#Hwang in ho x Y/n

[insidekatmind]

Possession~Hwang In-Ho

The tension in the air was oppressive. The sound of rapid footsteps, the desperate screams of the participants, everything seemed destined to lead you to death. But there was one thing that gave you a sense of security amidst the chaos: him. Hwang In-ho. You knew him as player number 001, but no one, not even you, suspected he was the leader of it all. The Frontman.

He had taken you under his protective wing from the very first day, without you truly understanding why. He seemed like any other man, yet there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite decipher. He never seemed threatening; on the contrary, his calmness and presence made you feel safer than you had ever imagined. He reassured you with a soft voice that always seemed to be at the right moment: "Don’t worry, I’ll stay by your side."

You couldn’t help but trust him. It was as if he had a power that put you at ease, that gave you hope. Every time the games became more violent and fear spread, he was there, always discreet, always ready to intervene when the situation became too dangerous. He protected you as if you were the only thing he truly cared about.

In the middle of one of the most dangerous trials, when your heart was pounding in your chest and your mind tried to stay clear, you found him beside you. His gaze had become more intense, but there was no fear in his eyes. Only cold determination, a will to see you out of this game. "Stay calm," he whispered, as his eyes carefully scanned you. He never asked you to do anything you didn’t want to do, but it always seemed like he had control of the situation.

No one, not even you, knew who he truly was. The Frontman, the mysterious leader who controlled all the games, was hidden behind a mask, but no one seemed to suspect that it was him playing among you. You only saw the man who protected you, who watched over you, but never as a prisoner. He made you feel special, different from the others, as if you had a place apart in his dark world.

The truth, however, was that you were becoming his obsession. Every time someone else came near you, when someone tried to talk to you or protect you, he intervened. There was no room for anyone else in his vision. You felt safe, but something inside you began to wonder what he had in mind, why he was protecting you with such determination.

Night had come and your group was taking shifts and it was Gi hun's turn. You were sleeping sweetly in In-ho's arms. He was watching over you silently, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. He had a possessive air around him as he watched you sleep, his gaze fixed on your face. His fingers traced the outline of your face, almost as if he was trying to remember every detail of your features.

In-ho's eyes were half-closed, but his mind was wide awake. There was a quiet determination in his expression, a cold certainty that he needed to protect you. He was aware of every noise around him, every small movement in the room.

You murmur softly and move closer to him, hiding your face in his chest. “In-ho” you murmur sleepily. He smiles slightly when he hears you murmuring his name. He pulls you closer to him, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. He loved the way you said his name, so soft and sleepy, as if you felt safe with him.

"That's right, it's me," he whispers, his lips resting against your forehead. "I'm here, sweetheart." He pulls you even closer to him, his body wrapped around yours protectively. He nuzzled his face against your hair, inhaling your scent. He loved how you felt in his arms, how you were so trusting and vulnerable. He couldn't help but feel possessive and protective of you, as if you were something he had to keep for himself."Sleep, love," he whispers, his lips right next to your ear. "I'll keep you safe."

You nod and cling to him like a koala trying to be as close as possible. He chuckles softly, amused by the way you were clinging to him. He adjusts his position to allow you to get even closer to him, his arms encircling you tightly.

He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, the rhythm of your breaths. He brings one hand up to brush gently through your hair, his touch tender and yet possessive. He wants to hold you like this forever, to keep you safe and his. He closes his eyes for a moment, just savoring the feel of you in his arms. It was a feeling like nothing else, a comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time.

In-Ho could feel himself getting more and more possessive, the thought of anyone else touching or even coming near you made him feel strangely territorial. "You’re mine," he whispers softly. "All mine."

He had made up his mind. You were his, and he would do whatever it took to keep you with him. He was aware that you didn't know the truth about him, but he couldn't care less. Once you found out the truth, he knew he would have to keep you by his side.

His hands ran over your body, possessive and protective at the same time, but also loving. He couldn't help but think how he would do anything and everything to keep you.

[greengoblinswifey]

Making Hwang In-ho work for your pussy.

From the moment you and In-ho met, it was clear he wasn’t used to waiting for what he wanted—especially not when it came to intimacy. Yet, here he was, two months into a relationship with you, frustrated but captivated.

You’d been upfront from the start. “I don’t do casual, and I don’t rush into things. If that’s a problem, you can leave now,” you’d said on your first date, holding his gaze with unwavering confidence.

In-ho, used to a world where his power and wealth cleared every hurdle, had been taken aback. But instead of walking away, he’d leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips. “Challenge accepted.”

And a challenge it had been.

He’d tried everything to win you over, lavish gifts, private dinners at the most exclusive restaurants, bouquets of flowers that seemed to appear at your doorstep almost daily. He wasn’t just trying to impress you, he was trying to prove he could play by your rules.

“You’re making me work harder than anyone ever has,” he said one evening over champagne at a rooftop restaurant he’d rented out just for the two of you.

“You don’t have to,” you replied with a sly smile. “But you do if you want me.”

And he did. Oh, he wanted you. Needed you.

In-ho found himself doing things he never imagined. Like taking time off from overseeing the games, something unheard of for him—just to spend an afternoon with you at an art exhibit you’d mentioned wanting to see. Or the time he drove across the city to find a specific book you’d been searching for, presenting it to you like it was a trophy.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said one night as he handed you a pair of diamond earrings.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. But in truth, he was growing more frustrated by the day. Every lingering kiss, every time your hands wandered but stopped just short of crossing the line, left him aching for more.

Still, he waited. Because as much as he craved you, he found himself liking you more with each passing day, your wit, your intelligence, the way you held your ground. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met.

When the night finally came, it wasn’t planned. You were at his home, sharing wine and laughter on the couch. His hand brushed against yours, and when your eyes met, there was something different in your eyes, something softer, inviting.

“In-ho,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” His voice was calm, but his body tensed, like a predator sensing its moment.

“I think I’m ready.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand moved to cup your cheek. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes. I want you to fuck me. I want you.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed you deeply, his hands sliding over your body, memorizing every curve. He carried you to his bedroom, laying you down on the silk sheets as if you were something precious.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for months,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck.

“I know,” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I’m going to make this worth the wait,” he promised, and he did.

He worshipped you that night, his touch both rough and tender, his words a mixture of praise and moans of your name. It was as if he were trying to make up for all the time he’d spent wanting you, showing you just how much he’d been holding back.

He started slow, savoring every moment, every taste of your pussy, every clench of your walls around his cock. Until, he remembered this was the first of many times he’d be fucking you. Until he remembered how long you made him wait to have you. After this realization, he fucked you like no one had ever done before.

He gave you long, deep strokes, stretching and filling you to the brim. His hands trailed all over your body, touching you as though you would slip away. His lips never left you, whether it be on your lips or tits. He worked hard for your pussy, and he’d get all that it was worth.

“Made me wait so fucking long for this tight pussy,” he grunted in your ear, pounding into you. “You’re lucky you feel good.”

His hands wrapped around your neck as he rolled his hips harshly against you and that did it. The past two months of restraint and underlying tension finally built over and you both came undone with you absolutely soaking his cock and the sheets below. You were just as deprived as him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your ear, his voice hoarse. “So worth it.”

In the quiet aftermath, as you lay tangled together, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’d wait all over again for you,” he said softly.

You smiled, your head against his chest. “Good. Because you’re not going anywhere.”

[voxslays]

SMUTTY IN-HO HEADCANNONS

✩ Heavy breeding kink. This man wants someone to carry on his legacy, to carry on the games and be the next frontman—and when he thinks of you, your stomach all swollen from carrying his seed…he can’t help but get hard.

✩ I’ve seen a couple posts stating he’d date a younger woman, which I agree with…but not too much younger. Like maybe 10-12 year age gap at most. He wants someone mature, but a little younger. He doesn’t want you to die before him. He couldn’t handle another loss.

✩ Will bend you over any and every surface. The kitchen counter? Check. His desk? Check. In-ho doesn’t care, as long as you’re comfortable as he takes you from behind.

✩ Loves cockwarming. For him, it’s an anywhere, anytime activity. When he’s sitting in his office doing paperwork for the games? Yep. When he’s sitting in his private suite during the games, when red light, green light is being broadcasted to his TV? Definitely.

✩ He is also a very caring partner, even if it seems the opposite sometimes. He will always put your pleasure above his own. Never coming before you do, and always making sure he has a safeword if you ever need to stop.

✩ This man also has a CRAZY amount of stamina. In-ho was a police officer at one point, so he had to have at least some agility experience or training. He is also very skilled for his age and can go for literal hours. So I hope you’re ready for a wild ride, babe!

✩ In-ho is the perfect mix of degrading and praising. Names he will call you during steamy time range from slut, to darling, to your own name. He will really call you anything under the sun as he pounds into you.

[bruhstories]

Bet II

p.1 here & p3. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k

a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.

You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.

Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.

You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor. 

It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.

Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho 

A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.

Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.

You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.

Ding!

Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge. 

Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.

"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.

As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor. 

"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."

There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.

Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.

As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang. 

Kitchen and dining room done!

You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.

"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"

The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day. 

At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered. 

You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo. 

Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me. 

When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.

Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.

Ding!

Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.

Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm. 

I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.

You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.

"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?" 

Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.

When was the last time you watered the cactus?

Ding!

You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.

I don't remember. 

Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant. 

Ding!

Another text? You took your phone out and read it.

Why would your uncle be upset?

The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.

He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.

Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?

You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age.  You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom. 

Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you. 

Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair

i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo

[littlepeach-world]

Hear me out on this oneshot... 🎾🎾

In-ho and his wife has a child together *about 3 years old now* that ran off while at the island during the games and the guards along with In-ho are running all over the place looking for him and then find him inside of a game room that's already been played and empty, but still dangerous!! Toddlers always sneak away, i know mine does😂

Echoes of Fear

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Warnings: Husband!Inho, Protective!Inho, Dad!Inho, Pregnant!Wifereader, Pregnancy-Related Stress, Child going missing, Parental Anxiety, Emotional Distress, Threats of Violence, Guilt and Self-Blame, Reference to Bereavement.

Word count: 1.3k

You just returned to your desk after putting Jaehyun down for his nap, feeling exhausted but determined to finish the work that had been piling up. Being seven months pregnant was taking its toll, making you more fatigued than ever. Inho, your caring and protective husband, constantly fretted about your well-being. He didn't even want you to work or do anything at all besides staying in bed all day. His concerns for your safety, Jaehyun's, and that of the baby were genuine and heartfelt, often leading to gentle arguments about your need to stay busy. He would lovingly remind you, "Your health, Jaehyun's health, and our baby's health come first, always."

Yet, bed rotting isn't your thing; you liked to stay busy. After a few hours of tackling your work, you decide it's time to check on Jaehyun, who should be fast asleep from his nap. The thought of seeing his peaceful face is a welcome break from the stress of the day.

However, when you enter his room, it is empty. Confusion hits you immediately, a wave of unease washing over you. "Jaehyun?" you call out, your voice echoing through the house. The silence is deafening, and a sense of foreboding begins to creep in.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm as you start searching the neighboring rooms. Each empty room you enter heightens your anxiety, but you try to maintain a semblance of composure.

Your serenity is shattered when you run into June, the nanny, who is pacing nervously in the hallway. Her usually neat appearance is disheveled, and her face is etched with worry.

"June, have you seen Jaehyun?" you ask, attempting to keep your voice steady.

She looks up, her expression filled with guilt and fear. "Jaehyun ran off, and I can't find him," she admits, voice trembling.

Your heart stops, a surge of panic flooding your system. "What! What do you mean you can’t find him? Where did he go?" you demand, your voice rising.

June stammers, trying to explain, but her words blur into an incoherent buzz. Your mind goes blank, your focus narrowing to a sharp point: finding Jaehyun and informing your husband, Inho. Instinctively, you reach for your phone, your hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Stay here and keep looking. I'll call Inho," you manage to instruct June, though your voice cracks with desperation.

You frantically dial Inho's number, the phone feeling slippery in your sweaty grip. Each ring amplifies your anxiety until he finally answers.

"Inho," you say, your voice on the edge of hysteria, "Jaehyun's missing! He's gone!" The words tumble out in a frantic rush.

Inho's calm façade shatters upon hearing the distressing news. The lines in his face deepen with worry, and his usual steady demeanor falters. Yet, somehow, he manages to regain enough composure to soothe your hysteria and urges you to recount every detail as he makes his way toward home. His mind races consumed by the sheer terror of losing Jaehyun.

By the time Inho arrives, he is a man on the edge, but the sight of your tear-streaked face nearly breaks him. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, his voice a soft murmur of comforting words. "We'll find him. I promise," he whispers into your hair, holding you as tightly as he dares.

Despite his own crippling fear, Inho maintains a composed exterior. He knows that he must be the pillar of strength for both you and the situation at hand. Gathering himself quickly, he turns to June, his eyes narrowing with a sharp intensity.

"How could you be so careless?" he snaps, his voice as cold and cutting as a blade. "I swear, if something happens to our son, it won’t just be you I'll deal with—it will be everyone you ever loved, anyone you’ve ever laid eyes on."

Your tears falling freely, you grab his arm gently, interrupting his tirade. "Inho, please," you plead softly. "Threatening her won’t bring Jaehyun back."

Inho takes a deep breath, locking eyes with you, understanding the profound truth in your words. His shoulders slump slightly as he nods, his rage giving way to helplessness for a moment. "I have guards searching the island, Y/N. We will find him. I promise," he vows, tightening his protective grip on you. He places one hand tenderly on your pregnant belly, the gesture meant to ground both of you.

"Breathe, please. For our baby," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your overwrought nerves.

You nod, clinging to him like a lifeline amid the tumultuous sea of your emotions. "You’ll bring him home," you say, your voice tinged with both hope and desperation, more as an affirmation than a question.

"I will," Inho reassures, his voice imbued with determination and a fierce resolve. Leaving you in the care of another trusted aide, he steps back, giving one last reassuring squeeze to your hand before joining the search.

As Inho rushes out to find Jaehyun, his mind is consumed with guilt. He berates himself for being a bad father, too busy with work to spend time with his child. The pain of losing his first wife is still fresh, and the mere thought of losing another loved one is unbearable.

"Why didn't I spend more time with him?" he mutters under his breath, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Memories of Jaehyun's laughter and your gentle smile flood his thoughts, intensifying his sense of urgency.

Frantically searching the building, calling out Jaehyun’s name, Inho's panic escalates with each empty room. His heart races, and his breaths come in short, desperate gasps. Just as he's thinking the worst, his walkie-talkie crackles to life—it's a call from a guard.

“Frontman,” says the guard, his voice slightly nervous, “I believe I know where your son is. He was seen heading towards the old game room. Stage 7.”

Without wasting a second, Inho sprints to the game room, dread and hope battling within him. He presses the button on his walkie-talkie and speaks in a cold, deadly voice, “If anyone hurts my child, there will be dire consequences.”

Approaching the room, Inho pushes open the door without hesitation. The familiar setup catches his eye immediately—it's the same room used for playing "Dalgona." His eyes scan the room desperately, and finally, he sees him— your son, Jaehyun, sitting in a corner, happily nibbling on a piece of Dalgona.

“Jaehyun!” Inho calls out, his voice a mixture of relief and authority.

Jaehyun looks up, startled and scared, his eyes widening in confusion. It dawns on Inho that he's still wearing the Front Man mask, which his son has never seen before.

Hastily, Inho removes the mask, revealing his face. “Jaehyun-ah, it’s appa,” he says, his voice softening.

Jaehyun's fear melts into recognition and then into a wide, delighted smile. “Appa!” he exclaims, jumping up and running into Inho’s open arms.

Relief washes over Inho as he holds Jaehyun tight, the weight of his fears dissolving in the warmth of the embrace. Tears of gratitude and overwhelming love sting his eyes as he showers his son with kisses.

“Never run off like that again,” Inho says, his voice gentle but firm. “Eomma and I were so worried.”

Jaehyun looks up, his small hand reaching out to wipe away Inho's tears. “Appa, no cry,” he says, his voice filled with innocence.

Surprised by his own tears, Inho chuckles softly, “Appa's okay. I love you so much."

“wuv you too,” Jaehyun responds, tightening his little arms around Inho's neck.

Inho's heart swells with love and relief. He puts his mask back on, knowing he must return to his role but grateful for this precious moment. He picks up Jaehyun, carrying him out of the game room.

As they head home, Inho thinks of you waiting for them, and he feels a profound sense of gratitude. Holding Jaehyun close, he carries the warmth of their reunion with him, vowing to cherish every moment with his family from now on.

[catchastarorten]

—Two sides of a coin.

Pairing: Young-il / Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

Summary: when he went into the games and blended in as a player, he didn’t expect himself to start caring for you so much. However, during Mingle, he realized you might not be so different from him…

Warnings: In-ho & Young-il are interchangeable—I used both in here, violence, death, him being concerned for you a lot, fast-paced, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.0k

You had caught his attention early on, long before you had even spoken to him. You weren’t like the others—no frantic alliances, no desperate pleas. You moved through the games like a shadow, calculating but not ruthless, detached but not cold. You held people at a distance, but you weren’t cruel about it. That intrigued him.

He watched how the others in his group gravitated toward you, despite knowing next to nothing about you. You let them in just enough to function as a team, but no further. And yet, there were moments when you let something slip—when your guard lowered just slightly, a half-smile at Jung-bae and Dae-ho, a quick hand extended to steady Jun-hee when she winced in pain, her hands covering her stomach.

It made In-ho wonder. Who were you, really? What had brought you here?

More than that—why did he care?

He wasn’t supposed to. He was here with a purpose. Not to get attached. And yet, every time a new game started and ended, his first instinct was to check on you. To make sure you were still there. Still breathing. Still alive.

Like now.

The platform beneath him whirred as Mingle began again, spinning slow but fast enough to disorient, especially in a state of panic, though he barely felt it. The more players lost, the more chaotic it became. Fear made people desperate, and desperate people were unpredictable.

His eyes stayed on you.

