I played it a lot when I was a kid," you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. Though you wouldn't disclose that it had been a long time since you played it. "I even used to teach someone how to play it."

Yong-sik nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He seemed to whisper something to himself as if he was comforting himself. You briefly looked at In-ho, seeing him looking at you at the corner of his eye. He seemed to look away immediately, brushing his hand on his knee as he fixed himself up.

You noticed Dae-ho practicing the stones he found on the ground, training himself for gong-gi. You looked at the first team who was still stuck in flying stone. There was only two minutes left. The second team was already in spinning top.

You noticed how the teams were focused more on cheering for themselves than advancing on to the next game. You couldn't blame them, knowing how playing these games could be at the expense of your life. Maybe you would understand it more if you were in their shoes.

Time seemed to pass by so fast in this place, seeing the timer leaving with only five seconds left. You can't help but stand, the tension rising to your body. You saw the first team successfully hitting the stone, though they couldn't make it to the next game. You braced yourself as you heard the timer beep.

"Your time is up."

The sound of gunshots filled the air, hearing the bodies thud to the ground. It didn't even give you time to breathe, seeing blood splattered all over the ground. You didn't notice you were holding on to In-ho, gripping his jacket as you looked away and covered your eyes. You felt his hand grip on your hand, placing yours inside of his pocket.

"The following players have been eliminated: Players 016, 045, 178, 189, 198, 254, 286, 341, 395, and 416."

You sighed deeply as your hand trembled. You felt your body to the ground, pushing In-ho as well. As much as you've seen the evilness in this place, calculating its next moves, you couldn't help but still feel scared. You buried your head to In-ho's chest, your eyes still closed. You felt his hand on your back, rubbing it gently as if to comfort you.

----

The more you stayed in this room, the more you felt immune to the sound of gunshots.

It took at least fifteen minutes for the workers to clean up the bodies, revealing a casket but designed to be some sort of a pink gift box. Though you could see the eliminated players still moving despite being gunned down. You thought of it as nothing, knowing they would succumb to their wounds the more they stayed alive. You can't help but think they were simply losers who lost the game, though deep inside, you knew the killings will never be justified.

"The next teams, please get ready."

You stood up, fixing yourself as you felt your breath trembling. It was your turn, and you were determined to make it out of this game.

"Y/N," Dae-ho called out as you turned around. He gave you a thumbs up. "Good luck!"

You nodded and glanced at the others, with Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Player 222 looking at you worriedly. In-ho looked at you as if he wanted to tell you the same, his stare longing for more, keeping your gaze. You were going to survive this game, you're pretty sure of it. You still had a lot of questions for In-ho. There's no way you would die at a place like this.

You felt Geum-ja grab your arm and Yong-sik's as the rest of your team's legs were locked together. You felt the tightness near your ankle, but there were still enough room for your skin to breathe.

"Let's show everyone else here that these games are no big deal," Hyun-ju stated, her voice motivating your senses.

You heard the gunshot sprung in the air as both your arms with Geumja's and Hyun-ju's, marching towards ddakji. You focused on your steps, trying to be as equal as their pace. You panted as your team cheered, reaching the ddakji mini game.

Young-mi grabs the ddakji paper as the guard put the other paper on the ground, ready for her to be flipped. You stayed silent in attempt to not pressure her, seeing her hands tremble. She motioned her hand in a swing, aiming to the paper to the ground.

"Fail."

The paper only moved a bit. You felt yourself groan as Yong-sik exclaimed, "Come on, again. Smash it!"

Another aim.

"Fail."

Third attempt.

"Fail."

"Shit!" You exclaimed, staring at the timer. Only 30 seconds have passed, there was still time to flip it.

Young-mi grabbed the paper again as she breathed heavily, panic evident in her face.

"Hang on, Young-mi," Hyun-ju called out, though her voice was calm. "Try it with the other side. The other side."

Young-mi followed, flipping the paper on her hand. With all her might, she swung her arm and aimed to the ground.

"Pass."

You can't help but scream, cheering for the win. You quickly crossed your arms with Hyun-ju and Geum-ja, marching towards flying stone. You panted as Yong-sik grabbed the stone and aimed it to the one on the ground.

"Fail."

"I'm sorry!" Yong-sik cried out. Geum-ja, being the mother she is, comforted Yong-sik reassuring him that it was okay. You had more time, one setback won't probably bring you down.

"All right, we'll go pick it up," Hyun-ju said as your team walked over the stone, as Yong-sik successfully picks it up. "All right, now walk backwards."

You went back to the line as Yong-sik motioned his arm to aim to the stone on the ground, though he was panicking. He breathed nervously, his hands trembling. Geum-ja pointed out to the stone as she held her son's back, "Yong-sik, look. Imagine the stone is the face of the crook who scammed you."

That was a good motivation, you thought. You noticed Yong-sik's eyes falter with anger as he cried, "That asshole ruined my fucking life!" His arm swung as Geumja eluded her body, giving way for Yong-sik to throw the stone.

"Pass."

You glanced at the timer, seeing there were still four minutes and thirty seconds left. You knelt down along the others as Geum-ja immediately grabbed the stones, her eyes focused on the game. You stared in awe as you see her doing it fast.

However, she failed to catch the fourth stone. She sighed softly but wasted no time. She rolled the stones again, successfully catching the rest of the stones. It was time for the second set, only for her to fail again.

"That's okay," you assured, placing a hand on her back. "These stones are nothing compared to the bullets you've played before, right?"

Geum-ja swallowed her throat as she nodded, seemingly motivated once more. Her eyes seem unfazed as she caught each stone successfully, reaching the fourth set.

It was time for the fifth set as she successfully caught all five stones. The stones landed perfectly on her fingers, she just have to flip it on the other side and catch them all.

"Mom, just imagine the stone is Dad's mistress' face," Yong-sik said, motivating his mother.

She looked at Yong-sik for a second and looked back at her hand. This time, her expression with wrath. "Rotten bitch!"

You held your breath as you kept your eyes on the stone as she flipped it.

"Pass."

You cheered, grabbing your team as you stood up. You locked your arms together once again, now advancing to spinning top. You grabbed the top from the guard as you wrapped the fiber thread around the axle first, then wrapping it around the top as you held it with your thumb. As much as possible, you kept your attention away from the blood on the ground and kept your gaze on your top.

You glanced at the timer, seeing there was only two minutes and ten seconds left. When you felt the thread tighten on the top, you held your breath as you looked in front of you. The blood on the ground wasn't a pretty sight at all. You gulped, trying to hold in the fear.

You glanced on your right, seeing In-ho from afar. His eyes seemed to shot up as if he wasn't expecting for you to look at him. As much as you hated how he acted as if he didn't know you, well, two can play in that game. You don't know what came to you, but you felt a rush of relief seeing him, giving him a wink. In-ho's eyes widened, his mouth dropping.

You turned your attention to your top as you flicked your wrist, smirking as you did. The thread unwinded as it propelled the top to the ground, successfully spinning.

"Pass."

You screamed as you dropped the thread to the ground, locking arms with your team again. Your team had more time, and now it was Hyun-ju's time. You heard the other players cheer for your team, your heart pumping hard to your chest. You glanced at the time, only one minute left.

The jegi must be kicked five times. Then, Hyun-ju turned to your team. "Please, look away."

"What?" Geum-ja asked in confusion.

"Please," Hyun-ju pleaded. She turned to the other players watching. "You guys too."

Confusion was evident on everyone's faces, but there was no time to think. There was only one minute left for you to survive. You cried out, "Don't look! Turn around, please!"

You looked away as you heard Hyun-ju breathe heavily before starting. You heard the jegi land on Hyun-ju's foot, kicking it up in the air successfully.

One.

Two.

You held your breath as you continued to count.

Three.

Four.

You closed your eyes, bracing to hear the last one.

Five.

"Five!" You screamed together with the rest of your team, seeing the jegi now on the ground.

"Pass."

You cheered with your team as you lock your arms together once again, seeing there were ten seconds left. The crowd cheered as well, as if forgetting the evilness in this place. Your team marched towards the red line, the finishing line.

You hear the timer beeped as the crowd erupted with cheer. You noticed the other team successfully made it out just like you did, feeling as if everyone had won already.

For a moment, every player united with each other, seemingly happy with the wins. You grabbed your team in a big hug, crying out as you realize that you've made it. You jumped cheerfully despite the guards unlocking your legs, not caring if you kicked them a bit.

It felt like you were part of the olympics, if only there were no killings involved. You remembered your conversation with In-ho, with him asking you before if there was an olympics held for games like this. Though you promised to team up with him when the time comes, only to fail at a time like this.

The gates opened as the teams exited the room, glancing a bit behind you as you saw In-ho, his gaze fixed on you. Although this time, you could see the relief in his face. He pressed his lips into a small smile, so brief that you wouldn't be able to notice much.

You hoped for him to come back in one piece as you walked away, terrified of the next things to happen.

----

A/N: I'm publishing this chapter now since I'll be doing a small group work for my college. I'll try to have the next chapter up as fast as I can since I, too, am excited for this series hahaha 😂 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples  (p.s. if i forgot to tag you, please let me know)

Frank Woods + Character tropes

second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: hwang in-ho joined the games with one goal: to monitor and manipulate seong gi-hun. but everything changed the moment he saw his childhood friend among the players—a face he never expected to see again. *.✧ word count: 21.7k (are you even surprised) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, choking, guns, explicit depictions of injuries, panic attacks (reader experiences one) usage korean words and suffixes, mentions of cho sang-woo, reader moved from in-ho's place to gi-hun's place (gyeonggi-do to ssangmun-dong), softie in-ho because its you, angst :D *.✧ note: I ACTUALLY THOUGHT CROSSROADS WILL BE THE LONGEST THING I WRITE, SURPRISE SURPRISE SECOND CHANCE IS HERE. hope you guys love it!! masterlist | request here

Your life wasn't supposed to go in this direction. 

Ever since you were small, people knew great things would come to you. You were talented and smart in every way, shape, or form. Teachers would gush about how bright your future was, and neighbors would brag to their kids about your achievements as if they were their own. So why were you here now, standing in a room surrounded by strangers for a chance of winning some money? 

Currently, all of you watched as the screen displayed various people getting slapped left and right. Announcing their player numbers, names, and how much money they owe. The sheer amount of debt displayed beside each name was staggering—hundreds of millions, even billions.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the whispers around you. People were muttering under their breath, some recognizing names and faces, others lamenting their own debt in comparison. The tension in the room was suffocating, a shared humiliation that weighed heavy on everyone.

Player 132. [Last Name] [Name]. 562 million.

The words echoed in your ears like a slap to your face. Your own name, your own shame, displayed for everyone to see. A few heads turned toward you, but you refused to meet their eyes. You scratched the back of your head in shame, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as if you could avoid the weight of judgment all around you.

'Well... at least it wasn't from that stupid crypto bullshit,' you mumbled under your breath, though the bitter smile on your lips faded as quickly as it appeared. As the guard moved to another person, the crowd around you blurred into an indistinct mass of voices. You didn’t care to listen. You let yourself drown in your thoughts, tuning out the chaos.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be a series of steady steps upward, not a freefall into the abyss. When your family moved from Gyeonggi-do to Ssangmun-dong, everything changed. 

Your father, once the pillar of the family, walked out one day without a backward glance. Which left you and your mother to fend for yourselves. He left for some woman he barely knew. Someone who didn’t have to deal with the mess he’d left behind. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, your mother decided she had better things to do than raise a child. 

One morning, you woke up to an empty house and a note on the dining table. The words were hurried, impersonal, as if she didn’t pushed you out and raised you. Worst of all, she didn’t even spell your name right!

The pain of abandonment never left you. It festered, growing into a heavyweight you carried everywhere. You tried to survive, piecing together odd jobs and small victories, but it was never enough. Debt piled up faster than you could manage, dragging you into this nightmare.

The first game was announced— Red Light, Green Light. 

You had doubts. The game seemed too simple, almost childish, like something even teens could survive without breaking a sweat—just a game, right? But as soon as the first shot rang out, you realized how wrong you were. Bodies fell like dominoes, blood staining the grass in vivid red. The sound of death was deafening, and the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut. You froze, your breath caught in your throat, as the world around you erupted into chaos. People screamed, some running, others collapsing in terror. You couldn’t move. The simplicity of the game suddenly made sense—it wasn’t without cost.

Death was suddenly real, closer than it had ever been before. Your entire life flashed before your eyes—every mistake, every regret, every moment you had taken for granted. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here, not now.

Luckily, a player stepped up and took charge. Player 456. He was calm and collected, advising everyone to hide behind the larger players, claiming that the robot wouldn’t be able to see you if you stayed out of its line of sight. His plan was simple yet effective, and with his guidance, you managed to survive the round.

As you returned to the main area, the tension from the first game clung to the air like a thick fog. Every breath felt heavy, and the adrenaline that had pushed you through the chaos now left your limbs trembling. Despite it all, a deep sense of gratitude toward him lingered in your chest. You wanted to stay close, to follow his lead. There was security in his presence, a grounding force that kept the worst of your fears at bay.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room. Guards entered in perfect formation, their masks as eerie as the silence that fell over the crowd. The sight of them sent a shiver down your spine. One by one, people began to plead for their lives, collapsing to their knees, their voices breaking with desperation as tears streamed down their faces.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” the main guard, marked by a square on his mask, said in a monotone voice. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

Before he could continue, the same player who had spoken during the first game—Player 456—interrupted with a sharp shout.

“Clause three of the consent form!” The room froze, all eyes, including yours, turning to him.

His words were sharp, filled with a sense of urgency and strength “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?” he demanded, his voice firm.

“That is correct,” the guard replied, his tone unwavering, as though the question had been anticipated.

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 said, his words igniting a spark of hope in the crowd. It was as if a door to freedom had cracked open, and everyone could almost taste the possibility of escape.

“Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice.”

A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, a fleeting moment where fear was momentarily pushed aside by a glimmer of hope. For the first time, you felt something that resembled a shift in the balance of power. They weren’t in control—at least, not entirely.

“But first,” the guard continued, “let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.” He pressed a button on his device, and the room suddenly dimmed.

A low hum filled the air, followed by the descending of a massive glass piggy bank from the ceiling. It gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, casting eerie reflections across the players’ faces. The sound of wads of cash clinking together echoed through the room, loud and clear, like the jarring noise of a twisted casino jackpot.

