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burningembers91 · 22 days ago

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Loving You From Afar - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Park Gyeong-Seok is in love with you. But his life isn't one he thinks you'd want to share. If only he opened his eyes, he might realise that you loved him too.

Warnings: depictions of cancer, Park Gyeong-Seok's daughter is sick, Reader and Gyong-Seok are lovesick fools, 18+only!

The past few years hadn’t been easy for Park Gyeong-Seok. His marriage to who he thought was the love of his life, and the subsequent birth of his beautiful baby girl should have been a turning point in his life. But sadly, fate had other plans. Na-Yeon had been born prematurely, the doctors uncertain whether she would make it through the night. But his daughter, she was one hell of a fighter, and she pulled through. It hadn’t been plain sailing, her early birth leaving her sickly and frail. Gyeong-Seok never lost hope, he never gave up on the tiny life he cradled to sleep every night. His wife on the other hand, she found it hard to cope. Being a mother wasn’t what she thought it would be, and she wasn’t equipped to deal with a child who needed round the clock care. A few months after Na-Yeon was born, her mother left in the middle of the night. Gyeong-Seok had spent months trying to track her down, but she didn’t want to be found.

His dream of opening his own art studio came to screeching halt, and he found himself taking any and every job he could to keep his daughter fed and sheltered. He eventually found himself at an amusement park, painting tourists for less than the price of a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a well-paying job, but Na-Yeon loved spending every day there, watching the characters in their costumes, laughing as they paraded through the park. Her health was in decline again, cancer ravaging her already broken body. But she was so strong, so happy, and that was what kept Gyeong-Seok going. When he could no longer afford their two-bedroom apartment, he moved to a smaller one-bedroom place, giving his daughter the bedroom while he made do with the sofa bed.

That was where he’d met you; the beautiful girl who lived across the hall. The one Na-Yeon spoke of all day every day. you were the one who made him laugh on the days he felt like crying, who took Na-Yeon out for ice cream when he needed a rest or bought her colouring books and toys when he was struggling to keep her entertained. You had such a way with his daughter, and your presence was one that calmed him immediately. It was you who had crocheted the strawberry hat his little girl never took off, something to keep her warm when the chemo took her hair. If you didn’t enjoy looking after Na-Yeon, you never complained. You always had a smile on your face, always had a positive word for him.

He'd fallen hopelessly in love with you over the last eight months, but you would never want to be with him. He could barely afford to keep a roof over his daughter’s head. he couldn’t take you out on dates, or buy you jewellery, or whisk you on a weekend away. Na-Yeon’s treatment took every penny he earned, and there were nights when he couldn’t afford to feed the both of them, so he went hungry. He never asked you for anything, never complained, and yet you seemed to sense his desperation. You’d bring food round every now and again, enough to last them a few days. He would never be able to find a way to repay you for your kindness, would never be able to articulate just how much you meant to him.

He's drawn and painted you probably a dozen times, but he could never get the courage up to give you any of his creations. Your beauty couldn’t compare to his artwork, your kindness could never fully shine through on the paper. Some nights, you’d sit together in his apartment, Na-Yeon sleeping in the bedroom next door. Your fingers would graze each other’s as you watched TV, your knees would bump together under the blanket you cozied under for warmth. You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, but it never went further than that. You deserved someone who could buy you nice things, who could take you places Gyeong-Seok would only ever be able to dream of.

The paintings of you stayed tucked out of sight, just like his feelings for you. there were nights he’d lie on the tiny sofa bed, the springs digging into his back, and he’d think about you. He wondered how it would feel to be able to love you, to be able to cuddle up next to you each night, not on a broken sofa bed, but in a plush King size bed with silk sheets. He wondered if his pillows would smell like your perfume, whether you’d smile when he woke you up every morning with a kiss. He wondered if Na-Yeon would grow up to think of you as her mother, turning to you for advice about hair, boys and other things dads didn’t have the privilege of knowing about.

No one wanted a poor painter though, who had holes in his clothes and a daughter who needed constant care. He didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to make your life hard. You were so kind, so caring, and so full of life. He would be content loving you from afar, relishing the friendship you gave him and his daughter.