You stood with your usual quiet focus, weight balanced perfectly, already anticipating the moment the platform would stop.

The moment the platform jerked to a halt, the voice crackled overhead:

“Five.”

Panic erupted around him instantly.

People lunged, grabbing at whoever was closest, shoving and clawing to form groups. He ignored them all, moving toward you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your wrist—

And then someone crashed into him.

The impact sent him stumbling just enough to lose sight of you.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

No.

Shoving past bodies, he searched for you, ignoring the hands trying to pull him into groups, or Dae-ho’s constant call for him. The countdown was already ticking down, but his only thought was find her, find her, find her.

Then he saw you.

You had spotted the others—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Dae-ho. They were waving at you, shouting from the front of one of the rooms they found empty.

Four.

They needed one more.

You didn’t make a move right away, your head turning around as if you were looking for something—or someone. Then, your eyes locked with In-ho, the lingering look told him to go with the group, and he felt his breath hitch.

Before In-ho could try to communicate that you needed to be the one who’s safe—you ran.

Not towards the room, but into the waves of people scrambling to find others to get into a room.

He cursed under his breath and ran toward the other four, who all shouted for him.

The doors slammed shut. His breathing quickened by the thought of you being eliminated. What if you didn’t find another group? What if you didn’t find a room?

A moment later, the final buzzer sounded, and the doors locked.

The ones who had failed to form groups pounded against the locked doors, their screams cut short by the inevitable gunshots. The guards moved in, silent and efficient, dragging the bodies away.

It should have been routine. In-ho had seen this before. He had orchestrated it before.

But he barely saw any of it.

Because all he could think was—was she inside?

Had you made it?

When the clean-up was over, the doors unlocked, allowing the players to come out of the rooms. In-ho’s first thought was to look for you in the crowds of players.

You stepped out from another room. Alive.

He felt the air rush from his lungs.

For a second, he didn’t move. Just stood there, taking in the sight of you, as if his mind needed proof. You walked out with that same composed stride, only the slight rise and fall of your chest betraying the fact that you had almost died.

And then—then you smirked.

That soft, knowing smirk. Like you were telling him, I’m fine. See? You didn’t need to worry.

Something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, his feet carried him forward, fast, almost desperate. He barely registered the others, barely cared if they noticed.

He just needed—

He stopped inches away from you.

His breath was steady, but his hands twitching at his sides. He had almost lost you. The realization crashed into him harder than it should have. It unsettled him, made his pulse hammer in a way he didn’t like. He had known fear before, but never like this.

And you—damn you, you just stood there, watching him with those unreadable eyes. You had no idea. No idea how close he was to pulling you into his arms just to make sure you were real. To confirm you were still here. He forced himself to breathe, to shove the instinct down.

You smirked again, tilting your head slightly. “Missed me?”

“You worried me.” Young-il said simply, trying to calm himself, giving you a smile, though it felt a bit forced.

“I saved you too.”

—

The last round.

The tension was suffocating.

126 players left. Only 50 rooms. It meant 26 people were guaranteed to die if the remaining players were required to form pairs.

You felt it in the way the bodies around you tensed, the way some players shifted closer together, while others eyed their competition like prey.

The platform had barely stopped spinning when the announcement came.

“Two.”

Young-il didn’t hesitate. He didn’t stop to think, didn’t give himself a moment to assess. His body moved purely on instinct. His hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist in a firm grip, and before you could react, he pulled you forward.

“Come on!"

There was no time to wait. No time to look for anyone else. He needed you by his side, needed to ensure that you wouldn’t be swallowed by the chaos erupting all around.

And it was chaos.

Players lunged for one another, hands grabbing, shoving, desperate to form pairs before the rooms filled. The knowledge that not everyone would make it—that some would be left behind to die—drove them to madness. Some scrambled without thought, others moved with purpose, pulling people down, throwing punches, trampling those too slow to keep up.

The room was in sight.

Not far. Just a few more feet.

Then something slammed into him.

A body, heavy and frantic, slammed into his side with brute force, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him crashing to the ground. The grip on your wrist slipped away as his back hit the hard platform floor.

The player who tackled him was bigger—strong, but wild with panic. His hands clawed at Young-il’s teal tracksuit, trying to shove him back down. A split second’s hesitation in a game like this could mean death. He knew that.

But before he could fully react—before he could twist the man off him and take back control, you were already moving. No hesitation. You grabbed the man’s collar, your grip brutal and sure, and yanked him off with shocking strength. Young-il barely had time to register the movement before—

Crack.

A sickening sound, one that echoed in the madness.

Your foot came down hard, precise, against the man’s leg. The force of it snapped the bone like it was nothing more than a twig beneath your heel.

The man screamed—a raw, gut-wrenching sound—but it was already over. He collapsed, writhing, his face twisted in agony. But you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at Young-il.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, In-ho was stunned. Not by the violence. He had seen worse. Done worse. 

But by you.

The sheer efficiency of it. The lack of hesitation, the brutal finality in the way you moved. You didn’t even look at the man after you broke him. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t tremble, didn’t stop to think about what you had just done. There was no regret in your eyes. No guilt. Just cold, calculated action.

For a single breath, he just stared at you, trying to make sense of what he had just seen, of who he was looking at.

Then your fingers curled around his arm, yanking him to his feet with a sharp, urgent tug.

“Move!”

That single word shattered whatever had frozen him.

He shoved the thoughts aside and ran with you, the chaos of the game roaring in his ears. He could process it later. Right now, all that mattered was survival.

The room was just ahead, one of the few left.

One last sprint.

Young-il pulled you forward, feet pounding against the floor. Almost there. 

You both got inside.

The door slammed shut behind you.

For a moment, the world outside faded, the noise of screams muffled by the walls enclosing you both. The sheer brutality of the game had been left outside the door. Inside was silence, heavy and suffocating.

But then—a presence... A third person in the small room with you and Young-il.

A man stood against the far wall, panting, sweat forming on his forehead.

Young-il’s stomach coiled.

You weren’t safe yet.

“There’s only room for two,” he said, voice calm, controlled.

The man’s breathing hitched. His wild, panicked eyes darted between you and Young-il, looking for a way out, a way through.

“I—I was here first,” the man stammered. His voice wavered.

Young-il stepped forward, his presence looming, his voice quiet but sharp.

“Get out.”

The man flinched but held his ground. Desperation flickered in his expression, the refusal to accept his fate. “No way,” the other player tried to sound firm, his eyes flickered between the two of you again, desperate. “Please.”

Young-il exhaled sharply. There was no point in wasting words.

In a single, fluid motion, his arm shot out, wrapping around the man’s throat. The struggle was brief. Short-lived. The other player clawed at Young-il's arm, his legs kicking as they slowly slid down against the wall.

A sharp, sickening crack filled the air, final and absolute.

The body went limp against him. Dead weight.

Young-il let go of the body.

His breathing was quickened, but his eyes were steady. His heartbeat calm. He had done this before. Many times. It didn’t shake him. Didn’t bother him.

He looked up at you, and once again, you surprised him.

Because you weren’t shocked. You weren’t even remotely fazed. You stood by the door, blocking it, your eyes locking with his as if you had expected this outcome from the moment you entered and saw the other player. You hadn’t gasped, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t looked at him like he just committed some great treason.

You had simply accepted it as fast as it came.

And that—that sent something twisting inside him in a way he didn’t fully understand.

He had seen it in the way you moved, in the way you made decisions without hesitation. He had seen it in the way you had broken that man’s leg without a second thought, in the way you had looked at him after—assessing, calculating, but never afraid.

And now, in the quiet aftermath of the kill, you weren’t recoiling from him either.

No.

You were simply watching.

Like you had known all along exactly what he was capable of. And you didn’t care.

That sent a strange, sharp feeling through him. A curiosity. An understanding.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The doors locked with a click as the timer ran out, the sound of gunshots filled the air, the distant screams beyond the door fading as the game ended.

Finally, he exhaled, his fingers twitching at his side.

“We’re alive,” he said, voice steady. You just gave him a nod, turning your back to him as you looked to the chaos outside through the small space on the door.

Young-il rested against the wall, his mind processing all that had happened.

Then, his lips curled, a soft smirk that you couldn’t see.

[pixiexdusts-world]

A taste of temptation

Hwang In-ho x younger!reader

Summary: Hwang In-ho’s shy date shares their first kiss with him, as he draws them into his world of control and temptation.

Word count: 668

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A Taste of Temptation

The night had ended too soon, or maybe not soon enough. Hwang In-ho, the stoic, ever-controlled figure I had gotten to know over the past few weeks, walked me to my doorstep in silence. My heart hammered against my chest with every step, each one feeling heavier than the last. He was older, commanding, intimidating even, yet there was something about his gaze that made me feel exposed, like he could see right through me.

I didn’t know how to act. The dinner had been pleasant, though I couldn’t help but fumble with my words, my hands, my nervous energy making itself known in every little movement. When he had asked if I’d like to go out again, I could hardly breathe. Was this really happening? Did he actually want to spend more time with me?

We reached my apartment, and I turned to face him, my heart in my throat. He wasn’t much taller than me, but somehow, he seemed to tower over me. His eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—were focused on me, studying, assessing. He was waiting for me to say something, but my mind had gone blank.

“You’ve been quiet all evening,” he said, his voice low and steady, almost like he was amused by my awkwardness.

I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, my fingers nervously twisted the strap of my purse. He stepped closer, so close that I could feel his breath, warm against my face. I swallowed hard, too nervous to move, too scared to break the tension between us.

“You’re nervous,” he noted, the corner of his mouth lifting into a subtle smile. “I can feel it.”

I nodded, barely able to meet his gaze.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still with an edge of something darker. “I don’t bite… unless you ask me to.”

His words sent a chill down my spine, and I instinctively took a step back, only for him to move with me, closing the distance in an instant. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol from dinner or the overwhelming tension, but something in me urged me to speak.

“I… I’ve never…”

His expression changed, and I noticed a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Never kissed anyone?” he asked, his tone smooth, like he was savoring the words.

I nodded, my face burning with embarrassment.

“Hmm,” he murmured, his voice tinged with something darker now. “You’re very… innocent.” He didn’t sound judgmental, but rather… intrigued. “I think I could teach you a few things.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, suddenly unsure of where this was going. But before I could pull away, his hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. The touch was gentle, but there was a possessiveness in it that sent a shiver through me.

“You’re too beautiful to be this shy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me show you something different.”

His lips were just inches from mine now, his breath mixing with mine. I could feel the heat from his body, and it made my head spin. I had never been this close to anyone before—especially not someone like him. My hands shook as I tried to step back, but he was already pulling me in, his hand gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing along my skin.

“Relax,” he said, his voice soothing but with a hint of something darker beneath it. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to see how you react.”

Before I could protest, his lips pressed softly against mine. It was slow, measured, but as soon as his lips touched mine, everything else disappeared. He was gentle at first, coaxing me to respond, his kiss deepening when he felt me hesitate.

I was frozen, unsure of what to do, how to respond. His lips parted slightly, and his tongue brushed against mine, a silent invitation. He wanted more. He wanted to take control. And for some reason, I found myself letting him.

His kiss became more insistent, his hand now resting at the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I could feel his power in every movement, the way he commanded my body without a single word.

“You’re not as innocent as you think,” he murmured between kisses, his lips moving to my neck. “You just need someone to help you find out.”

His words sent a rush of warmth through me, and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back, feeling a part of me start to unravel under his touch. He was right—there was something in me that wanted to give in, to let him guide me, even if I didn’t fully understand what that would mean.

For the first time in my life, I felt a thrill from the way he controlled me, a temptation that I wasn’t sure I was ready for—but a temptation that felt impossible to resist.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ let the light in ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is a part one to this imagine, gods and monsters!

˚ ༘♡ the six-legged pentathlon had been an unforgiving challenge, following immediately after the tense ordeal of red light, green light. it was a game designed to push players to their limits, demanding perfect coordination and unwavering resolve. yet, despite the crushing pressure, you and your husband had been the deciding votes that ensured the games would continue. though it was a decision made out of necessity, it had not come without consequence. here, within the confines of the competition, hwang in-ho was not your husband, and you were not his wife. there were no tender reassurances, no whispered promises to endure together. you were merely 001 and 077, two strangers bound by unspoken loyalty.

˚ ༘♡ seong gi-hun had been the catalyst for in-ho’s unprecedented decision to shed his mask and walk among the players. a former victor, returning in defiance of the system, was an anomaly too intriguing for in-ho to ignore. his fascination was palpable, but you had your own reason for being here, one far more urgent and desperate. you could not let him face this alone. you loved him too much to stand by and watch from the shadows, even if it meant risking everything, including the life growing inside you and the young son you had left behind.

˚ ༘♡ “sorry about earlier, everyone,” in-ho said, his voice tranquil but edged with something indistinct. his expression was carefully composed, but you recognized the faint frown pulling at his lips. for a mere minute, your eyes met his, an instance of silent understanding passing between you before you forced yourself to look away.

˚ ༘♡ he had played the fourth game, spinning top, a deceptively simple contest that had nearly cost your team everything. his struggle had been apparent, his movements uncertain, almost clumsy, and time had nearly slipped away because of it. yet you had seen the fleeting smirk that ghosted across his face. he had been pretending. but why? was it a calculated move to test gi-hun’s emotions? a twisted form of amusement at the expense of the others? you didn’t want to think about it, not now, not ever.

˚ ༘♡ you had spent years training yourself to look past the truth, to separate the man you loved from the masked figure who oversaw these atrocities. but you could never truly escape it. he was both, the husband who once held your hand with unshakable devotion, and the front man who dictated the survival of hundreds. that contradiction lived within him, and you had chosen to follow him into it, as you always would.

˚ ༘♡ you had played the ddakji game first, the opening challenge meant to test both skill and precision. it had taken you two tries to flip the paper tile, a frustratingly slow success compared to others, but a success nonetheless. any difficulty you had was genuine, no sham struggle, no purposeful pretense. it had simply been a test of persistence, one you barely passed.

˚ ༘♡ as the men around you exchanged stories, their voices weaving through tales of past lives, military service and gambling debts that had grown beyond their control, you found your thoughts wandering astray. player 222 sat alone on a cot a few feet away, her gaze cast downward, arms folded over her lap. her presence gnawed at you. the slight swell of her stomach, though subtle, was unmistakable. she was pregnant. what kind of desperation had led a woman in her condition to enter this place? how cruel must the world have been to her for this to feel like her only option?

˚ ༘♡ you had extended a hand earlier, offering her a place in your group for the six-legged pentathlon, but player 333 had pulled her away before she had the chance to respond. that single moment lingered in your mind, a thread of unease you couldn’t shake.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped away from your group and approached her. “pardon me,” you said gently.

˚ ༘♡ she glanced up, wary but polite, nodding in acknowledgment. up close, you could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the guarded way she held herself, as if bracing for the worst. for a short while, you hesitated. perhaps it was the anxiety thrumming in your veins, or perhaps it was something deeper, a shared understanding of fear and uncertainty that pulled the words from your lips before you could stop yourself.

˚ ༘♡ you exhaled softly, lowering your voice as you rested a hand against your abdomen. “i’m expecting as well,” you confessed. “about a month along.”

˚ ༘♡ her eyes widened, drifting down to the wedding ring that still gleamed on your finger. you saw the unspoken question forming on her lips, the curiosity she hesitated to voice. before she could, you cleared your throat, your expression carefully serene.

˚ ༘♡ “my husband died a few years back,” you said, the lie slipping out with startling ease. “i never took off my ring because… he is still alive in my heart and soul.”

˚ ༘♡ she nodded solemnly. “i’m sorry for your loss.” a pause, then a quiet confession of her own. “the father of my baby is… not in the picture.”

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t press further. you had noticed the way player 333 watched over her, his concern woven into the smallest of affectionate acts, but if she chose not to name him, you would respect that silence.

˚ ༘♡ instead, you offered her a small, reassuring smile. “would you like to join our group?” you asked. “the rest are good men, but it would be nice to not be the only woman.”

˚ ༘♡ for the first time since you approached, her guarded expression softened, just slightly. she didn’t answer right away, but she didn’t reject the offer either. and in a place where trust was obscure and survival was everything, that was enough. then, she nodded, a subtle gesture of compliance.

˚ ༘♡ she followed you back to the group, her steps hesitant but determined. as you approached, you felt in-ho’s gaze land on you, sharp with perplexity. you refused to meet his eyes, your pulse drumming in your ears. whatever he was thinking, whatever presumptions were running through his mind, you weren’t ready to face them yet.

˚ ༘♡ player 222 offered a polite bow to the men. “hello, sirs,” she said with practiced courtesy. “my name is kim jun-hee. player 077 was kind enough to allow me to join your group,” she turned her head slightly, looking up at you with a small, knowing smile. “as she took pity on me, being pregnant herself.”

˚ ༘♡ the world trembled beneath you.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught, blood running cold as a crushing surge of panic set in. in-ho didn’t know. he wasn’t supposed to know. you had hidden it carefully, layering deception upon deception because you understood well that he would never have let you come if he had known the truth. he had already fought you, already tried to stop you, and you had barely managed to convince him. but now, there was no going back. now, in-ho now knew of the secret you tried so desperately to conceal.

˚ ༘♡ a thick silence fell over the group.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re pregnant?” in-ho’s voice cut through the quiet, his disbelief laid bare. his usually enigmatic expression fractured, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you, searching for some kind of denial.

˚ ༘♡ the others were clearly surprised, but none more than him. the confusion, the stunned realization, it was written all over his face.

˚ ༘♡ kim jun-hee’s lips fell open in a small, embarrassed frown. “i’m sorry, i thought you all must have known,” she said, bowing her head apologetically.

˚ ༘♡ “no, no, it’s good someone told us,” in-ho said quickly, getting to his feet, his tone measured, but there was something vexed in it, something bordering on anger, or worry. “so we know to take extra caution with player 077.” his gaze cast over you, and then he added deliberately, “your husband must be worried sick about you.”