The players stared, wide-eyed, as the money poured into the glass bank. It was hypnotic—the sound, the sight, the overwhelming promise of wealth. Some players instinctively stepped forward, as if drawn by an invisible force, while others lingered at the back, still fearful but unable to resist the allure of the prize.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard announced, his voice as flat and emotionless as ever. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the remaining 365 of you can equally divide this amount and leave.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Player 100, who was standing near you, called out, his voice filled with disbelief. “How much is that?”

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard replied without hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, as a wave of murmurs spread across the room. There was a mix of disbelief, anger, and confusion.

“Twenty-four million? We almost died for that?” Player 124 scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of it too. Twenty-four million wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the terror, the near-death experience, the trauma of the first game. Yet, at the same time, the number was hard to ignore. It was money. A lot of it. Enough to make you forget the panic, at least for a while.

“You said the prize was 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice rising with frustration.

The guard’s response was calm, almost detached. “The rule states that 100 million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

There was a brief silence as everyone processed the implications of this. The numbers didn’t seem to add up at first. But as the calculation sank in, the possibility of even more money stirred the crowd.

“How much will it be if someone survives until the very end?” someone asked, their voice trembling with hope.

The guard, unbothered by the growing tension, simply stated, “As I already told you, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. If you are the sole survivor, you will receive the full amount.”

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps, whispers, and shouts. Some players looked at each other, their expressions shifting as greed began to seep into their eyes. Others remained still, haunted by the terror of the first game. The promise of so much money was a heady temptation, but it came at the price of their lives.

“So, we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, their voice tinged with hope, as if the very idea of escape was now within reach.

“Yes,” the guard confirmed. “As outlined in the consent form, you may vote after each game and decide whether to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point. We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

You stood there, torn. The terror you’d felt during the first game still clung to you, wrapping around your chest. But the temptation of the prize money—of being free from the crushing debt that had haunted you for so long—was overwhelming. This could be your only chance to escape. A chance to climb out of the pit you’d been stuck in, buried under mountains of bills and threats. If you walked away now, you’d return to the same miserable existence, drowning in debt, with no way out in sight.

Your mind raced. You had fought so hard just to survive, and now, standing in this room, you were faced with a decision that could change everything. The terror from the first game still gripped your chest, but the lure of the money was almost impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about survival—it was the chance to escape the suffocating weight of your debt, the years spent trying to climb out of a hole you’d fallen into.

The voting started with Player 456. You watched as he cast his vote, the air thick with tension. The red light from the voting machine flickered for a brief moment as he pressed his choice, a clear "X." One by one, others followed, some hesitating, while others quickly made their decision. The chaos of it all felt overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had already made up their minds, whether they were giving in to the temptation of the money or if they were too afraid to continue.

When your number was called, your legs felt like lead as you approached the voting machine. Each step was agonizingly slow, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. The room seemed to shrink, and you could feel every eye on you, even as you tried to ignore them.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the button. The thought of pressing it, of choosing to continue, made your stomach twist in knots. For just a moment, you hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides.

Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the circle.

The blue light illuminated your face, a cold reminder of the choice you’d just made. A guard stepped forward, handing you a blue patch marked with the same symbol as your vote. You accepted it with shaky hands, bowing slightly before pinning it to your jacket. As you returned to your spot in line, your heart pounded in your chest.

God, why did it come to this? What could have gone so wrong? Had you done something to upset the gods? Or were you simply born unlucky, destined to live a life riddled with hardships?

You couldn’t stop questioning yourself—your decisions, your choices, the countless crossroads where you might’ve taken a different turn. You missed the early moments in your life when everything felt so simple, so light. Back then, there were no looming debts, no sleepless nights spent worrying about survival, no constant weight pressing down on your shoulders.

You had it all once—a lovely family with successful parents who made sure money was never an issue. You had good grades, a tight-knit circle of friends, and a future that seemed full of promise. You were happy, truly happy.

And you weren’t always alone. Aside from your parents and friends, there was someone else—someone who had been a constant in your life, a steady presence you could always count on. He wasn’t just a friend; he was the friend. The one who stood by you no matter what, even when the world seemed to turn its back on you.

When the bullies in school targeted you for reasons you never understood, he was the one who stepped in without hesitation. You still remembered the way he’d square his shoulders, his voice firm and unwavering as he told them to back off. He never cared if he got in trouble for standing up for you; all that mattered to him was that you were safe.

He wasn’t just your protector, though. He was the person who could make you laugh when you were seconds away from tears. He had this knack for knowing exactly what to say or do to lighten your mood, whether it was pulling a silly face, cracking a joke, or nudging you with that mischievous grin that always made you roll your eyes but secretly smile.

He was the one who stayed up late with you when you were cramming for exams, even though he wasn’t the most studious person himself. He’d throw pencils at you when you started to drift off, only to shove snacks in your face the next moment and tell you to take a break. He had this way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, as if just being around him made everything a little brighter.

And as much as you tried to deny it back then, he had become your everything. Your safe haven, the person you trusted more than anyone else. He was the one you turned to when life felt too heavy to bear, the one who never made you feel like a burden for leaning on him.

He was your partner in crime, the one who’d sneak off with you during boring school events, laughing as the two of you got caught and had to face detention together. He made life feel like an adventure, even in the quiet, simple moments.

But above all, he was your first love. Though you never said it out loud, it was there—in the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, in the way you found yourself searching for him in every room you walked into. It was in the way you felt safe and seen in a way no one else could make you feel.

He didn’t know, of course. How could he? You were just kids, too shy to even admit it to yourself most of the time. But looking back now, it was clear as day: he wasn’t just your best friend. He was the boy who had stolen your heart, even if he never realized it.

You paused. The faint buzz of the voting machines around you barely registered as you froze in place. Why were you thinking about him now, of all times? You clenched your fists, trying to will the memories away, but they pushed their way into your mind regardless.

You remembered the way he shouted at you, his voice filled with anger and frustration. The argument had been sharp, the words he threw at you cutting deeper than you ever thought possible. He had been upset that you were leaving, but instead of asking you to stay, instead of saying goodbye, he stormed off.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed; the wound was still raw. He was your best friend, the boy you loved so deeply you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit it back then. And he let you leave without so much as a goodbye.

Your chest tightened as the memories overwhelmed you, crashing over you like waves. You had convinced yourself that you were over it—that it didn’t matter anymore. But clearly, that wasn’t true. The emotions you had buried deep, the hurt and the unanswered questions, all clawed their way back to the surface.

Did he hate me? The thought stung, even now. Did I mean so little to him that he couldn’t even say goodbye?

The pain lingered, sharp and vivid despite the years that had passed. You could still see it, like a scene burned into your memory—the moment he walked past you on your last day of school. His face had been a mask of cold indifference, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours as though looking at you would cost him something precious.

You had called his name, your voice trembling with desperation and a plea you couldn’t quite voice. You just wanted him to stop, to look at you, to give you a reason, a sign that he cared. Anything to make the ache in your chest a little less unbearable.

But he didn’t.

He just kept walking, his steps steady and unyielding, leaving you standing there. The knot in your throat had tightened until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. He left without a word, without even a glance. And in that silence, you were left with nothing but heartbreak and questions that would never be answered.

And now, here you were, those same feelings dragging you down as the votes continued. The sound of faint button presses and shuffling feet filled the air, each vote drawing everyone closer to an answer.

You hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers flashing on the screen, but the tension in the room was suffocating. The votes were neck and neck—X and O, tied. A deuce. The final vote could change everything. You could feel the unease creeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to burst. The fate of the game rested in the hands of the last player.

The tension was unbearable. Everyone held their breath. It felt as if time itself had come to a standstill, the anticipation hanging in the air.

You forced yourself to look up, to see who the final person would be. Your heart pounded louder in your chest with every second, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on you. Your gaze fell on the figure walking toward the voting station. You couldn’t immediately register who it was—your mind too wrapped in the urgency of the moment. The final decision.

 But then something hit you. A familiarity. A sinking feeling in your chest.

And then your breath hitched.

It was him—.

In-ho.

Your world seemed to tilt on its axis as you watched him. It was like a punch to your gut. Your chest tightened painfully, and your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. You had spent years trying to push him out of your mind, trying to move forward, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a force you weren’t prepared for. The ache in your chest deepened, and you realized just how much you had never really healed.

Your mind swirled with the years you’d spent without him. The countless nights you had stayed awake, wondering what had gone wrong, why your friendship ended that way.

He was standing there now, in front of you, like a ghost of your past. He was so close, yet you couldn’t reach him. You couldn’t understand what you were seeing. Was this a dream? Was this some cruel twist of fate?

You watched his every move as if in slow motion. There was no hesitation in his actions. His hand reached out to press the button with a deliberate, practiced motion.

And then, he voted. O.

The cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muffled, like they were happening in another world. You could hear the excitement rising from the others around you, the shift in the air as the vote swung in favor of continuing the game. 182 to 183.

But none of that mattered to you.

All you could think about was how the boy who had once meant everything to you was here, in the same room, playing the same dangerous game. The same boy who had walked away from you all those years ago, leaving you in silence. 

You stared at him, unable to move, to speak. It was as if time had stopped, like the world around you had turned to static. Your mind was racing, a torrent of emotions swirling inside you. The hurt you had pushed down for so long had exploded back to the surface.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, your body frozen in disbelief. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of the past, the weight of everything that had happened between you two. The questions that you had carried for so long—about why he left, about why he never said goodbye—pushed their way to the surface, raw and painful.

Your mind raced, but your body refused to move. You were trapped in this moment, unable to escape the overwhelming emotions that came with it. There was no easy way out.

The past was alive in front of you, and it had never felt so real.

Hwang In-ho was a man who prided himself on always being in control. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated, and designed to maintain his upper hand. He wasn’t one to take risks without knowing the outcome, nor did he leave anything to chance. His sharp intellect and knack for strategy had always kept him one step ahead of everyone else, whether it was in the games or in life outside of them.

So when he learned that Seong Gi-hun, the man who had also escaped the game’s clutches once, was coming back—not as a desperate participant, but as a threat to everything the games stood for. In-ho knew he had to act. It wasn’t just about the rules or the money; it was about protecting the intricate system he had helped sustain, the foundation he had sacrificed everything to uphold.

The idea of Gi-hun winning was infuriating. He wouldn’t allow it. Not because he believed in the games' morality, but because their collapse would mean his own failure. It would mean admitting that he, the one who always stayed ahead, had lost control.

And In-ho did not lose. Not to anyone. Certainly not to Seong Gi-hun.

The solution was clear: he had to join the game.

Adopting the alias "Young-il," In-ho entered as Player 001, his plan meticulously calculated. Every detail was accounted for—his presence would be unassuming, his actions deliberate. The goal was simple: get close to Gi-hun, observe his every move, and ensure the game remained firmly under his control.

It wasn’t just about safeguarding the system he had come to embody; it was about reaffirming his dominance. To In-ho, this was more than strategy—it was a statement. A test to prove that no matter the odds, no matter who opposed him, he would remain two steps ahead.

That was his purpose. His only focus.

Or so he thought.

Everything changed the moment he saw you.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him breathless and disoriented. In-ho’s steps faltered, his carefully calculated composure slipping for the first time in years. His eyes locked onto your figure amidst the sea of players, and for a fleeting moment, he thought it was a cruel trick of his mind—a phantom conjured by guilt and memory.

But no. The wide, shocked eyes staring back at him were unmistakably yours.

The realization struck him like a physical blow, an ache spreading through his chest that he couldn’t ignore. You were here. You were really here.

You shouldn’t be here.

He froze, his usually sharp mind scrambling to piece together an explanation. What were you doing here? What had happened in your life to bring you to this place of desperation and death? He remembered you as you once were—bright, warm, full of life—and now, the thought of you standing on this stage of horrors felt wrong in every conceivable way.

Memories of you came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The way you used to laugh, how you’d pull him out of his brooding silences with a simple touch, the way you always seemed to bring light into his otherwise shadowed world. Those memories clashed violently with the reality before him. You didn’t belong here. Not in this uniform. Not in this nightmare.

He felt his mask of indifference. The armor he’d built over years of pain and regret started to crack. For so long, he had mastered the art of detachment, burying every emotion deep beneath a layer of control. But now, with you standing there, all of it came flooding back. Guilt. Regret. Anger.

And something else. Something he couldn’t name but had tried to bury long ago.

The look on your face gutted him. Recognition, confusion, hurt—it was all there, as raw and unguarded as the day he’d last seen you. You looked at him like he was a ghost, like you couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you. That look shattered something in him, something he hadn’t realized was still breakable.

For the first time in years, In-ho felt unsteady. His carefully constructed walls, the ones that had kept him in control, in power—shook under the weight of your stare.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He clenched his fists at his sides, a desperate attempt to regain control, to force himself back into the cold, calculating mindset he’d mastered. He couldn’t let you see how much this affected him. Not here. Not now. This was a game—a deadly one—and emotions were dangerous, liabilities he couldn’t afford.

Even as he tried to steady himself, forcing his gaze away and focusing on the task at hand, something inside him rose above the chaos. He knew, without a doubt, that he had to protect you.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t part of his plan. But it was undeniable. Seeing you here, dressed in the same uniform, facing the same deadly stakes, ignited something in him that he couldn’t ignore. He had joined the game to regain control, to manipulate the outcome, to ensure Gi-hun wouldn’t tear everything apart. But because the one person he never wanted to see in this hell was standing right in front of him, the thought of sticking to that plan seemed impossible.

And no matter what it cost him—his control, his plan, his very life—he couldn’t let you die.

It was time for the second game: the Six-Legged Pentathlon.

You walked hand in hand with another player—Player 222, Kim Jun-hee, as she had introduced herself earlier. Together, the two of you moved through the crowded room, searching for three more players to form a team. Your eyes flicked down to the frail figure beside you, her grip on your hand trembling slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

Earlier, before the announcement of the next game, you had found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, clutching her stomach with a pained look on her face. She had been trying to hide her tears, but they slipped through anyway, leaving tracks down her pale cheeks. The image of her broken composure stuck with you, and even now, the weight of it hadn’t lessened.