You wished Gyeong-Seok could see how amazing he was. He was a man broken by circumstances beyond his control, dealt a shitty hand of cards by life. you’d loved him from the moment you met him, carrying his daughter to the apartment across the hall from you as she giggled. He worked so hard to provide for them and you wished you could do more to help. You didn’t want to seem like you were pitying him, because you weren’t. life may have kicked him, but Gyeong-Seok wouldn’t stay down. He was the strongest, most resilient person you’d ever met, and you loved both him and Na-Yeon more than anything in the world. The nights you spent with him, watching TV under the blanket were so precious to you. you thought there might have been something between the two you of, but Gyeong-Seok would only ever smile, and turn his face away. you would be content to love him from afar and cherish every moment you spent with him.

You watched him now, painting a picture of the Seoul skyline while you crocheted a matching strawberry sweater for Na-Yeon, who was fast asleep beside you. You met each other’s eyes, the two of you smiling. Not realising just how much you meant to each other.

#squid game 2 #squid game #squid game x reader #park gyeong seok #park gyeong seok x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #lee jin uk #park gyeong seok x you #squid game season 2 #player 246 #gyeong seok

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calling-miya · 17 days ago

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The Deception of Color - Squid Game - Chapter 1

Characters - Park Gyeong-seok (Player 246), Yoon Ji-lon (oc, Player 77)

Fic Summary - Two people have the unfortunate luck of having the same idea.

Chapter Summary - The hospital is an overbearing place that can lead to bad decisions for a good reason.

Word Count - 4,591

Warnings - cancer, sickness, hospitals, not beta read, not edited

A/N : cross-posted to A03. I don't speak Korean nor have I ever visited South Korea. It's a bit confusing using the character's names because I know there are all types of honorifics to be used. Please let me know in the comments for the things I should do differently and change. That is, if anyone actually reads this obscure fic. If you want something to exist, though, and it doesn't exist already, you must do it yourself. I call myself a pioneer.

The drip drip drip of the machine kept Ji-lon awake. The little girl asleep on the hospital bed did not stir, though. Ji-lon was thankful for that. She had been awake constantly as of recently with the treatments and whatnot. It was good this girl was getting sleep. However, Ji-lon wished the same grace was allowed unto her.

She tossed and turned on the flimsy couch against the wall of the room. She refused to turn her back on Na-yeon, though. So she became incredibly uncomfortable for laying in the same position for so long. Still she refused to move. She became quickly restless and she sat up, finally giving up on any sleep for the night.

It was only when Ji-lon was certain that Na-yeon was sound asleep did she creep out of the room and close the sliding door as quietly as she could. Because it was nighttime, many of the lights of the hospital were off. It created quite an unsettling ambience where she was unsure of what was around the corner. For some odd reason, she worried that she may run into a doctor. It wasn’t as if she was doing anything untrustworthy, and she had every right to be there. But she just couldn’t deal with any more depressing glances as they recognized her. Na-yeon had come to this hospital plenty of times for them to be familiar with all three of their faces.

Ji-lon found herself in the cafeteria. She sat at a table by herself, nursing a cup of burnt coffee. Since she had given up on sleep, she couldn’t allow herself to suddenly pass out. She sipped it slowly because it burned her tongue. That was okay. Soon enough she wouldn’t recognize the burn and would be able to drink it completely.

“Miss Ji-lon.”

She looked up to see a familiar face. “Oh,” she said. “Doctor. I thought you would have gone home for the night.”

“Please,” he said. “Call me Seong-min.”

“Right,” Ji-lon answered. “Seong-min.”

The doctor smiled. He was not the doctor assigned to Na-yeon’s case, but he was a friendly face at the very least. He had been there to help when it was needed. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty chair across.

“Of course not.”

Seong-min nodded gratefully and pulled the chair back. He took his seat and folded his hands on the table, giving her a warm smile. That was the exact sort of smile that Ji-lon was sick of getting. Pitying looks. Acceptance glares. She was just so tired of people accepting the inevitability of what would happen to that girl.

“I guess I understand,” Ji-lon said, eyes on her paper cup. “Doctors have such a busy schedule. I’m just not used to being in hospitals. Do you really work so often?”

“Not always,” Seong-min explained. “This place is a lot like a second home. I like it here. I do good work with good people. Well,” he glanced over his shoulder. “Mostly good people.” He winked. “Seriously. Some of the attendants here have an attitude.”

Ji-lon smiled softly. “Yes. So I’ve learned.”

“And, er…” Seong-min started. “How have you been dealing?”

Where she once just smiled fell into a depressed expression. “The same as anyone would be.”

“I mean… You haven’t been sleeping. I can tell,” he gestured to his eyes. “Your eyes are very heavy. You should get some rest.”