˚ ༘♡ you swallowed hard. your throat felt tight, but you forced out the lie. “he’s dead.” the words came fast, like a reflex, like a shield.

˚ ༘♡ jung-bae, one of the older players, let out a sorrowful sigh. “young-il, didn’t you say your wife passed away?” he shook his head, voice thick with sympathy. “how sad. we have both a widow and a widower among us.”

˚ ༘♡ young-il. it had to be the alias in-ho was using. your mind reeled as you processed the implications. you turned your head slightly, watching him. the golden band still encircled his finger, worn and unmoved, just like yours. you had never thought much of it before, perhaps a habit, a meaningless remnant of a life he had long since buried. but now, faced with the story he had crafted for himself, a terrible thought struck you. it wasn’t entirely a lie.

˚ ༘♡ his first wife, the one before you, had died. she had been pregnant when it happened. you had never pried, had never dared to ask, but you had once seen a photograph of her tucked away in his desk drawer. when you had questioned him, he had shut you down immediately, his voice flat and final. don’t ask about her. it’s in the past.

˚ ༘♡ but it wasn’t in the past, was it? not entirely. some ghosts never vanished. some wounds never fully closed. and now, standing here, knowing that he had just discovered you carried his child in the very games he had tried to shield you from, you realized, this wasn’t just about your safety. this wasn’t just about his authority as the front man or the secrecy of your relationship. this was about the fear that history was repeating itself. that he would once again lose the woman he loved as she carried his child.

˚ ༘♡ “then we will have to protect both of you!” player 388 declared with a grin, his enthusiasm somewhat jarring given the bleak circumstances.

˚ ༘♡ jung-bae and gi-hun nodded in agreement, their expressions shifting into something more steadfast.

˚ ༘♡ you let out a sigh, trying to dispel the rising panic clawing at your throat. “i’ve already had a child before,” you said, keeping your tone even, as if that somehow lessened the severity of your situation. “i’ll be fine. it’s jun-hee we should be more worried about.”

˚ ༘♡ in-ho wasn’t convinced. his lips parted slightly, and for a split second, he hesitated, as though mulling over his words carefully before speaking. “having a child before doesn’t make you or your baby any less vulnerable,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as if only meant for you to hear. “you shouldn’t place so much strain on yourself, sweetheart.”

˚ ༘♡ there it was. the carefully curated mask of indifference he had worn throughout the games had begun to slip, and you were the only one who could see it for what it was. you wanted to tell him to stop, to pull him aside and remind him that he couldn’t afford to behave like this, not here. if he didn’t regain control of himself, they would notice. gi-hun would notice.

˚ ༘♡ you forced a smile, lacing lightness into your tone, trying to maintain the illusion. “that’s very kind of you, sir,” you spoke, “but i don’t think my husband would appreciate you using such romantic names with me.”

˚ ༘♡ jung-bae let out a derisive snort. “he can’t be much of a husband if you’re stuck playing these games while pregnant with his child.”

˚ ༘♡ in-ho shook his head, exhaling softly. when he spoke again, there was something unfamiliar in his voice, a trace of restraint. “i’m sorry,” he said, his expression unreadable. “it’s only that you remind me of my late wife. she was as stubborn as you are.”

˚ ༘♡ your husband had taken on a false identity, young-il, but there was something in his story that wasn’t fabricated. his wife before you, the stubborn woman he never spoke of, had truly existed. you had seen the photograph once, tucked away in his desk drawer, aged and yellowing at the edges. you had asked about her, just once, and he had shut you down immediately. “never question me about her. it’s in the past.”

˚ ༘♡ yet now, the past was bleeding into the present, unraveling piece by piece.

˚ ༘♡ you sank onto the uncomfortable bed beside jun-hee, your hands resting over your stomach as if to protect yourself from the reality you had been so desperate to ignore.

˚ ༘♡ you had made a mistake.

˚ ༘♡ you should never have followed him.

˚ ༘♡ perhaps ignorance truly was bliss, because now you figured out too much. not only about the horrors of the games, but about him, about the things he kept buried so deeply that even you had never been allowed to see them. you had placed yourself in danger. far worse, you had placed your unborn child in danger. and as you risked a glance at gi-hun, who sat watching in-ho with quiet suspicion, you knew the cracks in your facade were already showing. you didn’t want to think about what would happen when gi-hun finally pieced it all together, as he would then have the woman that the man he loathed deeply loved before him, and the opportunity for a terribly potent revenge would be presented to him.

a/n: part two after an eternity!! i am writing for hwang in-ho again so please send requests!!! let me know your thoughts as well!! 🤍

[frost-queen]

🅵🆁🅾🅽🆃🅼🅰🅽 // part 10 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)

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Summary: A man comes in action when something drove him to it. With one thing on his mind, he ventures deep. Deeper than he has ever been to bring back what he yearns so eagerly. [series]

“Hajima!” – his hand trembled hard around the walkie. Sitting at the edge of his seat. Clutching the sofa chair tight with his other hand. Eyes glued onto the big screens in front of him. There was static on the walkie when he panted loud. Heart pounding in his chest with each beat. The triangle pink suit had slightly turned his head to the side. Making known to him, they had heard him. The frontman moved the walkie closer to his mouth once more.

Static coming through as he ended it with a click. – “Don’t shoot her anywhere lethal.” – he ordered out. Setting the walkie down, he kept watching the big screens. Seeing how the triangle pink suit lowered his gun. Lowering it so he wasn’t pointing at your head anymore. Forced to watch it. To watch you after you had made a stupid mistake. Something he should’ve foreseen. The sudden bang made him startle. Taken back by the sound as it normally wouldn’t affect him.

His gaze darted briefly to the side. Watching Gi-hun. Watching him sink to his knees with uncontrollable tears. His cries echoing through the room. It made him slightly tilt his head. Slightly narrowing his eyes. He had seen Gi-hun at the very bottom before. Right when he shot Jung-bae in front of him. The frontman was intrigued by how Gi-hun seemed to be more affected by your death that Jung-bae’s. His gaze got drawn back to your tile.

Seeing you lay down. Lifeless. Circle pink suits entering the scene with a black coffin. Setting the coffin down beside you. Opening the lid. Carrying you by your shoulders and legs. Lifting you up from the pool of blood to lay carefully in the box. The frontman’s attention got drawn away again. Seeing Hyun-ju cursing and shouting loud at the pink suits but also at the white pieces.

The frontman moved the walkie closer to his mouth once more. Changing the station on it. Silencing the static when he pressed to speak.- “Mark it.” – he told them. One of the circle pink suits remained knelt down. Dipping a gloved finger into the pool of blood. Marking it with a cross at the edge.

With one firm nod, he helped lift it up.  Tagged, the pink suits carried you out of the room so that the game of chess could continue. There was a wild commotion. The frontman watching your friends. The people he had spend the past few days with, get overwhelmed. Ready to riot and kill everyone in the room.

He let his gaze go away from the screen. Right to the black mask stationed neatly on a tray at his side. With a stern expression, he reached for it. Lifting it up and bringing it closer to his face. Hiding his true identity.

Getting up, he could care less about what was displaying on the big screens. Not interested in how the games endured. Putting his hood on, he left his room without a last look. Following a few corners to head for the blue stairs. Two square pink suits that stood guard took one look at him before standing stiff.

Not batting an eye at him as he walked past. Heading down the stairs without being questioned. For no one questioned the frontman. When he had gone down a few stairs, he gently started to quicken his pace. Jogging down the stairs to reach his destination in time. His shadow bouncing off the deep blue walls as he made his way deeper into the fortress.

The circle pink suits walked in line. Coffin in between them. Carrying it out as they were ordered. Following the long corridors towards the ovens. Walking a dead’s path. All who roamed these halls eliminated. Hundreds. Thousands. Men. Women. Young. Old. All but one thing in common. Their lives ended in the pursuit of money. All carried out in black coffins strapped with a pink ribbon.

A gift. One last scenery of beauty before they reached the ovens. Hundreds. Thousands. Having met their fate’s here. Now they carried out one more. One more towards the last post. The last exit from this earth. Souls gone, but bodies remaining. The final cleansing of this earth. A triangle pink suit opened the door for them. Allowing them to enter. Enter the oven room.

Ovens lined up from wall to wall. Coffin getting placed on a stander. One of the circle pink suits went to open the glass door. Looking back at his comrade. They nodded back before shoving the coffin inside. Glass door closing. The circle suit came standing in front of the glass door. Watching as the black coffin laid inside.

Waiting for the heat. The underground opened making the black coffin drop down. Then the flames came. Burning nothing but air. Sending a heat through the oven it made the pink suit take a step back from the warmth. Remaining there a moment before they turned on their heel. Walking out of the oven room for their next one to cleanse of this earth.

The coffin dropped with a loud thud down. Nearly cracking the wood. Square pink suits approached. One of them bend a bit through their knees. Finger gliding over the blood mark. They looked up to their partner, giving them a nod.

Each taking a side, they lifted the coffin up once more. Another square pink suit opening the door for them. A secluded dark room. Blood splatters on the walls and floors. Some already dried up from over the years. – “Ah! A new subject.” – a man wearing a white coat spoke.

The pink suits placed the coffin down. Opening the lid from it. Taking your arms and legs, they carried you up. The surgeon gesturing at the table. They moved sideways placing your body down. The surgeon came hovering over you with a loud hum. Seeing the red stain on your shirt. It made him lift your shirt up to see the bullet wound for himself. Eyes flashed open with a panic. Pink suits jumped in, grabbing you by your shoulders and feet. Keeping them pressed down against the table.

The surgeon coming in your vision. Shushing you as his hand went to your hair. – “All will be over doll.” – he let out with a crooked grin. Your eyes widened seeing the scalpel in your vision. The pink suit pressed a gloved hand over your mouth. Shaking your head, you tried to scream. Feet kicking at the grip of the other pink suit. The scalpel kept coming closer to your throat.

As it made you scream even louder against the gloved hands. For some reason you weren’t dead yet, but soon you would be. Wondering what kind of sick games these were. The scalpel glistered brightly under the light bulb. The sight of it nearly made you pass out. The surgeon kept shushing you, pressing his hand deep onto your chest.

The tip of his scalpel close to your skin. One simple gesture it took. One swift motion and a thin line of red would form. Right before more red would gush out. The tip of it touched your skin as your sweat broke out. – “Hajima!” – a sudden loud and deep voice let out. The scalpel dropped, clattering against the floor. The surgeon staring in shock back at the black mask.

Never had he seen the frontman down here. The frontman swallowed hard, straightening his posture. Mask staring down at you. You couldn’t look away from him. Couldn’t look away from the piercing gaze even with a mask on before you passed out. The world fading around you, swooping you under. – “Tteonada.” – he ordered the pink suits. They knew better than to go against the frontman.

Bowing respectfully before taking their leave. The surgeon humbled himself to his knees with open arms. – “You bless me with your presence frontman.” – he said in a kissery way. The frontman approached the table more.

Tilting his head at you laying down on the table. The surgeon could care him less. – “Igeoyo.” – the frontman said with a point. The surgeon got up noddingly. – “Yes… yes I was about to end this one’s life for the organs.” – he responded proudly. Presuming the frontman was here to watch.

The frontman turned his head to the surgeon. The sight of the mask alone making him gulp loud. – “Save this one.” – he let out. The surgeon’s eyes popped wide open. – “What?” – he called out confused.

The frontman turned more towards him, grabbing him firm by his coat. – “Did I stutter?” – he spoke with agitation. The surgeon shook his head pleadingly for mercy. The frontman let go of him. The surgeon nodded his head. Knowing he was in no right condition to save a life. Not with the right equipment here.

He took out a needle, nearing it to you but before he could do anything. His wrist got grabbed firm by the frontman. – “To… to sedate her… I… I can’t take out the bullet if she keeps squirming.” – he informed him with a sweaty forehead. Trembling on his knees a bit that if he did something wrong, it would end badly for his life.

The frontman’s grip faltered allowing the man to put you down. The frontman watched. Kept a close eye on you as your body became numb. The surgeon lifted your shirt up to reach the bullet wound in your side. The surgeon grabbed a tool as he suddenly heard the click of a gun unlocking behind him.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder, he could see the gun pointed at him. Making him whimper soft with trembling hands. – “Keep a steady hand, surgeon.” – the frontman spoke as a threat. – “Ye!” – he called out with a stiff posture. Receiving the order from his superior.

The frontman kept pointing the gun at the surgeon while he worked. Grabbed tweezers to take the bullet out. Depping away blood in the process to keep his vision clear. Working his way with a lethal weapon pointed at him. Knowing that one bad slip would cause his skull to be penetrated by a bullet.

The bullet clattered into the metal bowl. Sighing relieved as all he needed to do now was stitch you up. Under the watchful eye of the frontman. You got stitched up. Patched up and bound to secure your stitches. A bandage going round your stomach.

The surgeon took a trembling step back, backing up against the wall. The frontman putted his gun away, approaching the table. He touched the side of your head, turning your head to the other side. Seeing how sweaty your neck was. He lowered himself a bit, sliding his arms underneath you.

Grunting quietly as he picked you up. The surgeon came closer once more. – “She… she is in no condition to be moved.” – he told him. – “Move!” – the frontman let out. Ushering the man to get out of the way. The surgeon bowed his head, stepping aside. The frontman walked out.

Leaving the stench of blood behind him. The square pink suits staring at the him when he walked past. Keeping quiet. Watching him leave. The frontman kept staring in front of him, setting off to climb the stairs back up with you in his arms. Bringing you to the one place, he would be sure to keep an eye on you. To keep you save from any harms way. His private quarters.

----------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[insidekatmind]

His- Hwang In Ho

Wearning: +18,slight smut

You are sitting on Hwang In-ho's lap with his cock inside you, in a black room lit only by the soft light of the large screen in front of you. His face is calm, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor, where the players move slowly during the game of “One, two, three, star.”

His hand, warm and firm, rests on your thigh. His fingers move slowly, tracing circles on your bare thigh. It's a gesture that should make you uncomfortable, but there's something hypnotic in the calm with which he does it, as if it were natural for him to have that kind of control over you and everything around him.

You were sitting on him, with his cock inside you. You didn't move, you just warmed up his cock while he enjoyed the sensation.

“You're lucky you're not there,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. His eyes do not move away from the screen, where a newly fallen player is mercilessly eliminated.

“Lucky?” you repeat, almost in disbelief. His grip on your thigh tightens slightly, as if to remind you that you have no choice.

“Yes,” he replies, finally looking down at you. His face is serious, but there is a hint of something deeper, almost tender, in his eyes. “I would never have let you be among them. You are too precious.”

You feel a shiver down your spine. It's unclear whether it's fear, attraction, or a disturbing mix of the two. In-ho looks back at the screen, but doesn't stop stroking your thigh, the movements now slower, more deliberate.

“I don't understand why you chose me,” you murmur, your voice barely audible.

“Because you don't belong to that world,” he replies without hesitation. “You are too young, too beautiful to be thrown away like one of them.”

His words hit you like a rock. You know that his protection is not entirely altruistic; you have become his possession, something he wants to keep away from the rest of the cruel world. But you can't help but wonder if, deep down, there's a part of him that wants more than that.

The game on the screen continues, but in the room time seems to have stopped. His hand on your thigh, his slow, controlled breathing, and his commanding presence are all you can feel. You're caught between the desire to escape and the strange, twisted safety and excitement you find in his arms.

You close your eyes feeling the feeling of his cock inside you without it moving or anything, You leaned into his chest and he grunted softly as he stopped your hips so you wouldn't move. A soft, subtle smile appears on In-ho’s lips as you leaning against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your skin, and his strong arms around you.He lets out a soft, contented sigh, appreciating the intimacy of your touch.“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted something like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry.

His hand runs through your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. He seems to be lost in thought, but his eyes never leave your face.“You’re beautiful,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

You blushed at his words as you felt his cock throb inside you and you moaned, you wanted to move on him so bad but he wouldn't let you. Your moan doesn’t go unnoticed by In-ho, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans towards your ear, his lips barely touching your skin as he whispers, “I can feel how much you want to move.” His grip around your body tightens slightly, keeping you in place. He enjoys the anticipation, the fact that you’re at his mercy completely.

“But I like to have you like this for a little while longer,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. You moaned softly as your pussy tightened around his cock, you wanted to ride him so bad but you nodded at his command.

In-ho lets out a low growl as he feels you tighten around him. He can't help but feel a surge of desire, but he holds back.His arms remain wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling a little faster."Be patient," he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and firm.

You nod, closing your eyes, enjoying this sensation. In-ho can feel how much you’re enjoying the situation, and it makes him smile. He's enjoying it too, the control he has over you, the way your body reacts to his every touch.

He leans in closer, his lips gently grazing the side of your neck. “You're so sensitive,” he purrs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love how responsive you are to me.”

You moan softly at his words. In-ho takes notice of your every reaction. He loves the effect his words have on you.He begins to place kisses along your neck, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. He alternates between light, feather-like kisses and more firm, lingering ones, his lips moving slowly as he takes his time.

“I'll make you ride my cock when this game ends, but for now, warm it up for me like you're doing,” he murmurs through kisses on your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. He's in complete control, and it's both exciting and maddening.

“Of course,” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you respond to his command. In-ho nods approvingly, his lips still moving against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble.

His hands run up and down your back, exploring every inch of your body, making sure you feel the weight of his presence.The game on the screen continues, and you knew you had to wait. You were anxiously waiting for this game to end so you could finally have everything you want.

[finitalacommediah]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, etc.

playlist inspired by him

[greengoblinswifey]

could you do a story where frontman is readers sugar daddy, please and thank you I ❤️ your writing.

Luxury & Lies— Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

summary— Being In-ho’s sugar baby came with luxuries beyond your wildest dreams. You never questioned where his wealth came from, only cared about what you could get out of him. But when you stumbled upon the truth, the Squid Game and the power he held as the Front Man, you knew exactly how to use it to your advantage. And In-ho? He’d do anything to keep you.

warnings— Sugar daddy!in-ho, manipulation, cunnilingus, body worship, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— Thank you and enjoy <3

Youth and beauty on the outside was not eternal, that being said, you were always one to use it to your advantage.

