Chapter 1: Death
Chapter Text
The last time he had heard a bang as such was when he was forced to kneel there and watch as the Frontman shot a bullet clean through his best friend’s heart. Brought down his attempt at a revolt in one shot; one heavy loud bang that resonated through the purple corridors walls. That resonated in his ears, his mind, and left a hole in Gi-hun’s own heart in its own twisted way. One that hadn’t been enough to kill at the time.
The last time he had seen rubbles as such was when after he was forcefully thrown out of that limo, left to hit the hard and wet concrete floor of a busy Seoul’s street, marking the official end of his participation in his first Game, he was left to face what was left for him, what he had left as a life. All he saw was rubbles, ruins. Ruined pride, destroyed relationships, burned down bridges that once used to connect him to life — like his friends and his family, his mother and his Ga-yeong.
He had nothing, but at the same time he had something : ruins and rubbles; dust and ashes.
Each time, he was forced to face it. Those unpleasant things; the detonations, the ruins. But not this time. Not entirely. Because though he wasn’t exactly behind them, he was, at the very least, quite glad to see it all happen; the destruction, the end of it all. Even if it meant the end of his life too.
Although Gi-hun was the one working so hard to destroy the Games by trying to take them apart from the inside through direct confrontations, it was Jun-ho, Woo-seok and Mercenary Kim’s team, that in the end, were the one who had brought its end to this madness.
The players had just been led to the fourth game room. They had all just stepped inside when the first “boom” echoed through the walls, rumbling like thunder and shaking the ground beneath their feet. And though they had all experienced a revolt in the making the night before, though they had lived through the oppressive feeling of being stuck inside while others made bullets ring like rain splatter in the halls for them, many of the players fretted and screamed, scared for their lives. As if it wasn’t already put on the line the moment they had stepped inside the game's room, bounding them to yet another bloody destiny.
It was near fascinating how they failed to see they were stuck in this constant death loop. No matter where, when or how they were on the island, death was always there, ready and waiting to come for all of them.
Explosives going off under their feet wasn’t any deadlier than the three more days they were still meant to spend in here.
Unless Gi-hun could help it.
For, all but one player had stepped inside the fourth game’s room when the first ‘boom’ echoed through the walls. Gi-hun was, at that time, only in the middle of the process of being led to that room, escorted through those corridors by two armed and masked soldiers — one square and a triangle.
When all three of them, soldiers and player alike, heard it, felt it, for the first time, they all stopped. Then, they had all turned in the direction of the sound, somewhere far away behind them.
Clearly this wasn’t meant to be happening as one of the guards who had been tasked with leading him through this maze like a criminal to death row, completely diverged their attention from him, grabbing their talkie — talkies Gi-hun was now painfully familiar with as well — and reached out to their superiors. Probably more square guards like him in that damned control room. Or worse case scenario, the Frontman and his black square manager.
In the meantime, to make sure Gi-hun wouldn’t do anything stupid during their small break, the triangle soldier had firmly pressed the cold barrel of their gun against his back. Yet another thing Gi-hun was starting to feel familiar with. — This darn island ruined him.
The manager had exchanged only two sentences with his superiors before the ground shook again, effectively startling them all again. But it also got the gun away from his back. Which Gi-hun saw as an opportunity. He had taken on those soldiers once before, and back then, there had been much more of them. Here it was only two, and one was already distracted. He felt, maybe too impulsively, that he could make it. So he tried. Because he'd always fight until the end.
Gi-hun had quickly turned around, facing the soldier who was regaining his footing back from how hard the ground shook. The triangle guard had been just as quick to bring their weapon back up, aimed at Gi-hun. Their hand was on the trigger, but by the time they pressed it — in what was meant to only be a warning shot —, Gi-hun had already stuck the chain of his handcuffs against the barrel.
He got just the time to duck when the shot fired. By some miracle, both of them managed to move out of the way of the bullet’s ricochet, and neither got armed from the shrapnel either.
Gi-hun’s hands, which so far had been cuffed in front of him — though he has no idea why not at the back, except maybe for the fact that, since they were more visible this way, they could make a show out of him in front of the rest of the players once they had reached them —, were now free. Sore, but free.
The guard, who had still experienced recoil, was barely in time to stop the player that was lunging at them.
And from there, it had only been a reenactment of what lead him to this. Except that this time, though he was mentally and physically weaker, he knew what to do, what mistakes not to make. He had that experience that made him more efficient.
For instance, though still battling with the triangle guard, Gi-hun had been able to handle the gun to shoot the revolver out of the manager’s hand — who had long since discarded his talkie by now and redirected his attention to him — in the same practiced way Young-Il had heroically saved him the night before.
Young-Il… another soul — thought not just any soul — he had sent to death. One more soul stuck here forever, because of him. And it was that thought that helped him fight back. He had to make it. If there was a chance, even slim, that those explosions were the beginning of the end, that they were, by some miracle, from Jun-ho and the rest, then Gi-hun couldn’t pass up on it. He’d take any chance, do anything to stop the games. If not to save himself, then for all of them. Those left to save and those left to avenge — as if Gi-hun had found a new debt to pay off by playing the game, except this time he was dealing in human lives. And like he had done before, he’d pay off his debts, “thanks” to his victory over the games.
And so with a sudden surge of strength, Gi-hun was able to twist the triangle guard’s arms, making his grip around the gun weaker. In pain and a position of submission, the soldier weren’t able to defend themselves when Gi-hun kicked them away. The soldier fell down, their grip around the gun completely loosening. But Gi-hun’s didn’t. He watched as the strap meant to link the soldier to their weapon pathetically slipped around the soldier’s figure, making Gi-hun the sole owner of the gun. He didn’t hesitate to shoot at once.
Then, with the same confidence, turned to the manager. The square guard had barely reached back for his own gun, the metal barely grazing gloved fingertips, when Gi-hun pressed the triangle’s one against their head. And his eyes, focused on the guard, his enemy, burned harder than the press of the barrel, still warm from the last shot which had just killed his comrade.
“Take me to the remaining players.”
Before they had been able to make it to the fourth game’s room, where the rest of the players waited for them, the manager’s talkie had buzzed, someone trying to establish communication again. It felt important, so Gi-hun ordered the guard to listen to whatever the caller had to say, but not to try anything funny.
And that’s how Gi-hun knew that they had to get out of here and fast. Something about explosives that had been put under the islands, an intruder that had set them off — Jun-ho his brain supplied in despair and relief —, and escape boats in a hidden cove. The VIPs were being escorted out, so was the staff, or so it seemed. One thing was for sure though, and it was the fact they were racing against time. And the players were like boulders holding them back, so they’d all be left behind to die.
After all Gi-hun had done to stop the game, to save those people's lives as best as he could, like hell he was letting those assholes leave them all to die. The games would be going down, but not the players. Not if he could do anything about it.
As for the VIPs, Gi-hun would have to care about them at another time. Because right now he had other priorities.
When they finally reached the rest of the players, they found that all of the masked men were gone except for two soldiers positioned by the doors, making sure the players were trapped in. All of them were like sacrificial livestock. Waiting patiently for their death, which they didn’t even know was secured to be coming. They were left here to die, in oblivious bliss, lost and confused.
When a player died in here, they’d put their body in a bow wrapped coffin, like this place had offered them the gift of death, of freedom over their pathetic earthly bound. For an organisation that had this God-like complex, how thoughtful of them not to offer the players a quick death. Dying of a bullet through the heart would hurt, but always less then feel death coming as walls break down and the ceiling falls on you. How torturous it would be to see death coming when you thought you were safe, at least for a little while, with no game, no masked guy, just an empty room.
Gi-hun supposes that the massacre of eliminating all the remaining players would take too much time. Would be inconvenient, take too many bullets —which they’d need if Kim’s mercenaries were waiting for them out there.
Heck, maybe the Frontman was graciously seeing this as too cruel. Yeah, Gi-hun doubted that theory. Like he’d care now, in the final moment. That man seemed too calculated to let feelings talk.
Leaving the players alive and stuck in here was a tactical choice. One Gi-hun didn’t get, but one he didn’t need to understand either.
The players were kept alive, meaning the soldiers by the doors wouldn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t open fire in risk of arising panic and creating a situation they wouldn’t be able to get out of, or control.
Good thing Gi-hun wasn’t a soldier.
Before he had crossed the door, Gi-hun had thrown the manager forward, leaving the man to stumble hard, falling and gliding down on the ground. That distracted the guards, who watched their boss scattered on the ground, like he had just but tripped and fell embarrassingly.
Then, not missing a beat — in risk of the manager warning the guards —, Gi-hun had moved forward with confident strides and shot down the two guards, unsuspecting and with their backs to him, with two single shots. By now, here was another thing he was familiar with. Shooting those bastards down.
Once the triangle guards were dead, he did just like before and put his focus back on the manager guard, their key out of here. So the guard had to stay alive, even if held at gunpoint for now.
As expected the player screamed and panicked, hurrying to the back of the room in fear. Of course Gi-hun wouldn’t hurt them, but what did they know? It seemed not that much.
Once they noticed it was only him, a lot of them eased down, wary but not as terrified. A lot were confused. And in the semi-large crowd of faces, Gi-hun spotted the relieved and questioning figures of the people he knew. The allies he felt he had failed and let down; Jun-hee, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, Geum-ja and her son Young-sik.
He felt a nervous lump grow in his throat as he locked eyes with them, taking in their trembling figures. They were scared, so was he honestly. Still, he tried to swallow back the nerves so he could talk but before he was even able to, the same man as always tried to raise hell; player 100.
Though, like some divine intervention, before the old man could grumble as he knew to do so well, the ground shook again, sending everyone in another fit of panic, and efficiently shutting player 100 up. It was like the universe itself was telling him to keep quiet. So he did.
Gi-hun was given back his turn to parole, and he seized it.
“I know you don’t want to trust me right now, but we have to leave, now. Those earthquakes are not just earthquakes, they’re bombs. This island is going down and we don’t have time.”
Many people looked at him as though he was crazy. And yet again, like the universe sending them signs, another detonation was heard. Much further away than the last it seemed, but stronger. So strong it wasn’t just the ground that shook. So did the walls, and dust started to come down from the small cracks that had now appeared on the ceiling and upper part of the walls.
This room could collapse soon. They really didn’t have time.
Just like during Red light-Green light many people's first reaction was to panic, to try and flee. And just like in Red light-Green light, Gi-hun had to shout orders at them to stay composed. He had to be the one to tell them what to do to stay alive, to lead them all — or as many as he could — to survival.
This time though, they listened. They ordered themselves in lines again, clinging to each other in semi-calmness.
Gi-hun had called for Hyun-ju to come forward. During the revolt, the woman had shown she was more than capable. She was strong, skilled, had an an excellent aim and was determined. She would once again be the perfect ally in those conditions.
And it seemed she knew so, for she didn’t hesitate to join him. He had failed them once before, and yet she still trusted him. Gi-hun didn’t know how she did, but he was glad she did.
Together — and with the square guard — they had led the players through the maze of staircases and alleys like two shepherds with their flock.
Gi-hun had a feeling there wouldn’t be enough boats for all of them. A backup exit had always existed, but it never included the players in all its planning. Why would it? Of course those bastards would just think to save their lives. It’s not like they even saw the players as human anyway. The moment they had signed that clause, they were forfeiting themselves to certain death.
So there was no point trying to reach that cove. Plus it was just leading the players to a death trap, where all of the remaining guards and the Frontman — if the man hadn’t cowardly left by now — were at. Instead, the square guard they held hostage had been instructed to at least lead them outside.
The facility was set to explode, but it would take more than a bomb or two to destroy a whole island. So, theoretically, they should be somewhat safer outside, then they’d be stuck inside.
Especially if Mercenary Kim and the rest were waiting and fighting for them out there. The mercenaries had phones, boats. They wouldn’t all be left stranded.
And worst case scenario, it was better to die staring at the sun than miserably buried under in death tunnels. That was Gi-hun’s first thought when his eyes were forced halfway shut, blinded by the harsh rays of sunlight, as they finally set foot on land, on real sand this time.
You’d expect that, as the Frontman, one of the most important pawns in the game, he'd be in a hurry to save himself right after securing the VIPs. Well no, In-ho had stayed behind. Not for he cared for his men, to be honest he never cared much for the Game as they are, but because he knew this was an issue only he could solve.
A family issue.
In-ho wasn’t stupid. He used to be a detective, a good one at that, and he had months of monitoring over both player 456 and his brother. He knew the two had joined forces. He knew, through Captain Park, that Jun-ho had never stopped looking. But he had never even come close to finding the island because Park was meant to always lead him into the wrong direction.