“I will when her father returns,” she argued gently, bringing up the coffee cup to her lips and taking a sip. She was right. It no longer burned. Not because it was no longer hot, but because her tongue no longer noticed it. She set down the cup. “He will be here by the morning.”

“He’s retrieving things from your home, correct?”

“No. Their home,” she corrected. Her bottom lip twitched. “I don’t… I don’t live with them.” Before Seong-min could ask any questions, Ji-lon answered them for him. “However. I stay with them on occasion. He is bringing clothes for Na-yeon.” The memory of her bright pink room tickled the back of her brain. She had spent many nights sleeping on the floor of that room when Na-yeon couldn’t sleep while her father had picked up another odd job.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” The doctor started. Ji-lon did mind, but she allowed him to continue out of tiredness. “What is your relationship to Na-yeon?”

“I…” She’s mine, was Ji-lon’s first instinct. It was so simple to say, and so true. Na-yeon was hers. If not in blood, then in love. But Ji-lon wasn’t her mother. She knew that. But she couldn’t have just been nobody, either. “I grew up with her father.” It was a quick explanation, and certainly a lot had been left out.

“I should return to Na-yeon,” Ji-lon shook her head to rid herself of memories. She stood abruptly and bowed her head to Seong-min. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“Yes. If you ever need anything, Miss Ji-lon. Let me know. I’m always just around the corner.”

Ji-lon opened the sliding door to Na-yeon’s hospital room and stopped suddenly in her tracks. In the chair beside her bed was her father, Gyeong-seok. He was petting the girl’s head. His back was to the door, so Ji-lon could not make out his expression. But it could not have been anything but soft when it came to his daughter.

“You’re back…” Ji-lon said, eyes widening. “I… I only stepped out for a moment.”

Gyeong-seok did not turn around. Ji-lon hoped she did not look as tired as he did. If he had an issue with her stepping out, he did not voice it. He changed the topic, “I brought some of your clothes from the house. I’m certain it’s something you no longer wear, but… I thought you may want to change. The bag is on the couch…”

Ji-lon became suddenly aware of her current outfit. She had come straight from work as an afterschool helper in a little town right outside of the city. As soon as she got the news that Na-yeon had collapsed, she dropped everything right away and came straight to the hospital.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

Gyeon-seok nodded. It appeared that he had changed too. Now he was only wearing a black shirt and a flannel with his dirty artist jeans. It made Ji-lon smile. He looked just like he did in highschool.

Ji-lon carefully took the folded clothes from the bag and went into the bathroom. She changed, shrugging the t-shirt over her head and pulled her arms through the holes. It was too big on her, and it occurred that it must’ve been one of his. She also pulled on a pair of jeans, something comfortable. She tugged at the hem of the shirt, content.

She flicked off the light and emerged from the bathroom, coming to sit in the second chair beside Gyeong-seok. His head was in his hands.

“Hey,” she said, sitting down. Her hand went to rest on his shoulder softly. He looked up at her through the cracks in his fingers. “She’s going to be… okay.” She wanted to slap herself as soon as she hesitated. But the truth was that they didn’t know what was going to happen. Na-yeon was a very sick little girl. They’d been hoping the medication would have been working, but now it was clear it hadn’t. That had been the last effort before something irresistible.

He did not answer.

Ji-lon bit her tongue and looked down, guilty. She didn’t know what to say to this man. Her best friend, the one who they’d gone through thick and thin together. But not this. Nothing like this.

When Na-yeon was first diagnosed at two years old, the two had been fairly confident. But that was before Gyeong-seok lost his job. Then the medication rose in price, and it became harder and harder to get their hands on the treatment the little girl so desperately needed. She had been doing well, too. Or at least appeared to be.

Tears gathered in Ji-lon’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she choked. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder to provide comfort had fallen back into her lap. “I’m so sorry.”

Gyeong-seok held an alarm in his eyes. “No, no.” He said, reaching for her. Immediately she leaned forward and rested her head against his chest, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

Her heart was in so much pain. Any more and she may have had to check herself into this very same hospital. But it must have been nothing to the absolute grief Gyeong-seok was currently undergoing. Ji-lon suddenly felt selfish. How dare she fall apart in his arms?

But then she realized he was crying as well. The silent kind of crying. He was always the quiet type. He took shaking breaths and sounded stuffed up as he breathed. She felt his air against her hair. It was warm compared to the cold air of the hospital. They always kept hospitals so cold because it was hard for illness to spread through it. But it didn’t matter. The cold was suffocating all the same.

