#'lost the game of chance what are the chances?'

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (21)

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

Chapter 21 - Surrender

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 22

PREV : Chapter 20.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

“Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us,” informed Gi-hun.

Finally, In-ho thought. This was the moment he’d been waiting for – when the masks of caring and kindness would drop and desperation would drag out the raw, selfish instincts buried within every human.

He glanced at you, watching your face pale as you gaped at Gi-hun. The wide-eyed shock, the flicker of fear – it was all too telling. You didn’t expect this.

Yong-sik’s voice quivered as he asked, “Really?”

Gi-hun nodded solemnly. “Because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.”

Yong-sik’s next words practically trembled with panic. “So what do we do?”

In-ho spoke up without hesitation, “Let’s attack them first.”

He didn’t miss the sharp look Gi-hun shot him, surprise flickering behind the man’s usual stoicism. It was as if Gi-hun didn’t expect someone like In-ho, calm, wise, seemingly rational, to propose something so brutal.

But In-ho met his gaze steadily and continued, “They’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. We can use that to our advantage. We’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

Player 047 quickly voiced his support. “That’s right. It’d be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked, we’ll be at a disadvantage. Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.”

Player 145 nodded, his voice grim. “I agree.”

In-ho swept his gaze over the circle of players. No one objected. Of course not. When survival was on the line, no one ever wanted to be the one left defenseless. Even the quiet ones and those who hesitated would follow when the alternative was death.

Plus, if everyone gets to leave, Gi-hun’s entire plan to sabotage this game would end in failure too. In-ho wouldn’t have to play this double role anymore. The games would continue next year, this time without Gi-hun’s interference standing in the way.

But then Gi-hun’s voice cut through the agreement like a knife. “We can’t do that.”

The silence was immediate. In-ho locked eyes with him again, widening his eyes ever so slightly, as if trying to get him to realize something.

“But we have to get out of here,” In-ho said, injecting confusion and hidden frustration into his voice. “You said it yourself. Staying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

Gi-hun remained undeterred. “That doesn’t mean we should kill each other. That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

Jung-bae asked questioningly. “They?”

Gi-hun’s eyes scanned the group before he replied, “The ones who created this game. The ones who watch us play. If we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.”

Bold. Stupid. But bold, In-ho mused.

Dae-ho frowned. “Where are they?”

Gi-hun’s gaze lifted upward. Instinctively, everyone followed his line of sight, heads tilting toward the unreachable heights above. In-ho did the same but only for appearance's sake. He already knew exactly what was up there. He’d spent enough time behind those very walls.

His gaze dropped back to Gi-hun, his face the perfect mask of dark realization and tension. Is this his plan?

“On the upper levels are the rooms they control the games from,” Gi-hun continued confidently. “The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on In-ho. Gi-hun was talking about the masked leader, the mastermind behind it all – without realizing that the very man he wanted to overthrow was sitting right in front of him. In-ho, the one in disguise, the one pulling the strings, was right there, hidden in plain sight.

Nevertheless, In-ho stayed quiet, his gaze locked onto Gi-hun with an almost calculating patience. This was exactly what he had been waiting for – the moment when Gi-hun would finally reveal his plan to dismantle the entire game management. And now, Gi-hun had spilled it, right to the man he was aiming to destroy.

Still, In-ho could easily spot the problems in Gi-hun’s plan. It felt rushed and made out of pure emotion instead of careful thinking. It was like a last-minute attempt to go after something huge, without really understanding how risky it was.

That's when you spoke up, “Are you saying you plan to overthrow this whole management?”

There was something in your tone – a mix of disbelief and curiosity – that made him glance at you a beat longer than necessary.

Gi-hun’s determined, grave eyes locked onto yours. “Yes.”

The room plunged into a heavy silence. In-ho could sense the weight of his words sinking into everyone. The enormity of the plan hung in the air like a storm cloud.

In-ho broke the silence, speaking calmly yet there was an edge in his tone and face. “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. “We’ll fight them with guns too.”

“But we don’t have any,” Jung-bae chimed in.

Gi-hun turned to him, unflinching. “We’ll take their guns.”

Jung-bae stared, caught between shock and exasperation. Gyeong-seok hesitated, then asked for certainty. “From those masked men?”

Gi-hun gave a single, firm nod.

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho interjected, letting just enough caution seep into his tone. He needed to play this carefully to convince Gi-hun to rethink this. “Even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun didn’t back down. “What then? Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive?”

In-ho froze.

Gi-hun pressed further. “Is that what you want, Young-il?”

In-ho didn’t answer. He kept his dark, contemplative gaze fixed on Gi-hun. It was at that moment In-ho noticed something else - Gi-hun had changed. Whether for the better, the worse, or exactly as In-ho had expected, he wasn’t sure. But the shift was undeniable.

“Do we…” Hyun-ju’s voice broke the tension, “...stand a chance?”

Gi-hun’s gaze shifted to her. His determination never wavered. “We do if we catch them off guard. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

In-ho kept the act intact as he asked, “How are you going to take their guns?”

Gi-hun scowled, his mind clearly racing. “Once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, everyone waiting for him to elaborate.

“When the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends.”

In-ho's gaze turned dark. Hide? That’s your plan? And let the rest of the X players not in this group get ambushed?

“Don’t get caught up in the fight,” Gi-hun added firmly.

“What?” you interjected out of the blue, your voice sharp with frustration.

In-ho looked at you right away. He was intrigued by your reaction, knowing how consistently kind you had been towards other players. Would you challenge this plan? Or would you, like so many others, choose self-preservation and let others fend for themselves?

In-ho knew this would be the moment when your true nature revealed itself. Was your kindness genuine or merely a fragile façade, easily cracked under pressure?

Jung-bae then echoed the unspoken concern. “But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage. Without us in the fight, they’ll be outnumbered.”

In-ho watched Gi-hun carefully, waiting for the hero's justification.

“I know,” Gi-hun said, his eyes flicking between you and Jung-bae before shifting to the rest of the group. “But if we fight with them and some of us end up dead or injured, it will ruin our entire plan. We can’t beat those bastards with a lower headcount.”

In-ho's gaze darkened as he realized something. “Are you suggesting that... we make a small sacrifice for the greater good?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes locked with In-ho’s, reading the weight behind the question. Yet, he still nodded.

“If we miss this opportunity, the sacrifice will be even greater,” Gi-hun replied, voice thick with resolve. “Even if it takes a sacrifice, we must put an end to this game now.”

In-ho’s gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching. He felt the bitter irony sting at the back of his throat. How poetic, he mused. The so-called hero willing to let others bleed for his vision of the greater good.

In-ho recognized Gi-hun’s desperation – not just to defy the management, but to prove something deeper, something personal. Gi-hun was fighting back to show that he wouldn’t become what the game wanted him to be. Yet, the irony wasn’t lost on In-ho. In trying so hard to resist the system, Gi-hun was playing right into its hands.

In-ho's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a disbelieving smile, before he forced it down. He realized in this moment, that all this time, before this, he was silently rooting for Gi-hun. Not because he believed in him, but because there was a part of him that wanted to be proven wrong. Just like Gi-hun had once proven Oh Il-nam wrong, In-ho wondered if he could do the same for him. To prove that humanity still had something worth fighting for. That someone could stop this entire game and still walk away with their soul intact. But now, he knew the answer.

Gi-hun, the so-called hero, was willing to let others die for his plan – a sacrifice for what he called the greater good. Isn’t this exactly what the game is about? In-ho mused darkly. Sacrificing the ‘trashes’, letting only one stand victorious. The world out there no longer have to deal with those 455 trashes who got eliminated. Gi-hun hadn’t broken the cycle; he had fallen into its trap.

If Gi-hun continued with this kind of view, he could become the very role he despised, becoming the next Front Man. It was ironic, almost poetic. In his fight to dismantle the system, Gi-hun was unknowingly positioning himself to inherit it, repeating the same cycle he swore to end.

Gi-hun pressed on. “Once the lights come on, the soldiers will come to settle the situation. They’ll try to break up the fight first. They won’t pay attention to the dead. They will scan our trackers to identify us. That’ll be our window.”

In-ho barely heard the next words over the building tension, until your voice broke through, sharp and angry. “Are you really going to leave our allies like that?”

Every head turned to you. In-ho's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. His dark gaze brightened, an unexpected spark of curiosity igniting as he studied you.

“You’re telling me you’d hide under the bed and let the O players attack everyone in this zone? All for your plan?” you countered in a heated tone.

For the first time, Gi-hun faltered, the iron in his expression cracking just for a moment. But then the walls slammed back into place, and his face stiffened into resolve.

“This is the only chance we have. Once this game is stopped, this game will no longer use us as pawns,” he said.

In-ho’s gaze flicked to you again, studying the frustration burning behind your eyes.

“If I weren’t close to your group or involved with any of you, would I even know about this attack? Would you warn me?” your voice rose, the emotion cracking through your words. “Would I be left to fend for myself against an ambush while you and the others hide?”

A flicker of intrigue deepened in In-ho’s gaze. He noticed how fiercely determined you were to challenge Gi-hun’s plan, driven not by self-preservation but by a rare, precious sense of kindness. You really care about them all, In-ho thought, unlike the others here who remained quiet and agreed with Gi-hun's reckless plan.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched, the pressure mounting. “It’s not about leaving anyone behind. It’s about ending this game once and for all.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help our people now,” you shot back. “We have to fight back, not just accept them as inevitable.”

In-ho felt a sharp tug of interest. You weren’t playing the same game as Gi-hun, weren’t blinded by some self-righteous end goal. You saw the people around you as it is – people with family and lives.

But will that kindness survive when the lights go out? he wondered.

Gi-hun’s brows furrowed, his voice rising in frustration. “Do you think it’s better to retaliate and play into their hands? Attacking back is exactly what they want. They want us to kill each other. To entertain them.”

Undeterred, you spoke up, “We’re not going to kill them. We will defend ourselves. We can alert our people about the attack. Get them prepared. Get them to a safe spot where capable men can protect them. If needed, we can subdue the O players without bloodshed.”

Gi-hun faltered, your words cutting through his confidence. But, as always, he clung to his plan. “If we join the fight and lose even a few, it will ruin our chances of overthrowing this game. We must preserve all the best men we have right now.”

You didn’t back down. “Then we have to join the fight. Defend without bloodshed. Defend as a team. If we join the fight, more capable men will survive the ambush. They will join you willingly.”

In-ho studied you carefully, a flicker of something deeper sparking within him. There it was again. That unwavering kindness, that relentless fairness, that loyalty that refused to bend, even here. In this brutal place, where humanity was stripped bare, your kindness still burned bright.

While Gi-hun had crumbled, you stood firm. It was you – not Gi-hun – who defied his cynical belief in humanity’s rot. And in that moment, as he watched you push back against Gi-hun’s cold logic, In-ho felt it again – a spark of admiration. He should feel bitter at being proven wrong, but he liked it.

Still, he must wait until the lights go out.

Gi-hun stared at you, and for once, he had no response. His jaw tensed, his mouth opened slightly as if to argue but nothing came out. The group sat in thick, uncomfortable silence.

You rose to a crouching position, your focus never leaving Gi-hun. “Go ahead with your plan. I’m not stopping you. If you don’t want to join the fight, that’s fine. But the others deserve to know about the attack.”

The weight of your words lingered in the air as you stood fully, turned on your heel, and walked toward the other X players, ready to warn them, to prepare them.

In-ho’s gaze followed you, a sharp curiosity burning behind his eyes. You’re willing to risk everything. Not for some grand victory, but just to protect the people around you.

For a moment, In-ho felt the strong urge to follow you. To watch you closely, to see if your kindness was truly as genuine as it appeared. But he stopped himself. He turned his focus to Gi-hun. The latter was staring in the direction where you had left. He looked conflicted. He looked like he wanted to say more, to justify his plan, but the words caught in his throat.

In-ho’s gaze shifted, catching the subtle ripple through the group. Your words had landed deeper than he expected. The others seemed to have snapped out of whatever spell Gi-hun’s logic had placed them under. Yong-sik’s mother and Jun-hee watched you from a distance, their worry etched deep in their expressions. Gyeong-seok and Hyun-ju were on the verge of standing up. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged uncertain glances.

You, your thoughtfulness and your kindness managed to sway them more than Gi-hun ever did.

In-ho seized the moment, staring darkly at the speechless Gi-hun. “Rethink your plan, Gi-hun. I know you’re angry at the game makers and that you’re still grieving your friends from the last game, but don’t lose sight of the people here too. They’re counting on you.”

Gi-hun didn’t respond right away. His jaw tensed, the inner turmoil clear but there was something in In-ho’s words that anchored him, pulling him back from his tunnel vision.

With that, In-ho stood up. Without another word, he left the circle, his eyes locked on where you had disappeared. Player 047 and 145 followed him immediately. Gyeong-seok and Hyun-ju exchanged a look before standing too, clearly choosing to follow where you had gone. In-ho didn’t look back but he could feel the balance tipping away from Gi-hun’s plan and toward something else entirely.

In-ho watched you as you moved between the beds, warning other X players about the danger. He noticed how determined you looked, how focused you were. But you were alone and that was enough for him to step in.

He walked over quietly and placed a hand on your shoulder.

You jumped a little, spinning around fast. But when you saw it was him, you relaxed, though you were still catching your breath.

“How many people have you warned?” In-ho asked gently.

“A couple,” you answered.

Before he could say anything else, more footsteps approached. Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047, and player 145 came over, gathering around you. Their eyes shifted between you and In-ho, waiting to hear what to do next.

“What else can we do?” Gyeong-seok asked, his voice serious.

You answered quickly, “Warn all the X players if you can. Tell them we’re only defending ourselves, not attacking. Make sure they hold onto their forks and water bottles to use as protection. Get the women and older people to safer spots, under the stairs, or near the walls. And before the Os attack, have them hide under the beds for more safety.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow, impressed by your quick thinking. It made him want to help you more. “We should also have some people guarding those spots. We need to make sure someone’s watching over them during the attack.”

“Got it. I’ll take the left side of the zone,” Hyun-ju said right away.

Player 047 pointed to the right. “We’ll cover this side. Let’s keep it quiet so the Os don’t figure out what we’re doing.”

They split up, leaving you and In-ho standing there. His hand stayed on your shoulder for a moment longer, steady but gentle.

“You’ve done enough,” he said softly. “Now go find two beds next to each other. One for you, one for me.”

He saw it in your eyes. You understood exactly what he was doing. He wanted to stay close, to watch over you when the chaos started, to guide you, maybe even protect you.

***

“Lights out in ten seconds.”

In-ho lay flat on his back, the thin blanket pulled casually over his chest. His gaze traced the high ceiling, his mind already calculating the next moves. You were on the bed right beside him. He could sense the tension in the way you lay still. Alert and waiting.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”

Darkness swallowed the dormitory, leaving only the faint glow of the O and X lights on the floor. The piggy bank light was dark tonight. A small twist for effect done intentionally, In-ho mused.

He didn’t move yet. But from the corner of his eye, he saw you slip quietly out of bed. You weren’t the only one. Other figures – women, elderly – moved through the shadows, hurrying to hide beneath beds or shuffle toward safer spots.

You crawled under your bed, positioning yourself carefully. In-ho stayed where he was, eyes closed now, feigning sleep. It was the perfect bait.

In a few seconds, loud and fast footsteps echoed through the dormitory, growing closer as the ill-intent O players approached the X zone. In-ho could almost feel the adrenaline spike before the chaos erupted.

The silence shattered by heavy footsteps, metal scraping, and the first shrieks of panic. In-ho didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it had begun. Then, he felt it. Someone was lunging for him.

In-ho snapped into motion, grabbing his blanket and yanking it around the attacker’s neck. The O player barely had time to react before he was pulled hard, the blanket tightening like a noose, his body jerked against the bed’s metal frame. A clean, swift maneuver. The attacker struggled as In-ho tied him to the railing.

Screams erupted across the dormitory – raw, human, desperate.

In-ho sat up, his calm broken only by the sharp flicker of the dormitory lights as they began to pulse erratically. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. With each flash, he caught snapshots of the chaos. X players grappling with O attackers, beds flipping, shadows lunging with glinting forks.

A loud thud yanked his attention back.

A body hit the floor right beside your hiding spot. In-ho’s gaze dropped to it. It was a fallen O player, groaning, clutching his arm where a shard of glass was lodged deep into his flesh.

He cast a glance under your bed, watching as you tensed, but stayed hidden. Smart. But there was fire in your eyes. He could see it even now. You wouldn’t sit still for long.

And he was right. You didn’t stay under the bed for long.

The moment you noticed X women being cornered by O players, you bolted out from your hiding spot. No hesitation. No second-guessing. You sprinted toward them, leaving the safety of the shadows behind. You didn’t even glance back to see if In-ho was following. You didn’t care about the odds or the danger. You cared about saving them.

Reckless, In-ho thought, rising from his position and following close behind. But kind. Genuinely kind.

It was that rare kind of kindness that burned too bright in a place like this. Selfless, dangerous, but undeniably real. He found himself watching you more than the enemies, waiting for the moment when that kindness would finally crack under pressure. But it didn’t.

And he didn’t let you fall.

Every time an O player lunged your way, In-ho was there, intercepting the attack. Every time a broken glass bottle or a fork came close, he blocked it.

Then, chaos brought you both face-to-face with six O players, their forks raised, teeth gritted. In-ho didn’t think. He grabbed you and pulled you behind him, shielding you with his entire body as he backed you against a wall.

No one’s getting through me to her, he thought grimly.