Jun-ho was never meant to be able to find this darn island again. But somehow, that backfired. Horribly so might he had. Because it had to be Jun-ho who had set off the explosives; who else could it have been? No guards cared to stop the games. And if they did, they’d need to have some crazy back up. One guard alone would never be enough to stop all this… but a whole squad? That was another story.
But if an uprising was in the making, the Frontman of all people would have known. Proof being, looked at what happened in the player dorm. No guard knew a revolt would come, but he did.
In other words, he knew that all of this was Jun-ho’s doing. His stubborn little brother and his team of “soldiers” had found them at last. How, he doesn’t know, and he has no time to be proud about it either, because this was bad. Jun-ho was destroying all he had left.
The games, though In-ho didn’t care for them, gave him a purpose; he could never go back to a normal life.
And even if his family were forgiving enough to take him back, he’d need to have a family to go back to in the first place.
And blowing up the island would take everything away : the game, and his last family. Jun-ho was going to die here if he didn’t stop his nonsense right now. So as an older brother, yet again, In-ho had to be the one to clean up behind Jun-ho’s mess.
He knew Jun-ho didn’t come here solely out of the kindness of his heart, just with the Games' destruction on his mind as Gi-hun did. He had come back for him.
And whether it was because they had unfinished business or because Jun-ho missed him, In-ho wasn’t sure yet.
Jun-ho was more than likely looking for him right now, and In-ho was looking for Jun-ho too. If both were looking for the other, they were bound to meet sooner or later.
And they met again, in the worst place possible. One where it felt In-ho would be too late to save his brother this time.
Because this time he wasn’t choosing the Games over Jun-ho again. Il-nam was dead anyway. They’d all be dead soon anyway. There would be no one left to prove devotion to. No one to impress. And there was no stopping the bombs under their feet. This place was going down. There was nothing left to save anyway. Except for Jun-ho if he could maybe.
Just like he had done so before by sending him away, into the sea. By keeping him away, back in Seoul. Even if it had taken a load of a bullet in each of their shoulders to do so. Matching scars.
Right now, the Frontman was scouting the area. Gun raised as he kept a careful eye on the environment around them, like he was expecting a surprise attack at any time.
A line of armed guards, only eight of them this time upon the death of multiple of his triangle soldiers decreasing his staff number, were guarding the VIPs as the masked rich old men scurried one after the other into the helicopter getting ready to take them out of here.
At first all had been fine, the VIPs had been safely transported inside the helicopter and the aircraft had taken off without much of a problem. It had sent the expected waves of sand right in all of their masked faces like a desert sand storm, but it seemed it had been all it took to take them by surprise. For the moment the sand flew their way, forcing them to close their eyes and avert their faces away, bullets mixed in with the sand that flew as well.
They were blinded by sand, and rendered deaf from the sound of the engine up above. How could they have seen it coming?
Two guards were shot dead on sight, three were shot but alive, and three others stood unarmed and alert. Their attackers came from the forest behind them. From what In-ho forced himself to see there were four men all carrying rifles, Jun-ho behind them with a buff guy — the two obviously closing and orchestrating the parade — and… a flash of pink with a sniper?
Wait, what? So maybe the Frontman didn’t know so well. Because who was this guard who had gone rogue?
It didn’t matter, there was no time. No bullets were aimed his way, of course there weren’t. Still, the Frontman knew he had to fight. But not on the guards’ side. Because I mean, when had he ever really been on their side truly? He had even shot countless of them before, whether it’d be for breaking the rules or for Gi-hun — shit, he had forgotten about Gi-hun. For a moment In-ho dared to wonder if he had made it. He dared to hope he would.
So what were a few more dead guards for Jun-ho?
Those people didn’t matter more than his brother. Especially not when their guns were aimed at his brother.
And yes, even when it was the Officer who had been overseeing the VIP’s departure with him — and maybe Gi-hun was right in that regard, that all of them are like dogs, because the officer almost felt like one seeing how close he would always trail behind In-ho.
Actually, especially when it was the officer, a trained mercenary, aiming at his baby brother.
As a matter of fact, In-ho had never really trusted the man not to betray him. He just felt like he’d be the most qualified. Finding his replacement hadn’t been about his own sake or liability but the one of the games.
In-ho knew it was only a matter of time before the officer tried to backstab him, he knew the man even already had men behind him, some of which were probably right there right with them right now.
Well the Officier couldn't have him dead if he killed him first. And now he had a pretty good excuse to end the man’s contract. That’s why In-ho’s first bullet was aimed at the black square guard’s head, shooting him a quick death.
It confused the guards around them, alerting them, but he really did not care. There was a reason he was the one in the geometrical black mask. The one that opened all the door. The one that oversees everything.
Nine against six, of course the fight was easily won. The guards laid dead and overpowered in no time. And because they were lying there gurgling in pools of their own blood, In-ho had naively thought that the rest of them were free of harm. Safe from danger.
Letting his guard down was his first mistake. Because if he hadn’t, he’d have remembered the rogue pink guard with the sniper in the distance. He’d have remembered to look back and keep an eye on them. He’d have turned his head to them and he would have seen that they were taking aim for the helicopter. He would have seen when their finger pulled the trigger, expected the shot that rang through the air, and watched as the bullet fractured the helicopter's windshield, announcing the pilot was shot dead.
That way, by seeing all of this, he would have been able to anticipate what comes next. To be prepared to see the helicopter fail, and without its pilot, dive down before crashing back into the row of trees from the forest by them.
That way, he would have had time to do both; tell Jun-ho to look out, and save himself at the same time. But he hadn’t got time, so he could only do one of those things :
Run away from the crash that was about to happen behind him to his right in the distance, which meant running behind him, further left, in his brother’s direction. Call out for “Jun-ho!”, jump toward the younger just in time to force him to snap out of it and make him duck down barely missing the flying debris, as In-ho took the hit in his brother’s place.
It is no wonder that being hit full speed by a big flying plaque of metal slamming into your whole body and then sending your head smashing hard against a tree, kills you on the spot.
It’s not bloody, it’s not gruesome or painful, but that almost makes it worse. A clean death, like you suffered nothing. As if, if someone were to find your body, it looked like you had just died on the spot, out of nowhere, just like that, for no reason.
In-ho hadn’t died without a reason.
They were still hurrying to get players outside when they noticed the helicopter taking flight — though only gaining height for now — on the other side of the island.
“Those damn VIPs…” was Gi-hun's first thought. “And they're getting away.”
The realization left a bad taste in his mouth, something bitter. Those people could do all of this, send people to death for fun, treat them like less than humans, and still get to go freely? When it was the end of everything, they would just get to fly away and escape responsibility or accountability. Be left unscathed and unpunished? Just like that?
This wasn't fair. But it seemed the world wasn't fair anyway. And there wasn't much that Gi-hun could do about it. The helicopter was already getting high up above them.
Sure Hyun-ju had good aim, but she wouldn’t be able to reach it. The guards’ rifles wouldn’t have such a long range. Especially not from this side of the island.
So for now the only thing Gi-hun could do to make it fair was make sure that if those assholes' got to live, then so would the players they tried to leave behind.
And this is precisely what he focused on. Over the sound of the helicopter's engine and gunshots being fired across the island, Gi-hun yelled at players to hurry up and, as orderly as possible, — as some had noticed the sound of gunshots and were already flinching and panicking — to get out to safety on the island's ground.
Some players were trailing behind. Tired, it seemed maybe even wounded from the fight from last night, others were just at a physical disadvantage, like Geum-Ja or Jun-hee, who fell at the very back of the line. Thankfully people like Dae-ho, Young-sik and player 333 — who's name was unknown to Gi-hun — had stayed near them to help them out.
Gi-hun didn’t want to stress them out too much and risk making the matter worse, so he let it go for now. He had good faith they’d all be able to make it out before it all went down. They were so close already.
But of course they hadn’t been close enough.
There was a loud noise in the air. The helicopter of course, but it wasn’t the same rufus of the engine. No, this time there was the sound of glass shattering. And the helicopter’s sound seemed to be echoing closer and closer.
Gi-hun crooked his head up, looking in the direction of the noise. The sound wasn’t coming near them, it was the Helicopter that was coming near the ground. It was diving straight down, but thankfully not towards them.
When the helicopter would meet the ground and crash, they should be at a safe distance. The one thing they'd have to worry about would be a fire forest.
It’s fine, they’d just run toward the beach and make sure not to inhale too much smoke. From there surviving would be easy. They'd find a way to call for help. Jun-ho and the others would help them. — If they survived, which they had to.
People were staring at the helicopter as well, worry and questions in their eyes. What had happened? Well to Gi-hun it didn’t take a genius to piece two and two together. The pilot had been shot down, and now the helicopter was crashing. Whoever had shot had waited for the aircraft to take a deadly enough height, and after it had moved further away, towards the middle of the island, they had given the final blow.
A ruthless assasination. It served those bastards right. If karma was real, they’d either all die on the spot, or suffer from their injuries in a slow, painful, agonizing pathetic death. Where they'd be conscious just enough that the only thing left they could do now, was cry and pray and beg for death to come for them and finish them off already. And even then, even wording their prayers would be difficult as they'd choke back on their blood each time their lips would move, and their throat would scream in pain at the most miserable febrile vibration of their no good vocal chords.
Yeah, that gruesome fate sounds like the little justice they deserved. But Gi-hun would be sat with whatever, so long as they disappeared. If they died for instance, they'd take their cruel games with us. No more sponsors, no more demand, no more execution.
And so, Gi-hun watched with mild satisfaction as further away, the Helicopter dived and crashed into treetops, and finally, the earth.
It created a loud “boom”, the noise piercing. Everyone crouched down as the sound wave echoed, and hard wind blew in their direction. Flammes were next to be observed.
As said, they were thankfully too far away to experience any imminent danger. No fire rapidly coming their way, no debris… they were safe on their side of the island.
But they'd be even safer if the fifteen-ish people left inside could hurry up. Because even if the VIP’s fate was sealed, Gi-hun didn’t feel right about it. Something felt off. Like he couldn't rejoice just yet. There was something left to accomplish. Something left unfinished, something that didn’t allow him to let his guard down just yet, not even a little bit. He felt that he had to stay alert and get to the end of this quickly. Then he'd cheer.
Sure the game were destroyed, as he vowed they would. But he hadn't saved everyone yet, as he said he would.
Elderly, men and women alike, panicked and scared, limping but determined, were still inside the Games’ complex. They were only a few feet away from freedom. If they could just hurry it up — which to be fair they had. After hearing the crash, though they had no idea what it was, many got even more scared and therefore hurried to get out as best as they could.
But Gi-hun couldn't pressure them. It would do no good. Rushing things had proved to be the worst of ideas many time. And this time Gi-hun would learn.
His own paranoia wasn't about to ruin this. He'd do this right. He'd save everyone he could.
Gi-hun held out his hand, helping people get up the slope that lead out to safety.
He counted them, like a shepherd counted its herd. One person, two, three, four… Only 9 more to go.
But just as things were looking bright. Reality came crashing down to them.
It seemed the crash had shaken the ground, which the explosives didn’t like.
The crash had accelerated the bomb's timing. It seemed now that the explosion could come any moment. Death was imminent more than ever.
Gi-hun didn’t know how much time they had left, but based on the first detonation, based on the way the ground shook harder than it ever had so far under his feet, and based on the way the walls trembled as well, they didn't have much left of it. Of time.
So Gi-hun did the most rational thing he could think of in the moment. Be the savior, the hero the Frontman would say.
He threw the guard’s gun — which he had kept all this time just in case, even though the manager was now no longer a threat — into Hyun-ju's hands, knowing she'd have much more and better use of it anyway, and he told the sergeant woman to stay there. To be right here to intercept the players and protect them.
That one of them needed to be at the receiving end while the other ran down to close the herd.
And Gi-hun would be, once again, the one to go back down. To run right back into the games.
Hyun-ju wanted to yell at him not to do it but she had a feeling he wouldn’t listen. That even if she had tried to say something, he wouldn’t have heard as he was already running down.
So all she could do was watch, taking her new role seriously. She was trained to emergency protocol, so she was worthy of the mission given to her. Like Gi-hun had done before, Hyun-ju stood closer to the exit and extended her hand for players to grab onto and helped them climb out and run out to the others into the forest’s edge.
In the mean time Gi-hun was back inside the Games’ complex exit tunnel.
First he noticed two women, both middle aged : One of them had her arm around the other’s shoulders, helping her walk out. The reason being that the other woman was heavily limping, clearly suffering some kind of injury in her left leg. Gi-hun had no time to question it. He grabbed a nearby player who seemed able bodied enough and basically forced him to help the two women out.