It was by using those assets that caused you to stumble upon Hwang In-ho. He was an older yet very attractive man and obviously very wealthy. You knew how to play the game right and the night you had met In-ho, you were seated in the lounge area of an upscale restaurant that was famous for transactions like this.

He slipped into the seat next to you, decked in an expensive suit and as soon as you flipped your hair and tilted your head, he was sold.

You didn’t have to say much, especially when it came to older men, you let him do the talking, you were just there to look pretty and get what you want. And you got way more than you bargained for being Hwang In-ho’s sugar baby.

In-ho always gave you what you wanted. That was the foundation of your arrangement. You asked, and he delivered—no questions, no hesitations. It started with luxury handbags and designer clothes and shoes, then first class trips and five star hotels, and before you knew it, you had an entire apartment paid for in your name and a collection of jewelry that could make royalty jealous.

Being with In-ho meant being spoiled, but it also meant playing your role. You were his eye candy at every event, the one in his arm in dresses he picked out for you, flashing a smile that made investors and business partners envious. You liked the life you lived, liked the way people looked at you when you walked into a room together.

You never questioned how he could afford it all. What did it matter? You weren’t with him for his morality, you were with him for what he could give you.

But then you found out.

It had been an accident, really. You were in his office at the penthouse, bored and nosy, and you stumbled across a locked drawer in his desk. He always kept things private, but this was different, the secrecy intrigued you. So you looked until you found the key, expecting maybe some business documents or an old affair he never wanted you to know about.

You didn’t expect tapes.

Or the footage of people being slaughtered.

You sat frozen, watching clips from the so called Squid Game, men and women gunned down like animals, the screams piercing even through the speakers of his monitor. And there, in the midst of it all, was him—your sugar daddy, the man who paid for your lifestyle, standing over it all in that black mask.

The Front Man.

The truth settled like ice in your veins, but strangely, you weren’t horrified. You were curious.

For the first time since meeting In-ho, you had leverage.

So, you confronted him.

You remembered the way he looked at you when you brought it up. The sharp inhale. The slight flinch. He had tried to keep you in the dark for a reason, because, deep down, he feared this exact moment.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah?” You folded your arms. “Well, I did.”

A pause. A long, heavy silence. And then, a confession. He admitted everything. How long he had been in charge. What the games really were. The money, the power, the control.

“I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he said eventually, looking down. “I won’t stop you.”

That was the moment you could have walked away. Should have, maybe. But you had no intention of leaving.

Instead, you put on a show, acted like you needed time, like you were shaken and unsure. Let him panic, let him compensate.

And, oh, did he compensate.

A brand new penthouse apartment, yours, fully paid for. A car, your dream model, delivered to your doorstep. Cash in your account, a credit card linked to his bank account. Jewelry, vacations, an all expenses paid trip with your homegirls on his private jet, all while he stayed behind, giving you space.

He only texted you once.

“Let me know when you're ready to talk.”

When you had everything you wanted, you decided it was time.

The night you returned, he was already waiting in your penthouse, standing by the windows with a glass of whiskey.

“You look beautiful,” he said, scanning your outfit like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, which he hadn’t. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was perfect,” you said, slipping off your coat and letting it drop onto the couch. “Thanks to you.”

He exhaled softly, nodding. “And are you ready to talk?”

“I am,” you said as you walked toward him slowly, heels clicking against the floor.

He tensed. You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against the glass, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“You kept a huge secret from me, In-ho,” you murmured, stopping just inches away. “That’s not something I can just forgive overnight.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“I bet you are.” You reached for his tie, giving it a gentle tug. “But sorry isn’t enough. You have to earn my trust again.”

His breathing hitched. “Anything,” he murmured, voice low. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

You smiled, slow and sultry. “Good,” you said, stepping backward toward the bedroom. “Then follow me.” And just like that, he did.

You led him across the penthouse, never looking back, because you didn’t need to, you could feel his presence behind you, could feel the heat of his stare. By the time you reached the bedroom, you stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting your head just slightly over your shoulder.

He was watching you with hungry, dark eyes, scanning every inch of you. And then, you let yourself fall back against the silk sheets, stretching out, parting your legs to make your point.

His breath came uneven. “You—”

“You said you’d do anything,” you murmured, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him closer. “Show me.”

Something inside him snapped.

He was on you in seconds, his hands gripping you, lips crashing against yours with a desperation you had never felt from him before. He wasn’t just indulging you—he was proving himself.

For the rest of the night, he did exactly that.

Because at the end of the day, you always got what you wanted.

The second In-ho had you beneath him, it was like something inside him broke loose. His hands were at your clothes in an instant, fabric tearing under his grip as he stripped you naked. The sound of ripping seams filled the air, followed by a sharp gasp from you as cool air met your skin.

“In-ho—”

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dark eyes flickering over you like he was soaking up every inch to memory.

His lips were on you before you could respond, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, over your breasts. His lips were everywhere, like he was trying to worship and make it up to you.

Then he was lower, his mouth pressing against your stomach, his hands holding you steady as you squirmed.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, breath catching.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “So perfect. Always so goddamn perfect for me.”

And then, he had you unraveling.

The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy had your back arching, fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure shot through you like lightning. He moaned against you, gripping your thighs to hold you still, but you couldn’t—not when he was devouring you like this, like he had been starved for you.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your pussy, pressing a kiss between every stroke of his tongue. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You barely heard him past the pleasure that built and built with every expert movement of his mouth. He was relentless, slow at first, savoring you, but when he felt you tense, when he heard the way you gasped his name, he tightened his grip and ravished you with ferocity that had your legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

And when you finally came, when you cried out so loud you swore the whole city could hear, he only held you through it, kissing your thighs, whispering praises against your heated skin.

“You’re a dream,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss just below your navel. “So beautiful. So good for me.”

In-ho didn’t stop. Even after you were left trembling beneath him, after your breath was still shaky and your body tingled from the aftershocks, he kept kissing you, soft presses of his lips against your skin.

“You're everything,” he murmured between kisses, trailing from your chest to your lips. “More than I deserve.”

The way you shivered when his fingers brushed your breasts, the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just below your chest. He worshiped you, whispering apologies against your skin.

“Forgive me,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “For everything. For keeping things from you, for being selfish enough to want you despite it all.”

You cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “You're not losing me,” you promised softly, and the way his eyes darkened told you he believed you—but he needed to prove himself anyway.

His mouth found yours in a desperate kiss, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you. You felt him—all of him, hard and heavy against your thigh.

Another thing about In-ho? He was the full package. The biggest you’d had, the biggest you probably ever would have, and he knew exactly how to use it.

He smirked at the way you swallowed hard, his hands skimming down your sides, teasing, making you wait.

“You always act like such a brat,” he murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “Like you don’t need me.” His hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But then I get you like this, and you melt for me.”

“In-ho,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of his cock as he slowly pressed against your folds. “Let me take care of you.”

And when he finally gave in, when he finally stopped teasing and claimed you, it was deep, slow, possessive. He worshiped you, murmuring praises against your lips, against your skin. He filled you inch by inch, your pussy quivering around him.

“You're perfect,” he groaned. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around him as he pulled you closer, right on his dick. Every slow, deep stroke unraveled you, and he felt everything, the way you clung to him, the way you gasped his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Give it to me. Cum.”

And when you finally did, when you cried out and your body tensed beneath him, he held you through it, his own breath ragged, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let you go.

He didn’t pull away right away—just kissed you through it, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. Soon, you felt the rush of his cum filling you up and his soft moans in your ear.

“Mine,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re mine.”

In-ho never just left you after. That wasn’t who he was.

No matter how intense things got, no matter how desperate or needy, he always made sure to take care of you after.

Tonight was no different.

He pressed a kiss to your temple before slipping away, only to return moments later with a warm cloth. He handled you carefully, murmuring soft praises as he cleaned you up, whispering apologies when you flinched from sensitivity. His touch was steady, so unlike the man who ran the most brutal game in existence. With you, he was different.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, running a hand down your thigh as he finished.

You nodded sleepily, reaching for him. “Mhm.”

That was all he needed to hear. He tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms, shifting until you were resting on his chest, his fingers tracing circles into your skin.

“I’ll prove myself to you every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You hummed in response, half asleep against him, but he knew you heard him.

That was something about In-ho, you knew this arrangement was transactional, but there was something deeply intimate in the way he held you after, in the way he needed to keep you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

Even now, his grip on you was firm.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled, fingertips skimming his jaw.

“You deserve it,” he murmured, eyes half lidded as he looked down at you. “And more.”

He held you like that for the rest of the night, whispering sweet nothings, pressing lazy kisses to your hair. You didn’t need to say it out loud, but you both knew, no matter how complicated things were, he wasn’t letting you go.

[voxslays]

JUST LIKE CANDY — SQUID GAMES MEN

Summary: The squid games men with a sweet, kind, and slightly naive reader, who is just a total sweetheart throughout the games. Warnings: American!Reader mentioned in the salesman’s part.

HWANG IN-HO

❀ How did such a sweet, caring being such as yourself end up in a place like this? That was In-ho’s first thought when you ran up to him, inviting to sit with your group, which conveniently had Gi-hun already in it. You could be useful. You were so young. Your trusting and naive nature was going to get you hurt. He knew what the people in these games would do for money, so from that day forward he vowed to protect you.

❀ He cheered you on in six legged race, making sure his guards knew not to kill you just in case your team didn’t make it to the end for some reason. And in mingle, he made sure you were no more than an arms length from him at all times. He’s gotta keep you safe, doesn’t he? And in the end—during the rebellion—he refuses to let you join. In-ho can’t risk losing another person he cares about. It would destroy him. So he begs you to stay put, and you do.

❀ When he finally makes it back to his quarters and becomes the frontman again, he makes sure you’re safe. For the next three games, he wastes no time telling the guards that they should give you hints and clues on the next games. Once this is all over, you two can be together, as you should’ve been all along.

THE SALESMAN (GONG YOO)

❀ When the salesman sees you—a foreigner, likely American—sitting on a wooden bench in the park he liked to walk in during his ‘work’ hours, he couldn’t help but think of what an impeccable target you would be. A perfect contestant for the games. So, Gong-Yoo approached you, expecting the normal untrusting response. Maybe you’d be confused, speaking in English or poor Korean.

❀ But the recruiter was shocked when you waved at him politely, letting him sit beside you. Yet, the most shocking of all, your Korean was amazing for a foreigner. He didn’t even have time to offer you a card to the games before he was engaged in a polite conversation with you. Gong-Yoo didn’t even want to recruit you for the games anymore. Despite being a sadist, subjecting you to such pain and torment seemed wrong for him to do.

❀ Gong-Yoo finds you every day on the same bench, waiting for him. You two quickly become friends, and then something more. The Salesman finds himself excited for your company. So when he asks you to get dinner with him, he couldn’t be more pleased when you happily accept his offer. Another win for him.

HWANG JUN-HO

❀ When Jun-ho discovers an American officer has been transferred to his department, he finds himself slightly intrigued. When he finally meets you, he’s shocked. When he thought of an American, you were the farthest thing from it. You were a complete angel. Not like how the other detectives had described Americans as patriotic and cocky. No, you were different, and Jun-ho feels himself drawn to you.

❀ Jun-ho suggests you work on the case together. I mean, you’re new to the country, aren’t you? You might need some help navigating Seoul! What if you get lost? Jun-ho should be there to guide you for your first time. That, and he might have…maybe…wanted to get to know you better. The two of you find yourselves meeting up quite frequently. At the park, the local library, the station. Anywhere, really.

❀ When the two of you finally ‘crack the case,’ as you say back in the states, Jun-ho cant help but fawn over you like a teenage boy. The way your excitement shows through your gleaming eyes, or how you immediately go to give him a high five. Yeah, he knows you’re the one for him.

[bruhstories]

Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple —  throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly. 

Still, he examined the picture —  your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died. 

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break. 

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy? 

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor. 

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back. 

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that. 

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care? 

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect. 

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

tagging: @ri1liane  @anmert1  @syraxnyra  @frshluvcats  @lanyia  @mettreads  @nightdark-dreamdark  @bridge-always  @lovekm  @audrey223  @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry  @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear  @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesblog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @warlabels @xcinnamonmalfoyx @rickgrimesismydaddy1 @jasonpetertoddismygod @marihoneywk @llghtsnoww @torkorpse @salivasupplier @okqur @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @certifiedlevisimp @kiss-themoongoodbye @bluehourss @alexa554 @sinful-tawtute @ithoughtthinks @nacatna-blog @riri53 @alexisabirdie @houta-habtet-houta

[littlepeach-world]

Baby on Board

Paring: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Summary: You and In-ho welcome your beautiful baby into the world.

Warnings: Emotional Intensity, Pregnancy and Childbirth, Past Trauma, Labor and Delivery, little angst idk, fluff, soft!inho, protective!inho, dad!inho, husband!inho

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: Just a short fic while I’m working on everyone’s request. Enjoy! 

Your life has been a tapestry of warmth, compassion, and an unwavering belief in the goodness of people. As you stand at the threshold of a new chapter, about to bring a new life into the world, you reflect on the journey that has brought you and your husband to this moment. His rigid exterior and commanding presence often mask a heart full of pain and love—a heart that you know intimately.

Before In-ho became the Front Man of the Squid Game, his life was scarred by a profound personal tragedy. You never knew his late wife, but you've seen the imprints of his loss in the silent sorrow that occasionally flickers in his eyes. His unborn child, too, was a loss that cut deeply into his soul. These memories, though rarely spoken about, have shaped the man he is today—authoritative, relentless, and emotionally guarded.

Despite this, you've come to understand that his ruthless pragmatism is a shield, a way to cope with the responsibilities that weigh heavily upon him. In-ho’s meticulous nature, his need for control and precision, all stem from his desire to prevent any further chaos or pain. Yet, beneath this exterior lies a man conflicted and complex, grappling with the shadows of his past and the duties of his present.

In-ho may rule the games with an iron fist, but your presence in his life brings a warmth that melts the ice around his heart. From the moment he fell in love with you, it was as if a light had pierced through the shrouded corners of his soul—a feeling he had never experienced before. Your own personality—a blend of empathy, nurturing, and optimism—complements his in ways that only destiny could orchestrate. Where he is methodical, you are spontaneous; where he is guarded, you are emotionally open.

Your relationship with him is a delicate balance of yin and yang. Your love is the sanctuary where In-ho can shed his armor, finding solace in the tenderness you offer. Through your creative pursuits and gentle spirit, you bring joy and beauty into his otherwise dark world, creating a space where both of you can breathe freely.

When you revealed to In-ho that you were pregnant, he was initially shocked, the news surfacing deep-seated fears and emotions. But that shock quickly turned into an all-encompassing happiness, deepening the love he felt for you. The idea of bringing a new life into the world—and into his life—was a prospect that filled his heart with newfound hope.

From that moment forward, In-ho became even more overprotective. His attention to your needs and desire to be near you at all times intensified. Never wanting to be away from you, he shadowed your every move, ensuring safety and comfort surrounded you, almost as if it were his new mission. This vigilant presence revealed the depths of his transformation—a man once cloaked in detachment, now a devoted protector with love as his guiding force.

Inho did everything for you. Whether it was cooking your meals, washing your hair, or changing your clothes, he took on each task with unwavering dedication, determined that you should never have to lift a finger. He found immense pleasure in caring for you, meticulously attending to even the smallest details of your life to ensure your absolute comfort and well-being. Through his actions, Inho demonstrated the profound love and commitment that drove his every movement and decision, showcasing a depth of affection that transformed not only his life but yours as well.

The day you go into labor is a whirlwind of emotions. In-ho, usually so composed and in control, becomes your pillar of support despite his visible nerves. As the contractions grow stronger, you see the cracks in his confident façade. He hates seeing you in pain, and each twinge of discomfort you experience reflects in the worry etched on his face.

He holds your hand tightly as you make your way to the hospital, his words of comfort doing as much to soothe his own fears as they do to ease your anxiety. “You’ve got this,” he whispers, his voice a steady anchor in the chaos. “I’m here with you every step of the way.”

In the delivery room, the world narrows to just you, In-ho, and the impending arrival of your baby. The pain is intense, and as you push with all your strength, In-ho’s supportive voice fills the room.

“You can do it, my love. You're so strong,” he says, kissing your forehead.

Through gritted teeth, you sometimes snap at him, the pain overwhelming your usual patience. “You did this to me, In-ho! I hate you right now!” you yell, tears streaming down your face.

In-ho only holds you tighter, a gentle smile on his lips. “I know, sweetheart. I know. You're doing amazing, and I love you so much,” he assures, his voice unwavering as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

Finally, with one last push, the room fills with the sound of your baby’s first cry. Relief washes over both of you. In-ho kisses you deeply, tears of pride in his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs against your lips. He then looks toward the doctor, who is offering him scissors to cut the umbilical cord.

His hands tremble slightly as he takes the scissors, but his resolve is clear. With a determined and loving expression, he cuts the cord, solidifying his role as a father. The doctor then takes the baby to perform the standard tests and clean them up.

In-ho refuses to leave the baby’s side, his eyes never straying from the tiny, precious form. He watches intently, his heart racing with every movement and sound, ensuring that everything is perfect. He holds his breath as the doctors perform their tests, only releasing it when told that everything is fine.

When the doctor hands you the baby first, In-ho’s heart swells with pride and love as he watches you hold your newborn for the first time. He’s overcome with emotion, tears stinging his eyes as he sees you cradling the tiny life you both created.

You gaze at him, a silent understanding passing between you, knowing that this moment is as monumental for him as it is for you. After a few precious moments, you gently pass the baby to him.

His breath catches in his throat as he gazes into the eyes of his newborn for the first time. A soft gasp escapes his lips as his eyes fill with tears.