Ji-lon was the one to pull away first, but only because her arm had begun to cramp. She rested her head against his shoulder and scooched her chair closer, so their thighs were touching. He had once made a joke that she was too touchy and that people would get the wrong idea about them. It was a flirtatious joke. Ji-lon told her co-workers about that comment. None of that mattered now. Now it was all about Na-yeon. The love they may or may not have had for each other was nothing compared to the love they had for her.

Both of her hands clasped his, while his other hand held Na-yeon’s. It was like they were all holding each other. A little family.

Ji-lon tasted something bad in her mouth. She recalled an argument she and Gyeong-seok had at one point some time after Gyeong-seok lost his job and shortly after Na-yeon was diagnosed.

“I could get a second job?” she said. “It could work.”

“You barely have enough time in a day as it is,” he stated, sitting at the kitchen table. Once upon a time Ji-lon would’ve taken offense to his stern tone. But it had become normal at that point. The stress of it all had just been too much. He shook his head, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes. Ji-lon wanted to brush it aside but refrained from doing so. She crossed her arms instead. “Besides. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Fair?” She said suddenly. “What do you mean fair?”

Gyeong-seok turned away from her tear-stained cheeks and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re doing enough for us as it is,” he inhaled deeply. “I can take another job.” He explained, as if the logistics were enough to keep themselves level-headed in this situation. “But I’ve already asked too much of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ji-lon asked softly, bending down in front of him and placing a hand on his thigh so he would actually look at her.

Gyeon-seok turned to her slowly, eyes heavy with emotion. “You’re not her mother,” he said. “And you aren’t my wife. There is nothing I should expect from you… and you certainly shouldn’t assume responsibility for us.” He took a shuddering breath.

She was stunned. She just stared at him and retracted her arm. The two years it had been since that fateful day in that maternity ward flashed before her eyes. She had been there when she was born. She had watched her take her first steps. She had been there for everything.

He seemed to have realized his words. “Jil-on—”

“Is that what you think?” She stood up, brushing off her knees. “That I’m here because I’m obligated to be?”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Do you really think so little of me?”

His eyes softened, but not enough for it to matter. For any of it to matter.

Gyeong-seok nudged her shoulder with his. “Ji-lon,” he said. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” He murmured, reaching up and tilting her chin closer so he could examine the bags under her eyes. “Please.”

Ji-lon contemplated arguing against him, but there was no use. Now that he was back, she was infinitely more tired than she had been. Instead she nodded and stepped away from him and towards the couch. “Could you wake me up before the sun rises?”

He frowned but nodded.

Ji-lon crawled onto the couch and threw the flimsy blanket the hospital had provided over her shoulders. Her eyelashes tickled her cheeks as her eyes fought to close. It had become an instinct to not let them. She stared at the cushion of the barren couch and thought about how many nights she’d slept on the pullout couch that doubled as Na-yeon’s bed in the small studio apartment Gyeong-seok and she lived in. How many packed lunches she had made. How many times she held Na-yeon’s hand while walking across the street.

She fell asleep dreaming about watching a cartoon with them. Or maybe her dream was the cartoon. She was asleep, so she couldn’t tell. Dreams had strange logic, after all.

“...not covered by insurance, at this point.”

“Doctor, I’ll get the money somehow. Please help Na-yeon.”

A young woman emerged from where she had been standing in a shadow. Not necessarily hidden, per say, but the ambient lighting of the hospital did not match her footsteps. She had become accustomed to blending in. Although she may have seemed like an ordinary college student with a cap and jean jacket, she in fact knew just how to dress to be inconspicuous. But that was not a skill that was needed for her anymore.

Her eyes rested on the room number before her. 4104. She peered through the glass rectangle of the door to see a little girl lying in bed - the same little girl she had encountered prior. She had wandered into the mascot’s room after their shift had completed in hopes of giving the bunny mascot a kind-hearted drawing.

But where the girl’s bright, innocent smile used to be was now hidden by a ventilation mask. She was hooked up to a variety of machines that kept track of her heart and breathing. She looked almost like a porcelain doll. Her hospital gown was too big on her - as if nobody had wanted to create such an outfit for such an undeserving patient. She was tucked in neatly to the white blankets of the bed, guardrails up to prevent her from turning over and falling.