And the guy, though distraught, obeyed without questions either. He just hurried forward, wrapping his arm under the wounded woman's left arm, and gripped her firmly. It motivated the other woman who served as a human crutch, and gave hope back to the limping one. All three together were now advancing much, much faster.
Because Gi-hun had seen in those eyes the spark of hope surge. What fraternity brought to them. The way their eyes shone and will burn their bodies again. How it fueled them.
Finally, at the very last, people were experiencing brotherhood. They were helping each other. Were being human. Gi-hun knew that they could always do it all along, even if sometimes it seemed he had hesitated.
But, when money was out of the picture and all that was left to save was their lives, they could only be humane again. Because the corruption that blinded them wasn’t there anymore. They had always been human. Just tainted darker colors for the sake of some old men's amusement.
So that was three people out of the picture. That only left them with six other people. Jun-hee, Geum-ja, Dae-ho, player 333 and a bit further in front of them another last player Gi-hun didn’t know of. A sad looking boy with a bowl haircut. Pretty sure the guy was on that purple haired guy’s team. Why wasn’t he with the rest of his crew, Gi-hun didn’t know, and as said by now, didn’t have time to care or ask about it.
Once he reached the small crowd, he acted on autopilot. He grabbed Dae-ho and basically glued the younger marine boy’s to Jun-hee’s side. Then, he did the same with player 333, making sure both men’s arms were secured safely around Jun-hee before sending them off.
As Jun-hee was pregnant, it was the weight of the baby that was slowing her down, but if she had two extra pair of arms to carry that weight, she should be fine to run like she didn't have a baby bulge. And as Dae-ho had a strong build, Gi-hun had no doubt he'd be strong enough to handle it. The other guy was lankier, but he seemed fiercer in his gaze. He had the will to live. Not just for himself, but also for Jun-hee, who he had never let go of the whole time anyway.
Jun-hee now safe with her own allies, the trio marching away fast like they did in the six legged race, Gi-hun turned to Young-sik and his mother. And it was turn to put his body to the task. He looked at Young-sik, meeting the man’s eyes, and nodded. The two shared silent thoughts; a moment of comprehension.
Then, after Young-sik nodded back after fixing his own posture around his mom, Gi-hun surged forward and grabbed Geum-Ja. The two men were by now practically dragging her, carrying her away, as they ran out to safety.
Just like he and Young-Il had done with the woman when they were all playing mingle.
It was yet another familiar situation. A familiar sensation, a feeling… call it what you will. But one thing for sure was that it was becoming almost scary how everything was starting to all look and feel alike. Like history was repeating itself…
It was… it was whatever. No time to think about it.
The remaining groups inside the facility all pushed through. Explosions were heard going off behind them but they didn’t care. They couldn't afford to.
At some point, the wall in front them cracked and started to collapse. It fell in ruins on the ground right in front of them, cutting them short. Thankfully all of them had been able to avoid it, although some barely missing it by an inch — like the limping woman group.
The wall also hadn’t cut off their path completely. There was still a way out, they just had to go around the rubles. It would take some of their time, but they’d still make it.
In fact, Gi-hun was so confident that they had time that he had let go of Geum-Ja for a moment, throwing himself forward instead, and rushing to help the group by the debris, who had stopped and fell down on their back in panic. They hadn’t stood back up yet, clearly too stunned to do so. It was fine. Gi-hun was still there to help them out.
Just like he did with the man with a bullet through the leg, begging in red light-green light, he lunged forward and helped them all to their feet, assisting them to march right back to freedom.
He waited for a moment, watching from where he stood to make sure they were going strong again, before Geum-Ja and Young-sik had caught up to him and Gi-hun went back to helping the older woman instead.
Another wall crumbled down. But this time, no one went done with it. By the exit, many other players had come forward and were waiting by the end of the tunnel with Hyun-ju, who was keeping them in check, making sure no one would do something as reckless as Gi-hun did.
The players were yelling for them, outstretching their hands. The outside was waiting and calling for them with open arms. And it was the kind of sight that made everyone go two speeds faster.
More booms and cracks echoed behind them with each step they took. No one dared to look back. Players kept chanting for them.
The first group had made it out. Jun-hee, Dae-ho and player 333 weren’t far behind. Two men were running forward to come help Get Jun-hee out, as Dae-ho and 333 were catching their breath as they climbed out the slope. They grabbed onto helping hands and made it out.
Now it was only Gi-hun, Geum-Ja, Young-sik, and that other guy. Player 125 Gi-hun could now see.
By some cursed luck, just as all four of them were about to reach the slope, the ceiling fell down right in front of it. They had a moment of recoil, quick reflexes keeping them alive. Thankfully, no one had suffered anything.
They were stunned back for a moment, dust flying in their faces, blinding and choking them. They heard the players startled gasps and screams, the other not knowing if they were even alive.
“Everyone’s okay?” Gi-hun asked with both concern and firmness.
He only allowed himself to relax when he saw all of them nodding back. Even player 125, though very weakly so, and with a terrified expression on his face.
“We’re all fine everyone!” Gi-hun then shouted, letting the other players that, indeed, they were alive. That way, he knew people would come to help.
And it was a little hard to hear but indeed multiple footsteps were coming their way.
“Gi-hun-si we’re getting you out!" Hyun-ju's authoritative voice told him from the other side of the rubles.
“Okay, We're sending player 149 first” Gi-hun told her.
He would have just said Geum-Ja, but he didn’t know what other players were with Hyun-ju. So saying player 149 was the safer bet. Because though they might not all know each other's name, they at least had assimilated certain people with certain number. And so hopefully, some had remembered the number “149” as that old woman with her son.
The older woman, had first, had protested, not willing to leave her son behind. But after Young-sik firmly yelled at her, if not begged, she reluctantly accepted, only under the promise Young-sik would be right behind her.
The three men all quickly agreed to that condition. Young-sik would go after her, then Gi-hun and finally player 125.
At first, all went well. The rubles were a little difficult to get over, but with the help of the others, they had all been able to push through. All except for player 125.
The boy was still on the ground. He wasn’t budging. Eyes bulging out, wild and glimmering with unshed tears. His face was paled, pained and terrorized. He was almost hyper ventilating.
Shit, that wasn’t good.
“Okay, listen kid, I know you’re scared. We all are. Even me. But please, you gotta move. I can’t come get you and force you up that rubles, but I can you help you. If you would just make the first step, I promise I’ll be there.”
The boy looked at him, flinching, but not Moving. Gi-hun's face contorted in distress more.
“Yeah, come on Min-su. Listen to that crazy old dude. For once I think he’s not so full of shit.” A new voice had said. Player 124’s head barely peeking out from above the pile of concrete he had just climbed atop of.
Gi-hun only recognized the guy as one of Thanos’ friends. The other young man Young-Il had beat up on the first day.
Gi-hun knew those people didn’t care for anyone but themselves. If player 124 was here it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart and to help out the masses.
It was only for player 125. He hadn’t seen his favorite toy come out and now he was coming to collect it.
That wasn’t gonna end well was it. Especially since his presence only seem to trigger player 125 further more. Gi-hun had half the mind to send him away, but before he could do so, player 124 was already advancing, sliding down the rubles.
Gi-hun shouted after him, trying to catch the boy midway as he slid next to him, but in vain.
He could only watch with growing anxiety as the two stood there stupidly. Like now of all time was the moment for final confrontations.
Player 124 stood there in front of player 125, in a way that looked like a mix of smugness and shyness.
Player 125’s eyes were locked on the ground, not daring to move up ever. By now the boy was shaking.
Then player 124 said something Gi-hun couldn't hear over the sound of the explosion still happening in the distance but gradually coming for them.
But whatever player 124 said didn’t make a difference. Because when the same man went to grab the collar of the other’s, and tried to tug him to the pile of rubles, player 125 still didn't budge.
And clearly that irritated player 124. That man better not be about to start a fight. Gi-hun doesn't know if he'd be able to save them if they did.
So he went to call out for them instead, hoping to douse the fire before it could even ignite.
But just as he opened his mouth, the sound of his voice was covered by the one of another ‘boom’ and the unmistakable creaks of concrete falling apart, ready to break down and crush down on them.
The ceiling above them was further deteriorating. The hole that was already there before had weakened it too, and the explosion worsened it. The cracks were running deeper, making sickening noise, keeping the tension and the stakes high.
This time, player 124 stopped acting cocky, and throwing one last glance at player 125, darted away, deciding the other wasn’t worth it. He was letting him die if so be it. He didn't care anymore and as he always had, he’d save himself.
Except, player 125 didn’t let player 124 go, at last, the boy moved. His arm shot forward, grabbing 124’s sleeve, clutching it firmly.
Player 124 looked back at him, with an unreadable expression; fear? Disgust? Confusion?
“What the fuck are you doing Min-su?” The boy asked with a tentative tug. But player 125, Min-su, didn’t let go.
This time, the expression on player 124 was clear. Rage, panic. He tugged harder, cursing the other player out. But again, the other didn’t budge.
“Fuck off Min-su, let go!” Player 124 shouted by now.
Player 125 still didn't budge. The cracks kept going above them. Echoing in deafening crunch. Slowly, but surely coming to their end.
Player 124 was clearly acknowledging them, as he fought back even harder, but so did player 125, who still didn’t hold back on his position.
But instead of letting go, player 125 said something at last.
“Why would you kill Se-mi?” He asked shakely, now in tears.
Player 124 hadn’t been able to answer him, as the cracks reached their end, and in the end, by bringing the roof down on them, brought the player to their end.
Watching people die was still just as sickening. Even without that darned cheery automatic voice announcing it.
“Player 124, Player 125, eliminated.” Gi-hun could hear her say in his mind.
Gi-hun sucked in a breath as he watched the two players disappear under the rubble. No time to sulk them, they had to get moving.
Gi-hun looked over his shoulder. Geum-Ja was almost down, only 6 feet apart or so from the ground. Young-sik was close behind.
If Gi-hun hurried, he could catch up to them.
The players saw the ceiling come down, of course they had. They didn’t see nor know that it had killed two of them. Still, they were turning erratic, yelling at them even louder, begging them to hurry up and join them.
Gi-hun should probably take their advice.
Hurriedly, he climbed down from the rubbles pile, and as soon as he could, jumped down on the ground.
His left arm, which had been shot during the revolt, was starting to ache severely so. But it was fine. He was almost there anyway. Just a little more where he'd have to hang in there.
People had grabbed Geum-Ja and started leading her away, but Young-sik had soon snatched his mother right back, and now all of those who had rushed further into the complex’s tunnel and up to the rubbles pile were running back.
There weren’t many of them, but it was already too many of them still inside.
No one had waited for Gi-hun to reach ground before running off. They seemed confident he was gonna make it. And they were right in their instinct. Gi-hun wasn’t mad at them for running. On the contrary. It was best they’d save themselves.
Gi-hun ran to the others, able to catch up to them in little time, even overtaking some of them.
He was almost by the slope, where a small gathering had formed. People throwing themselves into other’s arms, being pulled up. Other climbing out in a disordered manner, even if Hyun-ju — who had easily ran back — was doing her best to keep them all in check.
Gi-hun joined Hyun-ju's effort, just as he did before, and guided people out in a more composed way. And it was working. Because nearly all of them were out.
Just five more people. Geum-Ja, Young-sik, and three other players. The ones who had helped them come down from the pile of debris.
Hyun-ju had already started going up the slope, confident they were gonna make it. She was leading them, while Gi-hun stood behind once again, ready to close the herd for good once the remaining players would pass by him.
Except, of course things never went as planned.
The players had all just started to come up. The first three were basically already out. Geum-Ja and Young-sik were the last ones to set foot on the slope. Gi-hun had put himself right behind them as soon as they had reached it.
But of course as soon as he did that, the final explosion went off. The most brutal one yet. Actually it was more like a series of smaller rapid detonations. Just seconds between each. That's how Gi-hun understood this was the final blow. The grande finale.
And in that finale, there was only enough room left for two, not three. A third of the slope was covered by the roof — the slope was dug in pretty deep, making it quite steep, hence the struggles of some.
And that third of roof wasn’t going to hold. It was already cracking and falling on them in small raindrops of dust and stones. They wouldn't be fast enough to climb out in time. They were too late and too tired. Only a good impulsion could get them out. A hard shove from behind. A — literal — push.
Gi-hun couldn't get that, but he could give it. He looked at Young-sik and Geum-ja. Mother and son. And like each time he stared at them during those death games, he thought back to his own mother.
As he watched the last two remaining players being caught and pulled to safety with the rest after Gi-hun had shoved them both forward, that was his final thought.
Was he about to see his mother again?
Then the roof gave up, as Gi-hun did. Buried under layers and layers of concrete, rock, dust… the world had collapsed on him, but this time, he hadn't mind. He embraced it.