The look on your face as you crouched beside her was indescribable. When you asked her what was wrong, she was silent at first, her gaze vacant and lost as if the weight of the world was too much to carry. Slowly, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke in a low, quiet voice, each word heavy with the burden she was trying to carry. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was everything. Her words were a confession, a painful release of all the fears that had built up inside of her. She spoke of being alone, of how no one wanted to team up with her, and the overwhelming worry that constantly gnawed at her. But it wasn’t just that.

She talked about her child. The one thing in this nightmare that kept her going, even if only by the thinnest thread. Her mind was consumed by the thought of them. She wondered if they would survive. But what hurt the most was the months of silence from the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Her fiancé, who had disappeared without a trace, left her to wonder if he was dead or alive, only to learn he was in the same hellish game. She never imagined she would have to face this—alone, scared, with no one to lean on.

Something in her tone, the hopelessness wrapped in every syllable, struck a chord deep within you. For a moment, it wasn’t Jun-hee you saw—it was yourself. 

You had been there before. You knew what it was like to feel abandoned, to watch everything you had built slowly crumble, to be left in a world where trust was a distant memory. The same fears she voiced were the ones that had haunted you—the fear of losing your loved ones, the dread of facing a future where you had nothing, and the overwhelming loneliness that seemed to suffocate every hope you had left.

Her pain was your pain, her desperation mirrored your own. You had been there—fighting for survival, clinging to any hope that things could get better, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It wasn’t just empathy you felt for her; it was the haunting reminder of your own struggle, a shadow of the darkness that had once consumed you. You didn’t want her to experience the same isolation, the same crushing hopelessness that had almost broken you. You knew too well how it felt to be lost, to question whether you’d ever make it out alive, to wonder if there was anything left to fight for.

As you looked at her, a quiet resolve settled deep within you. You wouldn’t let her walk this road alone. You wouldn’t let her fall into the same despair that had once threatened to swallow you whole. You could no longer stand by and watch someone else go through the torment you had endured alone. You would be her strength, her anchor—just as you had longed for someone to do for you when everything seemed to be slipping out of your grasp.

Without hesitation, you reached out, your hand finding hers, cold and trembling. You squeezed it gently, offering a steadying warmth that you both needed. “Then you’ll come with me,” you said. “We’ll figure this out together.”

You weren’t going to let her face this nightmare by herself—not when you knew the crushing weight of solitude so well. You wouldn’t let her fall down the same painful path you’d been on. From that moment on, you refused to leave her side.

You were supposed to focus on your own survival, you know that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her behind. Something about her reminded you of someone else, someone you had been a long time ago. You couldn’t save everyone here, but maybe, just maybe, you could save her.

Meanwhile, In-ho’s plan was progressing smoothly. He had successfully gained Gi-hun’s trust and joined his team. Together with two others—Player 388 and Player 390—they were only one person short of completing their group. In-ho kept his head down, maintaining his facade as the amiable and harmless Player 001. He had positioned himself perfectly, right where he needed to be.

Until he heard your voice.

“Hello, excuse me. Do you have space for two more?”

His head snapped up instinctively. There you were, standing just a few feet away, holding player 222’s hand as you looked at Gi-hun and the others, avoiding him altogether.

In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

“We’re sorry, miss,” Gi-hun replied apologetically. “We already have four members.”

You didn’t falter, keeping your small smile. “That’s not a problem,” you said firmly. “Would you be willing to have her instead?”

Before anyone could respond, you gently nudged Jun-hee forward. She hesitated, glancing nervously between you and the group, but you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

In-ho stayed silent, watching the interaction unfold. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Irritation bubbled under the surface. Of course, you would do something like this. Even in a place like this, where survival meant looking out for yourself, you were still thinking about someone else. Always putting others before yourself, even when it didn’t make sense to do so.

You never change.

And yet, despite the frustration clawing at him, He couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. A part of him—a part he didn’t want to acknowledge—was happy.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much this place had changed the both of you, there were still parts of you that remained the same. That stubborn kindness, that fierce determination to protect others—it was one of the things he had always admired about you.

It was one of the things that terrified him.

You still carried that same hope, that same belief that people could be better, that kindness had a place even in a place like this. It made his stomach twist. The fact that you hadn’t hardened, hadn’t become cynical like everyone else—it was both a relief and a danger. You couldn’t afford to trust anyone here, not without consequence.

What if you trusted the wrong person? What if you let your guard down just once and someone used that against you? He had seen it happen before, in a way that made his insides tighten with dread. People here weren’t to be trusted, and you were too pure, too unguarded. He’d seen how quickly things could turn, how easily alliances could break, how one wrong move could be the end of someone’s life.

It made him want to reach out, to warn you, to pull you away from the people who might betray you. But instead, he stayed silent, his heart racing faster than his thoughts could keep up with.

His gaze shifted to the girl you had taken under your wing. She was trembling, showing a strong facade. In-ho couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness for her too—though he would never admit it out loud. She was vulnerable. She didn’t belong here. But you were giving her a chance. You were always giving people chances, even when they didn't deserve them.

He tore his gaze away, looking anywhere but at you. He hated the way you made him feel, even after all those years. Torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to pull away, he couldn’t reconcile the two. He had built walls for a reason—so that no one could get too close, so that no one could hurt him again. And yet, there you were, slipping through those cracks, reminding him that even after all this time, even after all the distance, he still cared.

“What about you?” Player 388 asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. I’ll find a group somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing with worry.

You nodded, your tone firm but kind. “Of course. If you want, you can help me?” you offered, though it wasn’t a question so much as a gentle suggestion.

The male nodded without hesitation, as though it was the most natural thing to do. He saluted you with a small smile, his expression brightening as he turned to lead the way. You followed quietly, walking side by side as the two of you engaged in light, casual conversation. The sound of your voices seemed almost out of place in the tense atmosphere of the game, but for a moment, it was just the two of you, navigating the chaos in your own way.

In-ho watched the interaction unfold from a distance, his gaze fixed on you. His chest tightened as he observed the way you interacted with Player 388, the ease with which you formed connections, the comfort you seemed to give others despite the grim situation. For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing it was him walking beside you instead of that other player. He longed to be the one you relied on again, the one you trusted in a world where trust felt like a luxury.

He clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides, trying to suppress the emotions that stirred inside him. It wasn’t supposed to matter. You had your own path to walk, and he had his. But the feeling gnawed at him, more intense than he liked to admit. A part of him wanted to be the one to keep you safe, to be the one to stand by your side. To be the one you turned to, the one who could offer you something real in the midst of all the chaos. But another part of him feels like that’s impossible to achieve now.

Busy with his inner battle, he didn’t notice the curious watchful eyes of the female beside him.

Luckily, you and Player 388—Dae-ho, as he introduced himself—found a group of four not long after starting your search. Players 149, 007, 120, and 095 stood in a tight circle, whispering among themselves as they looked around for their missing fifth member. Their faces were a mix of tension and determination, but they didn’t seem hostile, which was more than you could ask for in this environment.

Dae-ho, ever the confident one, strode forward with an easy smile. “Excuse me… do you need more members?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

All four turned to face you both, their eyes scanning you up and down. There was an unmistakable wariness in their expressions; trust wasn’t exactly in abundant supply here. Finally, Player 120 spoke, her voice measured. “I’m sorry, but we only need one more.”

Dae-ho didn’t even flinch at the rejection. Instead, his grin widened, his tone growing more playful. “Well, you’re in luck! You see, [Name]nim here is a master at spinning tops. Quick hands, sharp focus—everything you’d need for precision games like these. How could you possibly pass on a deal like that?”

You blinked at him, both amused and exasperated. Was he seriously pitching you like you were a product at an auction? Despite the absurdity of it, his tone was so casual, so confident, that it managed to disarm the tension in the air, even if just a little.

You gave Dae-ho a small shake of your head before stepping forward yourself, bowing politely to the group. “I may not be a master,” you began, sending a pointed but amused glance toward Dae-ho, “but I’ll do my best to contribute. Please, if you’ll have me, I’ll work hard.”

The group exchanged glances, their hesitation apparent. It was weird for them, hearing a casual and almost teasing tone in an environment where death is prominent. Still, after a moment, Player 120 gave a curt nod. “Alright. You’re in.”

Relief flooded through you, and you turned to Dae-ho, a small smile breaking across your face. “Thank you,” you said, your tone filled with genuine gratitude.

Dae-ho gave a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing your thanks. “Thank me after you survive this game [Name]nim.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his unshakable confidence. “Alright Dae-ho, see you later.”

As you turned back to your new team, introductions were exchanged before quickly discussing strategies. Despite the palpable tension in the air, they seemed cooperative enough. Each player carried their own air of quiet determination, though the stress of the situation was evident in the tightness of their voices and the stiffness in their movements.

Your team was one of the teams to go first. When it was your turn, you grabbed the top and string with trembling hands, whispering a small prayer under your breath. Slowly, you began winding the string tightly around the body of the top, starting from the bottom and wrapping upwards. But as you reached the middle, the string suddenly slipped free, unraveling entirely. You froze, your shaky hands betraying you further as you fumbled to pick up the loose string.

A lump rose in your throat as panic surged through you. You knew you were good at this. Spinning tops was your childhood talent, something you had always taken pride in. But now, in the most critical moment, your nerves were getting the best of you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at Player 120, your voice trembling. “I… I’m sorry. I swear I’m good at this. I’m just… really scared.”

Player 120’s expression softened, and she knelt beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring. “It’s okay. You just need to take a deep breath and focus, alright? You’ve got this.”

Her words anchored you, and you nodded, inhaling deeply. As you exhaled slowly, a memory surfaced—something that always helped you when you were scared. Turning to 120, you asked hesitantly, “Could you… could you cover my eyes?”

She blinked at you, puzzled. “Cover your eyes? Why?”

You offered a nervous smile. “I promise it’ll help. It’s… just something I do.”

With a shrug, she moved behind you and placed her hands gently over your eyes. As darkness enveloped your vision, you felt a strange but comforting familiarity take over.

“What’s up with this weird ritual you do?” In-ho’s voice was teasing, his hands warm as they covered your eyes back then. “You’re always doing this!”

“It’s not weird!” your younger self had retorted, pouting.

“Is too!” he laughed. “Nobody else does this, you know.”

“Well, I get really scared when I see what I’m doing, okay?” you’d replied stubbornly. “So I thought, ‘What if I just don’t look?’ It helps me focus.”

You smiled softly at the memory, your hands finally steady as you began winding the string again. This time, it wrapped perfectly around the top, tight and precise.

When 120 uncovered your eyes, you felt a renewed sense of determination. But before you could proceed, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“To effectively spin the top, first, you must hold the loose end of the string firmly in your hand,” In-ho called out, his voice carrying an authoritative tone. He paced in front of you like a drill sergeant, his arms folded behind his back. “Next, throw the top onto the ground with a flicking motion. Pull the string sharply to make it spin. Understood?”

You straighten your posture, snapping a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

The two of you broke into laughter, a sound so pure and unexpected that it momentarily dissolved the tension in the air. When he handed you the fully wound top, his fingers brushed yours lightly. “Alright, [Name],” he said, his smile softening, “show me what you can do.”

Gripping the top tightly, you turned to him one last time, your eyes filled with uncertainty. He gave you a reassuring thumbs-up and a wide smile, and somehow, it was enough to calm your racing heart.

With all your might, you threw the top onto the ground, pulling the string sharply. It spun perfectly, steady and unwavering. Relief washed over you as you watched it spin continuously.

The cheers erupted so suddenly that it startled you out of your thoughts. Your teammates—149 and 120—rushed to your side, shaking your shoulders in celebration. Their excitement was infectious, and soon you found yourself smiling, laughing, and letting the moment sink in.

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down!” 120 said, her voice mixed with happiness and haste. She led the group to the next station, the victory fueling your collective determination.

In-ho watched from a distance, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t let himself indulge in for years—a flicker of joy, the kind that came from something genuine. Seeing your face light up with relief and triumph stirred something buried deep inside him, something he thought was long gone. He couldn’t stop himself from cheering along with the others, maybe louder than necessary. Perhaps it was his way of masking the whirlwind of emotions inside him, or maybe it was just his heart acting on its own. Either way, he didn’t care to stop.

As your group crossed the finish line. The room became lively again. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound pure and unrestrained, even as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel it: pride, joy, and the simple relief of success.

Amidst the commotion, your eyes instinctively searched the crowd—and then you saw him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight made your breath catch, your smile faltering for a second before returning, softer this time.

And then it happened. Your eyes locked. Everything else seemed to fall away—the noise, the crowd, the weight of the game itself. It was just the two of you in that moment, a silent conversation unfolding in the space between your gazes.

His dark eyes, cold and guarded the first time you saw them, were now filled with longing, happiness, maybe even a glimmer of pride. It was as though he was telling you, I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you. But there was something deeper, too—something unspoken. His gaze held a vulnerability that he wouldn’t dare put into words, a quiet hope that you might still see him the way you once did.

You felt it, too. A warmth spreading through you, unexpected and disarming. The wall between you, built by years of distance and unspoken words, seemed to crack ever so slightly. For a brief moment, you forgot the tension, the pain, and the uncertainty. You saw him—not as an enemyl, not as someone you had grown apart from—but as the In-ho you once knew.

His lips twitched into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still held a quiet sincerity. He wanted to say something, you could feel it. But words were unnecessary. The way his gaze softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his presence seemed to pull you closer—it was enough.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, but it left something behind. A spark. A fragile yet undeniable hope.

As you were all escorted back to the main area, you found yourself glancing back at him one last time. He was still there, watching, his expression unreadable now. But you saw the faintest nod, as if to say, Please, let’s talk soon.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A chance to fix what had been broken. A chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you. A chance to reconcile, to find your way back to each other in a world that had done everything to pull you apart.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the door behind you closed.

Player 149 invited you to join them for a chat, a way to pass the time as the second game continued. With a small nod, you followed them to their little corner, settling on the stairs just behind Player 120. The group was warm and welcoming, and soon you were learning their names, hobbies, and bits of their lives outside the games.

Player 149 introduced herself as Jang Geum-ja, a kind but sharp woman who spoke with unwavering pride about her son, Player 007, Park Yong-sik. Her love for him was evident in every word and action—she had joined the games solely to pay off her son’s debt, determined to give him a better future despite the grim odds.

Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, exuded a quiet yet approachable aura. A transgender woman with dreams of starting fresh, she joined the games not only to clear her debt but also to complete her medical treatments. Her plan was to move to Thailand and begin a new chapter in her life, one filled with hope and authenticity.

Finally, there was Player 095, Kim Young-mi, a soft-spoken woman with a warm, unshakable belief in the goodness of others. She and Hyun-ju had formed a close bond, their friendship blossoming into a dynamic partnership that made them inseparable—like two peas in a pod, finding strength in each other amidst the chaos.

As the room began to fill with players returning from the game, your eyes instinctively darted to the doors each time they opened. Your stomach twisted with worry, though you tried to stay composed. You were searching for Jun-hee and her group, your concern growing with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you spotted familiar faces walking through the doors. Relief surged through you as you quickly excused yourself from the group and descended the stairs. Without hesitation, you rushed straight to Jun-hee.

"Are you okay? How are you? How’s the baby? Did you feel nauseous? Do you want me to massage your back? Or your feet? Need to go to the bathroom? Pee? Puke?—"

Jun-hee's face turned bright red as she raised a hand to shush you. “Stop, [Name]nim, you’re embarrassing me,” she whispered, glancing nervously at her group. Despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“Hey! It’s [Name]nim!” Dae-ho’s cheerful voice cut through the moment as he jogged over to you.

“Dae-ho! Looks like I owe you a proper thank-you now, huh?” you said with a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing.

The three of you exchanged warm words, laughter breaking through the otherwise somber atmosphere. Nearby, the rest of Jun-hee’s group—456, 390, and In-ho—watched the scene unfold. As 456 and 390 moved away to sit down at their spot, In-ho lingered, his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer before he turned to follow the others.

Moments later, you found yourself joining the group, introducing yourself properly. 390, a man with a friendly demeanor, grinned and replied, “Ah, how could we forget you? Thank you for giving Jun-hee to us. She’s really skilled in ddjaki! The name’s Park Jung-bae by the way.”

Your eyes widened. “Jung-bae? Are you Young-sun’s husband?” You asked, pointing a finger at him.

Jung-bae blinked in surprise. “Huh? How’d you know my ex wife?”

“I live in Ssangmun-dong! I visit your pub often. Young-sun would always keep me company when I stopped by.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Ah! I remember now! You’re the one who splurged like crazy that one night. You even had to crash at our place because you were too wasted to leave! Young-sun told me you were whispering someone’s name... what was it... In-h—”

Panic shot through you as you clamped a hand over his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you hissed, glaring at him.

Jung-bae’s eyes widened, and with a nervous nod, he raised his hands in surrender. You slowly released him, muttering an apology under your breath as you tried to regain your composure.

Dae-ho and Jun-hee, however, were staring at you, their mouths slightly agape. Who knew the kind person they looked up to was a raging alcoholic? Behind them, In-ho’s expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Was it anger? Hurt? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty only made your heart race faster.

Breaking the awkward silence, Jung-bae cleared his throat. “W-well, speaking of Ssangmun-dong, my buddy here also lives there. We’re best of friends!” He gestured toward Player 456, who waved at you with a sheepish smile.

You bowed politely, offering a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Seong Gi-hun,” he introduced himself with a nod.

“What a small world,” you said, grateful for the distraction as the three of you fell into an animated conversation about your shared hometown.

From a short distance away, In-ho watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on you, his mind racing. Why were you talking about Ssangmun-dong like it was the greatest place in the world? What about Gyeonggi-do? What about the memories you shared there? What about him?

He paused, a flicker of something he refused to name surfacing in his mind. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn’t be—he wasn’t allowed to feel that way, not after everything he’d done to you. The very thought felt absurd. Yet, the knot tightening in his chest as you spoke to others wasn’t easy to ignore.

A nudge from Dae-ho jolted him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing all eyes, including yours, were on him, waiting for his introduction. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and forced a polite smile.

“My name’s Oh Young-il. Young-il sounds like ‘zero one’, and that’s my number, see?” He gestured to the 001 embroidered on his jacket. Dae-ho raised his brows, impressed by the coincidence, but your gaze lingered on him, a storm of confusion hidden behind your composed expression.

You knew his real name. You knew that he was Hwang In-ho, not Oh Young-il. So why was he lying? The thought gnawed at you. Had he changed his name after getting married? But there was no wedding ring on his finger. Maybe he’d taken it off? No, no. The contradictions piled up, yet a part of you didn’t want to accept the truth. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, deliberately avoiding you. He was hiding something, and you wanted to know what it was.

The moment was interrupted as the heavy boots echoed across the room. Guards marched in, their presence commanding silence. The atmosphere shifted instantly as the square-masked guard stepped forward.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game,” the guard began, his voice monotone yet eerily loud. He pressed a button on a remote, and the massive piggy bank descended from the ceiling once again. Wads of cash began to tumble into the glass container, the sound of bills hitting each other. Eyes across the room were glued to the spectacle, greed and desperation lighting up every face.

“The results of the second game are as follows: 110 players were eliminated. Therefore the total prize money accumulated is now 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Despite the staggering amount, you couldn’t shake the pit forming in your stomach. 78.8 million won. It was a fortune—more money than you could have ever imagined—but instead of relief, all you felt was disgust.

How could you be thinking about the money when 110 people had just died? Faces flashed in your mind, the terrified screams, the sight of bodies collapsing. And yet, here you were, wondering if it was enough to pay off your debts. The thought sickened you, and your throat tightened as bile threatened to rise. When did I become this person? You had stepped into the games for survival, for a better future, but now you couldn’t tell where desperation ended and greed began. The numbers on the screen blurred as hot tears welled in your eyes, your breaths coming quicker. I’m no better than the ones who created this place. Am I even human anymore? You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to silence the spiraling thoughts, but they refused to stop.

You felt your body tremble, your vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt around you. The walls felt closer, the hum of voices blurring into a distant buzz that drummed in your ears. Every blink brought a sting to your eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill over. You tried to focus—on the floor beneath your feet, the faint pattern of the tiles, anything—but it all blurred together, a haze of shapes and colors you couldn’t ground yourself in. Deep breaths came shallow, catching in your throat, each inhale fighting against the tightness in your chest. Your hands twitched at your sides, desperate for something to hold onto, but all they found was empty air. You whispered to yourself, hollow words of comfort you couldn’t even hear over the pounding of your heart. Your pulse throbbed in your ears, drowning out everything else. All you could feel was the weight of guilt pressing down on you, the silent judgment of the room—even if it existed only in your mind. You were spiraling, untethered, a storm of shame and helplessness that swallowed everything in its path.

Suddenly, a hand gently rested on your shoulder. The warmth startled you, and you whipped your head around to find its source. It was him. In-ho. Or Young-il, as he’d introduced himself. But he wasn’t looking at you; his head was turned toward the commotion among the players, who were now arguing loudly about the rules. His hand, though, remained on your shoulder, steady and deliberate.

Before you could process it, he began to rub your shoulder in slow, soothing circles. His fingers worked gently, almost instinctively, massaging the tension from your stiff muscles. You stared at him, stunned into silence. His expression remained neutral, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his touch told a different story.

After all these years, he remembered. He remembered how you used to freeze up during moments of intense stress, how just a simple touch—steady and grounding—could help you calm down. You hadn’t needed to explain it to him back then; it was something he’d noticed, something he’d done instinctively. And now, after everything, he was still the same. His hand stayed on your shoulder, firm yet gentle, just like before.

He remembered how you hated when people stared at you in moments of weakness, so he kept his eyes elsewhere. He knew you felt exposed, ashamed even, as if everyone was silently judging you, so he never let that happen. 

He remembered how you felt guilty for needing comfort, for drawing attention to yourself, so he never made a big deal of it. No words, no questions—just a quiet, unwavering presence that said, I’m here.

And you were thankful for that, more than you could ever put into words. It gave you hope. Hope that maybe, after all these years, there is still something left between you. 

With a grateful nod, you looked away as his hand left your shoulder, already missing his warmth. The commotion around you had ended, and people were drifting back into small groups, discussing their next move. You knew you had to focus, to think through the decision, but your mind felt like it was breaking into pieces. Should I vote X? If it wins, you’d leave with 78 million won—not nearly enough to erase your debt, but at least it would mean you were alive. Or should I vote O? That meant continuing the games. No guarantee of survival, but a chance at something greater—a chance to fix everything.

You tilted your head to gaze at the piggy bank hanging above, its glowing light taunting you. Before you could fully weigh your options, a conversation behind you caught your attention.

“Oh, don’t worry. I want to stop here,” In-ho’s voice said casually.

You froze, listening.

“I should go and be with my wife at the hospital,” he added.

Oh.

It was like someone had snuffed out the flicker of hope you’d just found. The energy drained from your body in one cruel wave as the words settled in. A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, and you swallowed it down, shaking your head. Of course, he has a wife. How could you have thought otherwise? You felt like a fool for hoping, for thinking even for a second that those small moments meant something more.

Dae-ho’s voice broke your spiraling thoughts. “I’m telling you, we’ll get out this time,” he said with determination, tugging at the patch on his jacket like it was the source of all his problems. “A marine should think strategically and know when to retreat,” he added, giving Jung-bae a playful shake.

Jung-bae, looking utterly rattled, nodded weakly. “R-right… that’s true,” he muttered, though his nervous glances betrayed his doubts.

“We have to end the games here,” Gi-hun said firmly, stepping into the circle of your group. His eyes met yours briefly, and you nodded. It was a silent agreement, one that seemed to lift his spirits slightly.

In-ho, standing off to the side, watched the exchange with something that could only be described as malice.

Dae-ho clapped his hands, calling everyone back to attention. “Alright, let’s huddle up!” he said with a grin, thrusting his hand into the middle.

One by one, everyone joined in. Your hand landed just below In-ho’s, and you tried not to think about it, about how the warmth of his hands made you feel .

“In one, two, three… Victory at all costs!”

“Victory at all costs!”

“This time the vote will begin with Player 001. Please cast your vote.”

All eyes turned to him, including yours. In-ho met your group’s collective gaze with a calm, unreadable expression before walking up to the platform. Without hesitation, he pressed the X button. The distinct chime echoed in the room as the counter for X increased by one.

The next player—Player 006—stepped forward. Without much deliberation, they also pressed X, their vote adding another mark to the tally.

“Player 007.”

Your eyes flicked upward at the familiar number. It was one of your teammates from the second game, Yong-sik. You spotted him in the crowd, watching him lean down to exchange hushed words with his mother. Her expression was tight, desperate, begging him to vote X but he simply nodded before walking to the machine. His hesitation was visible as he stood there, torn between his choices. Then, the sound of O being chosen played, the button glowing bright blue as his vote was registered.

Your heart sank as you saw his mother’s face fall, her grief and disbelief plain for everyone to see. You averted your eyes, unable to look at either of them any longer. You understood both sides of the story—the desperate hope of a mother to save her child so they can go home and the equally desperate desire of a child to pay his debt fully, leaving his mom with no more worries.

The votes continued, each press of a button punctuating the room like a drumbeat of tension. Finally, your turn came. You felt the weight of the decision like a physical burden pressing on your shoulders. Part of you wanted to vote O, to take the gamble, to fight for a chance to win enough to pay off your crushing debt. But the thought of your group—the first people in years who had truly accepted you—stopped you. You had promised yourself that you would protect them, that they would go home safe to their families.

You stepped forward and pressed X. The red glow of the button reflected on your face as the counter ticked up. You removed your blue patch as a guard gave you a red one. You stuck it to your jacket before, giving a small bow to them before retreating to your spot.

As you walked back, you felt In-ho’s gaze following your every step. His eyes burned with intensity, but you didn’t look his way. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when you knew the truth now. He had a wife—a life far removed from you. Whatever feelings you might have clung to in the past didn’t matter anymore. You would not degrade yourself into becoming a mistress in someone else’s story.

The voting continued until suddenly, a commotion broke out. Gi-hun stormed to the center of the room, shouting for people to vote X and urging them to end the games. His words rang out with desperation, but before he could fully plead his case, In-ho cut him off.

In-ho’s voice carried an edge of anger as he stepped forward, his composure cracking. “There’s no guarantee you’ll survive the next game! Do you really want to risk your lives for a few more million won?”

The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Player 100 stepped forward, shaking his head with disdain. “And what if we don’t risk it? We leave here with nothing but debt and regret. One more game, and we’re looking at at least 240 million each. That’s life-changing money!”

His argument ignited the room, and chaos erupted. Voices clashed, some siding with In-ho, others with Player 100. It spiraled into a shouting match, each side growing louder, more frantic.

You stood still, detached from the chaos. As much as you wanted to support your friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to intervene. This wasn’t a debate to be won; it was simply another game of chance, with lives hanging in the balance. The outcome wasn’t up to persuasion or reason. It was up to luck.

Finally, the vote was tallied. O won against X by a wide margin, 139 to 115.

Your stomach churned, fear creeping in as you processed what it meant. You weren’t scared for yourself but for Jun-hee, her kind heart too soft for the brutality of these games. You weren’t worried about your own safety but for Dae-ho, whose unwavering faith in others had been betrayed as Jung-bae—someone he admired and respected—voted O.

When the vote ended, your group regrouped, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. You found yourself behind Jun-hee as she ate her portion of the day’s dinner. Her small frame trembled, though she tried to hide it, her hands shaking as she clutched the bread's wrapper.

Without a word, you placed your hands on her shoulders, massaging gently to ease her tension. You moved to her lower back, your fingers pressing lightly, offering what little comfort you could in such a bleak moment. She didn’t say anything, but the way her breathing slowed told you that it helped, even just a little.

Without a second thought, Dae-ho stood up, his face conflicted as he grabbed Jung-bae by the arm and dragged him over to your group. His eyes darted nervously between you, Jun-hee, Young-il, and Gi-hun before his gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, [Name], Jun-hee, Young-il,” he started, his voice low, his words laced with guilt. “Gi-hun, I’m sorry…” His apology hung in the air, sincere but laced with discomfort.

He went on to explain his decision to vote O, his voice shaky but determined. “You see, I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors have been harassing my ex-wife and kid. They’re threatening them, and if I play one more game, I think I’ll be able to settle the debt. So…” His words trailed off, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes.