In-ho swiftly subdued five of the six attackers without any bloodshed, just like you wanted. The last one staggered to strike, but before In-ho could finish him off, Gi-hun intervened, his blow knocking the man unconscious. It was timely, but entirely unnecessary.

His dark eyes flicked to Gi-hun, studying him. Something had shifted. This wasn’t the Gi-hun who’d planned to hide while the Os attack the other X players. No, this was the Seong Gi-hun in 2020 who couldn’t stop himself from interfering, from saving everyone he could.

You changed him, In-ho realized. You reverted him to the man who tried to save everyone no matter how doomed the effort.

It was ironic. Gi-hun was supposed to be the one proving In-ho wrong. Instead, it was you – your stubborn, your naivety, your relentless kindness – that was doing it.

***

The brief but intense shootout between In-ho, Gi-hun, Hyun-ju, and the remaining capable players against the pink guards ended in their victory.

In-ho remembered during the shootout that the pink guards were caught off guard by him fighting alongside the players. Their hesitation was thick with disbelief. They expected him to drop the act right then, to step forward as the Front Man and end this charade.

Not yet, In-ho thought. I still have work to do.

He needed to stay embedded within Gi-hun’s plan, to sabotage it from the inside. But more than that, his gaze drifted briefly to you. We’re not finished. Not yet.

A furious yell snapped him out of his thoughts. “You goddamn bastards!”

In-ho’s head jerked toward the sound. Player 047 stood with his MP5 raised, his face twisted in rage. Five O players stood before him, their hands thrown high in surrender, eyes wide with fear.

But before a shot could be fired, Gi-hun sprinted into the scene. He grabbed the barrel of 047’s gun and shoved it downward. “No!”

“Move!” 047 barked, struggling against Gi-hun’s grip. “Do you not see this?!”

In-ho followed his gaze. Blood smeared across the floor, bodies crumpled like discarded toys. The dormitory had become a graveyard of greed and desperation.

“They are not human,” 047 spat, voice trembling. “They’re vermin, blinded by money!”

He raised his weapon again, fury crackling off him in waves.

But Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He gripped the gun tighter, locking eyes with 047. “This is not why we took these guns. If we do this, we’re no better than the masked men.”

In-ho watched intently, his gun resting against his abdomen, though his focus was far from idle. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you approaching, your eyes darting between Gi-hun and player 047. In-ho’s dark, contemplative gaze didn’t waver from the two men locked in their standoff.

047’s grip on the MP5 finally slackened. His teeth clenched, his face a twisted mask of rage and grief, but he lowered the weapon. His shoulders sagged with defeat, the fight draining out of him.

Gi-hun gave him a solid pat on the shoulder before he turned and walked toward the center of the dormitory, raising his voice above the low hum of scattered whispers.

“Everyone! Don’t be scared. Gather round, please!”

The command echoed through the space, pulling X and O players out from hiding.

In-ho didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on Gi-hun, his face an unreadable mask hiding a storm of irritation. The hypocrisy was hard to ignore. Gi-hun now stood there, posturing as the leader, the savior of the players, when not long ago, he had been perfectly willing to sacrifice others for the so-called greater good.

How convenient, In-ho thought bitterly. First, he's okay with hiding under beds and letting others take the hit, and now he acts like a brave leader? It annoyed him. Gi-hun's idea of being a hero was full of contradictions, and In-ho wasn’t fooled for a second.

“Young-il, you okay?”

Your voice cut through the lingering tension, soft but laced with concern. In-ho shifted his gaze toward you, his cold, calculated mask softening like ice melting under the sun. His sharp eyes scanned you, checking for injuries or anything out of place.

Once he ensured you were unharmed, a smile stretch across his face, warm and disarming. “I’m okay. How about you?”

Before you could answer, he lifted his left hand and placed it gently on your head. He felt the way you stiffened – surprised – before your cheeks flushed. You nodded, voice soft, almost shy. “I’m fine.”

The reaction tugged at something unexpected inside him. His smile widened as he brushed his hand through your messy hair, smoothing it down before tucking a stray strand behind your ear. It was a simple act, but the way you smiled back, soft and genuine, sent a ripple through him.

Withdrawing his hand, he returned both to his gun, resting it easily but alert. But he couldn’t shake the pull of curiosity.

“Where did you learn to use a pistol?” he asked, his tone light but intrigued.

“Oh,” you said, patting your pocket where the weapon was tucked. “I bought one after… the loan sharks attacked my parents.”

In-ho’s smile faded instantly. He locked eyes with you, something heavier slipping into his gaze. “Have you ever used it before?”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, hesitation thick between the words. “I have. I was scared.”

There was a rawness to your voice, enough to pull his focus deeper.

“They stalked me at my part-time job,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of the memory. “They threatened me, said they’d… hurt me if I didn’t pay up. I didn’t think they’d wait for my shift to end, but they did. They followed me home.”

Something dark stirred within In-ho. Anger, sharp and biting, clawing its way to the surface. It wasn’t anger at you, but at the world that forced you into that situation.

“They chased me through alleyways,” you continued, “but I got lucky. Before they could grab me, I managed to pull the pistol and I… I shot them.”

You were kind, too kind. And bastards like those loan sharks took advantage of that. But they didn't know you were prepared for self-defense.

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. You didn’t need to. In-ho could feel the weight of your words. The fear, the survival instinct, the guilt tangled in it all.

He stayed silent, not out of judgment, but because he wasn’t sure what the right words would even be. You did what you had to do, he thought. But saying it aloud? It didn’t feel right.

“Then I ran to the subway,” you added quietly, your voice thinner now. “That’s where I met a man in a suit. He asked me to play Ddakji with him.”

The recruiter, In-ho realized. Of course.

The memory lingered, thick in the air between you. He could see how deeply it still clawed at you, but you tried to mask it, chuckling weakly.

“Now, I’m here. I didn’t think I’d be fighting for my life here too. But at least… well, I hope I’ll survive and go home with a share of the prize money.”

In-ho studied you for a beat longer. There was no mask here. No act from him. Just raw hope, frayed around the edges but still burning.

“You will,” he said softly.

For the first time since he stepped into this place, In-ho felt something felt it. A hope for a player to survive. He wanted you to walk out of here unscathed, prize money in hand, free from the cruelty that had swallowed so many before. You deserved that much. In a world rotten at its core, you were like a rare bloom pushing through concrete. Fragile, yet stubbornly alive.

This realization stirred something deeper, darker within him. His admiration for your kindness had evolved into something more potent, more dangerous. Seeing your raw, selfless nature untouched by the corruption around you made it harder for him to fight the growing infatuation. And for once, it felt less like a crime to let himself feel it. It felt safe to love you because he knew you cared for him too and that you would never disappoint him.

“You will survive,” In-ho said again, nodding slightly, the words almost foreign on his tongue. “Those loan sharks won’t trouble you anymore once you leave this place.”

He watched as you offered a small, warm smile, your shoulders easing for the first time in what felt like forever. His words had actually soothed you.

But then, you lifted your gaze back to him, and your next words hit him harder than he expected.

“You will survive too,” you said, your tone filled with quiet conviction. “You must survive this place too. You must win this game again and… maybe we can meet up outside...?”

Your voice faltered slightly at the end, uncertainty bleeding through, but the sincerity was unmistakable. In-ho blinked, momentarily caught off guard. For a split second, his mind short-circuited.

You want to see me again? he thought. He wasn’t used to this. To someone caring, without an ulterior motive.

But the pause lasted only a breath before he pulled himself together. He smiled – a small but genuine one – and let out a quiet chuckle, glancing at the floor to hide the flicker of something warmer in his eyes. Then, stepping closer, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you forward.

“Of course,” he said, voice softer than he intended. Then, as if the thought had just struck him, he added, “Why don’t we set up a meeting place now?”

You froze for a beat, your wide eyes locking onto his, before your expression broke into something lighter – almost hopeful.

“Now?” you asked, half-laughing in disbelief.

He nodded, his grip still gentle but firm around your shoulders. “Yeah. Time and place.”

You hesitated, clearly caught off guard, but after a few moments, you glanced up at him, determination creeping into your features.

“How about Seonyudo Park?” you suggested.

A soft chuckle escaped In-ho before he could stop it. “Oh, that one park with the bridge where you can look out over the Han River?”

You nodded, visibly nervous, but he could see the hope shining behind your eyes. He tilted his head, pretending to think it over, although in truth, he’d already decided.

“Sure,” he finally agreed, locking eyes with you again. “When do you want to meet?”

You hesitated before blurting out, “One month after we leave?”

In-ho blinked, your suggestion catching him off guard again. One month? What's with that big time period?

You rushed to explain, “It’ll give us time to heal and sort things out. But if one month is too long, I’m fine with sooner – maybe one or two weeks?”

But In-ho shook his head, a real smile creeping onto his face. “One month it is. Seonyudo Park, a month after we’re out. Around sunset? The view’s amazing at that time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling now too. “That sounds perfect.”

Perfect, In-ho echoed in his mind, though the word tasted strange. Hopeful. It was a dangerous emotion. And yet, he didn’t hate it.

As you smiled at him, something heavy and unfamiliar twisted in In-ho’s chest. It wasn’t just admiration anymore – this was deeper. Every soft glance you gave him, every hesitant yet hopeful word, was tightening the hold you unknowingly had on him.

He’d spent years building walls so high nothing could get through. But you? You’d somehow slipped past every defense without even trying. Your kindness, your resilience, the way you still held onto hope in a place designed to crush it. It pulled at something he thought had died long ago.

A small smile lingered on his lips as he watched you look away, clearly flustered. He found himself wanting more of that – to see you smile like that again, to be the reason for it.

Not only that. He found himself anticipating your upcoming meeting. He felt normal – like a man anxiously overthinking about his upcoming date with someone he’s been looking for for years. He no longer felt like a husk of man. He had a purpose now – to pursue a life with you outside this island.

***

[Back to present…]

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, watching the live feeds of the current game. The players had finished selecting their gumballs, and it wasn’t until they grouped into their assigned teams that you noticed it – player 100, the greedy old man, was on the same red team as Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother.

Your stomach twisted. That's not good.

Even worse, Thanos’ deranged old friend, player 124, had also landed on the red team.

But then your gaze flicked to the blue team. Player 226 – player 100’s most loyal lapdog – stood stiffly with them. You could sense the frustration simmering beneath the surface of his face. The separation between him and player 100 wasn’t sitting well with him.

You noticed your fellow friends were already on edge, and Jun-hee’s frown deepened as her gaze locked onto player 100. You could practically read her thoughts. She hadn’t forgotten how vocal he’d been during her labor.

The tension didn’t last long. Triangle-masked guards then motioned for the players to move. The players were led out of the room and into the next game’s location.

You watched as the cameras shifted into another massive room. The floor stretched out in a massive expanse, either painted or pasted over with a giant image of white and orange flowers arranged in circular patterns, each ring drawing closer to the center. This room looked more like a surreal park playground. Scattered around the corners were pieces of park equipments: a colourful swing set, a metal slide, and colorful merry-go-rounds.

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice echoed through the massive space. “Welcome to your fifth game. The game you will be playing is Why Did You Come to My House.”

The players exchanged tense glances, some frowning deeply as they recognized the title right away. Gi-hun’s jaw tensed. Jun-hee glanced at Yong-sik’s mother with concern, while Dae-ho visibly swallowed hard, his face pale.

The announcer continued. “All players have been split into two teams. At the start, one player from each team will compete in rock-paper-scissors to determine which team attacks first.

“The two teams will form parallel lines, standing hand-in-hand. The game begins with the defending team moving forward, singing the first line of the song. The attacking team will step back. Then, the attackers will step forward, singing the next line. This continues until the defenders ask, ‘Which flower?’ Each player in the attacking team will then point at a player from the defending side. The targeted player will be determined based on the majority votes.

“The mentioned player and an attacker will face off in rock-paper-scissors. The loser will be immediately eliminated. The rounds will continue until one team loses all its players.”

The announcement ended, leaving only a chilling silence.

Gi-hun’s friends exchanged glances. You realized then that Jun-hee must have told them about the game. None of them looked surprised but it still pressed down heavily on them. Knowing what was coming hadn’t eased the fear. If anything, it made the hopelessness clearer.

They were separated by half into opposite teams. They would be forced to play against each other.

Gi-hun stood quietly, his brows furrowed deeply as he stared at the ground, lost in thought. You could see it in his eyes – he was already trying to figure out a plan. A loophole. Something. Anything that could get them all out of this alive.

Seeing that the game hadn’t started yet, your friends on the blue team moved toward Gi-hun and the others. Dae-ho looked the worst of them all. His face was pale, his hands shaking as he wrung them nervously. His eyes darted between his friends, searching for answers.

“There’s gotta be a trick, right?” Dae-ho stammered, his voice thin with panic. “Some kind of loophole that’ll let us all make it through? We can’t j-just play this straight!”

Gi-hun didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched tightly as he stared down at the floor, lost in thought or maybe just lost in the hopelessness of it all. The silence dragged on, heavy and suffocating.

Dae-ho’s panic grew. He turned toward Jung-bae, calling him along with his ‘hyungnim’ honorifics. “Right, Jung-bae? There’s gotta be a way, right?”

Jung-bae hesitated. His eyes locked onto Dae-ho’s trembling figure, and for a moment, he looked as lost as the rest of them. Then he forced a wide, playful smile. It seemed clearly exaggerated, but laced with forced optimism. He even chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“Of course,” Jung-bae replied, nodding. “There must be a way. We just have to look for it. It’s not gonna hurt to try something, right?”

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief at the small sliver of hope.

Hyun-ju, ever the calm one, stepped forward, her arms crossed as she looked over both teams. “What if we just… avoid targeting each other?”

She paused as her friends turned their gaze onto her. She glanced at each of them as she continued, “Like, you guys in red team avoids targeting us from the blue team. And us from the blue team does the same.”

Jung-bae perked up at that. “Oh, that’s possible! That way, we can at least hold off eliminating each other.”

But Myung-gi quickly shook his head. “That won’t last. The other players will do the same for their friends.”

“Then it’s not just the other team we have to worry about,” Se-mi spoke up, forcing a wry smile. “We’ll be fighting our own teammates too. That’s where things get ugly.”

Jung-bae shifted his gaze between Myung-gi and Se-mi, looking hopeless again, as he said, “Wah, you two really know how to kill the mood, huh?”

The mechanical hum of the loudspeaker kicked in, followed by the cold, distorted voice of the announcer.

“All players, the game is about to begin. Please form a line with your team. Position yourselves parallel to the opposing team. Select one representative from each side to play rock-paper-scissors to determine the attacking and defending teams.”

Slowly, the players began to shift, their feet dragging across the floor, but one thing was clear. Everyone was hesitant to part ways with their friends.

Gi-hun hesitated, exchanging glances with his friends. There was an unspoken reluctance, a deep-rooted fear in parting ways. The reality was sinking in. This was the first game that separated them to compete against each other.

Jun-hee’s gaze lingered on Myung-gi, her eyes filled with unspoken thoughts. Myung-gi was quick to notice and gazed back at her.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly with a tight smile. “We’ll figure things out later.”

Jun-hee didn’t speak for the first few seconds. Then, she gave a small nod. They then parted to join their respective teams.

Dae-ho's entire body was visibly trembling now. He looked like he didn’t want to part with his friends in the red team at all, his wide eyes darting desperately between Gi-hun and Jung-bae, silently pleading for someone to stop this. Just then, Hyun-ju stepped closer. She placed a firm hand on Dae-ho’s shoulder.

Startled, Dae-ho turned his head to her, noticing the grim yet forced smile on Hyun-ju’s face.

With that, Dae-ho took a shaky breath and, though still trembling, followed Hyun-ju as they made their way back to the blue team, Myung-gi walking alongside them in heavy silence.

Yong-sik, gripping his mother’s hand, hesitated before finally releasing it. “Be careful, Mom.”

Yong-sik’s mother refused to let go of his hand, her grip tightening. She pulled him closer, her voice trembling as she spoke, “Yong-sik, I know this is hard, but we’ll figure something out. I promise. Just... stay out of trouble, okay? Don’t do anything reckless.”

Yong-sik looked at her with wide, fearful eyes, his hand shaking slightly in hers. He didn’t want to let go either, but he knew he had to. They had to play the game. Finally, with a shaky breath, he nodded. She managed a strained smile, swallowing her tears as she slowly released his hand.

With heavy hearts, they slowly moved into position. The red and blue teams now faced each other, a straight line of anxious faces and clenched fists. The space between them felt massive, like there was a line they shouldn't cross.

“Pick your representative,” the announcer’s voice echoed again.

Player 100, the greedy old man, stepped forward with a wide, smug grin.

“I’ll volunteer for the red team,” he announced, his voice loud and filled with cocky confidence.

Gi-hun and his friends stayed perfectly still, exchanging tense glances but saying nothing. They all knew better. Staying in the shadows seemed like the safest bet. Volunteering would only make them a bigger target.

As soon as player 100 made his move, player 226 – his ever-loyal lackey – stepped forward from the blue team.

“Then it's me for blue,” he said, his voice carrying a similar arrogance.

They faced each other across the divide.

“So, we’re not brothers anymore, huh?” Player 226 smirked, his jaw tight.

Player 100 chuckled darkly. “Tch. Brothers? In this place? I was only ever looking out for myself.”

Player 226’s face twisted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “I followed your lead this whole time, and now you’re just throwing that away? Like a coward? Shows how pathetic you really are, old rot.”

Player 100 sneered, his grin widening. “Pathetic? Boy, you were the fool who followed me around like a lost puppy. And now you expect loyalty? You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. You just have no brains.”

Player 226’s jaw tightened, fury rising. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one out, old fucker.”