Chapter 2: Acceptance
Summary:
How do you live with the past? How do you accept death? Especially when your obsession is right here with you, but only one of you know.
Notes:
(edit) Before you read!! What is written in here isn't my actual view on it. Of course I believe depressed and suicidal people can learn to live again even after severe trauma and YES I am highly unhappy with Gi-hun death this season, even though I wrote about it. Because to me Gi-hun death should have had meaning, I tried to give it one with a sacrifice to save everyone, but I know I'm no talented writer so it isn't all that, but it was something. I expected better from Hdh than myself, and now I'm disappointed..
The words I put here is from a Gi-hun who died and is happy with his death because he feels accomplished. When Ga-yeong arrives in the end, he realizes there are things to miss — to have lived for —, and people who miss him. I realized it may not be well protrayed in my writing, my appologies. If you're someone struggling reading this, yes there is always hope after you're out of stumbling in the dark. There will ALWAYS be something, anything, anyone. Don't give up.———
Also, if you spot any mistakes, I'm begging you to ignore them. This work has been written, and rewritten but it was never enough. Now we are Squid Game day and I REALLY wanted to symbolically upload this today to celebrate.
I know the chapter is really late, I don't have much excuse other than "I struggle with saying goodbye" (which is something you'll find in this chapter, wink wink) but since I have to say Goodbye tomorrow anyway, I found strength!
I hope you'll still find it to enjoy this story!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Hyung… Hyung.” A voice called from above him.
It felt foreign, but at the same time extremely familiar. Something he knew of but couldn’t pinpoint.
Gi-hun blinked his eyes open, trying to adjust them to the light shining through, blinding him from above. The sun, burning his eyes, from where it stood high up in the clear blue sky above.
He was outside. Staring up at the sun. He could feel that light sea wind against him, and the small rocks he laid on uncomfortably biting his back. He could hear the crashing of the waves in the distance. The birds chirping as they flew above, white as the few clouds that lingered there about too. He could breathe in the sea air or smell that forest sent that either belonged to the leaves, the dirt, the moss or the bark of the trees. It was so overwhelming it was almost as though he could actually taste the salt from the water in his mouth, or the earth lingering on the tip of his mouth as if he had bitten it, like after a bad fall.
He could see the open clear blue sky above him and the tree tops gently swaying too.
Everything was clear. There wasn’t the sight of this dark grey entrapping concrete ceiling and corridors, or the dark clouds of smoke from the helicopter crash. There wasn’t that metallic taste in his mouth from biting so hard on his lips and tongue that it bled. There wasn’t the odor of exploded gunpowder, or ashy plaster. There wasn’t the sound of destruction, detonations, of wails and woes, panic and fear, or even the voice calling out to him. There wasn’t the feeling of sweat on his brows or of the heavy metal, a cold touch in his hands, calloused, scarred and hurt from years of fighting.
He knew all of this was missing, even though he couldn’t really see anything except for the tree tops, the too bright blue sky, and the sun that was blinding him.
Gi-hun squinted in discomfort, and before he could bring up his own to shield his eyes, a hand was extended toward him, shielding the sun away for a moment. Then something else came to shield the sun, this time though it was a figure; someone leaning over him, crouched by his side, hands holding onto his shoulders, and their hair falling in front of their face so Gi-hun couldn’t see who it was. — not like he would have been able to see much with the backlight anyway.
Gi-hun, who hadn’t been able to identify the — seemingly — woman’s figure over him, turned his focus on the outstretched hand instead. He stared at it confused before going to sit up without as much as a sound, not even a groan. The hand didn’t move, but the other person did. Pushing themselves back, without letting go of him as he pushed his upper body up with his arms folded behind his back. Though one of their hands, the right one, was now more on his back than it was on his shoulder.
Still Gi-hun discarded them, paying no mind to their hold on him. The hands didn’t feel constricting or like entrapment. No, rather, they felt kind, cautious, like they were truly holding him to help him. So he let them, and stared at the outstretched one again.
He couldn’t just take this random hand — though maybe he should have. Even in need, he’d stay stubborn.
Gi-hun squinted again, and again something shifted into view again; a second figure appeared before his eyes. And like the first one, Gi-hun couldn’t see who was due to the backlight from the sun. The figure stood still over him, and their hand stayed. Gi-hun studied it for a moment before he tentatively went to uplift his own hand, letting it hover mid air as he almost reached for the other’s to grab on.
But he didn’t grab it just yet. Instead, Gi-hun stared at the hand only inches from his own, hesitating for a second longer. He gulped down around nothing but tension, as if soothing the knot in his throat would sooth his worries too.
But then, the two figures slightly moved, the first one to face him better, and the other bending forward a little further, offering his hand again, with a little more insistence this time. And by doing so, by moving forward ever so slightly, the figure revealed itself, the sun seemingly darkening to clear Gi-hun’s vision.
“Sangwoo-ah… Sae-byeok.” Gi-hun breathed out in shock, eyes glistening with tears and lips quivering before turning into an indescribable smile.
And all of a sudden the hesitation was gone. Like it should have been years ago, Gi-hun reached out suddenly to grab Sangwoo’s outstretched hand. He held onto it firmly, like letting go would mean letting go of Sangwoo, and was helped up to his feet. By now, Sae-byeok had let go of him as Sangwoo took his turn helping him out.
Once up, Gi-hun laughed like he couldn’t believe it. Like he was imagining things that were too good to be true, that were overwhelming him, surpassing all of his senses and feelings. It couldn’t be real. That hand on his shoulder as he stared up into this extremely familiar face he missed. Or the one, smaller and gentler, against his left arm, as those glassy vulnerable eyes that were forced into sleep too early, stared at him.
Sangwoo smiled at him with a nod, a short, composed and formal greeting, Sae-byeok Beyok very weakly nodded her head too. She had her usual neutral expression, the one she had used to hide her feelings during the games. But Gi-hun had learned, even in six days, how to read the younger woman, so he knew she was glad to see him too. She was doing the only thing she knew; protecting herself by masking her emotions. It was what she had probably done all her life, and by now it was still easier to hide them rather than welcome and express those feelings for Sae-byeok. But Gi-hun knew by looking into the eyes of another daughter he had let slip through his fingers, that Sae-byeok Beyok wasn’t indifferent to seeing him again. And neither was he. But Gi-hun didn’t even know what to say either. So instead, he averted his eyes and turned around to stare at his surroundings.
As expected, they were all on the island right now. Except they weren’t inside the Games Complex. Instead they were outside, in some forest. And based on the sound of it, not very far from the edge of the island, a cliff having to be nearby.
Looking in the distance, Gi-hun saw that there were no rubles, or burned trees. Like the evacuation had never happened. Like the games hadn’t existed. Then he turned around, and faced what he had his back turned to the whole time.
And what he saw next had him eyes opened wide.
Just a couple feet ahead, was the edge of the forest. And beyond the edge stood the big covered trap doors that opened the exit slope the players had evacuated from. The one that led to this tunnel they had run through, escaped from and the one where Gi-hun was so sure he’d die into.
But how could he have when the rubles that fell on him didn’t exist. For the trap doors were intact. They looked almost brand new. Just like the walls of the Game complex that were standing further behind them, did.
But that, that the Game Facility still existed, that wasn’t the most shocking part yet. No, instead what made his thoughts run short was the presence of all those figures that stayed by the complex.
There were many of them. They all wore those cursed tracksuits, with the numbers they died as. They were all looking at him.
Gi-hun looked at them too. At every faces. Some he didn’t know, some felt like he had seen before, others he recognized well enough. Like that old glass maker that Sangwoo had pushed over, igniting the rage he had once felt against his childhood best friend. Or people like the player that had been hanged with some guard during his game, the one that had joined Doek-su’s team — speaking of which, the man was also there, arm crossed with a scorn, and so was his own murderer, Han Mi-nyeo, arms also crossed, face judgmental as she stood next to her victim. Had they never separated after their embraced death ?
Then, more at the front of the crowd, some people he knew quite well had stepped forward toward him. People like Ali and Ji-yeong, smiling, or Jungbae and Young-il. Others from the rebellion stood a little behind them, looking at him expectantly.
Jungbae smiled at him with that same cheerfulness his friend had always possessed. He had his arms opened up in the air like he was telling Gi-hun he was ready for a long awaited greeting hug. It had been just a night though since they had departed. But it did feel longer.
Young-il on his end, wasn’t smiling. On the contrary, the man’s face seemed contorted in worry. A hand to his mouth, biting his nail as he stared up at Gi-hun from a distance with those same tired eyes Gi-hun had always fallen into since the last three days.
Why was Young-il looking so worried when everyone looked relieved, Gi-hun didn’t know. And though everyone’s eagerness should rub on him, that Gi-hun should feel happy as they do with their contagious smiles, he could only focus on Young-il’s worried gaze. And it drowned Gi-hun's own contentment. Like Young-il’s better judgement was the only that mattered.
They stared into each other heavily, like their lives depended on it. They only broke eye contact when Jungbae chose to suddenly step forward with the same large grin as before and arms still raised above his head. The motion had made Young-il briefly avert his gaze to the movement beside him, his eyes leaving Gi-hun in a way that almost made the older flinch.
But now that Young-il wasn’t looking at him, Gi-hun also moved his own eyes away, and instead chose to turn back to Sangwoo and Sae-byeok, confusion written all over his face. Or so it must have been as they both broke into easy laughs and chuckles. Yeah, even Sae-byeok.
And Gi-hun almost felt offended.
“What?” He asked defensively. “You’re really laughing at me right now? It's not funny you jerks. You should just tell me what's going on!” Gi-hun borderline whined staring a little pathetically and expectantly at his friends.
Sangwoo and Sae-byeok shared a knowing look before calming their small laughs. Then after gaining back composure, they both looked back at Gi-hun with neutral, but not unfriendly, faces.
“You died hyung” Sangwoo explained.
And Gi-hun's eyes went wide. He isn’t sure if it was from the words themselves or from the way Sangwoo had said it, so calm and poised, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But thinking of it… it did make sense. The last thing Gi-hun remembers was the ceiling collapsing on top of him, huge blocks of concrete falling down on him, and afterward nothing. Blackness.
Then he woke up here, miraculously unscathed, outside on the island, like nothing ever happened. Like bombs hadn’t gone off. Like the games had never existed or took place either. Except it had to have to since the complex was right in front of him and players were there.
Former players. People who, for some, Gi-hun had seen dying first hand.
When Gi-hun saw Sangwoo and Sae-byeok he thought it might have just been another dream. The two of them often appeared to him at night, usually in his nightmares. But never in a sight so pleasant as a long lost friends’ reunion.
So yeah, now that he was really thinking of it, it made sense Gi-hun hadn't survived those debris.
But was this really the after life or was this something he had purely invented in his despair to escape his own death. They say the human brain stays alive seven minutes after death, were those his seven minutes? Closure?
“Oh… is, uh… is any of this real?” He asked, throat hoarse.
He didn’t necessarily ask the question to anyone in particular, his eyes moving around as he spoke the words, as if trying to find an answer of their own by studying the scenery.
In the end, Sangwoo was the one to give him the answer.
“Yes and no. We’re not really part of the real world anymore. But, you’re not inventing us either.” The latter told him.
Told because he hadn’t answered him. A real answer was never confusing, or it just wasn’t an answer , was it.
“What?” He asked again, staring confusedly at his late friend.
“It's really not that complicated, hyung. You died, we all died. And this” Sangwoo said, mentioning at everything around them, the players, the trees, the sky… “this is our afterlife. The afterlife of those whose souls never managed to let go of the games. Who never moved on. So, even in death we stayed stuck here inside the games. Until you hyung.” Sangwoo explained again, his voice raw with real emotions at the end. Bringing back a Sangwoo Gi-hun hadn’t seen years, even longer than since the games.
And if Gi-hun could appreciate that, giving back Sangwoo a smile of his own, Sae-byeok clearly wasn’t fleeing the same as she scolded slightly and elbowed the other man, before speaking up as well to give Gi-hun answers of her own.
“Good job dork, you made your big explanation even more mysterious than your first answer.” She firstly muttered to Sang-woo, mostly in good fun, but it seemed she also still held her fair share of grudges — rightfully so. Then she turned to Gi-hun with a softer, more genuine small grin “What this douche over there means, is that since the games have been destroyed and no longer exist at all in the real world, we’re free. Because what has been keeping us trappes here all along is gone, we’ve been avenged. Justice has been brought and now we can let go. All thanks to you ahjussi… so, thank you.” The younger woman said with hope and sincerity lightening her eyes in a way Gi-hun had never seen in the six days they had known each other.
It felt nice to see Sae-beyok glowing like that. It erased the pain he felt each time he saw her face and thought back to their last memory. So he smiled at her in contentment, until realisation set in.
