Chapter Text
“You know, there’s certainly a reason that we’re all here, with nothing but a single bullet,” Leehan began slowly. “I wonder, ever since when, our relationship had become such fragile to a point that–” He shot his gaze across the revolver lying on the table.
“There is a snitch here,” Leehan stressed on the particular phrase, and his eyes landed on Sungho for a second longer than necessary, the faintest glint of amusement flickered across. “But– today wasn’t about finding the truth, at all. I don't even care who that person was. Just lay back and see him struggling to keep his act up before the bullet gets pierced into his head, I reckon. After all, spoilers are never welcomed… don’t you agree, Taesan?”
Taesan didn’t say anything. He slowly reached for the revolver from the table, loaded it in a calming manner and pointed it at Woonhak with a taunting expression. “Kim Woonhak,” Taesan growled as he tightened his grip. “I’ve had enough of you. How dare you…” His voice trailed off, as if he was hinting something personal between them. “Those were supposed to be mine.”
Obviously Woonhak wasn’t listening, which brings up the question whether his mind was in the room in the first place. He seemed a little too calm for his nature, as he gave a lazy shrug and mocked a surrender pose after like, forever. Woonhak’s gaze sharpened, yet his hazy tone seemed completely uninterested in Taesan’s accusation. “Whatever. If you shoot me and I’m dead, I’ll make sure to gift them to hyung… go on. Shoot.”
Without hesitation, Taesan pressed the muzzle against Woonhak’s head and pulled the trigger.
Click .
The revolver fired nothing but air, and Taesan’s expression remained unchanged. The probability to shoot a bullet is 1/7– and Taesan knew the shot wasn't going to happen in the first round. With a widened grin, Woonhak snatched the revolver from the table and pointed the revolver at Riwoo’s direction, and he didn’t even bother to spin the chamber. Riwoo watched him closely while leaning back with an amused expression.
“You’ve let your guard down, hyung…!” Woonhak shouted excitedly, a hint of mischief gleamed in his eyes.
Riwoo, struggling to contain his smile, replied, “Wait–”
Another trigger pulled. Click .
“Aaaaaaaah!!” Woonhak exclaimed, rather joyfully as if he had just won a jackpot rather than shooting the bullet in a deadly game.
Another failed shot, but neither Woonhak nor Riwoo was baffled with the outcome. Riwoo laughed in return, and snatched the revolver back from the table. “Woonhak, you look extra offended by the fact that I’m not dead yet? What's wrong? I guess you’re now guilty for the crime of annoyance… would you like to make an appeal?”
“Hyung, I’m not ready to die yet, you know,” Woonhak stared at the latter with widened eyes. “You shouldn’t corner the youngest one in here, right?” he smirked as if the revolver was simply a toy gun to him.
“Bang! I got you!” Riwoo suddenly shouted, and aimed the revolver back at Woonhak. He leaned in and pulled the trigger with an exaggerated smile.
Click . Empty shot.
The two bursted into hysterical laughter as if they were treating this deadly game as some kind of funny joke. Woonhak took over the gun again and started weighing it in his hands, the other hand wiping his tears. “S-Sungho hyung,” Woonhak choked, as he handed the revolver to Sungho slowly with an unsettling smirk. “It’s your turn now.”
Sungho accepted the revolver from Woonhak with a heavy heartbeat. One tiny flinch in any face muscle he’ll be dead— everyone is watching him, and he could never show the slightest fear. He gulped lightly, spun the chamber and pulled the trigger as he pointed it towards Jaehyun.
Click .
Jaehyun’s cold, emotionless gaze stared right into his soul where Sungho could feel a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t show it, as he slowly handed the revolver to Jaehyun where the latter didn’t even speak a word before pointing it towards Leehan. “4 shots and nothing happened? Boring. Leehan-ssi, make an acrostic poem out of your hometown and I’ll see whether I shall spare you.”
What even is that question? Sungho stares in disbelief as Jaehyun turns a life-and-death situation into a childish game of poem making– yet to Sungho’s surprise, Leehan did not reject Jaehyun’s idea.
“Bu. ‘Parents’…” Leehan slowly replied.
“San.”
“...”
“Say ‘please spare me’, won’t you? ‘Please. spare. me.”
Leehan refused with a smiling face, a little bit too amused even when Jaehyun was pressing the muzzle at his forehead, as if he was taunting Jaehyun to press on the trigger.
Click . Another empty shot.
Leehan’s smile faded upon the failed shot as he picked up the gun. “Acrostic poems are boring, Jaehyun-ssi. Can you not bring that up ever again? There are a lot more ways to spice things up, don’t you agree…"
He looked across the table, and pointed the revolver at himself. Whether he’s expecting reaction from the others, or whether it was directed at him– Sungho did not know. But one thing that he’s certain is that, even if Leehan becomes a dead body in the next second, he’s not going to leave this room alive tonight.
Sungho, are you watching?
Leehan pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Click... or Bang?