"Hello, little one," he whispers, his voice filled with awe and tenderness. He brushes a gentle finger across the baby's cheek, marveling at the soft, delicate skin. "I love you more than words can say." The look on his face is one of pure adoration and vulnerability, a side of In-ho rarely seen by the outside world.

As you both sit on the hospital bed, you, still exhausted, lay your head on In-ho’s shoulder while he cradles your newborn for the first time. Tears stream down his face, unable to contain the flood of emotions.

“Thank you for letting me be a dad,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I vow to always love and protect you both, no matter what.”

Together, you gaze at the tiny, fragile life you've brought into the world, with a sense of completion and wholeness. The strong and determined man you fell in love with remains, but now he has also become a loving husband and devoted father. Inho reflects deeply on how empty and mundane his life was before you came into it, realizing with gratitude how you, have illuminated every shadowed corner of his existence.

Even with his steely resolve, he often feels unworthy of someone as extraordinary as you. He questions what you see in him and marvels at his fortune of ending up with someone so perfect. Inho silently vows to cherish and adore you like a queen for all the days of his life, promising to honor and protect you and your newborn with every fiber of his being.

Your journey together, sculpted by balance, unwavering support, and profound understanding, stands as a testament to the enduring power of love. Inho has never experienced a love as deep and transformative as the one he shares with you and your child. The connection and devotion he feels are unparalleled, a symphony he wishes to nurture forever.

In a world often enveloped in darkness, your love is the light that guides him—a beacon of hope and warmth he desperately clings to. As you both embark on this new chapter, you face the future hand-in-hand, with a bond so strong that no tragedy can sever it.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman////secrets in the Dark

Anonymous request: could I request where the players thinks that you and Young-il are enemies, but in reality you and him are married

Warnings, Violence, Death, Psychological Tension, Manipulation and Betrayal, Conflict and Arguments, Survival Situations, Trauma, Emotions Distress, Isolation, Morally Ambiguous choices

The players were sitting on ground, some sitting in small groups, others keeping to themselves and You, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee were sitting together, engaged in a lively conversation. The group had been discussing something animatedly, laughing at jokes and tossing opinions back and forth. The energy was good, a natural flow that had everyone feeling at ease. Gi-hun had just finished making a joke when Young-il suddenly walked up, inserting himself into the circle without much hesitation. His interruption was abrupt, cutting through the thread of what someone was saying. You turned toward him, caught off guard by the interruption.

“Uh, excuse me, Young-il, but we’re in the middle of something here,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended, but the words were already out. There was a brief, charged silence as everyone processed the shift in mood. Young-il’s face tightened, and it was clear he was about to respond. Maybe a retort, maybe an explanation and his lips parted, but before he could say anything, Dae-ho cut in.

“Yeah, she’s right,” Dae-ho said, his tone calm but firm. He leaned slightly forward as if to emphasize his point. “We didn’t invite you into this conversation.” His words hung in the air, direct but not aggressive. The way he said it made it clear that it wasn’t personal, just a boundary.

Jun-hee glanced between you and Young-il, looking uncomfortable but not saying anything. Jung-bae shifted his weight slightly, crossing his arms, while Gi-hun avoided eye contact altogether, clearly trying to avoid getting involved.

Young-il’s expression hardened further, his eyes flicking to each person in the group as though weighing whether to push back or leave it alone. For a moment, it looked like he might say something else, but instead, he scoffed under his breath.

“Fine,” Young-il said, stepping back with an exaggerated shrug. “Didn’t realize this was some exclusive club or whatever.” He turned on his heel and walked away, his frustration evident in the stiff set of his shoulders.

The group watched him go, the air thick with an awkward tension. After a beat, Jun-hee sighed. “That was… a bit much,” she murmured, her voice soft.

“Maybe,” Dae-ho replied, running a hand through his hair, “but he really shouldn’t have just barged in like that.”

“Still,” Gi-hun added hesitantly, “it probably could’ve been handled a little… nicer.”

Everyone looked at you, waiting to see if you’d say anything else. The moment lingered, the silence a little too loud, before someone finally steered the conversation back to something else. But the mood had shifted, and it would take some time to ease back into the easy rhythm the group had before Young-il showed up.

The group had settled on the ground, forming a loose circle as you ate together. The atmosphere had lightened considerably since earlier, and laughter rippled through the group. Dae-ho was in the middle of telling a story about something ridiculous that happened back at home, and even the quieter ones like Jung-bae and Jun-hee were chiming in with jokes and reactions. It was comfortable just your group, relaxed and at ease. The food wasn’t much, but it was enough, and right now, that sense of camaraderie was more filling than the meal itself.

You were leaning back on your hands, half listening as Gi-hun tried to argue with Dae-ho over some small, inconsequential detail. Everyone was smiling, even you, when a shadow fell over the group.

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Young-il stood there, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glanced around, seemingly oblivious to the subtle shift in energy. Without a word, he crouched down and then sat near you, sliding into the space that was barely big enough to accommodate him.

You didn’t try to hide your reaction. With an exaggerated sigh, you rolled your eyes and turned your head slightly toward him, your voice dripping with annoyance as you spoke. “We didn’t invite you to come and sit with us, old man.” The words came out sharper than you’d intended again. but you weren’t about to backpedal. You glanced at him as you said it, your expression making it clear you weren’t joking.

The group went silent. Dae-ho’s eyes darted between you and Young-il, his usual easygoing demeanor faltering as he seemed unsure whether to jump in. Jun-hee looked down at her food, clearly uncomfortable, while Gi-hun raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Jung-bae simply chewed his food, his face blank, as if trying to stay out of whatever was about to happen.

Young-il froze for a moment, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. “Seriously?” he said, his tone somewhere between disbelief and irritation. He let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “You really just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You can’t help but barge in where you’re not wanted,” you shot back, sitting up straighter now. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, cutting through the fragile peace that had been holding the group together.

Dae-ho raised his hand, trying to diffuse the tension. “Hey, come on,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Let’s not turn this into a thing, all right? We’re just trying to eat.”

Young-il gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Right. Because I’m the one turning this into a thing.” He stood up abruptly, brushing off his hands as he glanced around at the group. “Enjoy your meal, then,” he said curtly, before walking off, his back stiff with frustration.

The silence that followed was deafening. Nobody seemed to know what to say, and the easy camaraderie from before felt like a distant memory. Finally, Jun-hee broke the silence with a soft sigh. “You didn’t have to say it like that, you know,” she said, glancing at you cautiously.

You shrugged, reaching for another bite of food. “He wasn’t invited. Simple as that.”

Gi-hun shifted uncomfortably. “Still, it feels like this is getting… worse.”

Dae-ho leaned back on his hands, staring at the ground for a moment before speaking. “We’ve got bigger problems to deal with than this,” he said quietly, his tone unusually serious. “Let’s not waste energy fighting with each other.”

The group nodded, albeit reluctantly, and eventually the conversation picked up again. But the tension lingered, hanging over the circle like a cloud. Even as the group tried to move on, the encounter with Young-il left a mark, a reminder of how easily things could unravel.

The tension between you and Young-il had been building all day, and now it was on full display for everyone to see. The players were all gathered in the dormitory area, some sitting on the ground, others laying on the beds, each trying to make the best of the little time they had to rest before the next round. Conversations buzzed here and there, but the center of attention quickly shifted to you and Young-il as your voices began to rise.

“You’ve got a real attitude problem, you know that?” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. He wasn’t looking directly at you, but it was clear who he was talking to.

The group immediately perked up, sensing the brewing argument. Gi-hun winced, glancing between the two of you, while Dae-ho muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Here we go again.”

You scoffed, leaning forward and narrowing your eyes at him. “Oh, I have an attitude problem? Says the guy who can’t take a hint and leave people alone.”

Young-il turned to face you now, his expression sharp. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy acting like the queen of everything, people wouldn’t have a problem being around you.”

A few players sitting nearby started to murmur, exchanging amused glances. Gi-hun, who had been sitting quietly, watching the exchange with his usual laid-back demeanor, leaned forward slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. Dae-ho and Jung-bae, meanwhile, were exchanging wide-eyed looks, caught between wanting to intervene and letting the argument run its course.

“Oh, give me a break,” you shot back. “The only reason people have a problem is because you keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You can’t just walk into every conversation and expect people to welcome you with open arms.”

Young-il laughed, a bitter sound that only seemed to fuel the fire. “You’re unbelievable. You think everything revolves around you, don’t you? Newsflash: not everyone cares about what you think.”

Before you could respond, Jun-hee raised her hands in a weak attempt to intervene. “Okay, can we not do this right now? Seriously, this is getting old.”

But neither of you was listening. “At least I don’t go around acting like I know better than everyone else,” you snapped. “You think just because you’re older, you’re entitled to respect? Respect is earned.”

“Earning respect from you is like trying to squeeze water from a stone,” Young-il retorted. “You wouldn’t recognize decency if it hit you in the face.”

By now, nearly every player in the room had turned to watch the argument. Some looked uncomfortable, others entertained, while a few clearly enjoyed the spectacle. The tension was thick, but before either of you could say another word, someone broke the silence.

“You two really need to get a room,” one of the players called out, laughing. It was a guy from another group, leaning casually against the wall with a wide grin on his face. “Seriously, you argue like a married couple. I bet that if we weren’t all stuck in this hellhole, you two would probably get married.”

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, breaking the tension for everyone except you and Young-il. You froze, blinking in disbelief at the comment, while Young-il’s face twisted into a scowl.

“Married?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “With him? I’d rather die in the next game, thank you very much.”

“Oh, please,” Young-il shot back, rolling his eyes. “As if I’d ever even consider it. You’d drive me insane within a day.”

“That’s funny,” you said with a mocking smile. “Because you already drive me insane just by existing.”

The laughter in the room grew louder, and Gi-hun finally chimed in, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down before this turns into a full-blown lovers’ quarrel. We’ve got enough stress without adding romantic drama to the mix.”

Dae-ho smirked, leaning toward you and whispering just loud enough for everyone to hear, “You know, he’s got a point. You two do bicker like an old married couple.”

Jun-hee stifled a laugh, trying to maintain some level of composure, but her shoulders shook as she struggled to keep it in. “Maybe we should just leave them alone and let them work it out,” she teased, her voice light.

You groaned, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Unbelievable. You’re all ridiculous.” Turning back to Young-il, you pointed a finger at him. “For the record, this ‘married couple’ nonsense is never happening. Ever.”

“Trust me,” Young-il said, shaking his head. “The feeling is mutual.”

The tension in the air was palpable as Gi-hun leaned back, casually throwing out his suggestion that Young-il should join the group. Gi-hun’s face was calm, almost too calm, as if he hadn’t just dropped a verbal bomb into the middle of your circle.

“Are you serious?” you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. “You want him in our group? After everything?”

Gi-hun shrugged, his usual easygoing demeanor infuriating in the moment. “Look, it’s not like we’re overflowing with allies here. Having one more person might help us later on. We’re all just trying to survive, right?”

You glared at him, your frustration boiling just below the surface. “Yeah, we’re trying to survive, not babysit someone who spends more time causing problems than being useful. Have you already forgotten what happened earlier?”

Before Gi-hun could respond, Young-il, who had been standing just on the edge of the circle, stepped forward with an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. “Well, it looks like I’m part of the group now,” he said, his tone smug as he glanced around at the others before turning his gaze to you. “Which means I’m allowed to talk. Guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

You stood up, not even trying to hide your irritation. “Don’t get too excited, old man,” you shot back, your voice cold and cutting. “Just because Gi-hun decided to take pity on you doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to you. And it definitely doesn’t mean you can butt into my conversations like you own the place. So stay out of my line, understand?”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst. “You really think you can tell me what to do? Hate to break it to you, princess, but if I’m part of the group, I can sit wherever I want, talk whenever I want, and do whatever I want. You don’t get to make the rules.”

You took a step closer to him, your fists clenched at your sides. “You think this is a joke? This isn’t about rules. it’s about respect. Something you clearly don’t understand. If you want to stay in this group, fine, but don’t think for one second that I’ll put up with your crap. Step out of line, and you’re on your own.”

The rest of the group watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and unease. Dae-ho leaned back, his arms crossed as he glanced between you and Young-il. “Well, this is going to be fun,” he muttered under his breath, earning a stifled laugh from Jun-hee.

Gi-hun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, can we all just calm down? Look, I get that this isn’t ideal, but we’re stuck in this situation together. The last thing we need is to turn on each other.”

“Tell that to him,” you said, jerking your thumb in Young-il’s direction.

Young-il smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Oh, I’m calm. She’s the one making a scene.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, Jung-bae interjected. “Alright, enough,” he said, his tone firm. “We get it, you two can’t stand each other. But let’s be real none of us want to deal with this drama every time we sit down to eat and talk If you two can’t get along, then at least figure out how to ignore each other. The rest of us shouldn’t have to suffer because you two like to argue.”

You crossed your arms, still glaring at Young-il, but you knew Jung-bae had a point. With a frustrated sigh, you stepped back and sat down, though your eyes stayed locked on Young-il. “Fine. I’ll ignore him. But don’t blame me when he screws up.”

Young-il chuckled, taking a seat across from you with that same infuriating smirk. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way. Wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect little world.”

You clenched your jaw but forced yourself to look away, focusing on your food instead. The tension lingered, but the group slowly began to settle back into their conversations, though it was clear the dynamic had shifted.

As the chatter resumed, Jun-hee leaned over and whispered, “You know, you’re going to have to deal with him eventually.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “Not if I can help it.”

The group had finally settled into an uneasy rhythm, with conversations drifting back and forth among the players. You sat with your arms crossed, still stewing over the earlier argument with Young-il. Though most of the group had moved on, you couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at you. Every time you glanced at him, sitting there like he belonged, that smug look on his face only made your blood boil more.

As the conversation shifted to the earlier games, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet Young-il was. He wasn’t chiming in or offering any insight, which was unusual considering how much he seemed to enjoy running his mouth. That’s when it hit you, like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

Hey, old man,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the murmured chatter. “I’ve got a question for you.”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk as if he already knew you were about to accuse him of something. “Oh, here we go,” he said, his tone mocking. “What now? Didn’t I already promise to stay out of your ‘line’?”

You ignored his sarcasm, narrowing your eyes at him. “Where were you during the first game?” you asked, your voice steady but pointed.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their curiosity piqued. Even Dae-ho, who usually tried to stay out of conflicts, looked intrigued.

“What are you talking about?” Young-il replied, his expression turning defensive.

“You heard me,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Where were you during the first game? Because I don’t remember seeing you there. None of us do. You showed up out of nowhere during the second game, acting like you’d been here all along. So tell me any care to explain, old man?”

Young-il’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a hardened expression. He sat up slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question but trying not to show it. “What, you’ve been keeping tabs on everyone here?” he shot back. “I didn’t realize I needed to check in with you to exist.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” you snapped. “Everyone else here went through hell in that first game. We all barely survived. But you? You just magically appeared when the second game started, looking perfectly fine. So either you skipped the first game, or you’re hiding something.”

Jung-bae shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the others. “She’s kind of got a point,” he said softly, though he immediately regretted saying anything when Young-il shot him a look.

Dae-ho scratched the back of his neck, clearly torn between wanting to diffuse the situation and his own curiosity. “Yeah, now that you mention it… I don’t remember seeing you during the first game either,” he said carefully.

Gi-hun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So? What’s the deal, Young-il?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.

Young-il let out a sharp exhale, rubbing his temples as if trying to compose himself. “Look, I didn’t skip anything, all right?” he said, his voice defensive. “I was there. You probably just didn’t notice me because I wasn’t making a scene, unlike some people.”

“Convenient excuse,” you said, your tone dripping with skepticism. “But I don’t buy it. We would’ve noticed you, especially since you seem to love getting involved in things that don’t concern you.”

Young-il’s jaw tightened, his patience clearly wearing thin. “What do you want me to say? That I hid like a coward? Fine. That’s what I did. I stayed out of sight and out of trouble because I wasn’t about to risk my life for some stupid game.”

The group stared at him, the tension thickening as his words sank in.

“At least I’m still here,” Young-il continued, his voice rising slightly. “Maybe I didn’t charge in headfirst like the rest of you, but I survived. Isn’t that the point?”

You crossed your arms, your expression unimpressed. “Survived by hiding while the rest of us fought to stay alive. How noble of you.”

“Enough!” Gi-hun suddenly interjected, raising his voice. “We’re all here now, aren’t we? What’s the point of fighting about what already happened?”

Dae-ho sighed, nodding reluctantly. “He’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, arguing about the past won’t help us survive what’s coming next.”

You clenched your jaw, wanting to push further but realizing you weren’t going to get any more answers at least, not now. “Fine,” you muttered, leaning back and crossing your arms. “But don’t think this means I trust you.”

Young-il chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “The feeling’s mutual, kid,” he said, his voice low.

The group sat in uneasy silence, the earlier camaraderie completely dissolved. Even as the conversation moved on, the lingering suspicion between you and Young-il remained like a crack in the foundation of the group, threatening to break everything apart.

“The air in the group had grown heavy over the past few days. Ever since the argument about Young-il’s mysterious absence during the first game, the tension between you two had only worsened. It was like a storm cloud hovering above, threatening to unleash at any moment. Everyone else in the group was walking on eggshells, trying to avoid setting either of you off.

But today, it finally exploded.

The group was sitting on the floor and everyone was quietly going about their business some eating, some resting, others just staring off into space, lost in thought. You were seated with your arms crossed, trying to focus on the situation at hand, but your annoyance with Young-il was bubbling just beneath the surface.

It started small, like it always did. Young-il, who had been leaning against a wall, made an offhanded comment about the group’s decision-making.

“Maybe if we stopped wasting time arguing about every little thing, we’d actually get somewhere,” he said, his tone sharp.

You didn’t even look at him at first, but the irritation was immediate. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” you shot back, your voice laced with sarcasm. “The guy who spent the first game hiding like a coward suddenly has opinions about how we should do things.”

