Chapter Text
Kang Sae-byeok knows that she is dying.
She can feel it in her very bones-- a cold, seeping sensation, consuming her very person with every passing second.
It's unbearable.
She's known she was dead since the second she was hit by that damned glass shard, known that she wouldn't survive another night since she felt her blood begin to pool. It doesn't make dying any easier, now that it's come.
She can barely think anymore.
She fades in and out of consciousness, eyes drooping, head spinning, for how long she isn't sure. At some point, the room darkens, and she readjusts her grip on her knife before sagging once more.
"Kang Sae-byeok."
Sae-byeok's eyes fly open, heart pumping, mind racing as she grabs for her knife. Player 456 stands before her, an odd look on his face.
She can feel her wound open with the drawing of her blade. She bites back a grimace as the man begins to speak.
"It's all right. I didn't come here to kill you."
Sae-byeok glares, fierce as she can manage, holding her arm steady in the face of the player. She doesn't believe that shit for a second, not in here.
"You've been dozing off. I'd have killed you already if I wanted to."
The words are barely reassuring, but her arm is shaking, now, and every moment she holds it up is more agonizing than the last. Her grip falters for a second, and she's almost willing to let the knife drop until 456 draws his own weapon and she regains her grip with a gasp.
"I have this with me because of Sang-woo there. Protection, you know," the man explains, tucking the knife back into his suit pocket. Hesitantly, slowly, Sae-byeok withdraws her arm. The pain subsides, thank God.
456-- it feels odd to call him by his name, Gi-hun-- crouches beside her, keeping his eyes on the man across the room.
"You're not holding up too well, huh?" The player questions, though it's more of a statement than anything.
"No, it's okay, I feel fine," she lies through her teeth, and she knows before it leaves her lips it's a poor one. Anyone with eyes or ears could tell the state she's in.
"So how come you barely touched your food earlier?" The man continues, and damn, he's definitely noticed.
Still, "It wasn't very well cooked," she lies.
She heaves a ragged breath.
"Stop lying, please."
He's looking at her now, finally, but she refuses to meet his eyes. "And if I'm hurt? Are you gonna try to treat it?"
She swallows.
"You need to think about yourself for once. Just leave me, I'll be okay."
They both know it's a lie.
"Hey, Kang Sae-byeok," the man continues, like the fool he is, "we should stick together. We can beat him-- whatever the game, we'll help each other get through this as teammates."
He pauses, looks away from her.
"Show that psychopath what we're made of. Share all that prize money and run away."
They both stop to look up to the ceiling, to the glowing golden pig that hangs above them like some demented God.
"And do you know what you're going to do with that prize money, once we get out?"
"I'll pay off all my debt, first," he says. "And buy a nice store in the city for my mom. She always hoped to run a real store, not just the kind of little stall."
"And I would--" he stops, words heavy on his tongue, "I would finally start being a dad to my little girl. For once in my life."
Sae-byeok takes in the new information. It shouldn't be surprising, given his age, but she still finds herself shocked that this man is a father.
"How old is your daughter?" She asks, curiosity piqued.
"She's ten," he answers.
The same age as Cheol, she thinks. Maybe they could be friends.
But no, that's too hopeful. In a perfect world, perhaps.
"That's also how old my little brother is," she says, simply for the sake of saying, and 456 turns to her, surprise written across his face.
"And where is your brother staying now?"
"In an orphanage," she says. It stings.
"I promised that I'd get him out of there soon."
For a moment, she entertains the idea.
"Our mother is stuck in the North right now. I said I'd get her out once I had enough money, and I'd buy us all a house."
The idea is so beautiful, and it feels perfectly within her grasp, just for that moment.
But, right. She's dying.
"There's so much in there, I think even with half you'd have plenty."
And she definitely would. But she knows what's coming.
"Hey, Gi-hun," the name is foreign on her tongue, too familiar, "I think you and I should make a deal."
He turns his gaze. Dread.
"What kind of deal?"
"Just in case one of us..." because it will only be one, of that she's sure, "can actually make it out of this hell-hole somehow, let's look after each others' loved ones, okay?"
They both know it's an admission of defeat.
"Don't say that. Come on. We'll beat that bastard Sang-woo and get out of here together."
"I still want you to swear, though," she says, because as much as she'd like to indulge in his fantasies, they simply aren't realistic.
"I need you to swear you'll look after him."
And he shushes her, abruptly, but it doesn't seem like he disagrees-- instead, when she follows his gaze, she finds that Sang-woo is finally dropping his knife.
Gi-hun stands. Draws his knife. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's about to do.
"Don't do it."
Gi-hun turns back to her, faltering.
"That isn't you. You're a good person at heart."
He drops the knife, Sae-byeok thinks, but the pain is back, and it's all consuming-- roaring. Her vision goes white, her ears pop, and a cold sweat engulfs her body, all in a second. She clutches at the wound, stomach convulsing, sweat mixing with blood mixing with wine mixing with tears, and bang, goes the gun, bang, goes the guard's rifle, bang, goes the wall guard, bang, goes her forehead, blood pooling to the ground, smile still stretching her features, and blood mixes with sweat mixes with wine mixes with tears, and--
And there's Gi-hun, screaming her name.
He's peeled back her jacket, seen the wound, and he's banging on the door, now, screaming for help, screaming for anyone, anything, something, and neither of them notice Sang-woo approach.
He stands over her body, knife drawn, and she wants to fight back but her body won't move, and she lies there, limp and helpless, as Gi-hun bangs and Sang-woo approaches.
He's precise, at least. She barely feels the cut.
Her blood coats his face, coats his knife, coats her vision. Gi-hun's noticed. The guards have, too. They have a box for her, all wrapped up nice in a bow. Gi-hun's raced over, and he's saying something, she thinks, but she can't really hear. She's dizzy, so dizzy, and she'd like to close her eyes, now.
"Ajhussi, I'd like to go home now."
There's light behind Sae-byeok's eyes. Classical music filters through her ears, and her body doesn't hurt.
She's not quite sure what happened. She's mostly sure she died.
Perhaps her wounds hadn't been quite fatal, and she'd been treated, been placed in a coma and left to heal. Perhaps her family is waiting for her, now.
She cracks open an eye and sees a too-familiar room, filled with sixteen beds, holding sixteen people.
What the hell, she thinks, and promptly passes right back out.