“Wait, wait… so all this time, you’ve all just been stuck here?” He asked as dread started to set in his mind.
The words made Sae-byeok tilt her head as she pondered the words — or rather what would her answer be — and her grin faltered a little.
“Yeah.” She first answered truthfully, like the word held no more real value. Like the confession wasn’t astonishing. “Not the funniest thing actually. Day and night, year after year, we’d just be here. And since we were lost, wandering, vengeful souls, we didn’t even get to leave the room we died in. We were truly stuck to what killed us. We just couldn't cope with our fate.” She shrugged as an explanation.
That was horrifying. And Gi-hun told her as so, his face already betraying his emotions anyway.
“That’s horrible…” He whispered, the words being too heavy to be spoken out properly just yet. “So you've just been in that courtfield for the past three years.” He said pointing at Sangwoo “And you in the players dorm…” he now pointed at Sae-byeok. “Could you even interact together? Or even with the real world?”
Sae-byeok and Sangwoo shared a glance, before sharing another chuckle.
“Yes, Yes and no. We could see and speak to each other but we could never see the real world. I don’t doubt that the players' dorm was filled once again for a week each year after I died, but I’ve never been able to see the players. Me or anyone who died in there like me. This is our own doomed after life. Another dimension of sorts. But, by destroying the games, you've destroyed the invisible barrier that kept us trapped.” Sae-byeok filled him in.
“How do you know?” Gi-hun asked half-skeptically, half-curiously.
“We could feel it. Something snapped. We felt lighter, appeased . Like all our past grievances were just gone and forgotten all of a sudden, and that we could reach and cross frontiers we knew should have kept locked in. We knew for sure something happened when we were all able to go further out than the usual room we were all allowed into for all of eternity.”
Sangwoo nodded at Sae-byeok’s words before completing the story for her.
“I knew I could go out when the door we came through to the game’s sandbox opened on its own mysteriously. We all found each other in those damned staircases. We were confused of course, not knowing what was happening, or what was next, until a soldier, a previous manager shot during our Dalgona game actually, offered to lead us all outside. And somehow, we knew we’d find you here.”
“Which is what I don't understand. Gi-hun-si, why… how are you here?” A new voice pipped him, stealing his attention away from his two friends.
Young-il had joined them. Somehow, he had, at some point, crossed the distance between the game facility and them, going perfectly unnoticed all throughout.
Jung-bae was trailing not far behind, just a safe distance away. Maybe it was a little odd, but Gi-hun didn’t comment on it. His focus wasn’t on him anyway.
It was on Young-il’s eyes, who had in only three days, become so familiar. Like they had never left him during those three days. Yet Gi-hun wasn’t there when they closed forever. Matter of fact, he was the one responsible for it.
Had they had before, during their last moment, they looked up into his, full of concern, uncertainty and worry. Except this time it felt a little more different. More genuine maybe? Gi-hun didn’t know how to describe it, but something was there alright.
“I-” He began saying but his voice failed him. Like the weight of Young-il's gaze was too strong. Like he was back under those rubles, crushed down. He cleared his throat, averted his eyes as if ignoring the other’s eyes would make that crushing force disappear. The fear of being judged, of not being enough, of disappointing, would be gone as long as he acted like Young-il wasn’t here to make it live on.
“The complex was collapsing, I was helping the last of the players out, but I guess we were too out of time for all of us to make it. I had to make a choice, either we all died, or I could try to make it right one last time.” He eventually managed to confess.
“To make it right? Gi-hun, what did you do?” Young-il asked again with near urgency.
“That mother and son duo were right in front of me. The roof was about to fall on us as we were just about to exit the tunnel. They could make it in time if they got a good impulsion, which I could give. So I did. I gave my life to save everyone that I could. Because I owed it to you guys. The shaman lady was right. I had survived on borrowed time for long enough. It was time I made your sacrifices worth it.” Gi-hun told him, this time with more assurance, his voice gradually gaining confidence by the words.
And if Gi-hun was determined, Young-il didn’t seem to share the feeling. Looking sympathetic, near pitying, maybe even a little devastated, he shook his head at the taller and softly spoke out.
“You can’t blame yourself for our deaths. For everyone’s death. There have been countless winners before you, and after you. Yet you’re the only one who came back for good. What happened to us… We chose our fate, whether we liked it or not.” And there was great irony in In-ho’s words.
As the Frontmant, he had always argued that nothing had been forced out of the player. That they suffered their own consequences, made by their own choice. Today, though not a player anymore, In-ho’s death was also the result of his own choices. Choosing to come back to the island as the Frontman would eventually lead to his own demise. For had he not, and instead chose to stay in Seoul, Jun-ho would have never found the island, would have never even known of its existence or cared to know of it. And if Jun-ho hadn’t been on the island, In-ho wouldn’t have died for him.
It was some sort of butterfly effect. But in the end, we always suffer our own choices, no matter how small.
And it pained him that it was Jung-bae of all people who was about to back his claim.
“It’s true Gi-hun-ah. When we took those pistols and chose to join you on your crazy scheme, we knew there was the constant underlying possibility that we’d die. Yet we still followed didn’t we? Because no one else dared to hope so raw.” Jung-bae spoke out a little too enthusiastically, slapping his friend’s back as he did.
Gi-hun flew a little forward from the gesture but made no move to move Jung-bae’s arm away. Instead he even seemed a little grateful to have this. To have his friend as an anchor right now.
“I should have told you sooner that I was hurt. I should have said something and called for a vote when there was still time. But I chose to stay silent.” Sae-byeok muttered looking down shamefully.
And this especially didn’t sit right with Gi-hun who put his hand on the youngest’s shoulder. This made Sae-byeok look up at him, lifting her eyes up but not much her head. When they made eye contact, Gi-hun pursued his lips and said;
“Yeah, and you didn’t choose for Sangwoo to betray us either.”
The words, though accusatory, were meant to be reassuring. But it didn’t seem to work that much.
“No, but I condemned myself the moment I kept quiet. I could have made things go differently.” Sae-byeok whispered again, her voice pained with self guilt. And Gi-hun gripped her shoulder a little tighter, shaking her a little.
“ Sae-byeok , don’t blame yourself for your own murder.” He scolded the young woman like a dad would just tell off his kid for a mild offense — not like they were talking about all of their own death but oh well. “The only one who can feel guilty about it is that guy. And indeed he chose his death though and through.” Gi-hun told her a little sternly, voice drifting into a humorless scoff at the end.
“Wow, low blow hyung, low blow.” Sangwoo muttered.
“I’m sorry Sangwoo but it’s true. I missed you, I did , but you can’t expect me to forget what you did.” Gi-hun told him honestly.
And sangwoo just sighed, closing his eyes, head tilted back and arm crossed.
“You’re right. You’ve only said the truth. But I don’t care anymore. I feel oddly at peace with all that happened on that damn island. I just want to go home now. See my mom one last time at last.” Sangwoo pleaded.
And his voice resonated in a way Gi-hun hadn’t heard before, so he softened, letting it go and turning to Sae-byeok instead.
“Ah, I’m sorry Sae-byeok, but I guess you better follow him when he leaves, I gave your brother’s care to his mother.” Gi-hun told her with a small apprehensive smile.
“What? But I asked you to look over him!” Sae-byeok screeched, uncrossing her arms as she stared at him in disbelief. She looked like she was about second away from punching him in the face.
So Gi-hun defensively raised his hands in front of his face trying to talk her down.
“And I did! I got him out of the orphanage and gave him to someone who would care better than I could. Trust me, with the mental state I was in, you didn’t want me to look after your brother. I couldn’t even be there for my own daughter… I gave Cheol a good life, I promise you. I know they’re happy together.” Gi-hun told her.
Sae-byeok gave him a hesitant glare, her eyes studying him before she relaxed herself, crossing her arms in front of her chest again.
“They better be yeah, because I’ll go see that for myself. And if I don’t like what I see, I’m coming back to this island to haunt you forever.” She threatened without really meaning it.
“How would you haunt me in death!” Gi-hun spurted out a bit loudly. Sae-byeok looked at him with a small smirk she was trying to hide.
“I’ll find way to make your death miserable trust me.” Was all she said as an answer.
Gi-hun looked at her like she was mad before sighing and giving her a small smile of his own.
“Fine, but don’t hold onto that thought too hard because I’m telling you, I did the right thing for him. I fulfilled all my promises.” He defended with a small huff, his eyes drifting away from Sae-byeok.
And that's when he caught onto the figure of Young-Il. Well maybe he hadn't fulfilled all his promise.
This was all over now, and he'd never be able to get Young-Il the soju he said he owed him.
And it seemed Young-Il knew that too, because for the first time, his eyes fled Gi-hun's the moment they met. And though Young-Il was avoiding his gaze, Gi-hun could still see him, so he saw the way the shorter man’s shoulders and jaw tensed slightly, displaying a clear expression of discomfort.
And Gi-hun hated that. Was it his fault? Could he fix this?
But no time to think about it much when newcomers stole the group's attention.
The groups of players that had stayed by the complex’s exit had started to move forward, some players leading the parade. People like Ali, or player 240.
Ali was the first to speak up.
“I just wanted to thank you sir before I go.” The Pakistani man said with a small bow.
“Thank me?” Gi-hun asked confusedly.
Ali looked at him with a bright smile and nodded.
“Yes, for having me in your team, and for allowing us to move on from here. I don't know how you did it, but ever since you arrived, we were able to leave.” Ali stated with the same smile still on his face.
Gi-hun was still just as confused.
“But where are you going? And how?” He asked again.
“I want to see my family again, be with my wife and son.” Ali had a son? Shit, Gi-hun hadn’t known, if he did then… “I don't know how exactly I'll make it to them, but I know I will. I can feel that I can.” Said Ali, cutting-in Gi-hun’s thoughts.
The man smiled brighter now, clearly already envisioning seeing his loved ones again. He was the warm and kind-hearted Ali Gi-hun had met in the game. Except this time his warmth burned even harder than before, so much so that it seemed to just radiate off of him and spread to others.
And maybe it’s that positivity that was the key to passing away to this other realm. The one where everyone else was, and alive .
Gi-hun smiled at him like old time sake.
“Ah, maybe I ought to do the same… maybe my wife divorced me but I still wanna be around her and see our kid grow. Even if I can’t really be there. It's the best closure I’ll get I suppose.” Jung-bae spoke up with the same kind of hopeful warmth. Except his was a bit more melancholic.
Gi-hun pursued his lips and nodded at him, putting a comforting hand on his shorter friend’s shoulder. Jung-bae then patted his head with a small laugh, enjoying probably his last moments with his friend.
Upon hearing that the two previous players were ready for departure, it seemed the rest of them were fueled by their bravery and found in it the confidence to aspire themselves to leave as well.
A first player mumbling something about seeing his sister again, another their children, one their aunt, yet another speaking of their lover. It seemed they all had people to go back to. Friends and family that they missed and wish to find healing into.
Some people in the crowd started walking away, cutting through the forest, not to be seen again. Many others soon started following them, the players leaving whenever they felt ready.
The island was slowly emptying itself, person by person. Ali had soon left. So did many other familiar faces, such as Deok-su who glared and tsk’ed at him before leaving. Min-yeo followed soon after him, flipping seemingly everyone and everything before leaving with an indecipherable mumble.
No one cared much for her attitude, except for Sae-beyok who gave a small scoff after sharing a complice glance with Ji-yeong.
At some point those two players Gi-hun had been too late to save were there.
“Well are you happy now Min-su? You got what you wanted no? You’ll get to find your Noona again and I’ll find my hyung. They gotta be somewhere out there in another afterlife, right?” 124 rudely stated glaring at player 125.
The boy, looking no less frightened then he did when the walls crushed them, just weakly nodded looking at the ground.
Player 124 scorned before walking off, shoving the other as he did.
No one really gave mind to their theatrics as people kept on walking into the forest, some hesitantly, some much more self-assured and determined than others.
Gi-hun watched them all disappear with a smile on his face. It was disbelief. It was joy. It was accomplishment.
Sang-woo, Sae-byeok, Ji-yeong, Jung-bae and Young-Il were still with him, watching the players leave as well.
The sun had stopped burning, it was only lighting the island now. Casting an ethereal glow over the trees, and the water shines down below.
His moment of basking in this serenity was cut short by the sound of small footsteps coming his way.
Looking down, Gi-hun found a younger woman, much shorter, with the number 095. He recognized her as the poor kid who had cried during the second vote, and had been a part of Hyun-Ju’s team, never leaving the older woman's side until mingle, where she had died playing.
“Sir… is Hyun-Ju okay?” She asked, hands forgetting together though confined in sweater paws.