Young-il straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face you. “You’re still hung up on that?” he asked, his tone dripping with disbelief. “How many times do I have to say it? I’m still here, aren’t I? Unlike some of the people who didn’t make it.”

Your head snapped toward him now, glaring. “Don’t you dare talk about them like that,” you said, your voice low and dangerous. “They fought to survive. They didn’t hide in the shadows and hope someone else would do the dirty work for them.”

“And look where that got them,” Young-il snapped, his voice rising. “Dead. You act like you’re some kind of hero because you played along with their little games, but all it did was get people killed. I did what I had to do to survive. You can hate me all you want for it, but at least I’m still breathing.”

By now, the rest of the group had gone silent, their eyes darting nervously between the two of you. Gi-hun sighed heavily, already regretting that he hadn’t stepped in sooner.

“Okay, can we not do this again?” he said, raising his hands in a weak attempt to mediate. “We’re all tired, and this isn’t helping.”

But you weren’t listening. You stood up now, pointing a finger at Young-il as you stepped closer. “You don’t get to lecture me about survival,” you said, your voice rising with every word. “You’ve done nothing but leech off this group since you showed up. You don’t contribute, you don’t help, and the second things get tough, you’ll probably run and hide again.”

Young-il took a step toward you, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing. “You think you’re better than me?” he shot back. “Because you bark orders and act like you’re in charge? Newsflash: no one here made you the leader. You’re just as scared as the rest of us, but instead of admitting it, you take it out on everyone else.”

“Scared?” you repeated, your voice practically a shout now. “I’m not scared I’m angry! Angry that someone like you has the nerve to act like you belong here when you’ve done nothing to earn it!”

Dae-ho, who had been sitting quietly, finally stood up, placing himself between you and Young-il. “All right, that’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the heated exchange. “This isn’t going anywhere. You’re both just yelling for the sake of yelling.”

Young-il ignored him, his focus still on you. “You want to talk about earning things?” he said, his voice lower now but no less intense. “How about you start by earning some respect? You don’t know anything about me, but you’ve been running your mouth since the second we met. Maybe if you spent less time pointing fingers, you’d actually see that I’m trying to help.”

“Help?” you scoffed, stepping around Dae-ho to get closer to him. “You call criticizing everything we do and refusing to pull your weight ‘help’? You’re nothing but dead weight, old man. And we’d be better off without you.”

Young-il’s expression hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Say that again,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

“I said, we’d be better off without—”

“Enough!” Jun-hee’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip. She stood now, her small frame trembling slightly as she glared at both of you. “This is insane. We’re supposed to be working together, and all you two do is fight. If you hate each other so much, fine, but save it for when we’re out of here. Because right now, you’re putting all of us in danger.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one said anything. You and Young-il were still glaring at each other, but Jun-hee’s outburst had at least forced a pause.

Gi-hun sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “She’s right,” he said wearily. “We don’t have time for this. Save your grudges for later, or we’re all going to end up dead.”

You took a step back, your breathing still heavy, but you didn’t say anything else. Young-il relaxed slightly too, though his eyes were still locked on yours.

“This isn’t over,” you muttered, turning away and sitting back down.

“Not by a long shot,” Young-il replied, his voice cold.

The group remained tense after that, the silence almost suffocating. And even though the fight had ended for now, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before it flared up again.

After the chaos of the Mingle game, your group had grown. More players had joined, desperate for the safety of numbers, and while it was a relief to have more hands, the weight of the competition hung heavy over everyone’s heads. Trust was still a rare commodity, and tensions simmered just beneath the surface.

You and Jung-bae sat off to the side, away from the main group. The others were busy eating, tending to injuries, or silently staring into the distance, too drained to speak. The two of you had started talking quietly, reflecting on how brutal things had become, when Jung-bae suddenly grew quiet.

You noticed the shift immediately. His usual composed expression faltered, replaced by a troubled look. He rubbed his hands together, glancing over at Young-il, who was sitting on the far side of the group, talking to Gi-hun.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, leaning closer.

Jung-bae hesitated, his eyes flickering back to you. “There’s… something you should know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About Young-il,” he said, his tone heavy. “Something I saw during the last game.”

Your body tensed at the mention of Young-il. After everything that had happened, you were already wary of him, but hearing Jung-bae bring him up with such a serious expression made your stomach knot. “Go on,” you urged.

Jung-bae took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. “During the Mingle game,” he began, “when it got down to only two players in each room, it was me and Young-il. We managed to find a room just before time ran out.”

You nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“When we got inside, we saw another player already in there,” Jung-bae said, his voice dropping even lower. “Young-il told him to leave, said the room was ours now. But the player refused. He was desperate, just like the rest of us.”

Your brow furrowed as you listened, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Jung-bae continued, his expression darkening. “I shut the door quickly before any other players could get in. I figured we’d deal with the guy once we were safe, maybe try to reason with him or something. I turned my back to them for just a second… maybe less.”

He paused, swallowing hard. “Then I heard it a noise, like a sharp crack. When I turned around…” He trailed off, his eyes distant as if he was replaying the moment in his mind.

“What did you see?” you asked, though you already had a horrible feeling about what he was going to say.

Jung-bae looked at you, his voice shaking slightly. “I saw Young-il snapping that player’s neck.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to say it was a bad joke, but his face was deadly serious.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I froze,” Jung-bae admitted, his hands trembling slightly. “I didn’t know what to do. One second, the guy was alive, arguing with Young-il, and the next… he was just gone. Young-il didn’t even hesitate. He just… did it. Like it was nothing.”

You felt a cold chill run down your spine as you processed what Jung-bae was telling you. You glanced over at Young-il, who was still sitting with the others, laughing about something like nothing had happened.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice tight.

“What was I supposed to say?” Jung-bae shot back, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with frustration. “If I called him out, he could’ve turned on me next. And if I told anyone, how do you think they’d react? Everyone’s already on edge. You think they’d believe me, or worse, you think they’d just kill him outright and start turning on each other?”

You clenched your fists, your mind racing. “So what, we just let him get away with it? Pretend like nothing happened?”

Jung-bae sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I thought you should know. You and Gi-hun are the only people here that I trust to do something about it.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. Young-il had always rubbed you the wrong way, but this… this was something else entirely. You didn’t know whether to confront him, tell the group, or keep quiet and wait for the right moment.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said finally, your voice grim.

Jung-bae nodded, though he still looked uneasy. “Just… be careful,” he warned. “If he could do that to a stranger, who knows what he’d do to us if he felt cornered.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on Young-il as a sense of dread settled over you. Whatever trust or tolerance you’d managed to muster for him was gone. And now, more than ever, you knew he was a threat that couldn’t be ignored.

The group had gathered in a loose circle, with Gi-hun standing in the center, talking to a few players who had managed to survive the chaos of the Mingle game. Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, Gyeong-seok, Yong-sik, Myung-gi, and Min-su were all listening attentively as Gi-hun explained the group’s dynamics, how decisions were made, and the importance of sticking together.

You were seated off to the side, leaning against a wall, watching the scene unfold. It wasn’t often that Gi-hun took the lead like this, and you had to admit, he was doing a decent job of it. The players looked nervous but seemed reassured by his calm demeanor.

The moment was interrupted, however, when Young-il wandered over, his presence as unwelcome to you as ever. He strode into the circle without hesitation, his hands in his pockets, and looked around with a vaguely annoyed expression.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone carrying that same irritating mix of mockery and authority that always grated on your nerves.

Before anyone else could respond, you rolled your eyes and sat up straighter. “Are you too blind to see, old man?” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the group like a whip.

Young-il turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he said, his tone challenging.

You ignored his feigned innocence, gesturing toward Gi-hun and the others. “Can you not see what’s happening? Or is your eyesight finally giving out on you?” you snapped. “Gi-hun is talking to them explaining things to the people who are about to join our group. Not that it’s any of your business.”

A few of the players exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to react to the tension between you and Young-il. Gi-hun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not start this right now?” he said, looking at you with a mix of exasperation and pleading.

“I’m not starting anything,” you said defensively, though your tone was still sharp. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. If Young-il had half a brain, he wouldn’t need to interrupt to figure out what’s going on.”

Young-il smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I see what’s going on,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re adding more people to the group. obviously more people to slow us down.”

The players bristled at his words, their faces falling as uncertainty crept in. Gi-hun frowned, stepping forward to address them. “Don’t listen to him,” he said firmly. “This group is about survival, and survival means sticking together. The more of us there are, the better chance we have of making it through this.”

“You really think that?” Young-il scoffed. “The more people we have, the more targets we become. And when things get tough, who’s going to take the fall? The players. They’re dead weight, and you know it.”

Your patience snapped. You stood up, glaring at Young-il with barely restrained anger. “Why don’t you just keep your opinions to yourself for once?” you said, your voice low but deadly. “These people are just as desperate to survive as the rest of us. They deserve a chance, and if you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

Young-il chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I’ve made it this far, and I’m not about to throw it all away because you want to play babysitter.”

Gi-hun held up a hand, stepping between the two of you before the argument could escalate further. “Enough,” he said firmly, looking at both of you in turn. “We’re not doing this here. If you’ve got a problem with the group, Young-il, then take it up with me later. Right now, we’re focusing on keeping everyone alive, and that includes these new players. Got it?”

Young-il narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue further. He turned and walked away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back down and crossing your arms. Gi-hun gave you a look, part scolding, part understanding. “You didn’t have to go that hard on him,” he said quietly.

“Someone has to,” you muttered. “I’m not letting him scare these people off before they even get a chance.”

The players looked at you with a mix of gratitude and nervousness. Geum-ja, the boldest among them, stepped forward and gave you a small nod. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

You nodded back, though your eyes lingered on Young-il’s retreating figure. The tension in the group was getting worse, and you had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get harder from here.

The group sat in a loose circle around a small, makeshift campfire. The air was heavy with tension, the kind that had been brewing ever since Young-il joined the group. Everyone was still on edge after the Mingle game and the influx of players, and the constant bickering between you and Young-il had only made things worse.

Gi-hun, ever the reluctant leader, rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around at everyone. He had been trying to keep the group together, trying to keep the peace, but even he was starting to show signs of strain. Finally, he let out a long sigh, breaking the silence.

“All right, let’s just address the elephant in the room,” Gi-hun said, his voice firm but calm as he glanced between you and Young-il. “As you guys are all painfully aware by now, Y/N and Young-il don’t get along.”

A few of the players exchanged glances, while others shifted uncomfortably. Hyun-ju, who had been quietly sitting near the edge of the group, raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Geum-ja crossed her arms, her expression cautious, while Jung-bae looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against a crate. “Oh, come on, Gi-hun,” you said, your tone sharp. “That’s putting it mildly. I can’t stand him, and for good reason.”

Young-il, who was seated across from you with his usual air of indifference, let out a low chuckle. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said, smirking. “But at least I don’t make it my life’s mission to announce it every five minutes.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you sat forward, ready to fire back, but Gi-hun held up his hand to stop you. “Enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. The two of you are constantly at each other’s throats, and it’s making things harder for everyone else.”

Geum-ja cleared her throat, speaking up hesitantly. “It’s… definitely been a little uncomfortable,” she admitted. “I mean, we just got here, and it feels like we walked into the middle of a war.”

“Uncomfortable?” Yong-sik muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Geum-ja.

“Look,” Gi-hun continued, ignoring the side chatter. “I get that this situation is stressful. It’s stressful for all of us. But we’re not going to survive if we’re constantly fighting each other. We need to be united, and that means figuring out how to work together, even if you don’t like each other.”

You crossed your arms, your jaw tightening. “I don’t trust him,” you said bluntly, pointing at Young-il. “He’s a liability. And if we’re going to talk about things that are making it harder for everyone else, maybe we should start with him.”

Young-il’s smirk faded, and his expression hardened. “A liability?” he repeated, his voice low. “That’s funny coming from someone who spends more time complaining than actually contributing.”

“I contribute just fine,” you shot back. “The difference is, I don’t leave people to die or—”

“Enough!” Gi-hun snapped, his voice louder now, silencing both of you. Everyone went still, the weight of his frustration hanging in the air.

“I didn’t bring this up so you two could start another fight,” Gi-hun said, his tone heavy with disappointment. “I brought it up because we’re running out of time. The games are only going to get harder, and if we keep tearing each other apart, we’re going to lose. All of us.”

Jun-hee, who had been quiet until now, spoke up softly. “He’s right,” she said, looking at you and Young-il in turn. “We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to survive. And the only way to do that is if we stick together.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. You avoided looking at Young-il, your fists clenched in your lap, while he sat back with an expression that was unreadable.

Finally, Gi-hun sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you two to be best friends,” he said. “I’m asking you to set this aside for now, at least. For the sake of everyone else.”

You hesitated, glancing at Jung-bae, who gave you a small, encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you finally muttered, “Fine. But don’t expect me to trust him.”

Young-il shrugged, his tone casual but with an edge of sarcasm. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

Gi-hun looked between the two of you, his expression weary but relieved. “That’s a start,” he said. “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”

The group slowly began to relax, the tension easing slightly, but the unease lingered. You knew this truce was fragile at best, and with each passing game, the cracks in the group were only going to grow deeper.

The boat rocked gently on the waves as it cut through the dark waters, the group seated in tense silence as they made their way toward their dangerous destination. The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of salt and seaweed, and the sound of the motor hummed in the background. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting an eerie glow over the scene.

Jun-ho, Woo-seok, Y/S/N, Captain Park, and two others sat scattered across the deck, each lost in their thoughts. The mission they had undertaken was dangerous, perhaps suicidal, but for everyone on board, it was worth the risk.

Woo-seok glanced at Y/S/N, who was sitting near the edge of the boat, staring out at the open sea. After a moment, he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Hey,” he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the motor. “I just wanted to say… I appreciate that you accepted our offer to help us find the island. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, especially with… well, trying to find your sister and all.”

she turned to him, offering a faint but sincere smile. “Yeah, it’s been years,” she said, her voice soft, tinged with a quiet determination. “But I haven’t lost hope. Not yet.”

Jun-ho, who had been leaning against the side of the boat, straightened up slightly at the mention of a missing sister. His sharp eyes studied her or a moment before he spoke. “You have a sister that you lost?” he asked, his tone calm but curious.

she hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” she said, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Actually, I’m a twin. She’s my other half. It’s been years since she went missing, but… part of me thinks she’s still alive.”

The group fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them like a heavy blanket. Even the sound of the motor seemed to fade into the background as everyone absorbed the revelation.

Jun-ho tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “A twin,” he repeated, as if the concept carried a special significance to him. “ I understand the feeling of Losing someone so close to you.”

she nodded, her jaw tightening as she stared out at the waves. “It is,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like a piece of me is missing. But at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her.”

Captain Park, who had been silent until now, let out a thoughtful hum. “That kind of bond,” he said, his gruff voice cutting through the silence, “it’s not something that just goes away. If you feel like she’s alive, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

she looked at him, her expression softening. “I hope so,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what I’ll find when I get to the end of this, but I have to try. I can’t give up on her.”

Woo-seok nodded, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you,” he said. “You’ve already made it this far. That’s more than most people could handle.”

Jun-ho leaned back against the side of the boat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the conversation. “You’re stronger than most,” he said finally, his tone neutral but with a hint of respect. “But be careful. Hope is a double-edged sword. It can drive you forward, but it can also destroy you if you’re not careful.”

She met his gaze, her eyes steady. “I know,” she said. “But I’d rather hold onto hope than give in to despair. If there’s even the slightest chance that she’s alive, I’ll do whatever it takes to find her.”

Jun-ho studied her for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly satisfied with her resolve. The boat fell silent again, the conversation leaving a lingering sense of gravity among the group.

As the waves lapped against the sides of the boat and the island loomed somewhere in the distance, each person found themselves lost in their own thoughts. But for her, one thought remained clear: no matter what lay ahead, she would never stop searching for you.

The eerie melody echoed softly through the dimly lit dormitory, casting an unsettling calm over the room. Most of the players were fast asleep, sprawled across their bunks, exhausted from the day’s chaos. The faint hum of the music blended with the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing, masking the quiet rustle of footsteps.

You carefully slipped out of your bunk, glancing around to ensure no one was watching. The dim light from the surveillance cameras hung heavy over the room, but you’d memorized their blind spots by now. Moving swiftly, you navigated your way to the bathroom, the door creaking faintly as you pushed it open and slipped inside.

Once there, you leaned against the cool tile wall, taking a deep breath. The silence in the bathroom was a stark contrast to the noise of the dormitory, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax.

Minutes later, the door creaked again, and you immediately tensed, preparing for an intrusion. But when you turned to look, your guard dropped as a familiar figure stepped inside. Young-il moved with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning the space before settling on you.

“You’re doing well, jagiya,” he murmured, his voice low and almost teasing. “Playing your part like a professional.”

You smirked, your expression equal parts smug and amused. “Of course I am,” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the wall. “Everyone thinks we hate each other. They think we’re just players like the rest of them, desperate to survive.”

Young-il chuckled, stepping closer to you. His usual air of arrogance seemed softer here, more intimate, as if the walls around him only came down in these stolen moments. “And in reality,” he said, his tone quiet but charged, “we’re married. Partners in every sense of the word. They don’t know who we really are.”

A sly smile spread across your face as you tilted your head, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And they don’t know that you’re the Front Man,” you said, emphasizing the title, “or, as Gi-hun so dramatically calls you, ‘the leader of the mask.’ And me?” You shrugged lightly, your smirk widening. “I’m the loving wife, hidden in plain sight.”

Young-il’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and affection as he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve always been good at this,” he said softly. “Better than anyone else. No one even suspects that you’re working with me, let alone who you really are.”

You laughed quietly, the sound low and bitter. “They’re too busy fighting amongst themselves,” you said. “All it takes is a little tension, a few carefully placed words, and they’re ready to rip each other apart. It’s almost too easy.”