What took the young woman by surprise though was someone lying on the couch beside the bed. The person’s hair had fallen in front of their face - and she recognized it as another woman. It was strange. The woman on the couch looked not many years older than she herself was. Was it the girl’s mother?

Careful not to wake either of them, the young woman reached out very slowly, debatingly, and took the child’s finger gently between her own. She was cold - much too cold. Her eyes softened, reminded of a time when such a touch was common.

The woman on the couch shifted, murmuring in her sleep. She could not have been comfortable. She looked to have been in the midst of a nightmare. Or that also may have just been the symptom of being in such a desolate, hopeless environment.

The young woman pulled the hand away and sniffed. She reached into her bag and took the forgotten strawberry hat that the child had dropped in the chaos of her collapse. She touched the individual stitches of the crocheted item. Such love and care was put into this simple item.

She placed the hat gently atop the child’s body and stepped back. Just then she made a vow. A promise. A lot of promises were made in hospitals. Promises to get better. Promises to let go. Promises to be okay. But this was a different sort of promise. One that erased any sort of humanity that those other promises might’ve held.

She was gone when Gyeong-seok entered the room to find the strawberry hat. He stiffened for a moment. How had it gotten there so suddenly? Then his eyes went over to Ji-lon sleeping on the couch. She must’ve found it somewhere and placed it there for Na-yeon to see when she would wake. He took the item and carefully lifted Na-yeon’s arm so she could feel that it was there. Then he looked out the window. He could’ve sworn he had seen something shimmer, almost like fire, away in the parking lot.

“I talked to the doctors.”

Ji-lon stretched her neck by holding a hand on her shoulder and tilting her head in the opposite direction. Na-yeon was still sound asleep in the bed, but Gyeong-seok had informed her that she had woken up briefly. Her eyes flickered open, trying to capture the moment before it all went wrong. She had a tendency to do that.

“A new medication just came out,” he said tiredly, not quite sitting but rather leaning on Na-yeon’s hospital bed.. “It’s not not covered by insurance.”

Ji-lon grimanced. “I wish you would have woken me up.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But you needed the rest.” He bit the inside of his mouth. “I’ll get the money. I just—” He sucked in a breath. “I’ll find a way. There must be a way.”

She dropped her hand.“Please,” she said softly, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Don’t take this on by yourself. Please, Gyeong-seok…” We’ve been through this, she wanted to say. Don’t hold onto the same beliefs. Ji-lon reached forward and took his hand.

He contemplated and squeezed her hand back. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… hard.” It was hard to drop the act of being so able. Of being the strong one. Of being the single father with the wife who died in childbirth. “I don’t… I can’t…” Gyeong-seok reached up to his chest and balled his shirt into a fist. “It just hurts. Oh, God. It hurts.”

Ji-lon stood quickly, wrapping one arm over his shoulder and resting the other on his back. She thumbed the baby hairs on the back of his neck.

Gyeong-seok took a shuddering breath. He let go of his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her infinitely closer to him. He cried, then. A real cry. He wasn’t even sure Na-yeon wouldn’t wake up from it, but Ji-lon held him all the same through his shaking. It felt like he was breaking. Like glass splinting and breaking apart. Only she was keeping him in place, not allowing him to fall into the floor.

Her lips found the top of his head in a silent reassurance. He nodded against her, trying to show he was thankful. But she knew. She already knew.

“We’re going to figure this out,” she vowed. Ji-lon pulled away so she was looking at him right in his brown eyes. “We’re going to figure this out together.”

We’re a unit, she once said. It had been the day after that fight that constantly replayed in her mind - the one she still felt the reeling effects of. If you think family is just blood, then that’s okay. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t consider me a part of your family… Then consider me a part of your unit.

Ji-lon stared at the stuffed bunny from outside the gift shop. It was perched in the window, surrounded by numerous other pink items attuned for both genders, separated by pink and blue. Ji-lon imagined how many grandparents or aunts may have been scrabbling for a gift for a newborn child after only finding out the gender.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to step inside. Instead she just stared at that little bunny, imagining Na-yeon’s careful little hands wrapping around it weakly. It brought tears to her eyes.

“Searching for a gift for a loved one?”

She hadn’t realized someone was beside her. It was a businessman dressed in a tuxedo suit. He held a briefcase at his side. His smile was elegant, coy, and professional. Like he was about to pitch her something.

“Oh,” she said, caught off guard of seeing such a man. “Yes.”

“The bunny?”

She raised an eyebrow instead of responding.