Before you could speak up in defense of Jung-bae, In-ho cut him off, his frustration still fresh from the earlier commotion. His tone was cold, a sharp edge beneath the calm exterior. “Jung-bae,” he started, his voice low but heavy with disappointment. “You of all people shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t twice as righteous.”

You felt a twinge of sympathy for Jung-bae, but In-ho’s words were true. Deep down, you understood why In-ho was so disappointed.

In-ho’s gaze flicked back to Jung-bae as he continued, his words almost regretful. “But looking at the results, even if you two voted against it, we would still have been outvoted.”

“Right? So it’s not really our fault,” Jung-bae quickly added, eager to find any shred of justification. He seemed relieved, like the pressure had been lifted slightly, but his eyes flickered nervously to the others, waiting for confirmation.

Dae-ho, who had been silently observing, scratched his head and gave Jung-bae a comforting pat on the shoulder. His movements were casual, though his eyes were thoughtful. “Honestly, I get why you did it. 78 million won isn’t enough. So when I went to vote, I really thought about going for ‘O’ too.”

You nodded in agreement, a soft murmur of approval escaping you. You understood the temptation, the overwhelming urge to fight for more when it felt like everything was slipping away. The money was too much to ignore.

Seeing the subtle nods of agreement from the group, Jung-bae’s confidence grew. He straightened his posture, eager to make up for his earlier decision. “Next game, I promise. I’ll—”

“Next game?” Gi-hun’s voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with a quiet intensity. “Next game, we might have to kill each other.”

The room went completely still. Everyone froze, the silence thick and suffocating. Gi-hun’s words hung in the air, their weight sinking into each of you. He was right, and the grim truth of it was enough to stop all conversation. There was no sugarcoating it. The next round could very well be the end, and the thought was unbearable.

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dread and uncertainty sinking into your bones. You couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down your spine, the magnitude of what was to come settling over you like a thick fog.

Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”

The group seemed to agree with your statement, the momentary discomfort fading as they all began to refocus.

In-ho, ever the quiet observer, handed his milk carton to Jun-hee without a word, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he looked away. “I don’t drink plain milk,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the gesture was nothing more than a small, unnoticed act.

Jung-bae, following suit, offered his bread to Jun-hee as well, his eyes shadowed with guilt. “I don’t deserve to eat,” he said with an awkward chuckle, trying to mask the heaviness of his words with forced humor.

You watched the exchange, your heart twisting slightly, but before you could speak, Dae-ho leaned in, his voice light but with an edge of concern. “I’ll take the milk carton?”

When Jung-bae shot him a glare, Dae-ho hesitated, then pulled back, not wanting to push it further.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but feel the heavy weight of what was ahead. The uncertainty, the danger—it all felt too much. But in this moment, you focused on your meal, knowing it was the only thing you could control for now.

You found yourself sitting beside Dae-ho, your bread in hand, chewing quietly as you both took a brief moment of respite. Dae-ho seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting toward you, hesitant yet full of unasked questions.

“If you have any questions, just ask me, Dae-ho,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’m not gonna bite, you know?”

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught off guard by your casual invitation. But he took a deep breath, calm now, and turned to face you fully. “Do you have kids at home, [Name]nim?” he asked, his voice low but sincere. “It’s just... whenever I see you with Jun-heesii, it reminds me of my mother taking care of me and my four sisters.”

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of discomfort as you realized the question would require a vulnerable answer. In-ho, sitting nearby, seemed to listen in, his curiosity piqued. Part of him, though, wished you didn’t have any children, that you weren’t settled in on with somebody, a selfish thought he quickly pushed away.

“Ah, this is embarrassing,” you murmured, a soft laugh escaping you as you fidgeted with your bread. “I actually don’t have any kids or a husband... I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Boys don’t really look at me like that, if you know what I mean. Life wasn’t that nice to me, especially after we moved. I didn’t have the time or luck for any of that…”

Dae-ho’s expression softened with guilt. He immediately regretted asking the question, but when he saw the faint longing in your eyes, he paused. There was something more behind your words—something unspoken, something that told him you longed for a family, for the chance to live that dream.

In-ho, overhearing, felt a pang in his chest. What had happened to you? He knew things had ended badly between the two of you, but he never expected life to treat you so harshly. You were kind, generous, and had always believed in the goodness of people. He couldn’t understand why life had been so difficult for you. You didn’t deserve that.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Jung-bae mischievously broke it with a suggestion. “Well, if you like, I can set you up with someone back in Ssangmun-dong. Right, Gi-hun?”

Gi-hun, who had been quiet up until then, blinked in surprise, his confusion evident. “Huh? Who?”

“You know! Sang-woo! The Pride of Ssangmun-dong!” Jung-bae grinned, clearly amused by his own suggestion. “I think he and [Name] would make a great couple, don’t you think?”

At the mention of Sang-woo, Gi-hun’s face shifted. His expression faltered, a wave of guilt and sadness clouding his features. A pained smile tugged at his lips as he nodded absently. “Yeah... I think so too,” he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere as he drifted off into his own thoughts.

The sudden change in Gi-hun’s demeanor caught your attention. His usual angry and tense self had been replaced with something quieter, a deep sadness that seemed to pull at him. You looked to Jung-bae for an explanation, your brows furrowed in concern.

In a soft voice, Jung-bae filled in the blanks. “Gi-hun and Sang-woo were childhood friends, but... he’s been missing for years.”

You nodded, understanding the pain behind Gi-hun’s words. You could relate to that feeling—the ache of a long-lost connection. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your own heart as well. Even though the lost connection was right in front of you, and he still felt so far away.

Gi-hun’s sadness wasn’t a good look on him. He was always either grumpy or happy, never in between. You wanted to change that. You thought back to when you missed In-ho so much, you’d drown your sorrows in alcohol and chatter to Young-sun about him. Maybe, just maybe, getting Gi-hun to talk about Sang-woo could help him, even if it was just for a little while.

“Hey, Gi-hun,” you called softly, breaking the silence. “Tell me more about this Sang-woo guy. Who knows, maybe we’d click together, you know?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your question. But something in his gaze softened as he began to talk. He recounted bits and pieces of his childhood with Sang-woo, his voice lighting up with nostalgia. His eyes shined as he described his friend’s strengths, quirks, and all the little memories they shared.

From the way Gi-hun spoke, you could see how much Sang-woo meant to him. The same way you felt about In-ho, the weight of love and loss behind every word. You silently prayed for their reunion. Gi-hun deserved happiness, and you wished for him to find it—whether through Sang-woo or another way.

In-ho’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eyes. If they were going to give you a partner, they should give you someone who can protect you—someone who knows you, your likes and dislikes, your type... His thoughts were possessive— jealous. His hands clenched into fists, though he forced himself to stay composed. He wasn’t sure why the thought of you with someone else hurt so much, but it did. It hurt more than he was willing to admit.

As the conversation shifted and laughter filled the space, In-ho stayed silent, the weight of his unspoken emotions heavy in the air. The conversation ended when they all went to the bathroom, leaving you and Jun-hee alone. She wasted no time asking a question that had been bothering her ever since she noticed something strange.

“[Name]nim, do you know Young-ilnim? Like, before the games?”

You were taken aback, your surprise evident in the way your eyes widened. What prompted her to ask such a thing?

“No, not that I remember,” you replied, a small ache tugging at your chest. It was hard to say those words. “Why do you ask?”

Jun-hee hesitated, her gaze flickering down to her hands. “It’s just that… I always see Young-ilnim looking at you, or staring at you. Especially when you helped me during the second game. His stare... it was like there was something there.” She trailed off, her voice quiet, unsure if she had crossed a line. “I thought you two might know each other. Sorry if I overstepped.”

“No, no... don’t apologize, Jun-hee. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her with a small smile. “Maybe I just remind him of someone?”

The conversation shifted, and though the topic ended there, you couldn’t help but linger on what Jun-hee said. In-ho, looking at you? Your mind spun with questions that you couldn't quite answer. But before you could dive deeper into your thoughts, the group returned from the bathroom, and the moment was gone.

Gi-hun gathered everyone, asking them to bring their mattresses and bedding to your designated spot. You all exchanged confused looks but did as instructed, gathering pillows and blankets. It was clear there was something important going on, and it wasn’t lost on anyone.

As you and Jun-hee handed out the bedding, the tension in the air grew. Jung-bae spoke up. “Hey, is this really necessary? I don’t like sleeping under here.”

Gi-hun continued setting down blankets without looking up. “Once the lights go out, someone might attack us.”

His words grabbed everyone's attention, and you paused, glancing around. Dae-ho, curiosity now evident in his eyes, asked, “Why would anyone do that?”

“The prize money goes up every time someone dies. It’s part of the game they designed,” Gi-hun explained, his voice tense with the weight of the situation.

You frowned, the idea feeling far-fetched at first. But as you thought about the desperation you’d seen in people—and the way some of the others eyed the prize board with hunger—it started to make a disturbing kind of sense. Gi-hun’s words seemed to settle over the group like a cold shiver, but In-ho wasn’t convinced. “Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting,” he said, shaking his head. “Even if that were true, people wouldn’t do that.”

Gi-hun turned to him sharply, fury in his eyes. “In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here, you have no idea how people can change in a place like this…”

In-ho trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. “I see… I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, but Gi-hun, though still angry, nodded with some understanding. “We need to take turns keeping watch after the lights go out.”

“I’ll take the first watch. You should decide the order for the rest,” Gi-hun added, continuing to spread the last of the blankets.

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself lying on the bottom bed, the silence in the room heavy. You couldn’t tell what time it was, but sleep seemed distant. With your eyes closed, you tried to rest, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn’t shake the thoughts of Jun-hee’s question, of In-ho’s gaze, and of all the tension in the air.

After what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t stay still any longer. You quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb Jun-hee beside you. As you stood, you rubbed your eyes, still groggy but wide awake. You walked over to the one who was supposed to be keeping watch.

“Hey... get some sleep. I’ve got it from here,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath in the darkness.

When no response came, you paused, your heart beating a little faster. Had you imagined it? You slapped your cheek lightly, half-expecting to wake up from a dream, but the sting was real. This was no dream. You were still in the game. But who was supposed to be guarding?

As you glanced toward the guard, your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dim light, stood In-ho, staring at you with wide, almost startled eyes.

“In-ho...” you whispered, the name escaping before you could stop it.

He blinked, his expression unreadable. “[Name]... sit down, will you?” His voice was quiet, laced with an undercurrent of tension. You did as he asked, your body moving on its own, though the atmosphere between the two of you felt thick with unspoken words.

You sat there, your knees pressed together. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. There were so many things unsaid between you, so many apologies left unspoken, so many reasons left unexplained. Neither of you seemed to know where to start, but the distance between you had never felt more real. You had shared a bond once, and now it was hard to find the words to bridge the gap that had formed.

In-ho shifted slightly, as if searching for something to say, but still, nothing came. Neither of you moved for what felt like hours, both of you stuck in a place neither knew how to navigate.

The silence between you and In-ho lingered, thick and suffocating, each of you carrying the weight of the years since you’d last spoken. Finally, In-ho shifted, breaking the stillness, his voice low and tight.

"[Name], I—I'm sorry," he started, his words hesitant, as though testing the waters.

"I shouldn't have acted like that, not when you were leaving. On our last day together, I—" He stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours, searching for the right words in the dim light. "I was so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t mean to push you away. I never should have let my emotions control me like that, especially when I knew you were going away."

Your chest tightened at his words. The apology you’d waited for, yet feared to hear, was finally being spoken, but the bitterness still clung to you. You swallowed hard, forcing the anger down, trying not to let it rise again. It felt like you were walking a fine line, torn between the hurt and the understanding you wished you could give him.

"You know," you said softly, voice wavering, "I was angry, too. You pushed me away, In-ho. I never got to explain myself, to tell you why I had to leave. It hurt so much that you didn’t even give me a chance." You paused, trying to steady yourself. "I don’t know what you thought, but I wasn’t running away from you. I... I never wanted to hurt you."

In-ho’s eyes flickered, regret and guilt tugging at his expression. His hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed at his side, as if searching for the right words but struggling to find them.

"I thought you were just... leaving, leaving me, leaving us." he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know if I could let you go. But you were going, and it felt like I was losing you, like you’d be gone for good. I was angry that you didn’t even try to stay. I thought you had already made your choice." He swallowed hard, his gaze still on the floor. "I thought you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you."

Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was it. The truth you’d wanted to hear, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. The anger you’d carried for so long still clung to you, but in this moment, it was tinged with understanding.

"I didn’t know you felt that way," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I thought you hated me for leaving. I thought I’d ruined everything, and you’d never forgive me for it." You took a deep breath, trying to steady the shaking in your chest. A tremor crept into your voice as you fought to hold back the emotions welling up inside you. 

"I understood why you did it," you said, voice cracking slightly. "I understood it at the time. You were scared, just like I was. But it didn’t make it hurt any less." Your voice dropped. "I didn’t know how to feel. You were the one person I thought I could rely on, and then you turned away without a word. And I had no choice but to carry that weight with me."

Your eyes locked onto his, your heart aching at the sight of the guilt in his expression. “I spent so much time angry at you, blaming you for leaving me like that. But now... now I know we were both just lost. I didn’t know how to handle it, and neither did you.”

In-ho’s face softened, his expression full of regret. "I wish I had known how to handle it better. I wish I had been braver... for you, for us. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of shutting myself off."

The words hung in the air for a long moment, both of you silently processing what had been said. Then, as if a dam had broken, you continued, feeling a rush of emotions that you hadn’t been able to express before.

"All those years... I kept wondering if I could’ve done something different. If I could have convinced my parents to stay. But I was too proud, too scared. And when we left, it felt like the world just... stopped. I couldn't move forward, not without you. I didn’t know how to move on. And I don’t know if I ever truly did." Your voice cracked, the weight of it all coming crashing down in that moment.

In-ho’s breath hitched as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was scared, too. I didn’t know how to handle the idea of losing you. But I realize now... that by pushing you away, I was only making it worse. I’m sorry, [Name]. I’m so sorry for everything.”