Young-il nodded, his expression growing serious. “But don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. “The games are only going to get harder from here. And we can’t afford any mistakes.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smirk didn’t falter. “I know,” you said. “But don’t forget I’m the one keeping them distracted while you run the show behind the scenes. If anyone’s going to slip up, it won’t be me.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of your shared secret hanging in the air. Despite the danger, despite the lies, there was an undeniable connection between you, a bond forged in the fire of shared ambition and unshakable trust.

Young-il reached for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Just remember,” he said, his voice low and steady, “no matter what happens, we’re in this together.”

You squeezed his hand, your gaze meeting his. “Always,” you said.

The moment was brief but electric, a stolen flicker of truth in a sea of deception. And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. Young-il released your hand and stepped back, his expression hardening as he slipped back into his role.

“I’ll go first,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Wait a few minutes before you head back.”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the shadows, his footsteps silent against the tile. Once he was gone, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself before stepping back into the world of lies you had so carefully crafted.

As you made your way back to your bunk, the music continued to play, its haunting melody a fitting backdrop to the dangerous game you were playing. No one in the dormitory stirred as you climbed into bed, your face a mask of calm as you prepared for whatever the next day would bring. The truth remained hidden, and the game went on.

The next morning, the dormitory was alive with the sound of shuffling footsteps and low murmurs as players begrudgingly pulled themselves from their bunks. The tension from the previous day lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable, as everyone moved through their morning routine with quiet efficiency.

Breakfast was a simple, tasteless affair some sort of watery porridge ladled into bowls, accompanied by stale bread. The players sat scattered across the large dining area, eating in relative silence, the weight of the games making small talk feel almost impossible.

You sat with your group, slowly poking at your food with your spoon. The others chatted quietly, trying to keep their spirits up despite the grim atmosphere, but you remained quiet, lost in your own thoughts.

That was, until you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.

From across the room, you saw Young-il approaching with his tray, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever. He didn’t bother asking if the seat next to you was free he simply placed his tray down and sat, his presence as commanding as always.

You didn’t bother hiding your irritation. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Seriously?” you muttered, not even looking at him as you shoved your spoon into the mushy porridge. “Of all the places you could sit, you chose here?”

Young-il smirked, clearly unfazed by your tone. “Good morning to you too,” he said smoothly, picking up his spoon and taking a deliberate bite of his food. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure spend a lot of time noticing where I sit.”

Your eyes snapped to his, narrowing in annoyance. “Noticing?” you shot back. “You’re impossible to miss, old man. You loom like a shadow, always showing up where you’re not wanted.”

A couple of the other players sitting by Gi-hun and Jung-bae, in particular exchanged uneasy glances, clearly bracing themselves for another round of bickering.

Jung-bae leaned over slightly, trying to diffuse the tension with a forced chuckle. “Uh, maybe we could focus on eating instead of, you know, arguing?” he suggested hesitantly.

Young-il ignored him, his smirk widening as he leaned back in his seat. “It’s funny,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “You say you don’t want me around, but here I am, sitting right next to you. Almost as if… you enjoy my company.”

You scoffed, turning your attention back to your food with a look of pure disgust. “Keep telling yourself that,” you muttered. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Hyun-ju, who was seated across from you, tried to suppress a giggle but failed, her laugh coming out as a soft snort. “You two are like oil and water,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you haven’t torn each other apart yet.”

“Give it time,” you muttered, stabbing your spoon into your porridge with more force than necessary.

Young-il, ever the picture of calm, leaned forward slightly, his smirk still firmly in place. “Oh, I think we’ve found a good balance,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “After all, every group needs a little… tension to keep things interesting.”

You glared at him, opening your mouth to retort, but Gi-hun quickly held up his hand, cutting you off. “Okay, that’s enough,” he said firmly, looking between the two of you. “Can we please just get through one meal without the two of you going at it? We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

You huffed, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Fine,” you muttered, though your eyes still flicked toward Young-il with a look of disdain.

Young-il, for his part, simply chuckled and went back to his food, his calm demeanor only fueling your irritation.

As the group settled into an uneasy silence, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. For all his arrogance and infuriating smugness, there was something about the way he carried himself. calm, unshaken, and always two steps ahead. that made it impossible to completely ignore him.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence, the tension between you and Young-il hanging heavy in the air. But for the other players in their group, it was just another morning in the dormitory. another day of trying to survive the games.

The din of conversation filled the room as the players sat scattered in small groups, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. Everyone was busy strategizing, bonding, or simply trying to make sense of their grim reality. The tension from the impending rebellion hung heavy in the air, but it seemed to energize the group rather than dampen their spirits.

Amidst the noise and chatter, no one noticed the quiet exchange happening between you and Young-il in a corner of the room. Leaning in slightly, you kept your voice low, your tone sharp and calculated as you spoke.

“Jung-bae told me what you did to that player during the Mingle game,” you began, your words laced with accusation and urgency. “Snapping his neck like that. He’s already starting to put pieces together, and if he decides to run his mouth to Gi-hun especially during the rebellion they’ll all turn on you.”

Young-il leaned back slightly, his expression calm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of annoyance. “He won’t,” he said, his voice measured. “Jung-bae knows better than to cross me.”

You shook your head, your lips curling into a smirk. “Don’t underestimate him,” you warned. “He’s already suspicious, and once the rebellion kicks off, he’ll have the perfect opportunity to expose you. If I were you, I’d take care of him before he gets the chance.”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Take care of him?” he echoed, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “And what do you suggest, jagiya? Should I just walk up to him and slit his throat in front of everyone?”

You rolled your eyes, your smirk widening. “Don’t be stupid,” you said. “You’re not going to do it as yourself. You’ll do it as the Front Man. Once everything goes down, you’ll have the perfect cover.”

Leaning closer, you spoke in a hushed tone, outlining your plan with ruthless precision. “Here’s what you’re going to do. When the rebellion starts, Gi-hun is going to split everyone into smaller groups, right? Jung-bae and Gi-hun will take the lead in one group while you’re left with two other players and tasked with taking out some of the soldiers.”

Young-il’s eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, his mind already working through the logistics of your suggestion.

“You’re going to kill those two players,” you continued, your voice cold and unrelenting. “Make it look like an accident or pin it on the soldiers doesn’t matter how you do it, just make sure they’re out of the way. Once that’s done, you’ll switch into your stulk and mask. No one will know it’s you.”

You paused for a moment, letting your words sink in before delivering the final piece of your plan. “When everything is under control and the chaos dies down, you’ll track down Jung-bae. He’ll probably be with Gi-hun. Once you do take him out, and make it clean.”

Young-il studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he leaned forward, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ve thought this through,” he said, his voice low and amused. “Almost like you’ve been planning this for a while.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m just looking out for us,” you said. “Jung-bae’s a liability, and liabilities have no place in this game. Besides, once he’s gone, Gi-hun will be too heartbroken and stop the rebellion.”

Young-il chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re ruthless, you know that?” he said, his tone tinged with admiration.

You smirked, your eyes gleaming with cold determination. “Ruthless keeps us alive,” you replied. “And if you want to stay alive, you’ll do exactly what I’ve told you.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the hum of conversation around you masking the weight of your words. Finally, Young-il nodded, a hint of resolve flashing in his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “Now, act normal. The last thing we need is anyone noticing we’re talking.”

Young-il smirked, his usual air of confidence returning as he leaned back and picked at his food. To anyone watching, it would seem like the two of you had simply exchanged a few words before going back to your meal.

But beneath the surface, the wheels were already in motion. As the rebellion loomed closer, so too did the shadows of betrayal and bloodshed. And in this game, only the ruthless would survive.

Later that day, the tension in the dormitory had eased slightly, and small groups of players were scattered around, talking in hushed tones or making plans for the Special Game. In one corner, Young-il sat with Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and a few of the others, his usually stoic expression marred by a rare look of irritation.

He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t understand how any of you can deal with her,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s insufferable. Every time I so much as breathe in her direction, she’s rolling her eyes or making some snide comment.”

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, glancing up from where he was sharpening a makeshift weapon. “You’re talking about Y/N, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Of course I’m talking about her,” Young-il snapped, his voice rising slightly before he forced himself to calm down. “Who else could make someone this irritated? She’s constantly on my case, acting like she owns the place.”

Jung-bae chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, to be fair, you don’t exactly make it easy,” he said. “You always manage to get under her skin. It’s like you’re trying to start a fight every time you two are in the same room.”

Young-il scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t try to start anything,” he insisted. “She just has a problem with me, and she doesn’t bother hiding it. The way she talks to me like I’m some kind of nuisance it’s infuriating.”

Gi-hun smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Jung-bae. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “the way you’re going on about her, it almost sounds like you care what she thinks.”

Young-il shot him a sharp look, his expression darkening. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said firmly. “I couldn’t care less what she thinks of me. I’m just saying it’s exhausting dealing with someone who seems to hate me for no reason.”

Dae-ho who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “You sure it’s no reason?” he asked. “Maybe there’s more to it than you realize.”

Young-il frowned, his jaw tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone defensive.

Dae-ho hrugged, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re hiding something,” he said. “Maybe she’s got her own reasons for acting the way she does. You ever think about that?”

Young-il opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself, his expression shifting into one of contemplation. For a brief moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face, but he quickly shook it off, scowling. “Whatever her reasons are, they don’t justify her behavior,” he said firmly. “She’s rude, she’s disrespectful, and she’s impossible to work with.”

Gi-hun chuckled, shaking his head as he set his weapon aside. “You sound like an old married couple,” he said, grinning.

Young-il groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said. “The thought alone is enough to make my blood boil.”

The group laughed, their voices echoing through the room, but Young-il’s irritation lingered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he glanced toward where you were sitting with Hyun-ju and Min-su on the other side of the dormitory. You were laughing at something Min-su had said, completely oblivious to the conversation happening about you.

“I just don’t get it,” Young-il muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “What’s her problem with me?”

Gi-hun patted him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Who knows?” he said. “Maybe one day you’ll figure it out. Until then, you’re just going to have to deal with it like the rest of us.”

Young-il let out another sigh, leaning back against the wall as the group returned to their conversation. But even as the laughter and chatter continued around him, his gaze lingered on you, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

The quiet hum of the boat's engine filled the air as your twin sat on the deck, staring out at the endless stretch of water. The faint scent of salt hung in the breeze, but the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts and shared determination. Jun-ho approached, holding a cup of water, and settled into a seat beside your twin.

For a while, they sat in silence, watching the waves ripple and crash against the boat. Finally, Jun-ho broke the quiet, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity. “It seems to me,” he began, “that you and I have something in common.”

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Jun-ho offered a small smile, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. “I also have a lost sibling,” he said softly. “Except… it’s my brother.”

Her expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and understanding crossing her face. “Your brother?” She echoed.

Jun-ho nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Yeah. It’s been years since I last saw him. He disappeared without a trace, and I’ve been searching ever since. Sometimes it feels like I’m chasing a ghost, but… I can’t bring myself to stop. Not until I know the truth.”

She leaned back slightly, her arms resting on the edge of the boat as she studied him. “I get that,” she said quietly. “When someone you care about vanishes, it’s like a part of you goes missing too. You can’t move on because there’s always that question. what if? What if they’re out there, waiting for you? What if you’re the only one who can find them?”

Jun-ho nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Exactly,” he said. “Sometimes people tell me to let it go, that it’s been too long, but… I can’t. He’s my brother. If there’s even the smallest chance he’s still alive, I have to keep looking.”

She glanced down at her hands, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the wooden deck. “I feel the same way about my sister,” she admitted. “We’re twins, so it’s even harder. It’s like… a piece of me has been missing all this time. No matter how much I try to focus on other things, there’s always this emptiness. This feeling that she’s out there somewhere, and she needs me.”

Jun-ho looked at her, his expression softening. “That must be hard,” he said. “Being a twin means you share a bond that most people can’t even begin to understand. Losing that… it must feel like losing a part of yourself.”

She nodded, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “It does,”she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if she even remembers me. If she’s alive, if she’s safe, if she’s happy… I’d give anything to know the answers.”

Jun-ho placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. “I know exactly how you feel,” he said. “And I know how hard it is to keep hoping when it feels like the whole world is against you. But you’re not alone in this. We’re going to find that island, and maybe just maybe we’ll find some answers along the way. For both of us.”

She looked at him, her expression softening as a flicker of gratitude appeared in their eyes. “Thanks,” she said. “It helps, knowing someone else understands.”

Jun-ho offered a small smile, his hand falling back to his side as he leaned against the railing. “We’ll find them,” he said with quiet determination. “Your sister, my brother… we’ll figure it out. One way or another.”

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence again, the weight of their shared loss hanging between them. But amidst the sorrow, there was also a sense of quiet resolve a determination to keep going, no matter how impossible the odds seemed.

As the boat continued to cut through the water, she glanced at Jun-ho, their expression thoughtful. “You know,” she said, “for someone I just met, you’re pretty easy to talk to.”

Jun-ho chuckled, the sound light but genuine. “Likewise,” he said. “Maybe it’s because we’ve both been through the same kind of pain. Makes it easier to understand each other.”

She smiled faintly, her gaze returning to the horizon. “Maybe,”she said. “But either way… thanks.”

Jun-ho nodded, his own gaze following hers. “Anytime,” he said simply.

And with that, the two of them fell into a companionable silence, the sound of the waves filling the air as the boat carried them closer to the answers they both so desperately sought.

The dim light of the dormitory flickered faintly as the night wore on, the murmur of conversation dwindling as exhaustion began to settle over the players. You glanced around, noting how most of them were either dozing off or too preoccupied to notice you slipping away. Smoothing down your expression to hide any suspicion, you stood up casually and muttered something about needing the bathroom.

No one paid you much attention as you made your way towards the door, your footsteps quiet against the cold floor. Once inside the bathroom, you took a deep breath, the air thick with the faint scent of bleach. You leaned against the sink for a moment, your reflection staring back at you in the cracked mirror.

Moments later, the faint creak of the bathroom door opening made you straighten up, your muscles instinctively tensing. Before you could turn around, a familiar hand grasped your wrist, pulling you away from the sink and back against a solid chest.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” Young-il’s voice was low and teasing, his breath warm against your ear.

You smirked, your pulse quickening as you glanced up at him. “Took you long enough,” you replied, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

He chuckled softly, his other hand coming to rest on your waist as he leaned in closer. “You should know by now I’m not one to leave you waiting.”

Before you could retort, his lips crashed against yours, his kiss urgent and possessive. Your back hit the cool tiles of the wall as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you closer. The world outside the bathroom faded away, the tension and chaos of the games momentarily forgotten as you lost yourself in the moment.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, clutching the fabric as if anchoring yourself. There was something electric about the way his lips moved against yours, a mix of frustration, passion, and unspoken promises in every movement. It was a stark contrast to the way you had to act around each other in front of the others hostile, distant, like sworn enemies.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing heavy but steady. “You’re playing your part really well,” he murmured, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Making them think that we’re at each other’s throats.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “That’s because we are,” you said lightly, though your fingers still lingered on his chest. “At least, that’s what they think.”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let them think that,” he said. “It keeps them off our trail. No one suspects a thing.”

You nodded, your expression growing more serious. “Good. Because if they did, everything we’ve worked for would fall apart. You’ve got your role to play, and so do I. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

Young-il’s smile softened, and he pressed a brief kiss to your forehead. “No mistakes,” he agreed. “We’ve come too far for that.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the bathroom offering a rare sense of intimacy amidst the chaos. But all too soon, the weight of reality began to press down on you again. You straightened up, smoothing down your clothes as you stepped away from him.

“We should go back before anyone notices,” you said, your voice steady but laced with reluctance.

He nodded, his usual stoic expression slipping back into place as he adjusted his shirt. “You first,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll follow in a few minutes.”

You smirked, giving him a playful glance over your shoulder as you opened the door. “Don’t take too long, old man,” you teased before slipping out into the hallway.

As you walked back to the dormitory, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. No one would ever suspect the truth. that the constant bickering and hostility between you and Young-il was nothing more than a carefully crafted façade.

And as you took your seat among the other players, acting as if nothing had happened, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction. In this deadly game where alliances shifted like sand, the bond you shared with Young-il was your greatest secret and your greatest weapon.

The tension in the dormitory was palpable as Gi-hun gathered the group to discuss the rebellion. The players sat in a loose circle, their faces marked with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The dim, flickering light cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere.

Gi-hun stood in the center, his arms crossed as he addressed the group. “Alright,” he began, his voice firm but calm, “we’ve all agreed that we can’t keep playing their twisted games. If we don’t take a stand now, we might never get another chance. So, we need a solid plan for the rebellion.”

The group murmured in agreement, nodding along as Gi-hun laid out the basics of his idea. He spoke about timing, positioning, and how they’d need to use the chaos of the next game to their advantage. Everyone listened intently, some adding their own thoughts or suggestions.

Then, as Gi-hun paused to let the group absorb the information, Young-il, who had been leaning casually against the wall, cleared his throat. “I’ve got a suggestion,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the circle.

You raised an eyebrow, already bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to say.

Young-il crossed his arms, his tone calm but confident. “Instead of focusing on spreading ourselves thin across the dormitory or the arena, we could just use brute force. If we overpower a few guards early on, we could take their weapons and use them to control the situation. It’s straightforward and doesn’t require much coordination.”

For a moment, the group was silent, processing his words. Then you let out a scoff, your arms crossing over your chest as you fixed him with a sharp glare. “That’s… that’s a dumb plan,” you said bluntly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just like you.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but Young-il didn’t flinch, his jaw tightening as he looked at you.

“I’m serious,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with irritation. “It could work if we all commit to it.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, leaning back on your hands. “Oh, sure,” you said, your voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Let’s all risk everything on your ‘brute force’ strategy and hope the guards just magically hand over their weapons. Brilliant idea, genius.”

Young-il narrowed his eyes, clearly growing more annoyed, but before he could retort, you leaned forward, your tone sharp and cutting. “Actually, I’ve got a better plan,” you said, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “We could sacrifice you.”