“That is, if you get the chance,” player 100 snapped back. “If I win as the attacking team, you better believe I’m coming for you first, son of a bitch.”

The other players couldn’t help but react to the heated exchange. Gi-hun glowered. Jung-bae and Jun-hee exchanged glances. The mother stayed quiet. Dae-ho and Yong-sik's gaze flitted between the two. Hyun-ju, Semi, and Myung-gi simply watched on impassively.

Player 100 and 226 then raised their fists, preparing for the most important form of decision-making in their entire life.

“On my mark,” a manager spoke up as he stood to their side. “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Player 100 threw out a rock. Player 226 put out a scissor. The result was instant.

The room filled with tense silence before the loudspeaker blared, “The red team will be the attacking team.”

Player 226 paled while player 100 immediately threw his fists into the air, cheering loudly and with wild exaggeration.

“Hah! I told you! You scummy bastard!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the vast room. He spun around with his arms stretched wide, pumping his fists into the air as if he’d won the entire game already. His laughter was sharp, echoing mockingly as he shot a smug glance at player 226.

Player 100 then spun around to face his fellow red teammates, his grin wide and malicious. “Alright, listen up! For the first round, we vote for player 226. No mercy!”

The red team stood silent for a tense beat, most of Gi-hun’s friends exchanging uneasy glances but staying quiet. However, the O players on the same team quickly nodded in agreement. Their movements were stiff and forced. It was clear they were just trying to appease him, hoping to stay off his radar for as long as possible.

Player 100 sneered, clearly pleased with their response. “Good. Stick with me, and maybe you’ll last longer.”

Player 226 clicked his tongue in annoyance, his face twisted in frustration as he muttered under his breath, “Rotten old bastard.”

He shot a final glare at player 100 before storming off to stand in line with the blue team.

Player 100, still riding the high of his victory, threw an agitating smirk at him before casually strolling back to join the red team.

Before the tension could stretch any further, the loudspeaker blared to life again. The announcer stated, “All players, the game will begin shortly. Teams, form your lines and hold hands with your teammates.”

The players hesitated only for a moment before moving into position. The red and blue teams formed two parallel lines as instructed.

The announcer added, “A song will play to guide your movements. Teams will step forward or backward in turn. Follow the lyrics accordingly. Once the song sings ‘rock, paper, scissors’, players of the attacking team will point at a player from the defending team. The targeted player will be based on the majority of votes.”

The players braced themselves as a children's song began to fill the massive room, its playful melody clashing cruelly with the deadly game. Everyone was tense as they held their teammates’ hand.

Meanwhile, player 100 grinned wildly. He swayed mockingly to the beat of the song, his over-the-top movements making it clear he was savoring every moment. Across the field, player 226 glared daggers at him.

The song’s melody echoed through the vast room, its cheerful tone a cruel contrast to the tension crackling in the air.

As the first line rang out—

“Why did you come, why did you come, why did you come to our house?”

—the blue team, acting as the defenders, stepped forward in unison as if they were the ones asking the attacking team with the lyrics. The red team, as the attackers, stepped backward.

The second line followed:

“He said he came, came, came to look for flowers.”

Now it was the red team’s turn to advance, delivering the answer to the defending team through the lyrics. Player 100 led the charge, taking exaggerated, wide strides, his grin stretched from ear to ear. He locked eyes with player 226, his manic glee on full display. The blue team retreated, their steps cautious and calculated.

When the third line echoed—

“What kind of flowers did he come, come to find?”

—the blue team moved forward again. Player 226 pushed himself to the front, his chest puffed out as if trying to mask the nerves twisting in his gut. He fixed player 100 with a hard glare, attempting to show bravado.

The fourth line dropped.

“He said he came, came to look for rose flowers.”

The red team advanced again, but this time player 100 didn’t just walk. He lunged ahead of his teammates, rushing forward with his malicious grin stretching wider. His eyes locked on player 226, the sheer venom in his stare unmistakable. The blue team hastily stepped back.

Then came the fifth and final line.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

It was the moment of decision.

Almost immediately, most of the red team thrust out their dominant arms, fingers aimed squarely at player 226. The aggressive, near-unison movement felt like a death sentence, their fingers all pointing at the same target.

But not everyone joined in.

Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother pointed toward other blue team members, deliberately avoiding their own friends in the opposing team: Yong-sik, Myung-gi, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi.

The majority had spoken. Eight out of 12 red team members picked player 226. He stood under the crosshairs of almost every outstretched arm, his face paling. Across from him, player 100’s grin widened even more as he muttered, “Don’t run away now, boy.”

The manager overseeing the game stepped forward, his voice booming even behind that square mask of theirs.

“Eight people have voted for player 226. Now, player 226 will get to choose one out of the eight to compete in a rock, paper, scissors match. The one who loses the match will be eliminated.”

Player 226 scoffed loudly, his frustration boiling over. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jabbed a finger straight at player 100. “You. I’m not going down without dragging you with me, you self-righteous gramps.”

Player 100 blinked, clearly not expecting to be singled out so directly. His smug grin faltered for a second before he quickly masked it with bravado, though there was a nervous twitch in his eye.

“Hah! You really think I’m wasting my time on you?” player 100 sneered. “You should be picking someone weaker. Someone you actually stand a chance against.”

Player 226’s eyes darkened with pure loathing. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

He turned to the manager, raising his voice. “It’s the rules, right? I get to choose?”

The manager, calm and unbothered, nodded once. “Correct.”

Player 100’s jaw tensed. His cocky mask wavered again before he threw his shoulders back, forcing a wide, arrogant grin. “Fine! Let’s play your stupid game. But don’t cry when you lose, kid.”

Player 226 clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. The supervising manager then stated, “Player 226 and player 100, please step forward.”

Both of them stepped forward from their respective teams. They then stood face-to-face. The manager stood silently at their side. The air between them crackled with palpable tension. Every eye was locked on them. Player 226’s jaw was clenched tight, while player 100's forced bravado was starting to crack, beads of sweat glistening at his temple despite his wide grin.

“On my mark,” the manager’s voice cut in, monotone and cold.

Both players raised their fists, ready for the throw.

The manager began, “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Their hands shot out in unison.

Player 100 threw out rock. Player 226 put out scissors.

The manager announced with finality, “Player 100 wins. Player 226 is eliminated.”

Player 100 hollered triumphantly, his voice echoing off the high walls as he pumped both fists into the air. “Ha! I told you I’d crush you! Look at you now!”

His laughter rang out, loud and mocking, as he exaggerated every move, basking in his victory. But player 226 wasn’t hearing any of it.

His face went pale, eyes wide with disbelief as the realization hit him. He’d lost. Completely and utterly. His chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths as he staggered back a step.

The other players stood frozen. Gi-hun’s jaw clenched as he watched player 100 revel in the moment, disgust flickering in his eyes.

“Over-the-top prick,” Jung-bae muttered, glaring at player 100’s dramatic celebration.

Jun-hee and Yong-sik's mother frowned deeply.

You, watching from the Front Man’s quarters, frowned in distaste. Player 100’s smugness was unbearable, the pure glee in his face making your stomach turn. But your focus quickly shifted to player 226, who stood frozen, panic now flooding his expression.

The heavy stomp of boots echoed as triangle-masked guards began advancing toward him.

Player 226 snapped out of his shock, his survival instincts kicking in. He threw his hands up, waving frantically. “Wait! Just-just one more round! I can do better! I-I wasn’t ready!”

But the guards didn’t slow. They raised their MP5s in perfect unison.

“No, wait—!”

The gunfire was deafening.

Player 226’s body jerked violently in each shot hitting his body before crumpling to the ground, a growing pool of red staining the white floor beneath him. His outstretched hand twitched once before going limp.

The massive room fell into an eerie silence, the echoes of the gunfire lingering in the heavy air.

Player 100 let out one last victorious laugh, though it was quieter now, almost uneasy as the reality of what had just happened set in. The other players stood rigid, their faces pale, the brutality of it all sinking deeper than before.

You inhaled sharply from where you sat. The guards then stepped back towards the wall, their weapons lowered, as the manager announced, “The next round will begin with the attacking and defending teams switching positions. The blue team will now be the attacking team, and the red team will be the defending team.”

As the rounds progressed, you noticed the plan in action. Gi-hun, Jun-hee, Jung-bae, Yong-sik’s mother, and the others subtly avoided voting for their friends on the opposing team. They were careful, trying to be subtle, ensuring no majority votes landed on their allies. By staying in the shadows and never drawing attention, they reduced their chances of being singled out for the deadly rock, paper, scissors match.

The strategy worked for a while. One by one, the O players on the blue team, were picked off. Each elimination was met with the same cold routine – play the which flower procedure, votes, a quick game, and then gunshots. The pool of players shrank in each round.

You noticed player 100’s smug demeanor slowly fade as he observed the pattern. His eyes darted between the remaining players, realization creeping over him. Being an O player himself, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the blue team’s O players were being taken out systematically. His cocky grin faltered.

Player 100’s frustration boiled over, his voice rising above the murmurs of the room. “They’re taking out all the O players! We’re next if we don’t do something!”

He jabbed a finger toward the blue team, his face twisted with indignation. “Switch it up! Start voting out the X players on their side!”

His voice echoed through the vast space, making heads turn.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest as you watched from the Front Man’s quarters. Your eyes scanned the blue team, picking out the X players. They were:

Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, Se-mi, and Myung-gi. All of them were your friends or acquaintances. There was one more X player, a quiet man who had kept to himself.

Only one O player remained on their side, standing nervously at the far end, clearly aware that his time was running out.

Shifting your focus to the red team, you tallied the survivors. The X players there were Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik’s mother, and a short boy labeled player 125.

But what truly caught your attention were the remaining O players. It was player 100 himself, the malicious player 124, and another nondescript man who hadn’t spoken a word the entire game.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the red team prepared for their turn. The manager’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Red team, you will be the attacking team this round. Make your selection once the song reaches–”

“Rock, paper, scissors, I know!” player 100 barked. He then pivoted to face his fellow red teammates. “Everyone! Next, we vote for the X!”

Before anyone could react, player 124 stepped forward, his finger jabbing out toward the blue team. “Let’s vote for him!”

All eyes shifted to Myung-gi, who froze as the accusing finger landed squarely on him. His expression twisted into surprise before he quickly masked it, his jaw tightening as he glowered at player 124. The two locked eyes, past grudges crackling between them.

From where you sat in the Front Man’s quarters, you couldn’t help but glance over at Jun-hee. Her face had gone pale. Her worry was written all over her.

Myung-gi, however, chose to stay silent. He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he squared his shoulders and stood still, his fists clenched at his sides.

That’s when you noticed player 124 sidling closer to another red team member. It was the nervous boy labeled player 125. He told him, “Min-su, don’t make me mad now. Let’s win this again. One more game.”

Min-su flinched at the tone, his head dropping as he refused to make eye contact. He nodded once, his shoulders shaking slightly in fear.

The next round began. The melody played again, leading into the inevitable moment.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

Hands from the red team shot forward.

You held your breath, leaning forward in your seat while carefully supporting the baby sleeping in your arms.

Player 100, player 124, another O player, and Min-su all pointed at Myung-gi, their votes locking him into the spotlight. Meanwhile, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother each pointed at the last O player left on the blue team.

The female announcer’s voice rang out. “Player 333 and player 104 received four votes each. In this case, player 333 and player 104 are required to break the tie by competing in a rock, paper, scissors game.”

All eyes turned to the supervising manager. Myung-gi and player 104 stood frozen. The former’s face was unreadable, but player 104 looked as though he might faint.

“Wait,” Myung-gi called out. “If one of us loses… does that mean we’re eliminated?”

The manager shook his head. “No. The loser of this rock, paper, scissors will be the chosen player and will get to pick their competitor from the red team for another match.”

A beat of silence passed before Myung-gi and player 104 raised their hands.

The manager began, “On my mark. Rock, paper, scissors.”

Both players threw their choices forward.

Myung-gi’s hand came down as scissors.

Player 104 laid out rock.

The result was immediate.

“Player 333 loses. You will be the targeted player. You will now select your opponent.”

Myung-gi exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the ground.

Jun-hee’s eyes shimmered with pure desperation. Her hands trembled at her sides, her lips parting in terrifying dread. Her wide, glassy eyes locked onto Myung-gi, The fear, the worry. They were all there, visible on her face, but she forced herself to stay silent.

Myung-gi finally lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Jun-hee for a long while. Something unspoken passed between them – regret, apologies, and fear. He swallowed hard before shifting his stare to player 124. He glowered resentfully.

“Fine,” Myung-gi said suddenly, his voice sharp and cold.

It was as if something inside him had snapped into place, as if resigned to fate. But there was a part of him that still burned to fight back. He straightened his shoulders, exhaling slowly before lifting his arm, his finger pointing straight at player 124.

“I’m dragging you with me,” he growled.

Player 124 scoffed, the sound dripping with derision and loathing. “Tch. Brave talk for a scammer.”

The manager’s voice echoed through the room. “Player 333 and player 124, please step forward.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Myung-gi stepped out from the blue team’s line, his face a hardened mask of resolve. There was no fear in his eyes – only sheer defiance – as he strode forward, positioning himself before the manager. He glared at player 124.

Player 124, meanwhile, was livid. His jaw worked as he struggled to suppress his rage and another emotion, but he forced a chuckle, then broke into a mocking laugh.

“Oh, MG Coin, you really think you have outplayed me?” he sneered. “You’ve been a walking failure since the start. This’ll just be another loss for your record.”

The insult hit like a slap, but Myung-gi didn’t flinch. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared but he kept his focus locked.

Suddenly, player 124 turned around and reached beneath his white shirt, pulling out a necklace shaped like a small ‘t’. His hands trembled as he unclasped it, revealing a hidden compartment inside. Nestled within were two small, circular pills. You frowned in confusion. Is that his meds?

With a sharp flick of his shaky wrist, he popped both pills into his mouth, his head tilting back as he forced them down. His hands trembled violently, but he clenched his jaw. For a moment, the shaking intensified. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his body stilled. The trembling faded completely, leaving him standing eerily calm.

Everyone watched him quietly. Some players exchanged tense glances, clearly understanding what he had taken, while others remained baffled. The silence thickened until the hot pink-clad manager broke it. “Player 124, step forward.”

Player 124's demeanor shifted entirely. Gone was the twitchy, agitated man from before. Now, he carried himself with an unsettling calm and confidence. His eyes gleamed with a kind of clarity, though a faint, manic edge still lingered.

He waved the manager off with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he drawled, striding toward Myung-gi with an easy swagger. His smirk widened as he closed the distance, his voice lowering into a taunting sneer. “Still think you can beat me, MG Coin? You’re about to fold faster than your worthless crypto.”

You narrowed your eyes from the Front Man’s quarters, suspicion prickling at the back of your mind. He’s high. It explained the sudden calmness and confidence.

“On my mark,” the manager declared.

The two players squared up, their hands raised in preparation. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Even you, watching from the Front Man’s quarters, leaned forward, feeling the pounding of your own heart echoing in your ears. The baby in your arms shifted slightly, but you barely noticed.

Everyone was silent – so silent it was suffocating.

The manager said, “Rock.”

Both Myung-gi and player 124 tensed, their fingers twitching.

“Paper.”

Myung-gi’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving player 124’s.

“Scissors.”

Their hands shot out. Your breath hitched.

Myung-gi chose paper. Player 124 threw rock.

“Player 333 wins. Player 124 is eliminated,” the manager’s voice echoed.

Gasps of relief rippled through both the red and blue teams. You quickly scanned the players, recognizing the source of the reactions to be Myung-gi's acquaintances and even his ex-girlfriend. Jun-hee stood among them, her hands pressed firmly against her chest. Her expression, a mix of exhaustion and quiet joy, made it clear just how much she had been holding her breath.

Meanwhile, player 124 didn’t flinch. Instead, he stood perfectly still, his head tilted slightly to the side, a lazy smile curling at the edge of his lips. His wide eyes glistened, glassy and calm, almost... serene.

“Ha,” player 124 chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Well, would you look at that?”

His voice was light, easy, devoid of any tension. He turned his head toward Myung-gi, his grin stretching wider. “You are a really lucky bastard, MG Coin. Real lucky shot.”

Myung-gi stared at him, stunned by the reaction. There was no rage, no screaming, no accusations. It’s just that eerie calmness.

Player 124 walked closer to Myung-gi and daringly inched his face closer to his menacingly. “What kind of person are you, really? You scammed hundreds or thousands of people. You already got a girlfriend and a baby. And now you got really lucky in this game too. Meanwhile, I'm one of your victims. I used up all my money on your coin scam. My whole family disowned me. And I got unlucky? This is really, really unfair.”

Myung-gi stayed silent, locking eyes with the manic yet eerily calm gaze of player 124. The words cut deeper than he expected, hitting something raw inside him. In that moment, it all sank in about how lucky he really was and how many lives he’d left in ruin. The people who had fallen for his scam weren’t just faceless victims; they were desperate and broken too. Deep down, he knew he should be the one standing in player 124’s place. Maybe then, he could finally begin to atone for everything he’d done.

Two triangle guards advanced toward player 124 and Myung-gi, their shoes thudding against the floor. The sound echoed, drawing both players’ attention. Player 124 remained eerily calm. He straightened his back, lifting his chin with a strange serenity, his glassy eyes still glinting with that unsettling, drug-fueled calmness.

With a soft sigh, he exhaled through his nose, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, this is it, huh?”

The guards arrived to stand before player 124. Still, he didn’t flinch. He let out another chuckle, almost giddy now. “Man, you guys are so serious all the time. Relax! It’s just a game, right?”