You both sat there in the quiet, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air between you. In-ho’s voice broke through the silence again, softer this time. “I should’ve been better for you. I should’ve told you how I felt, not let my fear take over.”

Your heart ached hearing the sincerity in his words. He was so close now, but there was still a lingering distance between you. His hand hovered near yours, unsure if you’d let him in. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing his. The touch was like a lifeline, pulling you both back from the uncertainty.

In-ho’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand finally resting on top of yours. He shifted slightly, moving a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze now, something you hadn’t seen in him before. “I don’t want to lose you again,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to swallow hard to keep them from spilling over. For so long, you’d carried this burden of unspoken words, of lost time. But now, sitting here beside him, it felt like the weight was lifting, bit by bit.

In-ho seemed to sense your struggle, his hand gently squeezing yours. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I never wanted you to feel abandoned or alone.”

The words were all you needed. With a shaky breath, you leaned toward him, resting your head on his shoulder. The closeness between you felt like a reunion, a connection rediscovered after years apart. In-ho’s arm slipped around you, pulling you just a little closer, as though he never wanted to let go again.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly, gently, as if trying to calm the storm inside you. The motion was soothing, and for the first time in so long, you felt at peace. The anger and the hurt slowly started to fade, replaced by something new—something warm.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

In-ho paused, his breath hitching as he processed your words. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his face inches from yours. “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

You both sat there in the quiet, letting the words hang in the air, surrounded by the unspoken promise of a new beginning. The past wasn’t something that could be erased, but it didn’t have to define you anymore. What mattered now was that you were here, together, in this moment.

In-ho held you close as you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything you’d kept inside for so long. You felt his chest rise and fall against you, steady and warm, as his presence grounded you. After a long moment of silence, he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with concern and curiosity.

“What happened to you, [Name]?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “What happened all of this? I’ve been wondering for years.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as the memories threatened to spill out. But, in his embrace, it felt safer to finally speak the truth. Slowly, you opened your mouth, your voice a whisper against his chest.

“I didn’t want to leave, In-ho,” you murmured. “But I had no choice.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of your past pressing down on you. “My parents... My father left for someone else, and my mother... she just disappeared. One day she was there, and the next, she was gone. I was... alone.”

You felt In-ho’s grip tighten around you as you spoke, but he said nothing. He just listened, offering his silent support.

“I tried to hold it together,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “But the bills kept piling up, and I couldn’t see a way out. I was working non-stop, just trying to keep up, but it never seemed to end. So, I thought, maybe a small loan would help... just to get by for a little while. But it only made things worse. I kept borrowing, and the interest kept stacking up. Eventually, I couldn’t keep up at all. To cope with everything, I started drinking. I just needed something to numb the pain.”

You paused, trying to steady your breathing. It felt like the floodgates had opened, and now there was no stopping it.

“After a while, it became a habit,” you said, your voice shaking. “I couldn’t face the world without it. And... I lost everything. My job, my sense of myself. I kept pushing people away because I didn’t know how to fix anything. I didn’t even know how to fix myself.”

In-ho’s hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer against his shoulder as if to shield you from the weight of your own words. He didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle between you. Then, his voice broke through the stillness.

“I’m sorry, [Name], I wish I was there with you during those times,” In-ho murmured, his voice filled with regret, each word heavy, like it carried all the years of silence and distance between you.

You let out a quiet sigh, the ache in your chest growing as you tried to push back against the weight of the past. The pain, the loss—it was all there, hovering just beneath the surface, but you chose to focus on what was right in front of you now. You chose the present. “It’s okay, In-ho,” you said softly, trying to steady your voice, but your heart was louder than it had been in years. “What matters now is you’re here with me, just like before.”

He was still so close to you, your bodies pressed together in the embrace, his breath uneven against your shoulder. His hand traced the back of your neck, his touch gentle, as though trying to reassure you, to hold you together. But there was more to it—something unspoken, a pull between you that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence, felt so right, and yet, it stirred something deeper, something dangerous.

His fingers grazed your cheek, his touch soft and hesitant, like he was testing the waters. He lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel that silent question in the air, one you had both ignored for so long. Could you finally give in? Could you finally let go of the years that had kept you apart?

You wanted to lean in. You wanted to close that distance, to feel his lips against yours and forget everything else. All the pain, the years apart, the weight of the world—it could disappear, just for a moment. But your mind raced with doubts. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was just a fleeting feeling? What if you were getting swept up in the moment, in the desperation of it all?

And then, In-ho’s lips brushed against your forehead, his kiss tender and almost like a promise. You didn’t hesitate this time. The distance between you seemed to disappear, and without thinking, you leaned in. Your lips parted, and your breath mingled with his as you slowly closed the gap, inch by inch. Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears. It was all so familiar, yet so new. You could feel everything—the pain, the longing, the need. You wanted to erase the distance, to bridge the gap that had haunted you both for so long.

But just as you were about to close the distance completely, just as you were about to feel his lips against yours, something flashed through your mind. The memory of him speaking of his wife, of the woman who was supposedly ill in the hospital, came crashing back. Your chest tightened. He was already married. You pulled back suddenly, your breath caught in your throat.

“What about your wife, In-ho?” Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. The words had been building inside you, but you couldn’t stop them. The questions came rushing to the surface. The connection, the closeness—it felt so real, but how could it be? How could you trust this moment when he had a sick wife waiting for his return?

In-ho froze, his eyes widening for a brief moment. Then, as though realizing the weight of what he’d said, his expression softened. He reached for you immediately, his hands cupping your face gently, almost desperately, like he couldn’t bear the space between you now.

“No,” he said, his voice low and strained. “You don’t understand. I lied to them. The wife... the illness... even my name. I did it for safety.” He explained as fast as he could.

“I swear to you, [Name], I wanted you. I always have. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve been waiting... waiting for you. All these years.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping over everything you had believed. The confession shattered your doubt. The years apart, the silence, the feelings that had never gone away. You had thought he was moving on, that he had a life without you, but now he was telling you that it had always been you. That he had always wanted you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, and for the first time in years, you saw it—his vulnerability, his sincerity. He had waited for you. He wasn’t lying now. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and in that moment, you whispered, almost to yourself, “I never stopped thinking about you, either.”

That was it. Your hands, almost on their own, moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The hesitation, the doubt, all of it was gone. You leaned in again, this time with no fear, no second-guessing. You could feel his lips, just inches from yours, and this time, it was going to happen. There was no turning back.

But just as you closed your eyes, just as you felt the warmth of his lips moving toward yours, the room suddenly lit up. The loudspeaker crackled to life, its cold, mechanical voice slicing through the moment like a knife.

“Third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.”

The announcement shattered the moment like glass and reality rushed in. You pulled away quickly, both of you flustered, eyes wide as reality snapped back into place. In-ho let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. His gaze, still soft from the moment, quickly shifted into irritation.

You, too, felt your cheeks burn with the sudden shift. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. “Of course,” you muttered, voice a little shaky. “Couldn’t be that easy, huh?”

In-ho shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “I swear, they have the worst timing.” He shook his head, clearly irritated by how things had unfolded, but there was a trace of humor in his voice that made the tension feel lighter.

You both sat there for a moment, the awkwardness of the interruption still hanging in the air but somehow feeling less heavy. It was like you’d both just come back from the edge of something important—and the abrupt break made you laugh despite the weight of everything. In-ho let out a short chuckle too, the irritation in his eyes still there but fading, replaced by a sense of shared frustration with the situation.

You glanced at him, eyes still lingering as you both realized how close you'd come to crossing that line. But there was no point in lingering on it now—not with the game calling you back to reality.

“Guess the universe isn’t ready for us yet,” you said, shaking your head.

In-ho gave a soft, exasperated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Yeah, well, it never really was on our side before,” he muttered, then stood, adjusting his clothes and brushing off the frustration like it was nothing.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before turning your back, to tend to the pregnant girl you had been caring for. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t feel quite as impossible as it had before. In-ho followed suit, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary. For a moment, the room felt like it belonged to just the two of you again. But the third game was calling, and you both knew you had to face it. Together, this time.

The third game was Mingle. A game where you had to form pairs based on a number assigned and get into a room within 30 seconds. As the platform spun beneath your feet, you felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you. It reminded you of times spent playing this game with friends back in Gyeonggi-do. You remembered one time in particular, when he had gotten into a fight with a common friend, because of the said game. You laughed softly at the memory, causing In-ho to glance over at you, curiosity in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low but still full of interest.

“Nothing,” you said with a soft chuckle. “I just remembered how Byung-hun was angry when you pulled him off of me, so you and I could be partners instead. Didn’t peg you to be a jealous kid.”

In-ho immediately bristled, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I wasn’t jealous. He was hurting you by gripping you so hard.”

“It didn’t even hurt!” you teased, but the corner of your lips twitched upward, unable to keep a smile off your face. “You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever you say…” In-ho muttered, stepping onto the platform. You followed him, shaking your head but smiling at the same time.

After four rounds, you all began preparing for the final one. The rounds were nerve-wracking, the tension palpable, but you had made it this far with the help of your amazing group. The platform began to spin, the music creating a frantic rhythm as it played in the background. You found yourself standing beside Jun-hee, instinctively holding her steady to keep her from stumbling as the platform jerked beneath your feet.

“What do you think the next number will be?” Jung-bae asked, his voice alert as he looked around.

Without hesitation, In-ho spoke up. “Two.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing at In-ho, silently asking him to explain.

“There are 50 rooms, and 126 people still alive. Everyone will need a partner, but there won’t be enough rooms. This is how they conduct these games.” In-ho’s eyes were sharp, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of awe at how quickly he had figured it out.

And as it turned out, he was right.

2.

Everyone paused, looking around at each other, wondering who would pair up with whom. Before you could grab Jun-hee to pair up, In-ho suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you along with him. The rest of your group—Dae-ho with Jun-hee, Gi-hun with Jung-bae—quickly followed, all of you rushing to find a room.

You spotted an open door and, without thinking, you shouted. “Over there!” You both sprinted toward it, but before you could step inside, a man suddenly tackled you to the ground. Your head slammed hard against the floor, and for a moment, everything spun.

In-ho’s face twisted with fury as he watched the man try to crawl into the room you had been aiming for, disregarding you entirely. Without thinking, he reached for the man, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him away from you.

“Get in the room!” In-ho shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. You were dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around you, but you didn’t hesitate. You stumbled to your feet, still feeling the lingering effects of the impact, and forced yourself into the room, fighting through the haze in your head.

But as soon as you entered, something coiled around your neck, a vice-like grip tightening with brutal force. You gasped, your throat constricting as you tried to draw in a breath, but the air seemed to vanish. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping into the periphery of your sight. Panic surged like a tidal wave, and you clawed at the hands choking you, but they were relentless. Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, each one feeling more like a plea for life than a simple breath.

The world around you was fading, your chest tightening, your limbs growing heavier. You struggled harder, your body thrashing, trying to free yourself, but the darkness was swallowing you whole.

And then—just when you thought you would lose consciousness—there was a shift. The grip loosened. The constriction around your throat vanished in an instant, and you gasped, desperately drawing in the breath you had been fighting for. The air tasted sharp, bitter, as if the world itself was trying to punish you for the terror you had just experienced.

And there he was—In-ho.

He stood over you, his face a mask of fury, eyes wild and unrecognizable with the force of his anger. His knuckles were white, gripping his fist tightly, as though the act of hitting the man who had attacked you had only just begun to settle in. His face was twisted in a way you’d never seen before. Something inside him was unraveling—breaking.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned on the man who had attacked you, and the sound of his fist meeting the man’s face was deafening. A sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and cruel, as In-ho’s punch sent the man crashing to the floor. But In-ho wasn’t done. The fury inside him was a beast, a monster he couldn’t control. He grabbed the man by the neck, his fingers tightening with savage force, twisting, until there was an awful snap.

The sound of a life being crushed, broken beyond repair, sent a shockwave through your body. Your stomach turned violently, and your chest tightened, as though you could feel the man’s life draining out of him, just like your own hope of ever seeing In-ho as you once had. It wasn’t just the man who had died. In-ho had killed, and something inside him had died, too.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t move. You stared at him, frozen by what he had just done, your heart racing as the gravity of the moment began to settle in. His chest heaved, each breath coming out ragged and uneven. But it wasn’t the man’s blood on his hands that terrified you the most. It was the look in his eyes. Dark. Soulless. As though he was searching for something—anything—to bring him back to the man he once was. But it was gone. That warmth. That kindness. All of it.

"In-ho..." you whispered, your voice cracking as you reached for him, but he wouldn’t look at you.

His gaze was distant, bloodshot, as though he couldn’t even recognize the person standing in front of him. For a brief moment, you feared you were losing him—losing the man you thought you knew.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

“In-ho,” you whispered again, more urgently this time, your voice thick with unshed tears. “Thank you. For saving my life. Again.”

His jaw clenched, the guilt settling into every line of his face. “I’m sorry, [Name],” he said, his voice breaking, and you could hear the remorse in every word, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, your heart hammering as you let out a shaky breath. “What are you sorry for?” Your voice was stronger now, fueled by a strange mixture of anger and desperation. “That bastard almost killed me, and I’m glad he’s gone. I’m glad he’s dead. What’s there to apologize for, In-ho? You saved me. You did what had to be done.”

But In-ho’s gaze softened for only a moment before it hardened again, his hands curling into fists. He was still haunted by what he had done. You could see it in the tight set of his shoulders, in the way he stood, as though he was trying to hold himself together. But the cracks were showing, and you couldn’t let him fall apart in front of you. Not when you needed him most.

Before you could say anything else, the adrenaline that had kept you both on edge began to fade, and the weight of everything—the violence, the pain, the fear—settled into the pit of your stomach. You threw your arms around him, not caring about anything else. Not the blood, not the death, not the mess that surrounded you.

You held him tight, pressing your face into his chest as sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. “I thought I was going to die…” you whispered between breaths, your voice trembling with the weight of the fear you had felt. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what was going to happen...”

In-ho didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms coming around you in a protective, desperate way, like he was trying to shield you from the madness, from the horrors that were closing in on you both. His chest was shaking with the same unspoken terror, his breath ragged in your hair as he held you closer, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

You closed your eyes, pressing harder into him, the weight of his words sinking into your heart. But no matter how tightly he held you, there was a part of you that was already broken, already afraid that the man you had just seen—the man who had crossed a line he never should’ve had to—was never going to come back.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

You both stood there in silence for a long moment, caught in the aftermath of what had just unfolded, the weight of the violence and the fear finally catching up to you. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew—no matter what happened next, you weren’t alone.