The room went silent for a moment, the tension thick as the group processed your words. Gi-hun let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, while a few others exchanged awkward glances.

“Sacrifice me?” Young-il repeated, his tone incredulous.

You shrugged, your smirk widening. “Think about it,” you said, your voice light but laced with venom. “You’re big and loud. perfect distraction material. While the guards are busy dealing with you, the rest of us could slip away or take control of the situation. It’s actually the first useful thing you’d contribute to this group.”

A few stifled laughs broke out among the group, and even Gi-hun couldn’t help but crack a small smile despite himself.

Young-il stepped closer to you, his expression darkening. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“And you’ve got a lot of bad ideas,” you shot back, meeting his glare without flinching.

Gi-hun quickly stepped between the two of you, holding up his hands to keep the peace. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “We don’t have time for this. We need to work together if we want this rebellion to succeed.”

You huffed, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Fine,” you muttered, though the annoyance in your tone was clear.

Young-il gave you one last glare before stepping back, his jaw clenched as he returned to his spot by the wall.

Gi-hun sighed, running a hand through his hair as he addressed the group again. “We need a plan that doesn’t rely on brute force or unnecessary risks,” he said. “Let’s focus on strategy and coordination. If we work together, we can pull this off.”

The group nodded, slowly returning their focus to the task at hand. But even as the discussion continued, the tension between you and Young-il lingered, an unspoken reminder of the complicated dynamics within the group.

The waves crashed gently against the hull of the boat, a rhythmic sound that matched the faint sway of the vessel as it cut through the water. The night sky stretched endlessly above, filled with stars that seemed to twinkle with quiet indifference to the turmoil brewing below. Your twin leaned against the railing, staring out at the horizon with a mix of determination and unease.

Jun-ho approached, his footsteps light but purposeful. He carried a thermos in one hand and two tin cups in the other. “I figured you could use something warm,” he said, his tone casual but carrying a hint of understanding.

She glanced over her shoulder and offered a faint smile. “Thanks,” she said, taking one of the cups as he poured some tea into it.

The two stood in silence for a moment, sipping from their cups and listening to the sound of the waves. There was a heaviness in the air, an unspoken weight they both carried, though neither seemed ready to address it outright.

“You know,” Jun-ho said finally, his voice quiet, “this feels like a never-ending circle. The searching, the questioning, the dead ends… sometimes it feels like no matter how far I get, I always end up right back where I started.”

She nodded, her grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It’s like every lead brings more questions than answers. I keep thinking I’m getting closer, but then something happens, and it all falls apart again. It’s exhausting.”

Jun-ho leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the dark expanse of water. ”How long has it been since your sister went missing?” he said, more a statement than a question.

She nodded,her expression softening as a flicker of vulnerability crossed her face. “It’s been years ago,” she said quietly. “It was like she just vanished into thin air. No clues, no trace… nothing. A part of me wonders if I’ll ever find her, but I can’t bring myself to stop looking. It’s like… if I give up, then I’m admitting she’s gone.”

Jun-ho’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he listened. “I get that,” he said, his voice low. “I’m searching for my brother. It’s been years, but I can’t let it go. I’ve uncovered bits and pieces. just enough to keep me going, but not enough to find him. And every time I think I’m getting close, something or someone gets in my way.”

She turned to look at him, her brows furrowing. “Someone?”

Jun-ho hesitated, his gaze flicking to the deck as if debating how much to say. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve been on this trail for a while now, and there’s always been this… shadow. People who seem determined to keep me from finding the truth. At first, I thought it was just bad luck, but now I’m starting to think it’s deliberate.”

Her expression hardened, her free hand gripping the railing. “You think someone’s trying to stop you?”

Jun-ho nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t just think it. I know it. Someone doesn’t want me getting close to the island. And I can’t shake the feeling that whoever it is, they know more about my brother’s disappearance than they’re letting on.”

The two of them exchanged a tense look, the weight of their shared suspicions settling over them.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Captain Park stood below deck, his sharp eyes scanning over a map spread out on the table. He traced a line with his finger, marking the boat’s course. In his other hand, he held a small, black device a secure line to the Front Man.

The distorted voice of the Front Man came through the receiver. “Report.”

Captain Park’s jaw tightened as he spoke. “We’re en route to the island,” he said. “Everything’s proceeding as planned. But there’s a complication.”

The voice on the other end was cold and unyielding. “Explain.”

Captain Park glanced at the staircase leading up to the deck, his expression dark. “One of the passengers. Jun-ho. he’s been asking too many questions. He’s getting closer to the truth.”

There was a pause, and then the voice replied, “Keep him away from the island. Whatever it takes. Do not let him uncover anything. Understood?”

“Yes,” Captain Park said, his tone flat. “Understood.”

As he ended the call, his gaze hardened, and he turned back to the map. For years, he had been following orders, playing his part in the larger scheme. His loyalty to the Front Man was unwavering, but there were moments brief, fleeting moments when he questioned the morality of his actions.

Above deck, Your twin and Jun-ho continued to talk, oblivious to the storm brewing below.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said firmly, her determination cutting through the doubt. “Whatever it takes, we’ll find them. Your brother, my sister… we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Jun-ho nodded, a faint but genuine smile breaking through his usually guarded expression. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We will.”

But even as the two of them reaffirmed their resolve, Captain Park stood in the shadows, his loyalty to the Front Man ensuring that their journey would be anything but smooth.

The group had gathered once again in the corner of the dormitory, their voices low as Gi-hun laid out the next steps for the rebellion. The plan was delicate balancing timing, coordination, and the element of surprise. Everyone leaned in, listening intently, their expressions tense as they hung onto every word.

Young-il, standing with his arms crossed and an air of confidence that didn’t match the room’s energy, suddenly spoke up. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice cutting through the conversation, “what if instead of splitting up like Gi-hun said, we all rush the guards at once? Overwhelm them with numbers. They won’t expect us to come at them head-on.”

The room went quiet for a beat, everyone glancing around to gauge the reaction. You let out a loud, exasperated groan, throwing your head back dramatically before fixing Young-il with a pointed glare.

“Seriously?” you said, your voice heavy with annoyance. “That’s your brilliant plan? Rushing the guards like a bunch of idiots?” You crossed your arms, leaning back against the wall. “It’s like you’re trying to find the fastest way to get us all killed. Do you even think before you open your mouth?”

Young-il’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening as he stared you down. “I’m just trying to contribute,” he snapped.

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Contribute? The only thing you’re contributing is a higher body count for their side. Do you ever stop to consider how stupid some of your ideas are? It’s better if you just keep your mouth shut, honestly.”

The group exchanged awkward glances, unsure whether to intervene or let the two of you go at it. Even Gi-hun seemed at a loss, his lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to keep the discussion on track.

Young-il took a step closer to you, his voice rising. “And what’s your plan, then? Since you’re so much smarter than everyone else.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “And it doesn’t involve running into gunfire like a lunatic. But hey, if you’re so eager to play hero, we could always sacrifice you instead.”

That earned a few stifled chuckles from the group, though most of them quickly looked away when Young-il’s glare swept over them.

“Why Sacrifice me?” he repeated, his tone incredulous.

You smirked, leaning forward slightly as if daring him to argue. “Yeah, why not? Think about it, you’re loud, stubborn, and completely disposable. Perfect for drawing attention while the rest of us get actual work done. The only thing you’re good at is when you’re eating, so unless you plan on shoving food into the guards’ mouths to slow them down, I don’t see how you’re useful.”

A ripple of laughter broke through the tension this time, though Gi-hun quickly raised his hand to quiet the group. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said firmly, stepping between you and Young-il before things could escalate further.

You huffed, crossing your arms again as you leaned back against the wall. “I’m just saying,” you muttered under your breath, “some of us are trying to survive this, not get everyone killed.”

Young-il glared at you one last time before retreating to his corner, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear.

Gi-hun sighed, rubbing his temples as he turned back to the group. “Can we focus, please?” he said, his tone exasperated. “We don’t have time for this. We need a plan that’s smart, coordinated, and gives us the best chance of surviving. If anyone has constructive suggestions, now’s the time to share them.”

The group murmured their agreement, shifting uncomfortably as they tried to refocus on the task at hand. You glanced at Young-il out of the corner of your eye, catching the frustration etched into his face.

“Good talk,” you muttered sarcastically under your breath, earning a few stifled smiles from the group.

Despite the tension, the conversation moved forward, though the air between you and Young-il remained thick with unspoken animosity. And as Gi-hun continued to lay out the rebellion’s details, you couldn’t help but wonder if Young-il’s presence in the group would end up being more trouble than it was worth.

The group was gathered in the dimly lit corner of the dormitory once again, the tension thick in the air as the weight of the upcoming rebellion loomed over everyone. Gi-hun had been explaining some of the risks they might face, but you could tell the group’s morale was shaky. Everyone knew the next game dubbed the “Special Game” was going to be brutal. If they wanted to stand a chance at survival, they needed a strategy, and they needed it fast.

You leaned forward, sitting cross-legged on the floor, your sharp eyes scanning the group. “Alright, listen up,” you said, your voice cutting through the hushed murmurs. “I’ve got an idea.”

Everyone turned to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and desperation. Even Young-il, leaning against the wall with his usual smug look, seemed mildly interested, though his arms remained crossed in defiance.

You took a deep breath and began laying out your plan, your voice steady and confident. “When the Special Game begins, we already know what’s going to happen. ‘Team O’ are going to trying to eliminate us. Which is known as ‘weeding out the weakest,’ or whatever twisted logic they call it i. But we’re not going to play into their hands.”

The group leaned in closer, hanging on your every word. Even Gi-hun looked impressed by how quickly you’d taken control of the conversation.

“We’ll start by hiding under the beds,” you continued, gesturing around the room. “It’s not about being scared or weak. it’s about strategy. If we stay out in the open, we’re sitting ducks. Hiding under the beds, we’ll have the element of surprise. The soldiers will come in, guns blazing, stopping special game. and checking if the players are dead, But that’s when we make our move.”

A ripple of understanding passed through the group as they began nodding, murmuring in agreement.

“When they start shooting at the players, we’ll spring out and catch them off guard,” you said, your tone sharp and determined. “We’ll fight back, disarm them, and take their guns. Once we’ve got their weapons, it’s game over for them. They’ll realize they’re outnumbered, and most of them will retreat.”

You paused, letting your words sink in before adding, “But there’ll always be one one soldier who refuses to give up, who thinks he can be a hero. That’s the one we’ll corner. We’ll force him to cooperate, make him take us to the control room. And that’s where we’ll find the leader of the mask.”

The room was silent for a moment, everyone processing the boldness of your plan. Then, one by one, they began nodding, murmuring their approval. Even Gi-hun gave you a small, approving smile.

“That’s a solid plan,” Geum-ja said, her voice steady.

“Yeah, it could actually work,” Yong-sik agreed, his expression brightening with hope.

The murmurs grew louder as more players voiced their agreement, a newfound sense of determination spreading through the group.

You smirked, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. Your eyes landed on Young-il, who was glaring at you from his spot against the wall. His expression was a mixture of annoyance and begrudging respect, though he clearly wasn’t ready to admit it.

“See?” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Everyone loves my idea better than yours. That’s what you call woman power.” You gave him a pointed look, your smirk widening. “And be happy, Young-il. That I didn’t sacrifice you.”

A few members of the group chuckled at your jab, though they quickly stifled their laughter when Young-il’s glare swept over them.

“Don’t get too cocky,” Young-il muttered, his tone low and defensive.

You shrugged, unbothered by his reaction. “I’m just saying,” you replied, your voice light but laced with sarcasm. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before suggesting one of your dumb plans.”

Gi-hun stepped in before things could escalate, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “Alright, let’s not waste energy arguing,” he said, his voice firm. “Y/N’s plan is solid, and if we stick to it, we have a real chance of turning the tide. Let’s focus on preparing and making sure everyone knows their role.”

The group nodded, their focus returning to the task at hand. Even Young-il seemed to begrudgingly accept the plan, though the tension between you two remained palpable.

As the meeting continued, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. For once, the group was united, and your plan had given them a glimmer of hope. You just hoped that when the time came, they’d all be ready to act and that Young-il wouldn’t find a way to screw it up.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink as your twin and Jun-ho stood at the edge of the boat, the waves crashing gently against the hull. The conversation between them had grown more personal over the past few hours, their shared goal of finding their missing siblings acting as an unspoken bond that pulled them closer.

She leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, her expression distant. “You know,”she began softly, “it’s been years, but I’ve never stopped looking. Every day, I wake up thinking that today could be the day I find her. My twin… my other half.”

Jun-ho, standing beside her, nodded in quiet understanding. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his voice low. “When my brother went missing, it felt like a part of me disappeared with him. I’ve spent every waking moment since trying to figure out what happened to him. It’s like… until I find him, I can’t let myself move on.”

She glanced over at Jun-ho, her lips curving into a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How someone’s absence can take up so much space in your life.”

Jun-ho returned the smile, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Yeah. It’s like everything else fades into the background, and all that matters is finding them.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them. Then Jun-ho spoke again, his tone lighter this time. “You know, once we find the island and you find your twin and I find my brother maybe we should celebrate.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jun-ho with a curious look. “Celebrate how?”

Jun-ho grinned, a rare flash of playfulness breaking through his usually serious demeanor. “How about dinner? You and me, somewhere far away from all this madness. A real meal, no rations, no guards, no games. Just good food, good company, and no stress for once.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re already planning dinner, huh? We haven’t even found the island yet.”

“Hey,” Jun-ho said with a shrug, his grin widening. “It’s called optimism. You can’t survive something like this without a little bit of hope.”

She smiled, her gaze softening as she looked back at the horizon. “You’ve got a point,” she admitted. “And honestly? A real meal does sound nice. Something to remind us that there’s still life outside of all this.”

Jun-ho nodded, his expression turning more serious. “Exactly. Once this is over, we deserve to have something to look forward to. Something to remind us why we’re fighting so hard to get through this.”

She glanced at him, a hint of gratitude in her eyes. “You’re not bad at this whole motivational speech thing, you know that?”

Jun-ho laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t get used to it. I’m usually more of a ‘keep to myself’ kind of guy.”

“Well,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips, “I’ll hold you to that dinner, then. But only if we both make it out of this alive.”

Jun-ho extended his hand, his expression serious but with a glimmer of determination. “Deal. We both make it out, and dinner’s on me.”

She took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Deal.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the boat in shadows, the two of them stood side by side, their shared resolve strengthening their bond. Though the journey ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, the promise of a simple dinner a moment of normalcy in a world of chaos gave them both a sliver of hope to hold onto.

The dormitory had fallen into a heavy silence as everyone began settling in for the night. The faint sound of the guards’ footsteps echoed in the distance, blending with the rhythmic hum of the facility’s ventilation system. Players shuffled to their assigned areas, whispering final words to each other before pulling up their thin blankets. Despite the stillness, there was an undercurrent of tension a quiet storm brewing as everyone braced themselves for what was to come.

You sat on your bed, leaning against the cold wall as you absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread on your sleeve. The rebellion was so close now, the plans coming together perfectly. But the weight of everything your role, the deception, the risks hung heavy on your chest. You couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Not now.

As you were lost in thought, you noticed a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Moments later, Young-il appeared beside you, his expression smug as he casually leaned against the edge of the bed.

“Marriage power,” he murmured with a sly smirk, his voice low enough that no one else would hear.

You glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

“That’s what I’m calling it,” he said, his smirk widening. “You called it ‘woman power’ earlier, but let’s be real—our teamwork, our strategy… that’s what’s really keeping this rebellion together. It’s marriage power.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Young-il chuckled softly, lowering his voice even further. “Do you think one of the soldiers is going to reveal themselves during the rebellion?”

You sighed, leaning forward slightly as you considered the question. “You know it’s happened before,” you said quietly. “It’s happened multiple times. And if it happens again, you know what we do.” Your eyes locked with his, a steely determination in your gaze. “We take them out, no hesitation. But we also need to be smart about it. We have to make sure that we have soldiers securing the control rooms and all of the places.”

Young-il nodded, his expression serious now as he listened intently. You continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking… during the rebellion, you could fake your death. It’ll throw everyone off, especially Gi-hun and his team. They won’t see it coming.”

A spark of intrigue flickered in Young-il’s eyes. “Faking my death, huh?”

You nodded, leaning closer. “Once everyone thinks you’re gone, you’ll slip away and change into your normal clothing and wear the mask. Then you’ll have the perfect opportunity to get to Jung-bae. You can eliminate him as the Frontman, and no one will suspect a thing.”

Young-il’s smirk returned, a dark glint in his eyes. “And Gi-hun?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Gi-hun will be heartbroken,” you said without hesitation, your tone cold and calculated. “Jung-bae is his best friend. When Jung-bae dies, the guilt is going to eat him alive just like it did when he first joined the games back in 2020.”

Young-il let out a low chuckle, his smirk widening. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

You shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “It’s not about being ruthless. It’s about surviving. And if Gi-hun’s guilt can be used against him, we’d be stupid not to take advantage of it.”

Young-il’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “I wish I could kiss you,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the hum of the room. “I miss kissing you.”

Your expression softened for a brief moment, and you glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. “Don’t worry,” you said softly. “Soon, this will all be over. And when it is, we’ll have all the time in the world.”

Young-il nodded, his smirk returning as a hint of mischief danced in his eyes. “Gi-hun and his little team will regret ever messing with us,” he said, his voice dark. “The Frontman and his wife aren’t just players. they’re the real architects of this game. And the games will continue. No one else is stronger, smarter, or more cunning than us.”

You allowed yourself a small, conspiratorial smile, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. And when this is over, no one will even remember Gi-hun or his rebellion. The games will stay, and we’ll be the ones pulling the strings.”

Young-il straightened up, his confidence radiating from him as he cast one final glance around the room. “Soon,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Very soon.”

With that, he slipped away into his bed, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The rebellion was coming, and so was the final act of your carefully crafted plan. All that was left now was to wait for the perfect moment to strike.