Even as the guards raised their weapons, player 124 remained eerily calm, as if the weight of reality hadn’t hit him… or more likely, the pills numbed him beyond fear.

“Later, losers,” player 124 murmured, flashing one last grin.

Multiple gunshots cracked through the massive room. Player 124’s body collapsed to the floor, still wearing that unsettling smile.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Myung-gi exhaled shakily, his heart still pounding as he processed what had just happened. Even in victory, the unease lingered.

Player 100 muttered curses under his breath. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he glared at Myung-gi’s retreating figure. “Damn cockroach… can’t believe he pulled that off.”

But the victory wasn’t what gnawed at him. It was the numbers. There were only three O players left.

In the red team, it was just him and another unknown male player. In the blue team, it was the last O player who had won against Myung-gi and narrowly escaped being the targeted player.

Player 100 could feel the walls closing in. His eyes darted toward Gi-hun, who stood quietly, hands at his sides, gaze calm. Too calm.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?” player 100 yelled, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You planned this from the start! You’ve been whittling us down!”

Gi-hun turned his attention to him.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent,” player 100 spat, taking a step closer, his voice rising with each word. “You’ve been playing the long game, getting rid of every O one by one. Keeping your little friends safe while the rest of us drop like flies. You slimy little rat!”

Jung-bae couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He stepped forward, placing himself between Gi-hun and player 100.

“Hey, back off,” he snapped, his eyes wide. “You’re the one who’s been throwing people under the bus since the start. You act like you’re a top dog when all you’ve been doing is stabbing people in the back.”

Player 100 sneered. “Oh, look, Gi-hun’s little lapdog has something to say.”

Jung-bae didn’t miss a beat. “Hey! At least I’ve got loyalty. something you wouldn’t recognize if it bit you.”

Before the tension could escalate further, Yong-sik’s mother stepped forward, her hands raised slightly in a calming gesture. “Enough, enough. This isn’t the time for bickering. We’re all barely holding on here. Fighting each other won’t change that.”

For a moment, there was silence. But player 100 wasn’t having it.

He whipped around to face her, his face contorted with frustration. “Oh, great! The fragile mother wants to play peacemaker now? You think you’re innocent in all this? You helped take out my fellow O players too! Don’t act like you’re some kind-hearted saint.”

His words cut through the tension like a knife, and the sheer force of his accusation made several players shift uncomfortably. He continued, “Spare me your pity act, grandma!”

Yong-sik’s mother flinched but quickly squared her shoulders, refusing to back down despite the sting of his words. Her hands trembled, but her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” she snapped, her voice cracking with emotion, though she tried to hold her ground.

“Back off, you greedy old scum!” Yong-sik shouted from the blue team's line. “You don’t talk to my mother like that!”

Player 100's face twisted in rage, veins bulging at his temple as he jabbed a finger at Yong-sik. “You little brat! Always hiding behind your mommy! You think that’s gonna save you in here? You will sacrifice your mother sooner or later!”

Yong-sik’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, but he said nothing. It's as if player 100 hit a nerve that stunned him.

Player 100 then swung his gaze toward Gi-hun and Jung-bae. “And you two, and your friends? Don’t think for a second I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re nothing but cowards, hiding behind everyone else’s sacrifices.”

Gi-hun stayed silent, his face solemn, while Jung-bae rolled his eyes. “Fine, old man. Whatever. Are you done yet?”

Player 100 snorted but didn’t push it. He turned sharply on his heel and stormed back toward the red team’s line. He made sure to position himself as far from Gi-hun and the others as possible, sidling up next to the only remaining O player on his team – a man who flinched slightly as player 100 stood beside him.

Player 100 crossed his arms and threw one last glare at Gi-hun’s group before muttering under his breath, “Bunch of backstabbing rats. We have to do something fast.”

However, player 100 didn’t have time to form a plan. The next round began swiftly, with the blue team taking on the role of attackers while the red team stood defensively. As the song reached its final line of lyrics, the blue team reacted in near-perfect unison. Hands snapped forward, every finger – except one – pointing directly at player 100. The lone exception, the solo O player, hesitated for a fraction of a second before shifting his aim toward Jung-bae.

“Player 100 has been chosen as the targeted player,” the manager’s voice echoed coldly through the room.

For a split second, player 100 stood frozen, his mind racing to catch up with reality. Then, his face contorted in disbelief and pure rage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. “You all voted for me? ME?”

His eyes darted wildly between the blue team members, searching for anyone who looked even remotely guilty but they all stood firm and determined. His gaze finally locked onto Gi-hun as if instinctively blaming him.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?!” player 100 snarled. “You wanted me out from the start!”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He simply stared back, his face unreadable.

Jung-bae responded instead. “No plan, old man. You just made yourself the biggest target in here.”

“Cowards!” player 100 spat, though the edge of desperation in his voice was impossible to miss. “You all ganged up on me because you’re too scared to face me one-on-one!”

The manager’s voice cut through the noise again. “Player 100, step forward and choose your opponent from the blue team.”

Player 100’s chest heaved as he clenched his fists. His bravado was clearly cracking, but he still barked, “Fine!”

He jabbed his finger straight at someone in the blue team. All eyes followed. Your heart sank as your eyes widened in shock, dread tightening in your chest. It was Dae-ho.

Dae-ho, naturally pale, now looked as if all color had drained completely from his face. His skin was ghostly white, his wide eyes shimmering with panic. His arms trembled uncontrollably. It's like his body couldn’t decide whether to fight or flee.

Player 100 grinned wickedly, the sadistic pleasure unmistakable on his face. “You, ex-marine. Let’s see if all that training makes a difference here.”

Dae-ho didn’t respond. He could barely breathe, his throat dry, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out the noise around him. His legs felt like they might give out at any second.

Gi-hun’s mouth went ajar. He was obviously worried. Jung-bae, however, wasn’t one to stay quiet.

“Pick on someone your own size, you pathetic old man!” he shouted across the room, his voice sharp with anger.

Player 100 threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, please. I’m giving him a chance to prove himself. Ex-marine, right? Big, tough guy? C’mon!”

Jun-hee stood rigid, her face once again displaying immense concern towards another friend of hers – a man who had taken good care of her since they met here. Yong-sik’s mother pressed a hand to her chest, her face pale with concern. “Oh no...”

Meanwhile, Dae-ho stood there, frozen. His mind replayed the worst-case scenarios over and over. He knew the rules. He knew what would happen if he lost. He knew what would happen if he refused to play.

Player 100 then stepped out of the red team's line, standing before the awaiting manager. “Move it, ex-marine!”

The manager glanced at Dae-ho and finally stated, “Player 100 and player 388, please step forward.”

Swallowing hard, Dae-ho finally stepped forward, his legs shaky beneath him. His shoulders hunched slightly, as though he was carrying the weight of his past along with him.

Watching from the Front Man’s quarters, you felt a pang of concern cut deep. You knew Dae-ho carried some heavy burden from his past. You remembered the way he ran and hid during the gunfight in the revolt. His fear was palpable. His instinct to flee overpowered his marine training. It wasn’t cowardice; it was trauma.

Seeing him now, trembling and vulnerable, stirred something in you. He wasn’t just another player in this nightmare. He was your friend. He was someone you’d laughed with, and someone who encouraged you when things got rough. Now, he stood alone, facing off against player 100’s cruelty with barely a thread of composure holding him together. It hurt to see him like this, knowing there was nothing you could do but watch, hope, and silently will him to survive.

Once the two of them stood before each other next to the supervising manager, player 100, smug as ever, derided, “Don’t pass out before we start. Wouldn’t want this to be too easy.”

Dae-ho swallowed visibly. Everyone could tell drops of sweat began to roll down his temple and neck. His trembling hands betrayed him as he tried to pretend to be brave in front of the smug player 100, but failed spectacularly. You frowned deeply for him. You wished you could be there for him.

“On my mark,” the manager announced without hesitation.

Dae-ho jolted violently, his wide-eyed gaze snapping between the guard and player 100. His entire body trembled so intensely that it looked as though his knees might buckle beneath him at any moment. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths as fear clawed at every part of him. The weight of the moment crushed down on him, leaving him paralyzed for a beat too long.

The manager began, “Rock.”

Player 100 grinned maniacally as he prepared one fist.

“Paper.”

Dae-ho hastily braced himself as his entire body still trembled immensely.

“Scissors.”

Both hands shot out. You and the entire room held its breath as the outcome was revealed.

Dae-ho’s hand shot out, the movement rushed and desperate. He laid out scissors. Across from him, Player 100 threw down paper.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then the manager’s distorted voice echoed through the space. “Player 388 wins. Player 100 is eliminated.”

The words hit Dae-ho like a delayed shockwave. He blinked, his mind taking an agonizing moment to catch up to the reality of what had just happened. He’d won. Against all odds, he’d actually won.

The realization slammed into him, and with it came an uncontrollable surge of emotion. He let out a shriek, his voice cracking into a high-pitched yell that echoed through the room. His whole body trembled, this time not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming relief flooding through him.

Cheers erupted almost immediately. From the blue team, his friends shouted loudest. Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, Myung-gi, and Se-mi sprinted toward him. Without hesitation, they crashed into him in a messy, joy-filled group hug, their arms wrapping tightly around each other as they bounced in place, laughing and crying at the same time. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and the mother joined in afterward.

You sat forward in your seat, heart racing, hands tightening around the baby sleeping in your arms. Relief surged through you so hard it nearly made you dizzy. Dae-ho had done it. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until you let it out in a shaky exhale.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, but it was bittersweet. Seeing him so close to breaking hit you in the chest. You wished you could be there, to tell him how proud you were.

But this moment? This victory? It was his. And you felt every ounce of his triumph, your heart full of hope… and fear for what came next.

“You did it!” Yong-sik hollered, gripping Dae-ho’s shoulder.

“You did great, Kang Dae-ho!” cheered Jung-bae.

Dae-ho couldn’t stop smiling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The fear that had almost consumed him moments ago was gone, replaced with the comforting weight of his friends surrounding him.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Player 100 stood frozen, his face twisted in disbelief. “No! No! That’s not possible! You cheated! That was rigged! I had him beat!”

His protests grew more frantic as triangle-masked guards began to advance, their weapons raised and ready.

“Wait! Listen to me! He didn’t win fair!” player 100 shrieked, backing away as the guards closed in. “He was hesitating and saw I was about to throw a paper! You all saw it!”

But the guards didn’t falter. In a final act of desperation, player 100 tried to run. But it was too late.

Gunfire echoed through the room. The cheers stopped instantly. Everyone turned in time to see player 100’s body jerk violently before collapsing to the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath him.

Dae-ho’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene. The room hung heavy with silence, the weight of the moment pressing down hard.

The next few rounds blurred by in a haze of quick decisions and swift eliminations. Hands darted out, rock-paper-scissors was played, and gunfire echoed when the unlucky ones lost. There was no time to process, no room for emotions. The game had taken full control.

Minutes passed until the room thinned out, leaving only those who mattered most to you as the survivors.

In the red team stood Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik’s mother, and Min-su. Their faces were pale, their shoulders heavy with the weight of what was coming next.

On the blue team were Myung-gi, Dae-ho, Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi. They stood in a tense line, their eyes darting between the players on the opposite side, fear written clearly on their faces.

You sat back in the Front Man’s quarters, heart pounding, your hands trembling as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms. These were your friends. Every single one of them, except for Min-su whom you had never talked with before. For your friends, however, they were people you had fought alongside, cried with, and in some cases, nearly died for. And now, they stood lined up against each other.

They can’t possibly vote for each other… right?

But deep down, you knew this game wouldn’t stop until it forced them to. After all, In-ho did say: “The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

The victorious energy from Dae-ho’s win had been snuffed out completely, replaced by an oppressive sense of dread. Eyes met across the room. Some glanced away quickly, unable to handle the weight of it. Others, like Gi-hun, held the gaze of his friends on the opposing team.

No one spoke for a long time. Until Jun-hee’s soft voice broke through the tension. “What are we going to do now…?”

Her question floated in the air, unanswered. The words were fragile, barely above a whisper, but they echoed loudly in the hollow space.

Yong-sik rubbed the back of his neck. “This… we can't really back out now, right?”

“No,” the manager suddenly spoke up, surprising Yong-sik since he didn't intent on asking them. The manager continued, “The game will continue until one team loses all its players.”

Everyone fell quiet. The manager's words echoed in the tense space like a chilling reminder. Eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders sagged under the oppressive weight, and the air thickened with a heavy, suffocating silence.

Gi-hun’s fists clenched at his sides, the pressure almost visible in his posture. He spoke up, “There has to be another way.”

Gi-hun’s eyes flicked upward, landing on the cluster of CCTVs positioned high on the room walls. Because of this, it felt like he was staring right at you.

You stiffened in your seat, the baby still cradled safely in your arms, but all your focus locked onto Gi-hun. It wasn’t possible for him to see you but somehow, it felt like he could. His eyes burned with intensity with the weight of a plan forming in his mind.

Gi-hun stepped forward, leaving his team’s line and walking straight toward the supervising manager, who stood silent by the side.

“What if the majority of us decide to stop right here, right now?” Gi-hun asked, his voice calm but loud enough to echo across the room.

A ripple of hope stirred through the surviving players. Heads turned, eyes widened. Everyone was caught off guard by the question.

Gi-hun turned his head again, glancing up at the CCTVs, as if daring whoever was on the other side – daring the Front Man – to intervene.

“It’s in the rules, isn’t it?” he said, his voice grew stronger, the conviction clear. “Rule No. 3: ‘The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie, players will vote again.’”

You felt your heart pound harder. He was right. The rule was there, buried in the fine print of the consent form every player had signed. You remembered it, as did they.

The players glanced around at each other, their eyes now wide with hope. Jun-hee clutched her chest, tears glistening as the realization dawned. Yong-sik’s mother whispered something inaudible, her hands shaking as if in prayer. Even Myung-gi, who had stood hardened for most of the game, allowed a sliver of hope to creep into his expression.

“Come on,” Gi-hun pressed, looking directly at the manager now. “We’re following the rules. If the majority of us want out, if we decide that this is over, then it’s justified.”

For a moment, there was silence. Thick, heavy, and pregnant with the weight of possibility.

You sat at the edge of your seat, your throat dry, silently begging for it to work. Let this be it. Let this nightmare end here.

But then the manager tilted his head slightly, his distorted voice cutting through the room. “That rule does not apply during the game. It only applies to the vote after every game.”

The words hit like a physical blow. The hope that had bloomed so fast was snuffed out in an instant. The players froze, their faces draining of color, the weight of their situation crashing back in with brutal force.

Gi-hun’s shoulders sagged, the fight momentarily leaving him.

You frowned in despair. The anger and helplessness clawed at your chest. It had been so close. Too close.

The players stood motionless in their lines. Each one of them stared blankly ahead, their minds spiraling into dark corners.

Jung-bae, standing in the red team’s line, let out a long, ragged exhale, rubbing his temples as if the headache building inside was finally too much to bear.

Yong-sik stood stiffly in the blue team’s line. Across the room, his mother stood in the red team’s line, her gaze locked onto her son. Neither could reach out, neither could offer the comfort they both craved. Yong-sik’s eyes shimmered with unspoken fear. His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her chin quivering slightly, but she lifted her hand just enough for him to see. It was a small, fragile wave. It was a desperate attempt to reassure him. Yong-sik’s throat tightened, and he managed a weak nod in return, but it felt hollow.

Jun-hee stood in the red team’s line, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles bone-white. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears at bay, but her focus wasn’t on her surroundings. It was across the room. Her eyes locked onto Myung-gi, who stood rigid in the blue team’s line.

Myung-gi’s eyes darted across the room until they landed on her. Their gazes met, a silent current of emotions passing between them. Myung-gi didn’t need her to speak. The way her shoulders sagged and her jaw trembled said enough.

He offered her the faintest nod, though his own expression was tight with pain. His mind raced even now, desperately searching for a loophole that didn’t exist. But in this moment, with Jun-hee’s gaze locked onto his, there was only the bitter truth of their situation.

Dae-ho shifted uncomfortably, wringing his hands together,. His breathing was shallow, and his gaze flicked nervously to his friends before falling to the ground.

Then there was Hyun-ju. She stood still, her posture rigid, but there was a hollow look in her eyes like she had already seen this ending long before anyone else. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow, measured breaths as if she was forcing herself to stay grounded while everything crumbled around her.

And then, so slowly it was almost imperceptible, she nodded so slowly.

Her gaze was downcast, unfocused, as though she was staring through the ground rather than at it. The smallest, most fragile smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It was an expression so soft, so hollow, it almost didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t a smile of joy or hope. It was the kind of smile someone wore when they’d accepted something too painful to say aloud.

“Maybe... maybe this is it,” she whispered to herself, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the heavy silence. “At least... half of us still make it out.”

The words hung in the air, delicate yet heavy, but her fellow blue team members heard her all the same. Their heads subtly turned toward her, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and sorrow. No one spoke, but the glances they exchanged reflected the same haunting thought. They all knew she was right, even if none of them wanted to admit it.

Hyun-ju lifted her head slightly, her hollow smile softening into something faintly warmer. It wasn’t a smile of hope or joy, but a gentle, almost sad acceptance, like someone making peace with the inevitable. Her eyes flickered toward her fellow teammates, landing first on Myung-gi.

He caught her gaze almost instantly. After a beat of hesitation, he gave her a slow, solemn nod. The tension in his jaw relaxed just enough to show he understood what she meant. There was no malice in it, no bitterness. It’s just reluctant agreement.