After the third game, the group gathered in the makeshift fort Gi-hun had set up, each player lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere was heavy as they processed the brutal reality of the games. Gi-hun asked Jung-bae to report the number of players who had voted to continue. The tally revealed 56 players had voted O, while the X team remained outnumbered by twelve votes.

In-ho suggested that if six players switched their votes, it would result in a tie, and seven switches would tip the scales in their favor. The tension was palpable as everyone prepared for the vote. When the results were announced, it was a tie. Relief spread through the group, prompting cheers, but their celebration was short-lived.

The guards announced that a tie meant another vote would take place the following day. Dinner was served, and while the group shared light moments to ease their nerves, the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the stakes.

That night, chaos erupted when a fight broke out in the bathroom between the two sides. The O team accused the X team of initiating the attack, while the X team retaliated with their own accusations. The conflict escalated quickly, spreading through the room like wildfire. By the time order was restored, Team X had gained an advantage, now numbering 48 players compared to Team O's 47.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said grimly, sitting down. “We lost three overall, but we’re still ahead by one vote.”

Jung-bae tried to remain optimistic, his voice steady. “As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence.

“Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 turned to the group, his voice firm. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and we’ll make it through.”

The group murmured their agreement, but Gi-hun’s expression remained tense.

Dae-ho leaned in, glancing toward the opposing team. “Those guys are acting really suspicious. They’re planning something—I can feel it.”

Jung-bae waved him off. “Whatever. Once we win tomorrow’s vote, it’ll all be over.”

“No. Once the lights go out, they’ll attack us.” Gi-hun spoke, his voice calm but filled with tension.

The room went silent. Player 007’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, They know we’re at an advantage,” He said, voice steady despite the situation. “They’ll try to kill some of us tonight to even the odds and raise the prize money.”

“Then we should attack first. We need to take them by surprise,” In-ho suggested, his tone firm. His words were met with agreement from Player 047, who nodded and added, “We have the women and elderly on our side. If they attack first, we’ll be at a huge disadvantage.”

But Gi-hun raised a hand, his expression grim. “No. We can’t start a fight like that.”

The group turned to him, confused by his sudden objection. Gi-hun’s voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet weighted. “We need to stay calm. If we kill each other, that’s exactly what they want.”

“Who are they? Who are you talking about?”

“The makers of the game,” Gi-hun said bitterly, his eyes burning with anger. His words hung heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs around the room. “They’re the ones who want us to kill each other. They’re watching us right now.”

A chill ran down your spine as you processed his words. The room fell silent, each player lost in thought. Dae-ho broke the quiet, his voice tight. “Where are they?” 

Gi-hun slowly looked up, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Up there,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. You all follow. His eyes seemed to pierce the walls as though he could see straight into them. “The control rooms are above us. Their leader wears a black mask. If we capture him, we’ll have leverage.”

In-ho scoffed slightly, though there was no mockery in his tone. “How are you going to fight them? They’ve got guns.”

“We’ll take their guns.”

“From the masked men?” Player 246 asked, his disbelief evident.

Gi-hun nodded resolutely. “Yes. We’ll catch them off guard. They won’t expect it.”

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho said, shaking his head. “Even if we manage to steal their guns, we’ll be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun’s gaze hardened. “What’s your plan, then? Sit around and wait to die? Watch as they pick us off, one by one? Is that your idea of survival?” His voice rose slightly, the desperation in his tone cutting through the tension.

The silence that followed was suffocating, each player wrestling with the grim reality of their situation. You could see some heads nodding in reluctant agreement, while others remained still, their fear paralyzing them.

Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Do we even stand a chance?”

“We do,” Gi-hun said, his voice unwavering. “If we strike first, we catch them off guard. They’ll never see it coming. The people running this game think we’re powerless, but we have the upper hand now. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“How do you plan to take their guns?” In-ho asked again, his skepticism still evident.

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. His determination was clear, as if he had already played the scenario out in his head. “Once the lights go out, we’ll have our chance.”

Lights out in ten.

The countdown began, the numbers pounding in your skull like the beat of a war drum. You lay stiffly on your bed, your muscles tense and ready to spring. Your heart raced as Gi-hun’s instructions echoed in your mind—Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quickly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us.

You clutched the edge of the bed, your nails digging into the rough wood. The seconds dragged, each one stretching impossibly long, amplifying the terror building in your chest.

One.

The lights flickered violently before plunging the room into suffocating darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. You could hear every breath you took, each one louder than the last, as if your own body was betraying you.

For a brief, terrible moment, the room was still.

The silence was suffocating, a heavy void pressing down on you as though the darkness itself were alive. You held your breath, every muscle locked in place, straining to catch the faintest sound.

Then the chaos began.

Screams erupted, raw and animalistic, tearing through the suffocating silence like claws raking through flesh. Heavy footsteps thundered across the room as bodies scrambled and collided in the dark. The sound of someone slamming into a metal bed reverberated like a gunshot, followed by the sickening, wet crunch of bone meeting steel.

The sharp clang of makeshift weapons rang out, chaotic and dissonant, punctuated by the grotesque, unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced. It was chaos, raw and brutal, an orchestra of horror conducted by desperation.

You didn’t think—there wasn’t time to think. Instinct took over as you dove to the floor, crawling under the bed as Gi-hun had warned. Your breath came in short, panicked bursts, and you pressed yourself flat against the cold floor, willing the shadows to swallow you whole.

The room was a nightmare brought to life. The desperate shrieks of the dying mingled with the guttural grunts of attackers. Somewhere close, you heard a chilling, high-pitched laugh—a sound that sent icy needles of fear racing up your spine. The stench of sweat, blood, and raw terror filled your nose, a nauseating cocktail that made your stomach churn.

A body hit the ground nearby with a sickening thud, so close you could feel the vibrations reverberate through the floor. You froze, every nerve in your body screaming as you listened to their gasping breaths turn into choking, gurgling sounds.

You wanted to turn away, to block out the awful noise, but there was nowhere to go. Even pressing your hands over your ears couldn’t drown out the terrible symphony of suffering.

The screams were getting closer. You clenched your jaw, biting back a whimper as you pressed yourself tighter against the floor, your trembling fingers digging into the cold metal beneath the bed.

Your heart stopped when you felt it—a hand clamping down on your shoulder, strong and unyielding.

Your blood turned to ice, the chill spreading through your veins. Panic seized you, and you thrashed instinctively, your mind consumed by the singular thought that someone had found you. You opened your mouth to scream, but a second hand covered it before a sound could escape.

For a moment, terror blinded you, until a familiar face appeared as the lights flickered.

It was In-ho.

His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the room with laser focus. “Quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, barely audible over the chaos.

Relief swept over you, so sudden and overwhelming that it left you momentarily breathless. But it didn’t last. 

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening sound of someone being dragged across the floor. You flinched violently, but In-ho’s hand tightened on your shoulder, grounding you. His grip was firm, steadying you even as your body shook uncontrollably.

The two of you stayed motionless, his presence the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the violence raged around you. Every scream, every thud, every awful, wet crunch seemed amplified in the darkness, etching itself into your mind. You wanted to shut your eyes, to block it all out, but the terror kept them wide open, unblinking.

Gradually, the chaos began to subside. The screams turned into weak sobs, the sounds of struggle fading into an eerie, oppressive silence. Then came the mechanical hiss of the doors opening, cold and detached, signaling that the nightmare was over.

But you knew better. It was far from over.

In-ho’s hand finally relaxed on your shoulder, and you turned to him. His face was unreadable in the dim light, but there was something in his eyes—something fleeting, unspoken. Before you could say a word, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. Then, without waiting for a response, he crawled out from under the bed, disappearing into the shadows.

You stared after him, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. The display of affection, so sudden and unexpected, left you reeling. By the time you snapped out of your stupor, he was already gone.

The sound of gunfire shattered your thoughts, sharp and jarring, each shot echoing like a death knell in the enclosed space. You curled into yourself, covering your ears as tears pricked at your eyes.

Please let them be safe, you prayed silently, over and over again, the words a desperate mantra. Please let them succeed.

After a while, Gi-hun’s voice finally rang out—calm but commanding—it felt like the first breath after being submerged underwater. “Hold fire!”

The gunfire stopped.

Slowly, you crawled out from under the bed, your limbs trembling so violently it was a struggle to move. The room was a battlefield, littered with bodies and soaked in blood. Your eyes darted frantically, searching for one face, one person who mattered more than anything in that moment.

Your heart leapt when you spotted Jun-hee crouched nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Jun-hee,” you whispered hoarsely, stumbling toward her. You dropped to your knees, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to you like a lifeline, her body trembling against yours.

The two of you stayed huddled together, finding solace in each other’s presence, until Gi-hun’s voice called out again.

“It’s safe to come out now.”

When everyone was told to gather in the middle of the room, you lingered, pretending to adjust your shoes. Jun-hee gave you a worried glance, but you waved her off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right there. Just... something I need to do.”

She hesitated before nodding, her small frame disappearing into the growing crowd.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room, the chaos of bloodied survivors and flickering lights making it harder to find him. But then you saw him—a familiar silhouette, half-hidden in the shadows of a secluded corner.

In-ho.

He was focused, his movements precise as he disarmed a fallen attacker, slipping the weapon into his grasp. His stoic expression didn’t falter as he worked. Even now, in the aftermath of chaos, he was calculating, steadfast, and unshaken.

Your breath hitched. You knew this wasn’t necessary. You knew you should be with the others in the middle of the room like you’d been instructed. But the ache in your chest, the fear gnawing at your sanity, pushed you forward. You couldn’t leave without speaking to him—without feeling the warmth of his presence one last time.

When you spotted him in a secluded corner, hunched over a stash of weapons he was collecting from fallen players, your resolve solidified. Silently, you crossed the chaotic room, weaving past overturned beds and scattered bodies. Your heart thundered in your chest, not from fear, but from the weight of what you needed to say.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, your steps quick and silent. When you reached him, you didn’t wait for him to notice you. You immediately threw yourself into his arms, catching him off guard.

“[Name]!” he gasped, his voice sharp with surprise as he caught you. He always caught you. His hands steadied you automatically, even as confusion flashed across his face. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be with the others. It’s not—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him deeply. The movement was so sudden, so full of everything you’d kept locked away, that it caught him off guard. He froze, his lips still against yours, the cold metal of the gun slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you thought your heart might shatter. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back. His hands moved to your waist, holding you as though you might slip away if he let go. The kiss deepened, his lips trembling against yours, and you could feel the war inside him—the pull of his duty against the part of him that wanted to stay here forever.

His lips moved against yours, his hands gripping your waist as though anchoring himself to you. The kiss was messy, desperate, and full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingling with his, your voice broke. “In-ho…” You could barely get his name out.

“[Name],” he murmured, his voice low and trembling. “You shouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“I don’t care.” You gripped the front of his jacket, your tears spilling freely now. “I don’t care about any of that. I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice cracked, betraying the lie. His hands shook where they rested on your waist. “But you—you need to go back. You need to stay safe. I can’t…” He trailed off, his eyes darting away, as if meeting your gaze might break him completely.

“In-ho,” you choked out, clutching his jacket tightly. “Won’t you stay, In-ho? For me?” your voice crackled with desperation.

His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. For a second, you thought he might say yes. But then, his face crumpled, and he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I want to—I want to so badly. But I can’t. I have to help them, [Name]. I have to make sure they have a chance.”

You tried to hold back the tears, tried to be strong for him, but the floodgates opened anyway. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face against his chest. His arms wrapped around you fully now, steady and grounding, even as your world fell apart.

Of course, this was In-ho. The one who always puts others before himself. The one who bore every burden silently, who carried the weight of guilt and responsibility like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This was In-ho—your In-ho. The man who had always been so much more than you deserved.

And yet, even if it hurt, you loved him for it. You always would.

“What about me?” you whispered, tears streaming freely down your face. “What about us? Don’t we matter?”

His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears even as his own filled his eyes. “You matter,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’ve always mattered. More than anything. More than anyone. But if I don’t do this… none of us will make it out of here.”

“In-ho…” Your voice broke, and he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered into your hair, his voice unsteady but full of resolve. “I swear, I’ll come back to you.”

“Please,” you choked out, clinging to him like your life depended on it. “Please, In-ho, don’t make me lose you again. I can’t—I can’t do this… not without you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to memorize the feel of you. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Deep down, you both knew his promise was a fragile thing, held together by hope.

He leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His lips met yours once more, this time in a lingering kiss, slow and deep, filled with everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. The chaos around you faded into a distant hum, and the weight of the moment lightened just enough for you to feel the depth of his love. A love as desperate and fleeting as the seconds you shared.

When he pulled away, his lips brushed against your forehead, a soft sigh escaping him as if the kiss had stolen the last of his strength. “I’ll be extra safe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the agony tearing him apart. “I promise, [Name].”

The promise felt hollow, like a brittle shell barely holding together.

You nodded weakly, though every fiber of your being screamed at you to pull him close, to make him stay. But you knew. You knew who he was—knew that In-ho was the kind of man who always put others first, and there was nothing you could say or do to change that.

“I’ll come back to you,” he said, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you. “You have to believe that.”

Your voice wavered as you whispered, “I believe you, In-ho.” But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

He took a step back, his hands lingering on your arms before they fell away entirely. The warmth of his touch disappeared as he turned, moving toward the shadows with quiet determination.

Your heart shattered as you stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. It felt like every part of you was being ripped apart, your chest heaving with silent sobs. You wanted to scream his name, to demand he turn around, to beg him not to go. But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the raw, suffocating pain of letting him go.

As his figure grew smaller and smaller, the reality of what just happened sank in. The promise he made, the kiss he gave, the pain in his eyes—they all felt like goodbyes masquerading as hope.

As the silence closed in, the thought struck you with brutal clarity. This was the last time you would ever see him.

And it broke you, how painfully right you were.

