Chapter Text
Nam-Gyu’s eyes fluttered open, his head pounding like a drum. The blaring noise of distant gunfire and screams from the previous night had faded into a disquieting silence. He blinked a few times, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of where he was.
He touched his chest, half expecting to find himself bleeding or cold. Instead, he was warm—alive.
“I’m... not dead?” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking.
He sat up slowly, his body heavy and sluggish from the pills. They hadn’t killed him; they’d only sent him into a deep, drug-induced sleep. He looked around the dormitory, which was littered with the remnants of the previous night’s chaos: bloodstains on the floor, broken cots, and the unmistakable stillness of those who didn’t survive the "lights out."
But Nam-Gyu had.
He groaned as he swung his legs over the edge of the cot, his hands trembling as he pressed them into his lap. His thoughts drifted back to the bathroom, to Thanos lying on the cold tiles, blood pooling around his lifeless body.
The memory hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Thanos,” he muttered bitterly, his voice dripping with anger. “You idiot... you left me here. You were supposed to stick around.”
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His mind raced through every moment they’d spent together in the games—the stupid jokes, the pills, the way Thanos had brushed off his warnings like they were nothing.
“You thought you were better than me, didn’t you?” Nam-Gyu hissed. “Always laughing, always acting like you didn’t care about anything. Like I was just some loser tagging along.”
But the more he thought about it, the more his anger twisted into something darker—something lonelier.
Thanos had cared, hadn’t he?
He’d given Nam-Gyu pills when he didn’t have to. He’d made stupid jokes to lighten the mood. He’d stuck by Nam-Gyu’s side when everyone else looked at him like trash.
And now he was gone.
Nam-Gyu pressed his hands to his face, a dry sob escaping his throat.
“Why’d you do it?” he whispered. “Why’d you have to go and die, huh? You were the only one who gave a damn about me, and now you’re gone. Just like everyone else.”
He slammed his fist into the side of the cot, his anger flaring again.
“This is your fault,” he spat. “You left me. You didn’t care enough to stay alive. And now I’m stuck here, alone, because of you.”
The words felt hollow, even as he said them. Deep down, Nam-Gyu knew Thanos wasn’t to blame. But it was easier to curse the dead than face the truth: he was alone because he’d always pushed people away.
Nam-Gyu sat there for a long time, his head in his hands, until the robotic voice echoed through the room.
“Players, prepare for the next game.”
He didn’t move right away, his mind still tangled in grief and blame. But as the guards entered to usher the players out, Nam-Gyu forced himself to his feet.
Thanos’ death had left a void inside him, but it also left something else: a smoldering vengeance. If he was going to survive this hell, he’d do it for himself. No one else mattered.
Not anymore.