Next was Se-mi. She didn’t hesitate. She nodded back to Hyun-ju before casting her gaze toward Dae-ho. Her eyes softened as she noticed him trembling again, his whole body rigid with barely contained fear.

Meanwhile, Yong-sik’s attention had shifted. Instead of reacting to Hyun-ju, his eyes flicked across the room to his mother. She stood with her head lowered, lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to his gaze. Yong-sik bit his lower lip, the weight of the moment crushing him, but he didn’t call out to her. He just pondered.

Dae-ho, however, was falling apart. His breath came out in short, shallow bursts, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as his body trembled in trepidation. Every second dragged out, thick with pressure, until he flinched at a sudden bump against his arm.

Se-mi had nudged him lightly with her elbow. He jolted in surprise, whipping his head toward her, his eyes wide and panicked. She simply raised an eyebrow, her usual laidback demeanor revealing itself.

“Don’t think too much about it,” she said, her tone casual despite the situation. She offered him the smallest of smirks before adding, “It’ll go how it goes. Freaking out doesn’t change that.”

Dae-ho blinked at her, caught off guard by how calm she was, but a tiny bit of the panic ebbed away. He sucked in a shaky breath and managed a weak nod in return.

But Hyun-ju’s smile didn’t waver. She let out a soft sigh, her voice barely more than a whisper as she spoke, “I'm sorry if this feels forced on you. Of course, you all are free to continue with this game.”

For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of her words settling over them. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Yong-sik finally broke the silence. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. “No, it’s alright. It’s hard to accept, but... the red team deserves to pass this more than we do.”

His words hung in the air, fragile and somber, yet they carried something. It wasn’t the answer anyone wanted, but it was the one they needed. A sense of reluctant acceptance washed over the blue team.

Hyun-ju’s smile widened before she slowly turned to the supervising manager. Her shoulders straightened as she braced herself.

“Excuse me,” she called out, her tone loud and clear, cutting through the thick tension of the room. “Is it possible if we, as a team, surrender altogether?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Every head snapped toward her, wide, shocked eyes landing on Hyun-ju and the entire blue team. Even some of the guards visibly turned their head to her at the question.

On the red team, reactions rippled like shockwaves.

Gi-hun’s eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly as if he wanted to speak but found no words. Jung-bae’s face contorted in pure disbelief, his jaw dropping as he gawked at Hyun-ju. Jun-hee gasped softly, then turned her gaze to Myung-gi, her heart sinking when she noticed the calm, resigned acceptance etched across his face. Yong-sik’s mother clutched her chest as she stared helplessly at the blue team before locking eyes with her son across the distance. His solemn, distant expression confirmed the fear blooming in her chest, leaving her paralyzed.

Min-su, on the other hand, simply stared in stunned silence, his gaze locking on Se-mi. There was something in the way he stared. But Se-mi didn’t meet his gaze, her focus and resigned smile fixed on the ground.

From the Front Man’s quarters, your heart raced in your chest, your hands tightening protectively around the baby in your arms. The suddenness of Hyun-ju’s request left you breathless. You knew her – knew the way she held things in – but this? This was more than courage. It was sacrifice.

A storm of emotions swirled in your chest. Sadness. Fear. And a gnawing helplessness that you couldn’t do anything but watch.

The manager, silent for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke. “If a team collectively wishes to forfeit, it is within their right. If you are certain, all players in the blue team will be eliminated.”

Hyun-ju slowly turned her head, her calm eyes meeting each member of the blue team. Myung-gi was the first to nod, steady but quiet in his acceptance. Yong-sik followed, his jaw tight as he dipped his head. Se-mi, laidback as ever, offered a small, resigned smile before her nod. Dae-ho hesitated, his whole body trembling with fear, but he eventually looked back at Hyun-ju and nodded albeit tremblingly.

Hyun-ju’s smile widened, still faint but now with a hint of gratitude, before she faced the supervising manager once more. Her voice was firm. “Then, we wish to surrender as a team.”

Your felt overwhelming cold of fear grip your heart. Your chest tightened painfully. Hyun-ju’s voice echoed in your mind, the strength in it, the acceptance… it cut deeper than you expected. You hated this feeling, this helplessness, watching the people you cared about walk willingly into their end. It felt like your heart had cracked open.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Yong-sik’s mother’s voice ripped through the silence, raw with fury and panic. Her hand shot out toward the blue team, trembling violently, her knuckles white as she gripped her chest. “Are you all out of your minds?!”

Her face twisted with anguish, eyes darting between the members of the blue team, but her gaze locked hard on her son. Yong-sik stood rigid in the blue team’s line, his jaw clenched, refusing to meet her eyes. Her voice cracked as she tried again. “Yong-sik! Say something! You can’t…! You can’t be okay with this!”

But he didn’t respond. His silence said everything.

“Damn it!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

Gi-hun stepped forward, his jaw tight. His voice was rough, caught somewhere between anger and pleading. “This is suicide! There must be another way, everyone! Don't give up yet!”

Jung-bae scoffed in disbelief, throwing his arms up. “Hey! You think sacrificing yourselves is going to fix anything? Didn't we promise to have a drink together once we leave? Hey, Kang Dae-ho!”

Dae-ho jumped in surprise upon hearing his full name, his wide eyes snapping to Jung-bae. His entire body trembled, though not as violently as before. But he remained silent. You realized that fear was still there, but he believed this was the right thing to do.

Jun-hee didn’t say anything at first. But then, she stepped out of her red team's line with quick strides, each step echoing in the heavy silence. Myung-gi’s head jerked up at the sound, his eyes widening as she approached. Her glare was sharp, but there was a crack of vulnerability beneath it.

“Don’t be stupid, Myung-gi,” she snapped once she stood before him, her voice thick with emotion. “You said you wanted to make it up to me. This isn’t how you do it!”

Her words hung between them, raw and trembling, leaving Myung-gi frozen. His lips parted as if to respond, but instead, he let out a slow breath, his expression softening. Then, after a beat, he smiled – not out of amusement, not out of defiance, but with a quiet sadness, a smile that held both regret and acceptance, as if he had already come to terms with this.

“Jun-hee,” Myung-gi began softly, his voice steady but filled with a quiet sorrow. “Once you pass this game, you finally get to leave. There are no more O players left, so you’ll have the majority vote. You can end this. Take our daughter and the money, and start over. Give her the life we always dreamed of.”

Jun-hee’s glare faltered. She recognized that look on his face – calm, responsible, determined. It was everything she had once wanted from him, the very thing she had begged to see in him. And now, when she finally did, it was for something she never wanted. Her breath hitched as her vision blurred, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I really want to be there for you and our daughter,” Myung-gi continued, his lips pulling into a resigned smile. “But what matters most is you two surviving. You need to live, Jun-hee. You need to take care of her. If I know you two are safe, I can leave this world without regret.”

A tear slipped down Jun-hee’s cheek, then another, until they came freely, streaming silently as she stared at him, disbelief and heartbreak written all over her face. Her hands trembled at her sides.

Myung-gi stepped forward. He reached up and gently brushed her tears away with his thumb, his touch warm despite the cold finality in his words. “Tell my daughter I love her. Tell her that I love her mother.”

A sob finally broke past Jun-hee’s lips, her body shaking as she let the tears fall. Myung-gi didn’t move away. He stayed, brushing away every tear as they came, holding onto this fleeting moment with her for as long as he could.

You watched from the Front Man’s quarters, your grip tightening on the sleeping baby in your arms. The rawness of their exchange cut through you like a blade. You glanced down at the baby, a deep ache settling in your chest. She had no idea what was happening, oblivious to the sacrifice unfolding for her. Her tiny fingers twitched in her sleep, curled against your chest, as if searching for something she would never get to hold. Her father was about to leave this world, choosing to give her a future he would never be a part of.

Then, as you brought your gaze back to the live feed, you noticed something else.

Beside them, Dae-ho, who had been trembling moments ago, now stood still. The violent shaking of his limbs had quieted. He had been terrified – of death, of the unknown – but now, something in Myung-gi’s words seemed to settle the war inside him. His eyes no longer darted around in panic. Instead, they were calm and downcast, almost at peace.

Yong-sik took a shaky breath before finally speaking, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “I’m sorry, Mom... for everything I did. I have always inconvenienced you. But you never gave up on me, even when I made things hard.”

His mother’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head, tears already welling in her eyes. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him, her trembling hands reaching for him as though afraid he would disappear the moment she let go.

“No, my sweet boy, no,” she whispered desperately, her voice cracking as she grasped his arms tightly. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way. Please, my son, I can’t—”

Her breath hitched, and she cupped his face between her hands. “Let’s go home. Let’s get out of this together.”

Yong-sik’s body tensed as he fought to hold back his tears, but as his mother pulled him into a tight embrace, he finally let go. His arms wrapped around her, clinging to her like he had when he was a child. His chin rested over her shoulder, and his voice broke as he said, “It’s my fault you almost died in the third game, mom. I always put you in a tough spot. Now it’s my turn to repay you.”

His mother let out a soft sob, shaking her head fiercely. “No, you don’t owe me anything, Yong-sik! You’re my son. I would do anything for you!”

She gripped him tighter, her fingers clutching his back as if refusing to let him go. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

But Yong-sik didn’t respond. He just held her, his own tears finally slipping free, soaking into the fabric of her clothes. The two of them stood there, locked in their grief, their cries blending into the suffocating silence of the room. Nothing else existed in that moment. There was only a mother and her son, clinging to each other as their world fell apart.

Dae-ho shifted his gaze toward Jung-bae and Gi-hun, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something. But hesitation flickered in his eyes. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words.

Before he could speak, Jung-bae cut in, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey! Don’t you dare say anything sentimental!” he barked, his tone attempting to mask the thick emotion wavering beneath.

For a moment, Dae-ho just stared at him. Then, an amused chuckle escaped his lips, shaking his shoulders. He sniffed, wiping at his nose before suddenly straightening his form.

With a snap, he raised his hand in a crisp salute. His posture stiffened, mimicking a soldier standing before his commander. And then, in a loud voice – though cracking mid-sentence – he yelled, “Victory at all cost! Thank you for everything!”

He paused as a wave of emotions surged through him, his salute hand trembling ever so slightly. With a sharp inhale, he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay composed. Then, with a deep breath, he yelled, “I apologize for every mistake I made!”

Jung-bae’s expression twisted, his brows furrowing as if deeply offended. He scoffed loudly, shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath, low and unintelligible, before striding toward Dae-ho with sharp and wide steps.

For a tense moment, it seemed like he might hit him. But instead, once he reached him, he placed both hands firmly on Dae-ho's shoulders. His brows furrowed as he searched Dae-ho’s face.

“Are you sure about this?” Jung-bae asked, his voice lower now.

Dae-ho held his gaze for a moment before giving a few rapid and repeated nods. “I'm sure. I get to die like a man, and my father will be proud of me.”

Jung-bae exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as his eyes glistened, but he held it in.

Gi-hun came to stand with them, his expression now clouded with frustration and concern. He exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto Dae-ho. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

Dae-ho held his stare for a long moment before shaking his head with a faint, sorrowful smile. “Not this time. But I'm sorry. At least I can make up for my mistakes this way.”

“Don't be an idiot,” Gi-hun snapped, his voice laced with agitation and concern. “I understand why you left us in the revolt, so stop sulking and rethink this!”

Dae-ho forced a chuckle, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Eh, Gi-hun, let me go with some dignity! I was starting to look all cool there for a second!”

Jung-bae scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. “Dae-ho, you should at least try to fight back. Maybe there’s another way.”

Dae-ho turned toward him, his smile tinged with sadness. “Nah, it’s fine. At least this way, I get to decide my own elimination, not through losing a game.”

A tense silence settled between them. Gi-hun glanced down as if searching for the right words.

Suddenly, he let out a slow breath, lifting his gaze once more. “I’m sorry… for getting mad at you. About that time. I should've understood what you were going through.”

You perked up at this, your curiosity piqued. What happened to Dae-ho? Did he tell them what caused his PTSD-like reaction?

Dae-ho’s eyes widened, as if caught off guard by the apology. He hesitated before forcing a grin, reaching out to pat Gi-hun’s shoulder playfully. “Eh, it’s alright. No hard feelings.”

But as his hand lingered for just a second, his smile wavered. A shadow passed over his face, as if a memory was pressing too heavily on his mind. “I… sometimes wonder why I was the one left standing when they weren’t. When I hear a gunshot, it all comes back. Every moment on that island. I should’ve done more. Or maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have made it out at all.”

His voice barely rose above a whisper, but the weight of his words settled heavily in the air.

Dae-ho finally looked back up at Gi-hun and Jung-bae, his expression shifting. It was no longer sorrowful, but determined yet nervous. “That’s why I don’t want to go out feeling sorry for myself. If this is how it ends, then I want to face it on my own terms. So let’s not turn this into some depressing farewell, alright? Just promise me one thing. You two better make it to the end.”

Gi-hun and Jung-bae stared at Dae-ho for a long while, their expressions unreadable at first, but the weight of his words settled between them like an immovable wall.

Jung-bae's face twitched, his eyes glistening as he struggled to hold himself together. With a sharp sniff, he quickly rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, muttering under his breath, “Damn dust...” as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to break.

Dae-ho noticed immediately. A small, sad chuckle left his lips, though his voice cracked as he spoke, “You’re such a lousy liar, Jung-bae.”

Jung-bae scoffed, still refusing to meet Dae-ho’s gaze. “And you’re crazy for doing this.”

Dae-ho’s smile wavered. His throat tightened, and before he knew it, his own vision blurred. He sniffed and blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of emotions washing over him. But there was no use. He could feel the tears threatening to spill.

Gi-hun watched Jung-bae and Dae-ho tear up. And before he could stop it, he felt it too – his own vision blurring as his throat tightened. He blinked rapidly, tilting his head up slightly, willing the tears away. Taking in a sharp breath, he exhaled in frustration.

Then, as if gathering every ounce of strength he had left, he turned to Dae-ho and glanced at everyone else. His voice, though steady, carried an unmistakable plea. “At least wait, everyone. Play a little longer. Give it more time. Just... don’t be so quick to throw everything away.”

Hyun-ju challenged his gaze as she responded calmly, “It’s pointless. You know it as well as we do. Instead of fighting something we can’t change, we’re choosing to go on our own terms.”

Gi-hun clenched his fists. “That’s not true. We’ve found ways before, we’ve made it through when it seemed impossible. Why are you giving up now?”

“Because this game isn’t made for us to win,” Myung-gi cut in, shaking his head. “The only way to win this is to have the other team lose all its players. It cannot be you guys.”

“That’s not a reason to just accept it!” Gi-hun shot back. “If we keep playing, we might find another way!”

“But I don't want to play anymore,” Yong-sik countered, his voice quieter but no less firm. He had pulled away from his mother's embrace but they still side-hugged one another. “I don't want to experience losing in this game. I want to die voluntarily.”

Gi-hun’s eyes darted between them, searching for something that would change their minds. But there was no hesitation in their faces, no flicker of doubt. It was a decision they had already made.

Nearby, Min-su hesitantly stepped toward Se-mi, his expression unsure.

“Se-mi...” he called with her ‘noona’ title. His voice was quiet, almost pleading. “Are you really going to do this?”

Se-mi, standing with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, glanced at him before flashing a small, laidback smile.

“Yeah,” she said simply, nodding. “At least this way, I feel like I win. Not on this game’s terms, but mine.”

Min-su stared at her, his eyes wide, his frown deepening with sadness. “But...”

He trailed off, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of her choice had just hit him.

Se-mi let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me like that. I made up my mind a long time ago.”

Min-su swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He looked down, struggling to find the words, but Se-mi simply patted him on the shoulder. She then told him, “After this, leave. Now you don't have Nam-gyu bullying you.”

Min-su's lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. His wide eyes shimmered with something unreadable – frustration, sadness, maybe even guilt. He blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but at Se-mi, as though forcing himself not to break.

Yong-sik’s mother desperately tried to reason with them, her voice cracking as she pleaded, “Please, all of you, think this through! You don’t have to do this! There has to be another way!”

But Hyun-ju turned to her with a gentle smile. “There’s no need. This is what we want. And more than that…”

She hesitated for a moment, then continued, her voice softer now, “I’m grateful. Truly. For everything. Even if it ends here, I got to experience what it’s like to have a mother who loves unconditionally, without judgment. That was more than enough for me.”

Yong-sik’s mother’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she gawked at her, overwhelmed by the words. She shook her head slowly, grief-stricken, but Hyun-ju simply gave her a final, reassuring nod. The mother immediately rushed over, embracing her tightly.

The hot pink-clad supervising manager stepped forward, his voice booming through the room in a deep, distorted tone. “All players, return to your team's line.”

Jun-hee visibly flinched before she turned toward Myung-gi, her lips parting as if to speak but unable to find the words. Myung-gi closed his eyes briefly, as if steeling himself, before exhaling and offering Jun-hee a small, sad smile.

Yong-sik’s mother’s grip on Hyun-ju tightened, her head shaking in silent denial, even as she knew there was nothing left to be said. Yong-sik, standing beside her and Hyun-ju, swallowed hard. His eyes were red-rimmed.

Min-su turned away from Se-mi. He took a hesitant step back toward the red team’s line but his movements were reluctant. Se-mi, however, remained as she was, hands in her pockets, her gaze steady, unflinching, as if she had already accepted this moment long before it arrived.

Dae-ho swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he turned to Jung-bae and Gi-hun one last time. No words were spoken, but the message was clear. Jung-bae blinked rapidly before he let out a slow, shaky breath.