Y O U  C A N ‘ T  K I L L  M E

02 - a piece of me | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

|| masterlist ||

previous chapter | next chapter

——

The room was cold. Not from temperature, but from design — sterile and steel-lined, walls pressed tight in perfect symmetry, not a single window to the world outside. You sat among dozens of other guards, each clad in the identical matte uniform, each face hidden behind a black visor with a single geometric shape. You were in a sea of circles - a hierarchy forged not in character, but in obedience.

You felt your breath fog slightly beneath the mask. Even now, after years of wearing it, there were moments it felt like a muzzle.

Then, the door at the far end hissed open, revealing the creator, host, and God of this hell.

Oh Il-nam.

His hair was thinner now, his skin clung tighter to the ridges of his skull, but his eyes — sharp, glinting like polished glass — scanned the room with that same quiet cruelty you remembered from the archives. He walked with a slight limp, supported by a black cane, his mask tucked beneath his arm like a crown he didn’t need to wear to remind you who he was. He was dressed in deep crimson — formal, commanding, and flawless. The color of blood dried into velvet.

He stood before the room of guards and overseers, calm and calculating, as if he were welcoming guests to a dinner party rather than orchestrating death. He spoke softly, but the room bent toward his words like blades of grass in the wind.

“Welcome to the 33rd Season of the Games,”  Il-nam began, his voice low and controlled. “Do you know what that number means?”

Silence answered him.

“It means that the world hasn’t changed. The hunger still lives. That desperation is still the most powerful currency.”

He paced slowly before the first row, hearing his cane tap against the ground with every step.

“The rules remain the same. The games — Red Light, Green Light. Dalgona. Lights Out,” he paused at that, smiling faintly. “Yes, it’s officially part of the cycle now. Chaos has structure. Isn’t that beautiful?”

You remained still, but your stomach twisted. You remembered the screaming, the way the night didn’t hide the dying. You remembered the man bleeding out on the floor, who now sat behind black glass in a tower above, a Front Man forged from your mistake.

“Tug of War. Marbles. And most importantly, the Squid Game,” Il-nam continued. “You will uphold the structure. You will maintain the illusion of order. But most of all—“ he stopped now, facing the crowd directly— “you will not disobey.”

Murmurs didn’t follow — they weren’t allowed. But the tension thickened. Lights Out was once an unofficial chaos was now part of the rulebook. You felt it all rushing back, blood pooling across tiles, and a hand reaching up in the dark. His voice was breathless, shaking, whispering the words, “Why…?”

“Any form of aid to players, any deviation from assigned protocol, any mask that dares to feel… will be punished.”

You flinched, barely, but you knew the sting was meant for you.

“Some of you have already failed us before,” he said, eyes grazing across the room, almost like he could see behind the masks. “You’re here again because we believe in second chances… not forgiveness.”

The word struck like a lash. You didn’t move, but inside, the fire of the truth burned anew. 

The punishment wasn’t execution, at least, not for you. It was service, a reassignment, and a demotion. A demotion that dragged you into night shifts, into silent bedrooms and glided masks, into the leering eyes of VIPs where no screams escaped and no names were spoken. And every morning, you returned to pink.

“Uniforms and role assignments are waiting in Hall B. You will report immediately. Any delay is noted.”

The square guards began barking orders immediately. Role assignments, room numbers, escort teams, firearm calibration checks — all familiar routines returned like a tidal wave. The masked figures rose, each moving with choreographed efficiency toward their fate. 

Season 33 had begun, and you would do anything just to survive.

——

The metal platform groaned beneath your boots as you stood at the edge of the training hall, rows of pink-masked recruits stiffening under your gaze. 

A row of red carpet unfurled like a fresh wound down the center of the pristine room — the designated “escort path.” Gold-painted chairs lined the simulated VIP lounge behind you, perfectly arranged for the demonstration. Surveillance cameras blinked red in the corners. Nothing here was ever unobserved.

“Position one,” you called sharply.

The recruits moved. The pink guard stepped forward to act as the "escort" was young, shorter than the rest, their voice still trembling. Their grip fumbled over the faux decanter meant to mimic luxury service.

They bowed to the mock VIP actor like a civilian would — too deeply, too slowly. You inhaled sharply through your mask. They tried again, offering a drink with both hands, their gloves shaking slightly.

“Wrong,” you snapped, voice cutting clean through the stale air.

The recruit flinched as you strode forward, the click of your boots like gunshots in the quiet room. In one swift motion, you snatched the decanter from their hands and slammed it down on the tray beside the lounge chair.

“You are not a servant,” you said coldly. “You are a symbol. A presence. A product of obedience, not emotion. The moment you show uncertainty, they will know. And they will take advantage.”

Your words hung heavy in the space between you and the trembling recruit. The rest of the class stood rigid, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

“Again,” you barked. “With your spine straight. Offer the drink like a machine, not a child.”

The recruit obeyed. This time, it was slower and more deliberate. You stood behind them, adjusting the tilt of their chin with the sharp edge of your gloved hand. Their mask tilted toward yours, questioning and fearful.

They reminded you of someone, more of yourself. When you were promoted to square, clean and hopeful, your eyes too bright beneath the black. Before your rank was stripped and your identity erased in silence, not because of failure, but because of mercy.

“Acceptable,” you said finally, though your voice was devoid of warmth.

Training resumed in silence. Hours blurred past drills — posture, presentation, calculated silence. The elite escort role required perfection. Anything less was an insult to the illusion these monsters paid to see.

Eventually, the session ended.

One by one, the pink guards filed out. The doors hissed open, and the cold concrete swallowed them. But one lingered. A square guard, standing by the door with his arms folded, watching you with quiet interest behind the black mask that once mirrored your own.

“They say you were once a square,” he said casually, his voice low and edged with something darker. “What did you do?”

You didn’t answer. He stepped closer. The distance between you was all surveillance and silence.

“Rumors say you saved someone. That you disobeyed for a dying player,” he added. “But they never say why you’re still alive.”

You turned your head, slow and measured. “I follow orders,” you replied flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Funny,” he said. “You train them like you’re trying to make them forget what it’s like to be human.” 

You stared at him. “Because being human in here,” you said, “is the fastest way to die.”

You walked away, back into the corridors of steel and smoke, where ghosts wore masks and punishment was survival’s reward. The dim corridor buzzed faintly, the sound of fluorescent lights above flickering like a dying breath. You made your way down the path lined with identical metal doors, the living quarters for the pink guards.

Yours was the last door in the row. Room 427. You keyed in the code. The lock hissed open. Inside was stillness with barren walls, a single bed with starched sheets, and a metal table bolted to the floor. There was no mirror and belongings. Just silence, always silence.

You sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off your gloves like a second skin. Your pink suit was unzipped just enough to breathe. The metal walls echoed with distant footsteps, squares barking orders at newly recruited guards, the crackle of radios, the buzz of the elevator ferrying supplies to the upper floors. But here in your unit’s quarters, it was still.

There was no escort duty tonight. For once, your number wasn’t on the list. That relief was almost as painful as the duties themselves. You stared at your gloves on the bedside table, fingers curled stiff from wear. Blood had once soaked through them. Screams once filled your ears. But now? You were used to it.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

Before the games, you had a name. A life outside the games. You used to dance in the rain.

You lived in colors, not red, black and pink, but golden light from streetlamps, the warm blue of your favorite café, the soft lavender of your tiny rented apartment. You weren’t rich, but you were free. A literature student by day, part-time waitress by night. You wanted to write stories one day. Novels. Maybe even poetry. You dreamed of publishing your own book someday.

Your laughter used to come easily. Your smile wasn’t a mask. You believed in people. Yet in the end, you were the one who stayed.

In a neighborhood where everyone else was desperate to leave, you stayed behind. You watched your friends grow distant and your family grow smaller. It was only one funeral, then came another. Then another. Until the only voices left were the ones in your head.

You weren’t running from anything — there was just nowhere left to go. No final fight nor betrayal. Just… time, taking people from you, one by one. You stopped talking out loud because there was no one to hear you anyway.

So when the pink envelope arrived that was sealed tight, marked only by shapes, it felt like an accident. A glitch in the mail. A strange dream.

But you opened it.

And that’s how it started.

You didn’t become a player. You didn’t owe anything. But you were noticed — someone they could use. Someone who would not be missed. At first, you thought you’d break. But there was no one left to worry about you. No one left to remind you who you were.

Now, you rarely think about your name. It doesn’t come easily anymore.

And maybe that was the point.

——

The order comes like a slap to your already numb consciousness. A square guard, his uniform sharp and flawless, strides over to you in the dark hallway. His voice is cool, matter-of-fact, as if he’s never had to question a thing in his life.

"Fix the Front Man's quarters. Make sure every detail is perfect," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You simply nod, the sound of the mask moving as you lower your head in silent acknowledgment. You’ve been in this position long enough to know how things go. The Front Man’s quarters, as cold and sterile as everything else in the compound, require absolute precision. The slightest mistake, the smallest imperfection, could result in more than just a reprimand. You’ve seen what happens when others fail in front of the Front Man. There’s nothing kind or forgiving about his gaze.

The square guard watches you for a moment longer, as if ensuring you’ll comply, before turning away, leaving you to your task.

You stood in front of the door, taking in the quiet, lifeless hallway. Everything is perfectly still. No noise. No interruptions. The only sound you hear is the distant hum of ventilation systems and the pulse of your own heartbeat beneath the thick mask. You inhale deeply and push the door open.

Inside, the quarters were as pristine as always. It was cold, empty, and unyielding - not a single trace of humanity remains. The room was meticulously organized, the bed made to military standards, the furnishings aligned with an unnatural symmetry, a single chair in the corner, its back to the wall. Every surface gleams, as if the place is nothing but a shell, waiting for its occupant to step inside.

You walk in slowly, your eyes scanning over every inch, every corner. Your mind runs through the mental checklist: lighting, temperature, scent. Every detail is scrutinized until you’re certain it meets the Front Man’s standards. Your gloved hands trace over the desk, wiping away the faintest trace of dust. It’s almost too perfect. There’s nothing left to fix. The space is an extension of the man who occupies it — cold, flawless, untouchable.

You began to adjust the small things. The alignment of books on a shelf, the angle of the chair, the slight shift in the position of a painting on the wall. Every adjustment feels like an offering. Your body is numb to the motion, your mind detached and mechanical.

A sudden movement at the door catches your attention, and you freeze.

A shadow. A figure standing in the doorway, silent and imposing. You don’t need to look up to know it’s the square guard again. His eyes are cold, but there’s something else, a faint smile at the edge of his lips as he watches you.

“Is everything in order?” he asks, his voice like a dull blade scraping against metal.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your eyes remain downcast, focusing on the smallest of details. The least of your concerns is his gaze, but you feel the weight of it pressing down on you nonetheless.

The square guard takes a step forward, glancing around the room. His eyes land on the smallest imperfection, a slight smudge on the glass of a picture frame. Without a word, he reaches out, wiping it away with a swipe of his gloved hand. His movements are sharp, deliberate.

“You’ve done well,” he says, his voice softening ever so slightly. But you know better. He’s not complimenting you. He’s simply acknowledging your obedience. The look in his eyes doesn’t change — still cold, still distant.

“Finish up,” he commands. “And make sure the Front Man doesn’t find anything out of place.”

The square guard leaves, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. As you turn to leave, your fingers brush against the edge of the desk, and something about the cold metal reminds you of the past. Of who you used to be. Of the girl who had dreams and laughter in her heart.

You barely register the sounds of the Front Man’s approaching footsteps — but you know they're coming. You can feel him before you see him, a presence that lingers in the room even as the door creaks open. 

The Front Man walks inside with his usual poise, the cold mask covering his face, unreadable. His eyes scan the room like a predator sizing up its prey, each movement deliberate, precise, as if assessing not just the space but the person who prepared it. His footsteps echo softly against the polished floors, louder than they have any right to be.

You stand at attention in the corner, still and quiet, as he takes his time walking around the room. You don’t dare speak unless he orders you to.

His gaze flickers to the desk first. He takes a long pause, inspecting the alignment of the books, the sheen on the surface. His fingers brush lightly over the chair, just enough to feel the exact temperature of the room, the subtle pressure of the cushion. He moves with the kind of deliberate grace that you’ve come to associate with someone who knows their power, their dominance, their control over every detail.

For a split second, you hold your breath, wondering what he’s looking for. Is there something amiss? A trace of imperfection you might have missed in your hasty preparation?

But then his gaze shifts to the picture frame. It’s the smallest detail, the most trivial of things. His eyes narrow, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame with unsettling precision. There is a slight tremor in his hand. Just a hint. But it’s enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He simply looks at the picture frame for a few more seconds, as if contemplating something too deep to put into words. His gaze flickers toward the small smudge you couldn’t catch, and for the briefest of moments, you think he might actually speak. But no. His gaze sharpens, and he pulls his hand away.

Finally, he stands still. For a moment, you wonder if the air between you is thick with his thoughts, heavy and pressing. But then, he slowly exhales, a sound barely noticeable beneath the mask. He turns toward you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your chest tighten, your breath stuttering.

"Good job," he said, his tone as cold as ever. "Everything is in order."

Your heart clenched at the lack of emotion in his words. It was a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one. There was no warmth in his praise, no sign that he saw you as anything more than another tool—an instrument to be used and discarded when no longer needed.

"Thank you," you murmured, even though the words felt hollow on your tongue.

He turned his head slightly, his masked face remaining unreadable. "You may leave now."

With a stiff bow, you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. As you stepped out into the cold, sterile halls of the compound, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being forgotten.

You were nothing to him, and perhaps that was exactly what you deserved. After all, you weren’t a guard anymore, not truly. You were just a nameless face in the sea of masked figures, condemned to serve in the shadows for the rest of your days.

And yet, despite the cold dismissal, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder: would he ever look at you again? Would he ever realize that you were the one who had saved him when he had bled out during the chaos of lights out?

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized it didn’t matter. He was the Front Man. You were just a guard—nothing more. The distance between you was as vast as the abyss, and no amount of longing would ever change that.

——

A/N: HAS ANYONE WATCHED THE SQUID GAME TEASER? They just dropped the teaser for Season 3! I am SEATED (and also possibly traumatized) 😳 I think I'm going to be insufferable until June 27 because imagine the teaser making us feel like THAT, then what about the trailer 😨 What are your theories for the next season? I would love to hear about them!

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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