“Oh, that's player 120 right?” Was Gi-hun's first reaction, even though he already knew the answer. When payer 095 nodded hopefully Gi-hun smiled at her. “She’s more than okay, yeah. I think she'll be glad to have you around.”
And the confession made something ignite in player 095’s eyes. Like those words were the missing keys for her to be able to cross over.
She smiled through a shaky exhale of relief, before bowing down at Gi-hun.
“Thank you sir.” She said before turning around, and walking away.
The small group all watched her go. Ji-yeong had a look of curiosity, Sae-byeok lightly hitting Gi-hun’s arm, joking that he better had not replaced her already, Sangwoo was indifferent to the display, Jung-bae chuckled at Sae-byeok’s antic while Young-Il just stared ahead, arms by his side and his face unreadable.
Gi-hun tried to study that look in 001’s eyes, but it was hard to make anything out of it. In the end it was Jung-bae who put him out of his one-sided staring cession.
“Well, I think I'm ready to go. Gi-hun-ah, come visit sometimes if you can.” His friend announced, stepping forward.
Gi-hun nodded at him before Jung-bae left for good — though not before a small chuckled of goodbye.
Gi-hun was going to miss him all over again, but it was for the right reason this time.
“I guess we best get going now. The island is almost empty after all.” Sae-byeok said, softly breaking the silence.
Without moving her head, her eyes snapped up to stare at Sangwoo expectantly.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to see my eomma again.” The older man nodded without looking back at Sae-byeok.
The reaction barely humored the girl, who huffed a little, her lips twitching in a grin of disbelief to contain her annoyance.
Then she turned to Gi-hun to say “I still can't believe you did this to me ahjussi. Really? You got me stuck with him.”
Gi-hun didn’t answer her, he just smiled apologetically. Sae-byeok just shook her head.
“Deal with it kid. Now come on, stay behind me.” Sang-woo told her nonchalantly, but not as venomously as his tone could get while in the game.
Sae-byeok sighed, clearly biting down her tongue. Her shoulder slumped down once heavily before she gave Gi-hun one last smile of goodbye and hurriedly trailed after Sangwoo — who had already started walking away.
Gi-hun watched them go with a melancholic but happy smile. He was happy for his friends. And so, before he could get sad they were gone again, he turned to Ji-yeong that was still there with them.
“Ji-yeong, what about you?” he asked curiously.
“Me?” The young girl parroted confusedly, like she didn’t expect the question.
So Gi-hun nodded right back at her. “Yeah, don’t you have any family or anyone you wanna go back to?”
Ji-yeong didn't answer him immediately. Instead her eyes wandered as she pondered her answer.
“No, I don't have any family left. And I think it's better my eomma doesn’t see me again… I don’t really have anybody no.” She said eventually.
“So what are you gonna do? You’re not just gonna stay here are you?” Young-Il suddenly asked, after being silent for a while. Just being there, staring from the side.
Gi-hun almost forgot about him. He really took the whole being a ghost thing seriously, uh…
Ji-yeong stared at player 001 before she hummed, uncrossing her arms to shove her hands in her pocket instead.
“No, I'm not. I think I'm gonna go haunt Sae-byeok’s afterlife instead. Stick by her as a moral support. She didn’t seem very fond of the guy.” She told them with her usual calm, but sassy attitude.
“No wonder…” Gi-hun first scoffed as an answer, “But why didn’t you just go with them? They just left!”
Ji-yeong stare now turned to him, a smirk on her face. “What's the fun in that! I’m going to surprise her. That’s how a haunting work, no?”
Gi-hun was a tad bit surprised at her answer but his eyes soon softened and he allowed himself to smile amusedly again.
Satisfied with that non-verbal answer, Ji-yeong turned stepped forward, and casting one look back at the island, the sound of the sea, and the game complex, she crossed the treeline and disappeared.
Their group had started at five, and was now down to two. It’s like History always repeats itself.
But mostly, the island truly felt empty now that his friends were gone.
Well not all of his friends. Someone was still there with him.
“So… I guess it’s just us now.” He spoke, without looking at Young-Il. As a matter of fact, the words were probably more meant for Gi-hun himself as comfort, rather than to the other as just some friendly small talk.
“I suppose so.” Young-Il only said.
The shorter one was standing stiff beside him. Face unreadable, eyes focused on the empty spot where everyone had once been. Right in front of the exit of the Games’ complex.
It was a bit odd, but Gi-hun couldn't blame him. You couldn't expect everyone to just cope with all this sudden bizarry. Gi-hun himself didn’t exactly feel easy just yet. And he had years to cope with the Games. Yet he never did either. How could Young-Il, a mere player of this year’s misery.
Was the man thinking of his wife right now? Did he feel like it was too much? He had failed them.
Or was his death so brutal he just couldn't grasp it.
Well, whatever it was. Gi-hun would always help out a friend in need. So maybe with a little nudge, Young-Il would open up and find the strength to cross after letting everything out.
“How come you’re still here Young-Il? Don’t you want to go back to your family?” He asked carefully, now turning his head to face Young-Il's, eyes soft and smile ever so gentle.
Young-Il didn’t return his affection. He kept staring ahead. He didn’t spare Gi-hun a glance. But Gi-hun still saw the way Young-Il's eyes lost focus for a moment, showing the latter was still progressing Gi-hun’s words nevertheless.
Young-Il frowned, and he gulped down before answering.
“I don't think they’d want to see me again. I haven’t earned my place in their heart anymore.”
The words were like a bucket of cold water. Because sure, the sun was shining, the sky was clear and the wind was on their unexisting skin, but the temperature had suddenly dropped cold. The words were impactful because they sounded so sincere. They were of hurt.
Gi-hun's eyes widened, and he lost his words for a moment. But as fast as he had lost it, his voice came back.
“Don't say that! It's just that island nonsense. It messes with our brain. ‘Makes us think we’re unworthy of the rest of the world because of the way it forced us into another one. But that’s not true.” He scowled, with a frown of his own now on his face.
He stared at Young-Il expectantly, hoping his friend would understand he wasn’t alone and that Gi-hun wouldn’t let him fall to his deluded mind state. The man himself had been there done that, and he knew how destructive those thoughts could be. His years on the street or secluded at the Pink Motel would tell you that much. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy — he would — Nevertheless, his friend.
“Right, maybe that can't be true enough. But what about you Gi-hun-ssi. Why are you still here?” Young-Il suddenly asked back, his eyes finally moving to lock onto his.
And again, Gi-hun felt something snap inside of him. His ways abandoning him again.
“Ah… I don't feel ready to let go yet, I think. They spoke of a shift earlier, but I haven't felt it at all. I guess I'm stuck here for now.” Gi-hun explained dismissively. Because he truly didn’t know much more than that.
Young-il hummed, a little disapprovingly it seemed. But not quite rude either. More like he was mad at the situation rather than Gi-hun. More like he was mad for Gi-hun.
“Have you tried picturing your loved one? Like your…” ‘your daughter or your mother’ he was about to say, but then In-ho had to cut himself short. After all, for some reason he had woken up here as Young-il. And Young-il wasn’t supposed to know any of Gi-hun’s relatives. He tried to say something else to save himself but couldn’t. Thankfully, Gi-hun stepped in understanding — or what he thought he had understood.
“Yeah, but I feel just like you. Like it’s best I stay away.” Gi-hun shrugged looking down, shoulders sloping down. The weight of the words and the feeling they carried pressing down on him.
And the sight must have rarely been sad to see as Young-il felt the need to step in. “Gi-hun… isn’t that just island nonsense?”
Gi-hun wasn’t sure if this was a taunt or genuine care, but he decided not to give it too much mind. It wasn’t the first time Young-il had been a little odd afterall.
“Does any of this even makes sense?” He only sighed as a defeated answer. Young-il spared him a glance before mirroring Gi-hun. “No, I guess not.”
For a moment they just stood there. The two of them, stuck on this island. Thousands had died here. But when the place was suddenly sent free of its vengeful spirit, this felt like it was only Gi-hun and Young-il — In-ho’s — grave. One that they had to share, even though secrets hadn’t been yet.
Time went on differently on the island. Whether it was in the real world, or in this afterlife world. To the players those six days were never ending, stretching on in ways their minds could never quite comprehend. But depriving them of the sun or any other time marker had always been done on purpose to mess with them. Confuse their brain, strip them of perception and arise the worst kind of feelings. And on here, though they at least had the sun to try and feel the day passing by, time still made no sense.
In-ho, trying to escape the hell of his own mind, had once tried to count the hours to test a theory, and had found out the days weren’t the same at all. Indeed, sometimes they only had four hours of sunlight — if they could consider the time going by hours even — while sometimes it would be six, or eight, or even thirteen. Yes In-ho had counted them by himself, minute after minute for the whole day. After all, the dead didn’t need sleep — so much for eternal rest —, or food, or drinks, or any other vital needs. And he didn’t have anything better to do either. I mean, what else did you want him to do? Sit back with his thoughts. No thanks, to In-ho losing himself to his mind was even worse than this whole thing. He’d rather be dragged to Hell rather than have to do that . But at the same time, maybe that’s why he was stuck here. This was his punishment. Who said this situation was ever supposed to be pleasant? This was their personal Hell wasn’t it? Yeah, they were in Hell. And In-ho was running out of ideas on how to avoid it. His thoughts; his punishment . This Hell.
Surprisingly enough there were nights here as well, also randomized in time, and with a night sky that allowed them to stargaze. But the stars felt dull. Fake. Lifeless. Astronomy tells you there’s less than 1% chance the stars you stare at are already dead. Here, 99% of the time they already felt dead. They probably were. All 99% of them. You could see the shine, but the fire that once ignited it was long gone. Those stars were exactly like them. They once burned but time had consumed them, yet they still shone to the eyes so no one could ever forget what they were or represented. Maybe that’s why staring at them was no guidance or no pleasantry. It was another Hell, having to stare at yourself and all the painful thoughts this action would entail. This island was Hell. And In-ho didn’t know how to escape. But that was the thing wasn’t it, you could never escape the Game. Gi-hun had proved that. That man had a whole life he could get back to after his victory, he could rebuild himself in ways In-ho never could have, and yet he was drawn back. In-ho tried to warn him, but much like everything else, that backfired as well. Because ever-so-stubborn Gi-hun was here. Here as well.
But Gi-hun seemed to hold on better than In-ho. And again, the man was envious of him. Admirative of Gi-hun and his ability to persist. To resist. To exist. Even in death. But what could he do about it but brood in his corner. Gi-hun being here was another part of this Hell. How could In-ho face him? Since they arrived here, he never tried talking to the man again. And Gi-hun, being the ever so kind and loving Seong Gi-hun, had just accepted that. Had given him space. This was Hell.
In-ho was running out of ideas as to what to do to not fill into this pit of despair that was his mind. He had walked back inside the game complex, everything was the same, he had wandered along the same pink, blue, yellow and purple corridors. Waltzed into the same control room, his rooms. Plural. Because one was his room when he was player 132, debt ridden desperate Hwang In-ho, but also when he was fake alias player 001, Oh Young-il, both of them stuck in the players’ dorm, sharing it as their room with the rest. The other room was the dark and rich quarter of the Frontman, on the last floor of the elevator by the control room.
Nothing had changed. The same number of beds. The same number of game rooms. The same sets, including his Jazz animatronics. He didn’t dare to try and play it — as a matter of fact, he’s not sure he can anyway, the electricity seems to work in a mysterious way here — or he’d have to think of her . And if he started doing that, it was game over. His mind would win and he’d be taken into dark places he’d never get back to.
But as said, he was running out of ideas on how to keep his mind blank. It’s not like he was gonna spend his whole afterlife counting every grain of sand on the island. Sure he was desperate but not that pathetic. He was done giving his dedication to that island. He had died for heaven’s sake. Could he please get some rest?
In the end, he never got rest. After “days” of trying to run away from himself, he had to give up. It happened during another endless quiet walk around the island. Feet moving mindlessly on their own, going nowhere, eyes locked on the ground, seeing the sand, the dirt, the rock, the leaves, the fallen bark that once belonged to a tree. Then he saw the trunk of the tree, and his eyes drifted up to stare at it all as it stood there stoically in the ground of the island. It should have been just another tree. One among the hundreds that were already there, all around him in this very moment. Yet it wasn’t. Because In-ho felt drawn to it. Like he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. And the more he stared at it, the more it made him feel things. Tingle, static in his ears, ringing, voices and mumbling he couldn’t make out but were too loud. A sensation spread in his back, in his neck and the back of his head. His body, though already dead, felt wrong. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He was a soul, not a body envelope of nerves and blood. So why was he feeling? Feeling pain, and the blood draining from his face as his body started shaking on its own. For some reason that tree was speaking to him, and was awakening surges in him. The sensations were unbearable, but for unnamed reasons, he didn’t take his eyes off of the tree. He kept staring, harder even. He squinted, until at least, it clicked.