Gi-hun froze in place, his breath hitching as the reality of the moment sank in. His mind screamed for a solution, something that could stop this, but deep down, he knew nothing could save them. His friends, the people he had fought alongside, were about to be taken away, and once again, he was powerless to stop it. A deep ache settled in his chest. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen again, yet here he was – watching, helpless, as the game prepared to take them away.

The triangle guards positioned themselves directly behind the blue team. They did not wait for the red team members to walk back to their team's line. Instead, they raised their MP5s without hesitation, aiming them at the red team members' back.

The supervising manager stepped forward and announced, “The blue team has been eliminated. The red team wins. All surviving players, return to the dormitory.”

The blue team did not flinch. They remained still, standing tall despite the doom that hovered just inches behind them. The red team, on the other hand, froze.

Yong-sik was the first to break the silence, his voice shaking but he knew what must be done. He turned to his mother, gently gripping her arms. “Mom, please… you need to go. You don’t have to see this.”

His mother shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face. “No! I won’t leave you! I can’t!”

His jaw tightened, and his hands trembled as he gave her a pleading look. “If you stay… then what’s the point of me doing this? If you die too, then my choice means nothing!”

His voice cracked toward the end, a mix of desperation and frustration seeping through. His mother opened her mouth to argue but found herself unable to speak. Her whole body trembled, her heart shattering.

"Please, mom," he whispered, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Go. Just go.”

Yong-sik took a shaky breath and gently pried his mother’s hands off of him. She resisted at first, her grip tightening in desperation, but he held firm, his fingers pressing gently over hers until she finally let go. Once her hands slipped away, she stood there, her arms limp at her sides, her hollow eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow as she looked at him.

Myung-gi turned to Jun-hee next, his voice quieter but just as firm. “Jun-hee, you have to go.”

Jun-hee shook her head slowly, her tears falling freely. “But...”

Myung-gi smiled sadly. “Come on. This is for her, for us. If you stay, all of this will be for nothing.”

Jun-hee’s breath hitched. But as she stared into his steady eyes, her resistance wavered. With a choked sob, she took a step back.

Dae-ho, standing beside them, turned to Gi-hun and Jung-bae, his expression lighter than the situation deserved. “Alright, you two need to get out of here. No second chances.”

Gi-hun clenched his jaw, glaring at the guards. Jung-bae only stared at him in despair with a pair of glassy eyes. He then spoke up, “Dae-ho...”

Dae-ho placed his hands firmly on Gi-hun and Jung-bae’s backs. Without a word, he pushed them back, forcing them to walk away. His expression, though calm, carried a quiet finality.

“Enough of that,” he said, his voice lighter than the moment deserved. “Ex-marines like us shouldn’t cry anyway.”

Gi-hun inhaled sharply, his vision blurring for a moment, but he didn’t resist. Jung-bae, on the other hand, exhaled harshly, rubbing his face as if trying to erase the emotions threatening to surface.

Dae-ho offered them one last big grin that revealed all teeth, eyes teary and shining with something between acceptance and defiance. “Go on. Get out of here already.”

The red team members hesitated, their feet unwilling to move, but the inevitability of the moment forced them into action. Slowly, begrudgingly, they took a step back. Then another. Their eyes never left the blue team, their expressions a mix of heartbreak, frustration, and helplessness.

A sharp metallic click shattered the heavy silence. Then another. The sound of the triangle soldiers unlocking the safety of their MP5s sent a ripple of dread through the red team. Their breath hitched collectively, their bodies stiffening in response.

Yet, the blue team did not waver.

Despite the tension pressing down on them, they smiled. Some were grinning widely, while others were barely-there curves of their lips. Though they smiled, each one carried a tinge of anxiety, their resolve fighting against instinct. But the message in their eyes was clear. This is our choice.

Jun-hee bit down on her lip, her hands trembling as she forced herself to step back. Gi-hun’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Jung-bae frowned forlornly. Yong-sik’s mother covered her mouth, muffling a sob as her tears spilled freely. Min-su’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his gaze darting between the soldiers and Se-mi.

But the blue team remained steady.

From the Front Man’s quarters, you sat frozen, gently holding the sleeping baby. You wanted to look away, to shut your eyes and block out what was about to happen but you couldn’t. Your friends, the ones you had laughed with, fought with, survived with, were standing on the precipice of death, and all you could do was watch.

You felt tears roll down your cheeks, silent and unchecked, as you watched helplessly. The weight of the moment crushed down on you, suffocating, unbearable. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to look away, to spare yourself from what was about to happen but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The triangle soldiers adjusted their grips on their weapons, fingers hovering over the triggers. The sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else.

From the live feed, you noticed the red team members were still walking backward, their movements heavy with reluctance. The first to turn away was Yong-sik’s mother. She forced herself to turn, her back now facing her son. You knew why. She couldn't bear to watch. A strangled sob escaped her lips as tears streamed down her face, her shoulders trembling as she walked away, each step dragging.

Min-su was the next to turn away, his shoulders hunched with guilt. Jun-hee followed, her silent tears streaking down her face. Jung-bae was next as he furiously wiped at his eyes, unwilling to let the emotions show. Gi-hun, however, couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The triangle guards braced themselves, their fingers tightening around the triggers. The blue team stood still, their backs facing the soldiers.

Then—

Gunshots.

You, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik's mother, and Min-su jolted in surprise and frightening anticipation. The deafening sound tore through the tension, cutting through the air like a knife.

Your eyes widened.

The shots didn’t come from the massive room where the fifth game was playing out.

They came from below.

For a brief second, confusion flickered across the red team’s faces. The blue team, who had braced themselves for their fate, also hesitated, their gazes shifting ever so slightly. And then, just as quickly, they snapped their attention back to the triangle guards.

But none of them had fired.

Instead, the guards themselves stiffened, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. A moment of eerie silence followed, save for the distant echoes of more gunfire reverberating from beneath them.

A blaring alarm resounded through the facility, its sharp wails bouncing off the walls and shaking the already tense atmosphere. The sudden noise startled the baby in your arms, causing her to stir before breaking into distressed cries. Your breath hitched as you looked around, uncertainty crawling up your spine. Something else is happening.

Then, the female announcer's robotic voice cut through the alarm, steady and void of emotion. “Attention, all guards. Maintain position and prepare for immediate engagement. Execute defensive measures as required. Repeat: Maintain position and prepare for immediate engagement.”

It was that moment you remembered about the kind 011 guard and Gyeong-seok.

NEXT : Chapter 22

PREV : Chapter 20.1

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! In-ho's Flashback P.O.V. is here again. What do you think about his P.O.V? Then, what about the fifth game? What do you think about Nam-gyu and player 100, and Min-su being put in the same time as Gi-hun? What do you think about player 100, 226 and Nam-gyu's death? How about the fact that Myung-gi and Dae-ho were at risk of getting eliminated? Then, about the blue team volunteering to surrender, what do you think about them all? And about the emotional aspects? And theeen, what about the gunshots that came from below? What do you think that was? I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Anyway, plagiarism is incredibly frustrating, especially after I had countless all-nighters spent writing and refining ideas. So it’s disheartening when readers told me that they see someone lift entire scripts/dialogues that I wrote (and not even in the Squid Game series) and romantic concepts from my story into theirs. If my work inspires you, the least you can do is give proper credit. That’s all it takes to keep things fair. Respect me as a writer, and respect the readers who deserve diverse styles and fresh perspectives, especially in Hwang In-ho fanfics. Readers, if you see any stories that do this, please alert me and leave a comment for them.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[wlwsoccerfics]

World Cup Semi-Finale Drama(StephCatleyXGwinnReader)

A/N: i Hope you enjoy this request.

Warnings: Lots of Angst and self doubt. Mental health struggles.

Summary: you are the captain of your national Team cause your sister is out injured and you Play against your wife's team. Australia wins and you blame yourself for the loss.

There it was. The final Whistle. You were Out of the world Cup. Losing in the semi Finals against Australia. Your wife's team. So there was now one Captain Catley that made it to the finals and one captain Catley that was doubting all of her skills. You were the second one.

You had been dreading this day. This Game. Everything felt like the world was ending. Which in a way it did for you. Not knowing If you would ever get another Chance to make it this far in the world cup.

Of course you were proud of your wife. She deserved it. But you felt like your team deserved it as well. You weren't a good captain and that's why they lost.

Your wife and her Team were celebrating. Well your wife was struggling. She was over the moon that she Made it to the finals but she saw you sitting on the pitch. Hiding your head in your Jersey. Your entire Body was shaking from the sobs. Your best friend Laura was sitting next to you. Hugging you close. Even though she was crying as well. Your sister made her way over to you as well.

"Babe..." Steph whispered out. You stood up quickly. Looking at your wife. Giving her a hug before pulling away just as quick.

"congrats. I am proud of you, stephy!" You told her, you couldn't even stop crying while talking her. She really wished she could make you feel better but she knew she couldn't. And the distance you put between you and her was a sign that you clearly couldn't deal with being close to her. Not while you had so many negative thoughts about yourself running through your mind.

"she is gonna come around." Your best friend and teammate whispered to your wife. Steph sighed sadly and walked away. Greeting Fans and giving Interviews. Thankfully you didn't have to give one. Sara & Klara did.

Harper ran over to you, hugging your legs so you picked her up.

"auntie Y/n. Don't cry! You can always win another Game!" She told you. It was the child Like innocene of not understanding how important this game was for you and your team. And that you felt like you also let the Fans down. Not only your Team. No you let everyone down.

"i will be okay. You are right. I can always try again." You told her. Then she just held onto you and you held onto her. She always managed to cheer you up or at least take a little bit of the pain away when things were rough. Giulia, your sister was rubbing your back, she was sad as well, you could tell because of how quiet she was and it looked like she was trying not to cry.

After a while you put Harper down cause she went back over to Mini and the rest of the team.

You and your team left the Pitch and walked inside to the changing rooms. You took a few deep breaths before you spoke up.

"i would like to apologize to you. I let you all down! I take full responsibility for what happened Out there! I wasn't a good Leader!" You told them.

"y/n...this isn't your fault! We are a Team! We win together and we lose together! It hurts right now! But we all were Out there and didn't make it work!" Sara told you.

"yeah Sara is right! Like i think you did so well as a Leader. You managed to Score the only Goal we Made. Yes we lost. 3-1 but this Is not your fault!" Felicitas stated.

"i am proud of you! You stepped in for me! You did a good Job! You were leading until the end. Sometimes things just don't work out in our favor!" Giulia answered.

Before you could speak up again, your other best friend showed up in the doorway. Kyra was also one of your teammates at Arsenal. Your coach also showed Up.

"y/n? I wanted to check in. Sorry about your loss Guys. But you all did a great Job." She said, walking over to you. Pulling you in for a hug. You hugged her back. Tearing up again. The rest of the Team congratulating her.

"thanks Kyra. I am proud of you!" You let her know. Hugging Kyra close. Sobbing again. "Where is Steph?" You asked her. Knowing you couldn't just let this go like this. You needed to talk to her. Maybe it was a good thing that Kyra showed up cause you were tempted to step down from international Duty for Germany and just Focus on your Club. It was something you had thought about before and this day kind of pushed you more towards it. But you were emotional right now so this might not be the right time to drop something like that in case you might regret it in a few days.

"she is in the changing room with the others. let's go See your wife. Cause she is struggling as well. She is over the moon we won but also sad and actually cried cause of the pain you are going through!" Kyra admitted. You frowned softly. You didn't intend to make your wife feel that way.

"Go See your wife!" Jule said.

"now!" Your sister stated.

"i agree!" You coach replied.

you left with Kyra to the other changing room.

"Steph? I have someone who wants to see you!" Kyra stated. You were greeting your wife and her team with a sad smile.

"hey, congrats guys." You spoke up.

"thanks. You did great as well. And we are all proud of you!" Mini told you.

"thanks you! It's appreciated." You answered and looked at your wife after replying. Walking over to her. Hugging her, giving her a soft kiss. Wiping away her tears. She hugged and kissed you back.

"auntie y/n is Not Mad at auntie Steph anymore!" Harper announced. You pulled away from the kiss and gently pushed a strand of hair behind your wife's ear.

"i was never mad at auntie Steph. She is the best. I was just hurt cause i didn't feel like i was a good captain and that i let the fans and the team down!" You tried to explain to her. The reply surprised everyone. They knew you were heartbroken over the loss, but they had no idea how you put all the blame on yourself.

"Baby. You fought hard. You were an amazing captain. Don't blame yourself!" Steph said, kissing your forehead gently.

"i am working on letting that go. It just...i am sorry for not reacting more positive and congratulate all of you earlier." You explained.

"what are you sorry for? Your emotions matter. I understand how difficult this must be for you, love!" Your wife replied. You kiss her her cheek.

"means alot to me to hear! I love you." You replied.

"i love you too. Always will!" Steph answered.

"i Love your love!" Macca said. You smiled at her. There still was a hint of sadness which was probably gonna stay for a bit but you genuinely did feel a bit better being in your wife's Arms.

You talked to your sister, your best friends and your wife about your thoughts on ending your international career. They listened and didn't judge. They also helped you figure out that you don't want to retire just yet.

You played for the third place against spain and won. Your wife and her Team were there to Support you.

Australia won the world Cup against England and of course you were there wearing your wife's Jersey. Sitting in the stands with Harper & Harley in your lap. You were so very proud of the entire team.

[tetzoro]

⟡ — MDNI. dick grayson x reader ; oral receiving (f), fingering, just dick being dick. dividers by cafekitsune. — WC : 717

“you want this?”

dick grayson was nothing short of a brat. the smirk that dangled off his face only encouraged you to swat at him, but your arms remain pressed against the sheets, wrists pinned in his hands and thrown over your head.

“then use that pretty little voice of yours and beg.”

“you’re being a dick.” the insult fell flat onto the mattress, one you could never resist using in this little game of yours. the sparkle in his eyes lit up at the tiny jest.

“well, it is my name.” his hands slide down your arms, his grip releasing you. but you make no move to escape. instead, you get lost as his hands trail down your body, kneading your plush thighs before yanking you closer to him. “and i love it when you say it with such distain.”

one arm slides under your thigh, your leg draping along his broad back as he lays between them. his breath hits your cunt, the warm air only stirring up the desire that has been pooling within you for the last few minutes.

dick doesn’t make a move, simply eyeing you from down below in a trance, his grip on your thigh tightens, keeping you in place.

“i-“ the rest of your words are stolen out from under you as dick licks a long stripe along your drooling slit.

“go on, finish your sentence baby.” his once baby blue eyes darken as they flit up to meet yours, mirth and lust pooling in its wake. “i want to hear what you have to say.”

“i was trying to say that-“ a long whine cuts out as his middle finger slides into you, thumb firmly pressed along your clit.

“yeah?” taunting lips pepper your inner thighs as his digit begins to move, curling inside of you and luring you right into his trap. “come on, talk to me.”

“screw you.” you seethe out, the hiss a mixture of annoyance and pleasure as he slips his ring finger inside, increasing his pace.

“we’ll get there, don’t worry.”

“what i was trying to say,” you huff out, fingers clawing into his hair, tugging it and earning a groan from him. “i like you better when your mouth is full.”

with that, you push his head where you need him most and dick grayson miraculously turned a new leaf — showing you mercy and giving into your demands as his mouth replaces his thumb, sucking on your clit.

his skillful tongue always worked wonders, unraveling you to your core so you sing out all the highest praises to him. the sweet sounds you let out causes his cock to throb in tune of them, leaving him no choice but to grind into the mattress.

but that’s not what has him moaning, no. as soon as your taste hits his tongue he finds himself in a heaven that could only be found by you, the pretty angel that led him there. he’s more than ready to show his gratitude as his tongue swirls along your clit.

how someone could be sloppy yet precise at the same time, you’ll never know. he doesn’t give you the chance as pleasure fills your hazy mind, flowing to the rest of your body as he hurdles you towards you high.

with a cry of release, you fiercely grip his hair as if it would keep you grounded to the plane of existence. but the pleasure far surpasses it as your body locks up, thighs clenching around his head as his never relenting tongue keeps its pace.

your body jolts in aftershocks as you come to. weakly tugging on his dark hair, dick finally gives you a moment to collect your breath.

“that’s my girl.” dick pulls back a little, the entirety of his lower face covered in a mix of your slick and his spit. his tongue does its best to lap it all up, fighting the urge to go back for seconds. but the throbbing need for his own release is too had to pass up. “my sweet girl.”

the correction pools inside of you, leaving you gooey and wanting. the look you give him doesn’t go unnoticed as he quickly crawls back up, hovering over you as he pants with his own need.

he’s no where near done with you yet.

[alystrin03]

Varric got up and started to light a pipe.

"You know, I have a talent for finding broken women across my path. Hawke had lost half of her family the first time I met her, and the Inquisitor was trapped in a prison, accused of killing the Divine, no less."

"So, are we now in one of your stories?"

Varric started walking towards the gunwale. Leaving their stuff aside, Rook followed him. he leaned on the railing, looking out to the ocean.

"They usually begin as ours did. A chance meeting in the filthiest bar in town, a strong young woman with a lifetime of problems, and an incredibly handsome writer in search of allies. My favorite tropes. The beginning may not be the most glamorous, but sometimes, along the way, you can find small wonders."

Rook looked where he was pointing his pipe and glimpsed wings and the bluish glow of a dragon emerging from the water in the distance. It was the first one she had seen in her whole life. The giant beast was dark blue and yellow, magnificent flying over the water edge. Varric watched as her eyes lit up and she smiled broadly, marveling at what she was seeing, and smiled at her in return. The wind was ruffling her hair, and he could feel the light was finally coming back to her. He knew that, once again, he had not made a mistake in choosing his traveling companion.