“The bunny is the star of the show. Would you really have been looking at anything else?”

What a cryptic man, Ji-lon thought to herself. “I was looking at the bunny,” she said. “However, it’s more than I thought it would be…” She had one hand in her jacket pocket, fumbling with the paper won crumpled up in there. She already knew it would not be enough.

“Money problems?” The man asked. He looked both curious and… maybe shocked? She didn’t really understand why. Maybe it had been her clothes? She made it a habit to dress very well, even though money was tight. It had not always been that way.

Part of her wanted to argue with him. It was such a personal question. But he was so well put-together. He had this odd sort of charisma about him, too. She bit her cheek.

“My daughter is in the hospital,” she answered. Ji-lon froze. She was shocked at how easily the word had come out. “I wanted to get her something. But now… all I can think about is how the money I may spend on this should end up contributing to her medicine.”

“She’s very sick?”

“Yes,” her eyes darkened. “It’s gotten to a point of no return.”

“And the medicine is expensive.”

“Also yes.”

Ji-lon and the businessman stood in silent contemplation for a moment. Both of them just stared at the bunny wordlessly. It was an odd sort of companionship.

He seemed to think to himself for a moment. He stared at her while he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a very small envelope. He held the small brown envelope out. There were three shapes on the cardboard paper it used - a circle, a triangle, and a square. He beckoned her to take it. He watched her carefully. Wiggling the envelope as if it were a toy taunting a cat.

So this was a marketing ploy. Still, she took it out of curiosity and flipped it over. There was nothing on the back. “What is this?”

“Have you ever played the lottery?”

“Once,” she said skeptically. Her eyebrows furrowed. It was strange for him to offer her this, and more so that it seemed that he was doing her a favor. Nothing in this life came for free - and certainly not on a street right outside of a hospital.

“No,” he stated, voice suddenly serious. “It’s just a chance.”

She looked down at the envelope and took her bottom lip between her teeth. Her gut tingled - but she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. It really did feel like a chance - for better or worse.

Just as she was about to give it back - or perhaps throw it at his feet - he was already walking away. Ji-lon’s feet were planted in place. She held onto the envelope like a lifeline. Her fingers itched, so she opened it. Inside was a business card - at least, what it looked like. On the back was a phone number in black text, stark against the background.

She shook her head. She'd throw it away as soon as she found a trashcan.

That night she went to her own apartment to shower. Ji-lon wished she stayed, and kept thinking about turning around while she was driving, but in the end she stepped through the threshold of her front door. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her couch. She really should’ve gotten rid of this place a long time ago since she was practically living over with Gyeong-seok. But it was her first taste of independence. And rent wasn’t too bad, either.

The living room was dark but moonlight came in through the windows. She fished out the card from before and frowned, examining it once more. She should've just thrown it away. But then she recalled the look in that man’s eye. How serious he had gotten.

With her phone in her hand, she dialed the numbers written on the card. The phone line rang for long enough where she considered hanging up, but as soon as it was answered, she went silent.

“Please state your name and date of birth.”

Ji-lon blinked at the monotone voice. What was this?

She pictured Na-yeon’s small body in the hospital bed. It’s just a chance, the man had said.

“... April 16th, 1998. Yoon Ji-Lon.”

The voice on the other end was quiet. Cars drove by on the street below her apartment building. Rain pattered against the window.

Then.

“Information confirmed.”

“What is this?” She said as soon as they were finished speaking. “I received this card from a man… He said it was a chance. What does that mean?”

The monotone voice did not flinch. “If you received the card, it means you are in debt or in great need of money. We are offering you a way to earn that money.”

If she had any sense, she would’ve hung right up. This was suspicious, insanely so. But the letters and words of the invoice echoed around in her head, taunting her with the amount. She sat up. Her dark living room now seemed unsettling. “How so?”

“You will be participating in a selection of games. If you make it to the end, you receive a grand prize. One that will fix your problems.”

She was quiet.

“The pickup location is Noeul Campground and will occur on October 31st, 2024. Please confirm your placement.”

Well, if it doesn’t go well… I can always leave, she thought to herself. That’s what she would do. She was still very curious, but if what the man was saying was possible? If she could save Na-yeon’s life? It didn’t matter if this was someone calling for hard manual labor. She would do it. She would do it a million times over if it meant saving Na-yeon.

Gyeong-seok was probably not sleeping very well in the hospital. She would have to get back as soon as possible in the morning.

She took a deep breath.

“Yes.”