Yes, he knew that tree. He remembers now. He understands why it’s making him feel all those things. I suppose the mind can forget, but never the body. How could it forget what killed it. Gave it a fractured everything . Spine, neck, skull. All internal injuries you could not see on the body, but the deed is done. You can die, but if your consciousness remains, you’ll never forget. You’ll always remember. That’s why his body was responding the way it was. And In-ho supposes there’s no bigger trauma response than to the one that killed.
And if In-ho wanted to fight the feeling, he should have averted his eyes away. He knew why he was reacting this way now, he could stop looking. But he didn’t. Because the moment he had allowed for the souvenir to set in, it was too late. He saw the tree and remembered. Not hitting it, but how and why it happened. There was the Game facility exploding, so they had to get out and escort back the VIPS to the helicopter. Then there was Jun-ho and the mercenaries cornering them, and In-ho had to shoot down his own guards again to save him. After this was over there was that pink guard with the sniper, who took down the clients’ helicopter, sending it crashing down in their direction. And In-ho had to step in to save Jun-ho again, because that’s what brothers do. And finally nothing. Just darkness before waking up here. On the Game’s island.
The Game’s island. And In-ho had just lost the game. He had reminisced. Looked back at the past, allowing it to slip through and eat at whatever was left of his mind. Locked doors and burned bridges meant nothing now. Now Jun-ho was in his head. And he couldn’t escape the thoughts of him. Good, but mostly bad; how In-ho had failed him.
And his feet moved again, against his will. He walked away, mindlessly. silently. He had a feeling he already knew where he was being taken, and when his eyes — locked on the ground, lost in thoughts — stared down at the water below him, his suspicions were confirmed.
He was by a cliff, one of the few on the island. It wasn’t particularly big, not nearly as tall as the one where it happened, but it played its part. Played the part to seal In-ho’s fate in death. He stared at the water, and like the sea was mocking him, the waves churned harder, mimicking the hurling of his thoughts inside his head. He stared, tried to fight back against the tides, but inevitably lost. He sat down by the edge of the cliff and gave up.
He thought of his family, the one that was still breathing and he had abandoned in Seoul. The one that had attended his ceremonies — School, wedding, birthdays… The one that had loved him through thick and thin, even if now broken, had never stopped caring or looking for him. The one that he had loved more than anything until he couldn’t anymore. Maybe in another life, he hadn’t been such a disappointment to them. In another life, he still had his place among them. Had earned it, and made it worth it. But not this life. Obviously.
Then he thought of his other family. Of his wife, and the child she had carried, but that he would never meet. Asked himself why wasn’t he with them right now. Maybe if he focused he too could try to feel the shift. Try to picture them, and reach for them wherever they were in the afterlife. But deep down, he knew he didn’t want to. Because how could he face her? What would he tell her? What would she say to him? How could she even look at him? She’d never recognize him. And the rejection, the pain he’d imagined in those eyes — eyes that even though had forever closed in death, had probably stubbornly never stopped surging with life — would hurt ten times more, and worse, than breaking your spine on any tree over and over again.
He was miserable. But that’s what he had earned. Not peace, not his loved ones with him, not eternal rest. Only his misery and his shame, stuck here where he had died. So he sat down by the cliff, said nothing, felt nothing but the weight of his own life and all it entailed on his back, aching like a thousand small needles pricking him, as he stared at the endless sea below. Days and nights passed. They blurred together and In-ho still hadn’t moved an inch. His mind never stopped racing, each passing second the weight on his shoulders felt heavier. The sulking grew harder, and he had given up. He let everything in. The island he had once came back to as an escape from the world and protect himself in an impenetrable fortress of his own doing so he’d never feel or hurt again, had now become the place of all his hurting.
It was what he had always deserved he supposed. If In-ho could change one thing though, just ask one thing, had one wish. It would be to have his frontman mask with him. That way he wouldn’t have to stare at himself when he looked in the water. He’d get to keep on comfortably hiding his face so he could pretend this wasn’t him.
Maybe Gi-hun had been right in that regard, once again. They all hid behind a mask, acted like it gave them power, it comforted them, but the masks are fake. They’re nobodies. Dogs who bark, run, and die at their master’s command.
The mask was nothing but a cowardly escape because at least they could pretend this wasn’t them. Wasn’t their decision. That wearing the mask was wearing someone else’s skin. In a way, it was true. But rather than wearing someone else’s skin, it was more wearing another layer of your own. Wearing another one of your own personality. Because no matter the mask, what mattered was the one that existed to wear it. Willingly .
In-ho could take off the frontman’s mask, that didn’t mean he stopped being him. He was the Frontman, had always been. He could never rewrite the past. Not just because he had laid himself bare for a moment. Hwang In-ho was the Frontman, more than the Frontman was Hwang In-ho. And without the mask, Hwang In-ho was Young-il, almost as much as Young-il had been Hwang In-ho.
Maybe that’s why he woke up in the player 001 uniform. Oh Young-il was the peak of all the forms In-ho had taken. Young-il had been the old player 132, who survived playing death games again, all while he had also held the power of the Frontman. And though he had even become his own man at some point, Young-il was also Hwang In-ho under another name. A man forced to fight to survive, a man with korean police training, a man who had come down here with a purpose , Gi-hun, — though he had lied using In-ho’s past —, a man who never had trouble making friends only to lose
Young-il was, in the end, the ultimate transgression. To Gi-hun, to the players, to himself. He was all of In-ho at once.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t have it with him — his Frontman mask; the one he had died in. Because he had woken up here as Young-il, In-ho’s anthropomorphic mask. The one that bear faced, still opened every door scans — the Frontman. The one that Gi-hun still trusted — Young-Il. The one that would forever be the one to stare back from the water right at him. — Hwang In-ho.
Or maybe he was 001 because of Gi-hun. In-ho was the first one to participate and win the Games between the two of them, the first to be a player. Then he had chosen darkness. Gi-hun was the last one winner amongst them, the last player to ever be as he took everything with him. Then Gi-hun had chosen light. They were contradictory but complementary. So different yet so similar. On one end, 001 and darkness, at the end 456 and light.
Gi-hun was light, and he was darkness. What a sweet irony he thought bitterly. His lips even parted in a small chuckle but his eyes stayed dead on the water.
He had tried to kill Gi-hun’s light with his darkness, only to end up being brightened by exposing himself to it. Of course by engulfing light, light glows on you before it dies. It taints darkness before it’s gone. Gi-hun could have never protected itself, light only gives , it doesn’t take away darkness, it gives it light. And In-ho had had no choice but to receive. They had played a deadly dance, and when the music stopped, it was too late for them. For here they were.
With that thought in mind amongst a thousand others at a time, In-ho eyes moved for the first time in who knows how long. They didn’t leave the water, but they swept across it. They grazed over the stars reflecting on the deep blue sea, before they settled on the moon. Even from just the water reflection, it was still beautiful. Distorted, and a little duller, but it was still the same exact beautiful moon from above. The one that was filled with craters from all the blows it took for the Earth. The one that only shone thanks to the sun’s light.
The sea had calmed for once, therefore In-ho could truly stare at it. His eyes glazed and his small smile returned.
Fun fact, the moon controls the tides.
His eyes fixed on the satellite until they widened in bittersweet realization.
Was In-ho the moon all along? And if so Gi-hun had to be the sun. The center of their universe, the one that pulls, never pushes. The one that gives warmth, that gives light .
The one that rose at day, to give life and meaning. The one that gave the seasons. The one that would end that winter sorrow when at last the sunny days would return, to chase away the dark winter skies gloom.
The one that in turn gave to Earth the summer days. Those overwhelming days that would be beautiful days spent with friends and family. Those days that would be hope and joy — nothing but pure serotonin production.
But still people would find a way to curse at the Sun, in the winter, thought it was there, it wouldn’t be enough, and the people would say that they miss it, yet when it would come back for summer the people would complain that it burned too much, too long, too harsh. Some even thought it was a punition or a killer.
In-ho knew to think better of it, he loved the Sun. So he knew that even despite all that they could say, praises, critics or threats; the Sun would always keep on burning the same. Because the sun was a star. Beautiful, complex and warm. Irreplaceable .
It was the star. The one that burned at its core until one day it would ultimately die. But even then you wouldn’t even feel the consequences of it until at least eight full minutes. In-ho had the privilege to say, he'd see them immediately.
Because he could stare at the Sun from where he was. For each day the Sun was the one that set at night, so the moon could rise. Gi-hun would be, then there would be In-ho, and Gi-hun again, then In-ho... They chased after each other in the sky endlessly; only meant to be a cycle, never to collide. But one day they would meet again, on a fated eclipse day. And looking at them would hurt . But what a sight it would be. They’d own the sky and the Earth.
In-ho stared at the sea; the moon. Soon the night would end, and the Sun would come.
“Young-Il” The Sun said as it had finally arrived.
And In-ho eyes blinked, and without realizing maybe the small smile that slipped through previously widened a little. With the coming of the sun, the sad winter days would start to shift into hopeful spring days, until finally would come summer.
Gi-hun took careful steps toward him, and sat down right to In-ho’s left.
In-ho could feel that Gi-hun turned his head to look at him. In-ho didn’t return the favor. He looked at the horizon. At the sun rise. Funny how the fifth game to be played would have included it — as well as a sunrise. And the stars that were now disappearing would have been on the fourth game.
A new day wasn’t starting. It was a new game. Ah, then let the game begin. Nothing In-ho couldn’t do.
“You’ve been here for a while now. I’ve started to get a little bit worried.” Gi-hun started saying with genuine care. When In-ho didn’t answer, he went on. “You know at first I even thought you had left without saying goodbye. “ And when In-ho still didn’t answer, Gi-hun went on to fil the void. “I thought : what a jerk! But he wouldn’t right?”
“You’re right Gi-hun-ssi. I would have never.” In-ho interrupted with a small amused smile. If In-ho hadn’t spoken up now, Gi-hun would have just went on again. And it bitterly reminded him of the Gi-hun he first saw three years ago in 2021, for six days that turned into one thousand and ninety-five more of devoted observation.
In-ho didn’t know you could miss something you barely knew, but it turned out you could. And even if he yearned for the old Gi-hun, who even against all odds could still find small happiness with his eyes that shone and his smiles, In-ho he didn’t feel like he wanted to — or even could — bear it right now. And so that’s why he had broken his silence. To hope to be left alone.
But of course that didn’t work. Not with someone as stubborn as Gi-hun.
“Then why do you stay here all alone?” Gi-hun asked a little sharply. And if In-ho didn’t know any better, he’d have missed the slight hurt in those simple words. “For a while you made me feel like it was personal. Ever since we got here you never talked or even just looked my way. You would just disappear who knows where for the rest of the day and just… Do whatever. I won’t ask because it doesn’t concern me, but even if I understood you needed space and time, and I tried to stay patient, it still hurts. To feel rejected I mean.” Gi-hun sighed. “Yes it’s a difficult situation, but I’m also living in it. We’re here together , so why pretend you’re on your own all of a sudden? Weren’t we a team then?”
It wasn’t an insult, not even a reproach that Gi-hun had spoken. No, in fact it was more like Gi-hun was asking for amends to be made. Like two friends who had to make up. Not much because Gi-hun felt alone, but because he refused to give up on him. On In-ho — No, Young-il . And on their small friendship. That’s where Gi-hun’s hurt lies. Not on solitude, but to feel given up on by a friend. To feel like he’s losing someone.
And to In-ho that confession meant something. A pang in his heart he didn’t know he could still feel. What they had hadn’t died, it wouldn’t until Gi-hun refused to let it die. And if Gi-hun was the burning sun, he’d forever refuse to kill the last flamme that still ignited the fire that represented their friendship. And In-ho realized It felt warm, to be wanted .
In answer to the feeling, In-ho did what he never stopped doing since he came to the cliff; he looked back on the past. On all the moments spent with Gi-hun, with him and the others. And for once the feeling of shame that destroyed every memory In-ho’s brain would surge, was numbed by another feeling. The same retracted when it saw the fire Gi-hun carried with him.
And so melancholia subsided, and therefore for once, the past felt something other than destructive. It felt warm, bittersweet, nostalgic. And In-ho’s smile stayed, though it shifted to something else again.
“We were weren’t we? And the best team there was nevertheless.” He joked.
And without ever seeing them, he knew those eyes — Gi-hun’s eyes — had just lit up. And that felt good too.
“Ah, maybe not so much then. Three out of the five of us died. That’s more than half.” Gi-hun sighed out in a small chuckle.