Rook leaned her elbows on the railing and leaned her head back, enjoying the afternoon sun. They had a whole journey ahead of them, full of dangers for sure, but just this once, she would enjoy the ride. The Shadow had faded for good, and this time was as good as any to learn how to walk in the light again.

----

I've just got my comm from @mooreaux and I'm literally in tears. This art shows the final scene of my origin Rook story and they have perfectly captured the mood of it

If you are curious, here is the full link

Murder (49947 words) by Alystra Chapters: 10/10

Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game), Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Viago de Riva/Rook Series: Part 1 of Birdcage - A tale of the Antivan Crows

Summary:

She wanted to believe that there was a point to it all, but she struggled to find out what it was. She had been taken off the street, which was no small thing, and the Crows had given her a home, but that didn't mean things would be easy from now on. He alone had believed in her. Only Viago had been her friend and her support during the long years of training. And there wouldn't be a single thing in this world that she wasn't willing to sacrifice to fulfill his dreams. This is the story of Alecto de Riva, from the moment she was found by pure chance until she became one of the Antivan Crows, and of what happened until, one night, she decided that she would not allow the Antaam to enslave her people anymore.

[Pre-Veilguard Origin Rook story]

[tubbytarchia]

I’ve recently rewatched dl and I wanted to find out if you had any thoughts on Pearl and Scott’s dynamic.. (double life or general idm)

BOY DO I. SIT DOWN

I've talked lots about Scott before, of how he twists the narrative the most and treats most relationships more as transactional. I will now immediately follow that sentence up with dear god please don't assume I hate Scott he's so interesting and compelling PLEASE don't think I hate him I beg of you I LIKE HIM I don't think he's evil and a villain he's just a bit fucked up like everyone else PLEASE just. believe me

Me ^

Anyway now that that's out of the way. Scott I think has an innate need for connection but denies it in favor of weaving his own narrative that he is in control of, especially so in Third Life where to me, it feels like he sought out to find a tragic love story and he got exactly that, from his perspective anyway, what with the final sequence of him meeting Jimmy again in some imagined afterlife, the one part that was scripted and it shows. Love is a variable that he can't afford the risk of. I think the story with Jimmy that he weaved was more important to him than genuine affection. In Double Life he admits to having whittled Jimmy down to nothing in order to get something from him. But then along comes Last Life

In Last Life, whatever it was, something about Pearl really appealed to him if even subconsciously and he very genuinely cared about her imo. And that was a relationship that oddly enough started as purely transactional yet quickly developed into the most meaningful one I think Scott has had. Even when he faltered in returning Pearl's affection fully, Pearl didn't care and stood by him. Well exemplified by the time he kind of froze when Pearl was boogey killed by Lizzie, but Pearl didn't even think to hold his inaction against him. (Especially fun contrasted with Pearl accidentally breaking the rules in killing boogey Joel for killing Scott lol)

But all of that was the variable that Scott sought to avoid, so in Double Life he immediately uses what he can as an excuse to ostracize Pearl, almost as if to punish her for the crime of. loving? And I'm not about to claim that Pearl is wholly innocent but I'd argue that was unwarranted. Cleo and Scott are a great dynamic in a vacuum but unfortunately Cleo is also quite terrible (but then who isn't. It's a death game, they all are. Sorry I have to keep making these remarks because otherwise I get labelled a hater) and unfortunately fuels all the worst traits in Scott while Scott very readily sticks to her. They remain an encouraging pillar to Scott, it's just that the things being encouraged are like. Their ritual to slice each other with axes at full force just to stick it to Martyn and Pearl. Pearl often gets compared to Scott as equally physically harmful but idk personally I don't think the snow bucket compares to start-of-every-session-near-death-axe-crit routine. That's again not to say that she's innocent

Upon Scott spreading completely unfounded claims about her being crazy and malicious, she starts to adopt those claims. What else is she to do to get by? She has been nice to most players and nearly none of them want her around because of rumors despite her causing harm on accident at worst. She comes close to finally finding friends in Jimmy (Tango as well but mostly Jimmy), but ruins her chances by briefly playing into Martyn's "prank" and giving him Jimmy's horn without realizing it's importance to Jimmy, after which Jimmy tells her that she's no longer welcome on the ranch. She's effectively lost everyone and it is 90% due to Scott, not due to her actually acting the way she's claimed to as she only starts to go down that path after repeated rejection (sure she let herself be physically hurt to get at Scott, but it wasn't because of malice or having lost her mind, her doing so was reasonable anyhow but got twisted into something it wasn't. It's still wrong on her part and I do think she goes at least a bit insane as Scarlet Pearl surfaces, but the point is that she wasn't that when Scott started painting her that way)

Even in the very end, Scott retains control. He retained control of not only his narrative but contributed to most others' as well, painting Pearl as the exact character he wanted her to be known as in every POV outside of her own. And as they stand face to face as the last two survivors, Scott denies her any chance to change things, taking his own life instead whilst painting himself as noble in doing so

Scott is incredibly self-sacrificial but only when he gets something out of it, and because it allows him yet more control. He wants to be able to control when he dies, and he also gets to turn it into utmost grandiose statements of nobleness when he does, which then changes others' perception of him accordingly and directly or indirectly allows Scott to get something in exchange. His suicide in DL is no different, it was for him, not for Pearl

In Secret Life Scott also instils the idea of Pearl being untrustworthy in Gem

Wild Life. grrrr. Wild Life.............clenches fist. Pearl's personal hell

I think you can infer I was. scared to say the least about Pearl upon seeing her alliance in Wild Life. In the end though I ended up just being immensely sad and disappointed. Just about nothing worked out for Pearl, only for her trauma to be mocked repeatedly by Scott and Cleo

Pearl imo shows so many signs of regression, and she holds onto Impulse as the one member of her team that isn't actively taunting her, making it a goal for herself to see Impulse win, and it is that: for her, for anything to go her way, not so much for Impulse as much as she does genuinely care for him. She really doesn't spend that much time with him, she just needs a goal to work towards for her own sake. Pearl being unstable, untrustworthy and especially pathetic are all things that continue to get enforced within the alliance, where she's often spoken to like a ticking time bomb and the team's destructiveness gets relegated to her specifically. She recognizes not feeling good about it but she doesn't recognize everything that's at play in the social dynamics of their alliance or the extent of it

She becomes scared of people becoming resentful of her were she to make mistakes all the while Scott and Cleo start enabling her worst tendencies, aka Scarlet Pearl. They don't do this a large degree but they do make an explicit point of it, or at least Cleo does. Cleo is also however, if even vaguely, trying to mend the relationship between her and Pearl, where they occasionally encourage and defend her although it's not to a significant enough degree for Pearl to really realize. After Gem's death, Cleo is also there to help although Pearl is too distraught to appreciate it

While Gem's largely the catalyst for the "pathetic" notion that Pearl adopts to her detriment over the course of Wild Life, it only affects Pearl as strongly as it does due to her having gone through what she has, and because she's in a largely unloving alliance that fuels and reminds her of her wrongdoing. Just compare her mental state here to the one in Secret Life with the Mounders. Although it does have importance to her because she seeks reconciliation, she isn't allowed to forget about Double Life, she's not allowed to heal and grow around the grief of what's happened to her

And the final two notable incidents in her and Scott's relationship are 1. Her being made to feel like she needs to kill Scott, which she doesn't and ends up picking her own method of killing him to retain any semblance of choice, and 2. best summarized by my friend's Pearl POV analysis: "Scott is wearing my clothes. instead of villainizing me, our “reconciliation” has encouraged him to embrace the qualities he thinks I represent. he matches me, and we don’t talk about our past"

I state again that I like Scott, I like Cleo, I don't think they're evil or villains, at the very least in no cut-and-dry way. They're flawed and compelling and although I feel sad for Pearl and see Scott as largely at fault for what's happened to her, I care about Scott too and he's easily in the top 5 of most intricate Life characters to me that I enjoy dissecting

You know like. enjoying any character in any other fandom that is morally reprehensible in any way. I don't know why that's such a wild concept in traffic but sigh. I have to disclaim this unfortunately

[was-that-a-pun]

Fleshin out more background characters in my AU fic for later chapters like I have with Medic and Thomas and a recent cut content video gave me ideas for Scout the boogie bot and Izzy the bobby bearhug

Scout I've decided was an older kid in Playcare and was a close friend with Matthew before he was 'chosen'. They were similar ages, though Scout had been there longer and had lost her parents in a car accident she wasn't part of. It gave her a slightly better idea of what he was going through than most other kids did and tended to play backup to his leader role.

Neither ran into Kevin much just by chance, the little they did see of him he seemed fine to them although Matthew caught some other kids setting him up to get in trouble once and put a stop to it.

After Matthew was taken Izzy arrived, probably younger than Jack when she got there, and instantly clung to Scout as big sister. Scout returned in kind and goes out of her way to care for and dote on her.

Scout though was also 'chosen' a little more than a year after Matthew and Kevin were, Izzy had a hard time in Playcare for the few months before she was as 'chosen' as well because she couldn't connect with anyone else the same way.

Scout and Izzy are dumped into the workyard/general population at the same time and Izzy does not handle things well. Scout would know that sobbing anywhere and scrambles to comfort her and convince her of who she is and that Izzy isn't alone. Doey overhears and oh shit this is one of my friends.

They all end up in trouble/punished because Izzy can't calm down enough to work, Scout wont leave her side, and Doey wont let the guards touch either one of them. But afterwards it makes things a little easier because Matthew knows he can trust scout, which means Jack and Kevin learn to trust her and she becomes one of the main people he talk to about the whole confusing experience of being three kids turned into one.

Cut content lines under the readmore that inspired me

Scout: Izzy, have you done what I asked you to? Gathered all your things?

Izzy: Oh, yeah! I’ve got my journal and my crayons and my dollys and my-

Scout: Good. Good I just wanted to make sure

Izzy: You. Y-you sound sad -

Scout: No! No. Just thinking…

Izzy: Thinking about what?

Scout: About everything to come, about our part in it.

Izzy: Oh...okay. Are we still gonna play our game later? Y-you promised we would-

Scout: *chuckles* I remember kiddo, and a good scout knows to keep her promises.

Izzy: Yes!

Scout: But finish up your tasks first please! Then my time is all yours.

Izzy: Okay! I’ll get them done quick! Super quick! You wont even see me doing them!

Scout: That better mean they’re actually getting done though *sigh*

[choerrysjubiles]

wasteurtime

pairing: virgin!sungchan x fem!reader

warning: smut! oral, protected sex, short? reader, slight corruption kink? Definite size kink and Sungchan’s eating cum

wc: 3k

a/n: not at all based on the song but I needed a title <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Weekends were for of daytime studying and nighttime parties. Finishing up whatever amount of work you needed done before rewarding yourself with the fraternity block's weekly parties. No matter how stressed or how close finals could get, most students at SM University found their way towards the weekly party hosted by someone or another.

Due to constant patrol, there have been plenty of saintly frat boys and sorority girls who donate their parents house for these parties. Which is where you find yourself.

Sitting on the counter of Wonbin's kitchen, you caught a familiar face. Jung Sungchan, one of SMU's top soccer players. You've seen him around campus, even seen him at Wonbin's parties before. But you've never really had the chance to talk to him, always kept a lingering eye on him, instead.

Friend of a friend is usually a weird relationship. He knows Wonbin and you know Wonbin, but Wonbin’s never tried inviting you both to the same event. No soccer games, no parties, no get togethers, no mundane events where your paths could cross. Almost suspicious.

You stayed on the counter, sipping your drink as he walked around. Spotting you, he walks up.

"Have you seen Wonbin?"

"Dunno." You say, "Saw him a minute ago, might be in the backyard."

"Thanks." He smiled before walking away.

You enjoyed watching Sungchan, he was tall and broad, muscular, he was a heartthrob to any student. Hearing from Wonbin, he was mostly just a goofy guy, nothing crazy or playboy about him. Just some college kid.

You hopped off the counter, passing your drink to some random guy walking by as you walked around. You were practically stone sober but this sounded far more fun than drinking your night blank.

You loosely followed Sungchan’s direction, trailing well behind him as he was on his hunt for Wonbin. You wouldn't say you were some voyeur but you enjoyed seeing what people were up to. You liked seeing their behaviors in different lights, whether they were alone or in public. Psychology could've been your calling.

Before you knew it, you lost Sungchan. He was far too serious in his endeavor for you to catch up. Failing to follow him, you began walking around the house, finding people in all sorts of positions. Again, you swear you’re not a voyeur.

You found a cheerleader getting non so secretly fingered on a sofa, you will definitely tell Wonbin about that. Finding two jocks make out behind some potted planet under the staircase. Not much was happening but some things were catching your interest. By the time you make your rounds and end up near the back door, you spot Sungchan again. Walking near him, you waved as you asked if he'd found Wonbin yet.

"No, it's okay, though.” He said, heading turning every few directions trying to find him.

He was tall. Far, far taller than you. His shoulders were huge, he was far larger than how he looked in the kitchen. You were able to get a better scope of him, finally closer to him in his largeness. Seeing his long legs, large hands, the way he slightly hunched over to talk to people.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"Nothing, I can text him later, just plans for soccer and stuff."

"You should relax, this is a party." You say, "Here, let me get you a drink."

"You don't have to." He assures you.

"No way," You grab onto his hand, leading him to the kitchen, "let me help you."

You feel his hand tense a little as you drag him to the kitchen. Standing by the mixing table, he watched you prepare a drink.

"Don't make it strong." He leans down to tell you.

"I won't." You smiles at him.

You grabbed at the hidden mixers Wonbin stashed for friends, pouring it into Sungchan’s cup before letting him choose and pour his own alcohol. He added a dash more after a taste.

You two walked to an empty couch as he sipped him drink. He was slightly fidgeting but the more he drank the better he sat still.

"So does Wonbin hire you to come here are do you actually like drinking."

Sungchan bursted laughing, "I'm not a drinker but I don't hate parties."

"How do you know Wonbin?" He asked.

"We had some classes together, knew him before uni but we weren't close."

Sungchan nodded.

"Wonbin isn't on the sports team, is he?" You ask.

"Oh no, he's in sports medicine. Too scared to play out on the field."

You laughed, noticing Sungchan occasionally staring at you before moving his vision to his drink or to some people.

"Are you alright?"

"Can I kiss you?" Sungchan blurted out.

You blinked for a second, "Sure."

"I'm sorry, I- you're just really pretty."

"You can kiss me."

"I-"

"Is this too open of an area?" You lean in closer to Sungchan. "We can move somewhere more private."

"Can we?"

"C'mon." You take his hand and lead him upstairs.

The crowds of people were too dense and preoccupied to notice the two of you. You walked up the stairs into the off-limits zone of the party. Every party was like this, even on campus. Don’t go upstairs unless you’re with a brother. Don’t go upstairs at all for some houses.

Walking into a spare bedroom, you shut the door lightly.

"Should I lock the door?" You ask as Sungchan was looking around the room.

"Please."

You turn the lock before walking back to Sungchan.

You both sit on the bed, he's flushed looking anywhere but you as you're looking at him.

"You wanted to kiss me?"

Sungchan nervously grabbed your hand, "I did- I do!"

You feel your lips pull into a smirk as you lean in closer to him. He leans in and kisses you. His soft plush lips felt nice, tasting a bit of the alcohol from his solo cup he set down somewhere. Your free hand held his face, lips continuously melding together.

His hand moved from your hand to your arm, wrapping around it as he deepened your kiss. He was groaning as he tasted the alcohol on your tongue, you moved into his lap as he stretched his arms to your back.

Pulling away for a breath, Sungchan stared at you.

"You're really pretty."

"You're pretty, too."

Sungchan blushed more as you complimented him, “How?"

"You're flushed cheeks and rosy lips are adorable."

You held his chin as you looked at him, doing your best to keep his eyes on you.

"I've, uhm, I've never done this before."

You cocked your head to the side, caught off guard.

"Done what?"

"Anything beyond kissing a girl." Sungchan looks away, feeling vulnerable and shy.

"Really?" You asked.

"I-"

"You're even cuter than before."

"That's cute?" He scoffed.

"You think I'd make fun of you for being a cute, pure boy?"

Sungchan's eyes moved away from you.

"Did you wanna learn? I can teach you."

His cheeks stayed a red-pink color, he was thinking hard about this.

"Can you?" His eyes flicked to your face.

"I can show you anything you want, baby boy."

His dick twitched when you called him that, Sungchan was worried you could feel it. He knew you could feel his growing hard on.

You lean back in to kiss him, his hands holding you a little tighter, more comfortable being nervous around you. You continue kissing before you grind lightly on his bulge.

"Ah." He moaned.

"That wasn't too much was it?" You ask.

"No, just different."

He captures your lips again, leaning further down as you grind your pelvis into him. Your hand moves down to feel him, his jeans are rough but you can make a good outline of his dick.

"Ah." Sungchan moaned again.

"You're real sensitive."

"Can you-"

His eyes were desperate when looking at you, clouded and almost watery with pleasure.

"You're so hot." You blurt out.

You begin moving down, lifting his shirt off as you crawl between his legs, pushing him onto his elbows. You stare up at him as you undo his belt, slowly pulling it from his jeans before tossing it to the side. You carefully crawl up to undo his jeans. Sliding his pants down, you see just how tight he is in his briefs. A large outline of his dick trying to poke out. You pull his underwear down, pulling them past his knees so he can kick them off as you stare at his dick. Fuck, he's huge.

Sungchan stares at you as you begin pumping him in your hand. His dick stood up tall as you massage up and down his shaft. His moans were low but high, never feeling someone else touch him.

"You feel good?" You ask.

His eyes flicked to you, his mouth agape with light pants coming out of him, "Yes. So good."

You continued pumping him before leaning in closer to him, sitting between his thighs are you brought his head closer to your mouth and kissed his head.

"Ah." He gasped.

You licked his slit, tasting his precum, before wrapping your lips around him.

"Y/n." He moaned.

His voice was so desperate and sweet you began sinking lower onto him. Tongue pressing along his underside as you sucked down his shaft.

"Fuck." He groaned, watching you bob your head up and down his length.

Your hand jerked his base as you sucked up and down his length. Your jaw ached as you moved up to lick along his tip. Looking up at him, you felt him twitch in your hand.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"Where, what?" He asked.

"Where do you wanna cum?" You asked, jerking him faster.

"Fuck, your face." He groaned, feeling your hand speed up around him.

Your grip became stronger as you reattached your mouth to him, sucking and bobbing until you felt him begin to cum. Pulling off, you closed your eyes as you felt his hot cum spray onto your face, it was mostly around your mouth and cheek thankfully away from your eyes.

"Holy shit." He moaned, falling backwards onto the bed.

"Did you feel good?" You asked, crawling up his body.

"That was so good." He was in a daze, staring up at the ceiling as he tried cooling down.

"Can I make you feel as good?" Sungchan asked, not wanting to be the only one cumming.

"Of course," You lay on your back, wiping some of his cum off of your face, "eat me out."

Sungchan moves, seeing you take your shirt off as he stared at your boobs. He used his shirt to wipe the rest of your face off as you undo your bra. He leaned down and kissed you, letting you fall back and relax on the bed. He licked along your mouth, tasting his cum that was still on your tongue as he moved down.

Kissing along your jaw and neck before moving down to kiss along your breasts. His hands perfectly cupping them as he played with your nipples. His hands stayed on your breasts as he kissed down your body, your hands wrapped around his wrists as he descended. Sungchan left licks and kisses along your stomach and hip bones, carefully undoing your pants and sliding them down with your underwear, almost gawking at your exposed body.

The first thing Sungchan noticed was just how small you looked. Your dripping pussy was right in front of him but all he could think is how small it looked. How is his dick supposed to fit in there, your mouth could barely stretch around his dick. Pulling your underwear off of your legs, you spread them for him to kneel into. He immediately begins licking at your core.

“Sungchan.”

“Am I doing good?”

“So good.” You sigh.

He flattened his tongue as he tried feeling how small everything was. Your entrance was small, your clit poked lightly against his tongue, barely noticeable. You were feeling euphoric while he was trying to map everything out. Sungchan continued licking at you, his flat tongue swiping against your clit so well. You were sure he had no idea how well he was doing, beginning to lap at your clit your hands moved to hold onto his head. Your back began to arch as your noises grew louder.

His hand moved down to touch your core, flicking at your clit. Feeling his hand against you to further comprehend the size difference.

“Good?” He asked.

“Keeping doing that.”

He leaned down, you couldn’t see it but his eyes were wide in fascination with how much pleasure you were feeling. Seeing your twitch and grip onto him was exciting. He was making a pretty girl feel good, he can only hope you can cum soon.

Out of curiosity, he pushed one finger into you. Just to feel and see if it’s possible. He kept his other hand on your clit as he watched his finger disappear into your core, feeling how tightly you clenched around him. Your moans grew louder, waking Sungchan from his fixation. He began lapping his tongue against your clit, before he knew it your legs stiffened as you clenched around him. It was a unique feeling, your walls clamping before fluttering against his finger.

Pulling it out, he noticed the thick trail of cum connecting you and him. He wrapped his lips around his finger, tasting your sweet essence before diving back in to drink from the source. He was careful to just suck from your entrance and not touch your clit. Seeing your ragged breathing and your back fall onto the bed, Sungchan felt accomplished.

“Sungchan, you’re really good at that.”

“I am?” He gleamed at you.

“So fucking good.”

You could barely move your legs as you stayed there.

“Nightstand, look for a condom.” You ordered.

“You know they’re there?” He asked.

“This is Wonbin’s place, of course they’re there.”

He opened the drawer and grabbed at a loose condom packet. You help roll it onto him as he’s twitching from the sensitivity. Sitting up, you and his shift into missionary.

“Can I-”

“Please fuck me.” You say.

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, aligning with your core.

Sungchan moved beween your legs, looking down at you he was amazed at the new angle. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes dripping in arousal, you looked so hot. He carefully aligned with your core, still not believing you could fit him. He carefully pushed his tip in, not wanting to hurt you but also seeing if this was even possible.

You laid in ecstasy as you felt him stretch you out.

“Sungchan.” You moan.

He pauses and asks of you’re okay.

“Keep going, you feel so good.”

Good? He’s so surprised that you feel good, he feels good but you? He’s barely comprehending how your pussy can stretch around him but also is feeling good?

He pushes in all the way before he feels you grabbing onto him. Holding him as you’re feeling so full and fucked out. Your walls are fluttering around him, you’ve never felt like this before and you need to feel him pound into you.

“Keep going.”

“Already?”

“Please, Sungchan.”

He slowly pulls out, about half way, until he begins pushing back in.

“All the way.”

He stopped. All the way?

He pulls more out, leaving only his tip in before pushing back into your core.

“Yes.” You drawl out.

“That feels good?”

You nod as he continues slowly pushing and pulling, carefully thrusting into you as your hand moves to circle your clit.

“You’re so fucking big, fuck me.” You moan.

He slowly leans down, wanting to kiss you again.

“Faster?”

“Yes.” You sigh.

He moves faster, slowly getting used to moving his hips this way. He looks at your face, seeing your lidded eyes and hand covering your mouth, heavily breathing as your other hand circles your clit. The sight is so erotic, seeing how much you want him, how you want him to move more, harder, faster. Sungchan begins moving faster, thrusting harder into you as he hears your moans grow louder.

He leans down and kisses your cheek, you move your hand to turn his head, capturing his lips. You feel his tongue poke out as he continues thrusting into you, you kiss and lick against him, wrapping your lips around his tongue as he blanks from the pleasure.

“You’re so good.” He moans. “You feel amazing.”

He pulls out less, opting to move faster and harder. His eyes close as he begins pumping into you harder, keeping a hand on your hip as he switches with your hand on your clit. Opening his eyes, he peers down to messily rub your clit.

“Sungchan.” It comes out far more high pitched than you expected.

His hips stutter as he cums into the condom, rubbing your clit harder. His long drawn out moan is melodic as your high hits you.

“Fuck.” You moan.

He almost falls on top of you, so overwhelmed by your pussy still clenching around him. He stays inside you for a minute, trying to find his breath as he calms down. Finally pulling out, he throws the condom away.

You stay like that for a minute, catching your breath as you feel the aftershocks from your orgasms. Slowly, you both relax and sit up to look around for your clothing. You want to make quick work, unsure of how long or loud you both were.

“Did you, uhm,” Sungchan starts, “did you wanna go on a date sometime, or just like hang out.”

You stare in surprise, “Yeah!” You nod your head, “That’d be really nice.”

You slowly redress, picking and handing each other different clothing you find as you both compose yourselves. He grabs his phone to exchange numbers with you, both of you sending a quick text to save each other’s contact.

[anxiousthoughts365]

First Kiss

Mature audiences, minors DNI. Everybody lives AU

Bilbo stood in the largest council chamber in Erebor that had survived Smaug's reign, trying his hardest to listen as Dain made florid speeches and declarations on behalf of his people. The leader of the Iron Hills clan was telling his version of the story of their journey, their pledge to help their brethren regain their homeland. The speech was that of a pompous wind-bag, desperately clutching at the chance to change history, to be painted as a saviour rather than someone who had ignored his cousin's pleas for many, many years.

The hypocrisy of it was really getting under Bilbo's skin.

He didn't really know why he was here, other than that Balin had called to him to join them as he'd been attempting to sneak away when the meeting had been called just after breakfast. Now, standing in an overcrowded room full of noisy Dwarves, Bilbo's already thin patience was wearing out. He had wanted to try and make the most of the baths being empty, had wanted nothing more than a long soak and a good book. Instead, he was stuck here.

His large foot tapped against the floor in his impatience, a bad habit he'd had since childhood. Every time he noticed it, he would still it, only for the irritated movement to resume when he became distracted once more. This happened multiple times. The thing that finally stopped the tapping was the not-so-gentle nudge of someone's elbow in his back.

Bilbo staggered forward ever so slightly, and whipped his head around to glare daggers at the culprit, assuming he would meet the mischievous gazes of one of the princes, or perhaps the twinkling mirth of his friend Bofur. He did not expect to see the King Under the Mountain standing behind him, handsome face impassive as he stared into the centre of the crowd, where Dain continued to hold court. Bilbo watched Thorin for a moment before preparing to turn away, to look over his other shoulder, thinking that the nudge surely must have come from someone else.

But then Thorin's striking blue eyes sliced down, meeting his for the briefest of moments before the King looked away once more, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.

Heat flooded through Bilbo, and he drew himself to his full height, nose in the air as he determinedly turned away from Thorin. He was still pulling himself together when the slightest whisper of warm air brushed over the pointed tip of his ear. The Hobbit's hand flew up instinctively, covering the sensitive body part, and he had to take a steadying breath before he could lower his hand again. He refused to turn, would not let on that the Dwarf had successfully riled him. Whatever the King was playing at, Bilbo would not give him the satisfaction -

The elbow met his back again, and Bilbo lost all grip on his self-control. Without looking at Thorin, he spun on his heel and marched from the room, heading for his chambers. It was one thing to have to endure Dain's speech when he was still entirely uncertain that he should even be included in the council meetings at all. It was quite another to have the King, who had recently been stirring up a multitude of confusing and conflicting emotions within Bilbo, use him as a plaything to distract from his own boredom.

He made it down three corridors before he heard the tread of feet behind him. Whoever it was made no attempts at hiding their step, and they were keeping almost perfect pace with Bilbo. Following him. Grinding his teeth together to contain a frustrated shriek, Bilbo spun around and pointed one finger right into the centre of Thorin's very solid chest.

'Now listen here, Your Majesty,' Bilbo growled, laying heavy sarcasm over Thorin's title. It wound him up further when the Dwarf just smirked in response, and Bilbo had to try very hard to keep his next words civil. 'I don't know what game you think you're playing, but I am not a willing participant. Kindly return to your duties, and allow me some peace.'

'I grow tired of my duties,' Thorin replied, leaning over slightly and grinning when Bilbo flushed - whether from his growing rage or their proximity, even Bilbo was unable to tell. Thorin's voice lowered to an almost dangerous purr as he added, 'Besides, my game would not be half as fun if you were a willing participant, Master Burglar.'

Something in the self-satisfied little quirk of the King's mouth made Bilbo want to do something, anything, that would wipe that infuriating expression right off the Dwarf's face. So, with that as the only thought in his mind, Bilbo reached out, wrapped his hands in the King's tunic, and pulled him down into a hard kiss.

The world around them froze, heat crackling up Bilbo's spine at the connection. He gasped, his eyes flickering closed as a myriad of emotions and feelings coursed through him. His heart raced in his chest, and his head sang along in time to the quick rhythm. Yes, this, yes, more, yes, mine ...

Bilbo came to his senses suddenly, and broke away from the King, landing back in his heels with a bump. Thorin was still bent over him, Bilbo's hands still fisted into the front of his tunic, his blue eyes wide and his eyebrows almost hitting his hairline. They stared at each other, the seconds stretching between them, until Bilbo could no longer take it.

'Thorin, I -'

A large hand rose, carding through the curls at the back of his head to cradle around the base of Bilbo's skull. His breath caught in his throat when Thorin's gaze, darkened and deeper than he'd ever seen it, dropped and locked onto his mouth. The hand at the back of his head kept him still, but he was too stunned to move away, even as Thorin leaned in again.

The kiss that the King laid against his lips was softer, sweeter than the one Bilbo had given, and he felt himself melt into it immediately, a high strangled noise escaping through his nose as Thorin sealed their mouths together. The King released a deep rumble in response, his other hand snaking around Bilbo's hip to press against his lower back, molding the Hobbit's smaller frame against his own.

Bilbo whimpered softly at the feel of the King's broad form, a form he had seen many times during their travels and daydreamed about on many more occasions, and the sound seemed to break Thorin from some sort of trance. He pulled back, away from the kiss, and his eyes were sharp again as he scanned Bilbo's face. Whatever he saw there made him soften, made him smile, and Bilbo couldn't help but smile back.

The smile turned into a chuckle as he considered their position. A respectable Hobbit of 50 years old and a damned Dwarven King, playing truant from a likely very important meeting to canoodle in the corridors like a couple of tweens. It was absurd. Thorin's smile grew at the sound of his laughter, and the King leaned in again, this time to press his forehead to Bilbo's in a clear sign of affection.

It was enough to sober Bilbo, and all at once he didn't want to be out in the corridors. He wanted to be behind a very much closed door, with Thorin locked in with him. He wanted to talk, and he wanted to listen, and he wanted oh, so many other things.

Thankfully, it seemed as though Thorin were sharing his thoughts, as only moments later the King straightened, pausing only to almost shyly lace his fingers through Bilbo's, before leading them deeper into the mountain, towards the royal bed chambers.

[bumblebaubles]

repost with what song reads most like poetry to you from ttpd

[gongyussy]

have some couth babygirl

[telesodalite]

Been thinking about idw1's outliers lately, and how sort of wild the whole concept is from a worldbuilding standpoint, and it struck me that most confirmed outlier abilities tend to be really useful, or flashy, or powerfully dangerous, and few to none tend to be like, really boring, or totally impractical, or even entirely useless? Which, doesn't really make sense when considering the fact that outlier abilities are seemingly random.

Surely not everyone who's born an outlier gets something useful?

And I don't mean like, "good" useful, but any sort of useful, even if that means you can kill people with your voice, or give a power boost by exploding yourself, those are still "useful".

But surely there had to be some with abilities that were totally impractical, or nonbeneficial, or at the very least just insignificant or purely aesthetic and pointless?

[maraschinotopped]

ive been staring at the naqtube channel page just doing analysis thoughts in my head for like 15 minutes and ive just been hit with the realization that Damn this is not normal. normal people dont do this. either the mental illness or the mild sickness is doing something to me right now.

[lost-in-beacon-hills]

I can't imagine being Mrs Everdeen. But I do wish to try.

Imagine standing to the side roped off from your children and being unable to do anything as your youngest is reaped. Knowing she won't make it because she's too tenderhearted and too young. You know as her name is called, that she will die. And yet you can't change it. You just gets to watch as your child is slowly marched forward to her death.

Imagine the hopelessness she feels. Having braved the few years of Katniss's first reapings alone, and now having to endure Prims reaping and all the while wishing she had her husband by her side to help her get through it. But she's done it for the past four years with Katniss, so surely this one won't be as bad? Only it's worse. Because it's Prims first reaping. The chances of it even happening are so slim. Katniss made sure of that. And yet, it is, in fact, her name being called.

And you wait in silence as your gut sinks and your eyes close, and you take a second to remember your daughter before she's gone. You regret giving birth because all it's done is lead to here. You regret it, and you feel so resentful. And some part of you thinks this isn't the way it should be. Not her. Not Prim. She doesn't have what it takes to claw and strangle her way to the top. She's dead before she's started.

Your gut lunches and your heart beats too fast. You feel sick. Until you hear your other daughter. The one who has been your family's rock. Who's your rock, is now stepping forward to take her sisters place. You release a breath and part of you unclenches. Because even if you would never speak it, even if you would never want to think it, even as you think it and feel disgusted with yourself, you know that you would rather Katniss go in.

She could do it. She's done so much. For years she's taken care of a family. Kept them fed by skill alone. She's your daughter. You should tremble at the thought of her going in, and you do. But not as much as knowing it could have been Prim.

And all you can do is sit back, watch it happen feeling more than grateful. Knowing this child has saved you in more ways than you can count and how often you've failed her. Despite failing her again and again every day she still continues to provide and protect. She still takes the role of mother when you haven't.

As your sixteen year old daughter marches forward, you get to feel safe one last time, grateful to have this decision made for you.

[minorfamilysupremacy]

said it once, saying it again outside of tags: the person you are when you're being abused is not truly reflective of who you are. in an abusive situation, you are in constant survival mode. you are behaving in ways that you think a) are going to please the abuser and b) are going to keep you from being hit, berated, or otherwise punished. you do not get to be who you really are because that is legitimately dangerous. it creates a vulnerability you cannot afford. you need to act with your self-preservation instincts in mind first and foremost, and self-preservation often conflicts with authenticity and honesty. so when you're looking at those texts, judging build for being such a thoughtless, hateful person, try to understand what it's like mentally to have your back to the wall for months or years on end.

[mcybree]

Thoughts on 3rd life mirror birds. 3rd life big dogs. 3rd life property police. They fascinate me and I think you have thoughts on them but I might be wrong..either way

i do in fact have thoughts on them but i think if i talk about 3l!flower husbands publicly any more rn I’ll get so self conscious I’ll explode on the spot. this being said i have still yet to watch evo but its been on my list for forever bc of 3l!property police specifically… i really love martyns petty grudge against jimmy for those first two episodes he acts like he’s 12 and really pissed off on the playground. anyways i think that martyn going from being concerned for his friend to Just Fucking Lying to split up Scott and Jimmy, because he took personal offense to Jimmy being unwilling to drop everything to go live with him on the spot is the funniest thing in the world. Girl it’s not about you

[thegreatimpersonator]

okay why are all these lyrics she’s teasing/highlighting like…. not great