And In-ho found himself almost joining in, almost . But his heart wasn’t for laughter yet.
“Don’t be so hard on us. It was three of six, that’s half-half.” In-ho chuckled half heartedly reminiscing his old mingle joke. “And sure the pro-ratio doesn’t look good, but is it really what mattered here? The means to an end don’t have to define us Gi-hun-ssi.” In-ho told him.
For a moment it seemed Gi-hun thought about it. It was true they had lost human lives, but through their work they had also survived together, or had died trying to make things right. — Even if their view didn’t always align on what “right” meant in every scenario.
Then Gi-hun hummed, letting In-ho know he had now just understood that.
“I guess not. But you have to admit it felt hopeless at first; That we’d ever get out of there.” It was quite ironic to say, since Gi-hun and him were still here. Maybe not there , but in a way still here . Though In-ho chose not to comment on it, instead he said :
“I never stopped trusting you Gi-hun. Or believing in our team. We did feel unstoppable then.” In-ho nodded with all the friendliness he could muster in the moment. And it almost felt genuine.
Gi-hun shifted beside him. The older man was now bringing his knees to his chest, resting his arms on top of them and craned his neck to stare up at the sky.
“Did it really feel like it? Every time I saw more players vote O, it just felt like a loss.” Gi-hun confessed defeatedly.
And to protect him, to make his Sun feel better, In-ho immediately wanted to reassure him by telling him ‘that’s not true’. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Because “that” was exactly true. That’s exactly why In-ho had changed the voting system. So that in their war of ideals, the votes would become a battle to either be won or lost by one or the other. And Gi-hun had lost each of them. He had come close, but never succeeded. As In-ho had been sure he would.
But he didn’t say that either, instead this time he said :
“You never forced those players to vote O. It was never your fault. That was a choice they made out of their own free will.” Because that was the truth.
And still without looking, In-ho once again knew exactly what look Gi-hun was giving him. His one of surprise where his eyebrows would do that little twitch in a fraction second. It was always very endearing and In-ho wish he had had the courage to lift his head and face him so that for once, he had been able to see it happen from up close.
“But you said…” Gi-hun had started saying until In-ho quickly cut him off already knowing where he was headed “I only used you to make up my own judgement. You were never responsible for my actions. When I voted O that first time, it was my vote. Not yours. Don’t wear the shame for them. Only I can to do that.” — I know how to do that . But that last part was left unsaid of course.
And beside him Gi-hun shifted again. In-ho didn’t dare to even try and pick up on the movement in his peripheral vision. At the moment, he wanted to be forgotten again. Fall back under. So maybe if he ignored Gi-hun's presence…
“So that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time then? And I thought you were avoiding me… Young-il, whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone. There has to be a reason we’re two on this island.”
… ah, of course Gi-hun was the kind of guy you couldn’t ignore. Now In-ho had to answer. It would feel rude if he didn’t when Gi-hun was being so earnest.
“I wouldn’t want to burden you with this Gi-hun-ssi.” He simply gave as an answer. But that didn’t work to stop Gi-hun either.
“I don’t think you would. On the contrary. I think it would be good for us to share our stories. Maybe on our own, our loads are too heavy for us to carry, but if we unite them and redistribute the weight, we could carry all of it together.” Gi-hun offered with a smile In-ho didn’t even need to try to perceive with his eyes, because he could just hear and picture it.
And a smile was always contagious, even if it wasn't there . Even if maybe it was just in your head. So In-ho smiled too, a mix of various emotions at once behind it.
“My, what a metaphor.” He first whispered, with a small concealed pride. When he realized how odd it could sound to Gi-hun he quickly, but gently, added. “You barely talked back during the games. It’s nice for us to really have conversations now.”
Gi-hun stared at him for a small while before the man very carefully nodded and slowly turned his head back to the water with perplexity in both his eyes and smile. “Yeah… I guess. It just wasn’t the same then.” He muttered in response. “Of course.” In-ho nodded, his own smile still on his face. “So Gi-hun, where should we start with the tragic backstories.”
“Tragic?” Gi-hun laughed.
“Usually tragedies end in death to create that unhappy ending it seeks. Like our lives, it’s meant to be quite sorrowful and emotional.”
“ Emotional . Tell me about it.” Gi-hun huffed. “Although if we’re going to discuss all that sad stuff, I really wish I’d had a cigarette right now.” He complained.
“You smoke?” In-ho asked as if he didn’t know. Like he didn’t know that besides chasing after his organisation, cigarettes and groceries — usually both at once — were one of the few reasons Gi-hun would ever leave his motel. But Young-il wasn’t meant to know that.
“Yeah it’s my way to cope. I told my daughter I’d stop but… circumstances happened and I never could.” Gi-hun sighed out. “You have a daughter?” In-ho sputtered in mocked shock. It turned out acting like he was clueless was still as easy and fun even in death.
Gi-hun rubbed his neck like he was ashamed he had never mentioned her. “Ah, yes.” He chuckled a bit awkwardly “I guess we’re making progress! We’re learning to get to know each other.”
“Well, I guess I know more about you than you do about me. So if the offer to share our load still stand…” Gi-hun nodded at him silently “... I can tell you this. I haven’t been fully honest with you on the island. As to why I’m here.” And once again he could just feel the surprise radiating off of Gi-hun. So with his eyes fixed on the water, he started telling his story. Not Young-il’s story. His .
“I did have a wife and an unborn child. But that child will forever stay unborn. Because they’re already dead. As is their mother. My wife and kid are already gone. They’ve been gone for a longtime. But I didn’t lie when I told you I needed the money for them.”
“Ah… So is this a coping situation?” Gi-hun asked carefully. In-ho took a small breath. “No, it’s even more than that. I know that they’re dead.” He told the older man. Gi-hun hummed, looking for another explanation. “Then what is the problem? If you know you have them, that they’re out there somewhere, why don’t you try to reach for them like the others did!” He exclaimed with the sincerity of a friend looking out for another. And for a moment it almost made In-ho want to tear his gaze away from the water to stare at Gi-hun’s mannerism. “If you worry I’d feel lonely, then don’t. I’m fine where I am now. Even if I wish I could have still seen my mom one last time.” Gi-hun reassured him, though mumbling the last part.
“My wife— my family . They used to be my everything. I’d fight for them, I’d kill for them. And if words aren’t enough to believe me, then you can check for the scar I have on my side. That’s from when I gave one of my own kidneys to my brother.” He said, his hands subconsciously slipping toward said surgery scar. He gulped down feelings before going on. “For them and for so many others, I wanted for the world to be safe. To be a better place. That’s why I became a cop. To protect the people and the world they lived in. Eventually I climbed the rank and became a detective, and a pretty good one at that.” He chuckled sadly. He waited for Gi-hun to get past the surprise of figuring out In-ho’s job and how it probably explained many things — like the fight with that purple haired kid. Then he continued. “But as you know, circumstances happened, and I lost that job. Soon after, I realized that I was deluded. The world I fought so hard for, that world wasn’t as bright and hopeful as I believed it to be. I realized it was cruel, ruthless and unfair. That no matter how many cops you could put in the streets, it would never be enough. That corruption slips in everywhere. Maybe that was just humanity’s fate, to be this depraved. And that my whole life I had been blind.” He marked a pause. “I started doubting all of my ideals, and I guess that’s how I ended up here. To fight for my life, in the name of another. But after all that happened, I wonder what would my wife say. If she’d even be able to speak to me through the disgust she’d feel. Hell, would she even recognize her husband in the man I became?”
And though those words were held-back truth, it was the genuine hurt in his voice that made Gi-hun sympathize.
For years now In-ho had lived as a man who had tried to drown out and kill feelings. Because when you felt, you could feel everything. You could feel joy like you could feel pain. And for as long as he was stuck alive still, In-ho never wanted to hurt again. But much like everything in his life, that also backfired. So that allowed ever so emotionally intelligent Seong Gi-hun to see right through him. Guess the mask was truly gone now… What was the point of fighting it.
“Marriage isn’t easy. Because love isn’t easy.” Gi-hun tsked, staring up at the sky as he looked for the right words to comfort In-ho. “When I spiralled and became the worst of myself, my ex-wife left me. If she did it must be because she fell out of love. She had lost the man she married, and because she never loved this new man she met in turn, she always gave herself the right to judgement, even long after the divorce, because there was no love anymore. No attachments. We weren’t strong enough together to face this.” Gi-hun sighed a little. In-ho only took in the words silently, waiting for Gi-hun to continue.
“After I won the game, it’s not much her judgement that I feared. It was the one of the one person who I still loved and I wanted her to love me back. My daughter. Eun-ji, her husband and the rest of the world could think what they wanted of me. The only stares that could cut deep enough to hurt would always come from the people you love. Your friends, your family…” He gave a glance to In-ho with a very small smile “... Your lover . But it’s because they love you that they will extend a hand to guide you back to the light — to them . Even if it’s through harsh truth, or hypocrisy. They’ll just want to have you back, the person they love. So maybe they’d forgive anything to do that.”
For a moment, just a short while, there was silence as the two men sat next to each other, letting the weight of the words set in, finding their place among the darkness in the sky, the sound of the waves and the strength of the wind. They sat close, breathed in at the same time, and pondered the same words.
“You said your wife was stubborn. If you see her in me in that way, then she must be in many others. If we’re anything a little alike as you said, then she wouldn’t just hate you. She’d take the first step to forgiveness to have you back. Because she stubbornly loves you and you love her.” Gi-hun murmured, being the first to break the silence.
“ Loved .” In-ho corrected, voice poised — if not almost dismissive — and eyes straight on the water, but not lost — contemplative. Feelings of hurt long appeased, as thoughts replaced them. “You’re harsh.” Gi-hun chuckled. “Only realistic.” the other shrugged.
Another moment of silence. Just a sigh.
“I don’t know if it would be that easy though. I wanted her and the baby to live, I really did. I loved her. Loved them both. So I did bad things, Gi-hun. Some, really bad things. Could those be forgiven?” In-ho argued.
And to rationalise, just to make him feel better through unthought sarcasm, Gi-hun answered with the weight of the world. “Depends, did you run a death game?”
And In-ho didn’t know what to answer so he was speechless for a while. And that should have been alerting for Gi-hun, because Young-il should have just instinctively said ‘no’ . But he didn’t, because he couldn’t deny it either. Instead he had to be the one to find a way to give a rational answer to that.
“What if I had? Would it have been justified? That after I had lost everything, struggled to pay medical debts that weren’t exactly mine in any way I could; after I watched people die before my eyes, witnessed the slums of humanity, felt so beaten down by life when I used to be a good person, when I used to be there . After all of this, would it have been justified if I had turned to a place of doom because I believe that’s how the world goes. Or rather I couldn’t believe. That I’d think there’s no hope for us so maybe that’s what we deserve. To either be kicked around like trash or dominate the trashcan you’ve been thrown into.”
And maybe he should have stopped talking. But he hadn’t. Because someone was listening, because Gi-hun was listening. And he had to know what Gi-hun would think, finally.
“Gi-hun-ssi, you’re a previous winner. You saw until the very end what it was like in those games. To be the sole survivor, to do what must be done, though of course I don’t know what… But if we’re here together it must be because we share the same guilt that keeps us anchored here. So if you’re really anything like me, I can only imagine what you had to go through.” And if In-ho felt Gi-hun’s growing discomfort with the conversation he chose to ignore it. “And the fact you anticipated the fighting that night showed you knew just how low people could stoop. You saw the horrors of the world but still chose to throw yourself back into it to fight it. Not to join it, but to die for it. You didn’t have to do that. In fact it seemed like it would have been easier to just give up and give in. And if you had, could anyone really had been mad at you if after what you saw and experienced, you lost faith?”
“Nothing justifies doing what they do. You don’t get to ‘just’ give up and give in and think it’s fine because it’s ‘just’ how it was meant to be. No, I’d expect everyone to be mad and disappointed in me if I had done that. To beat me up for it even. Pull the trigger right between my eyes to save me from what I’ve become. If they loved me, they’d know how to help bring me back. Even if it’s not directly to them.”
Even if “bringing him back” meant killing him so his soul would come back to its previous, truest self. Untainted nor corrupted. Just who you were, are , when you’re set free. That’s what Gi-hun meant.
But his words run something else in In-ho’s mind. Was this Jun-ho’s aim? Jun-ho had never stopped looking for him. And if he was so desperate to get to him it was either to pull that bullet between his eyes, or offer him forgiveness in the worst way. One in which In-ho would have to live . Live with all his mistakes, his shame. He would have to learn to live with them — if that was even possible to live with those. He’d have to face daily what he can’t take back, no matter how hard he’d try to go back to normal.
The process would be slow and painful, just as living was slow and painful.
But in the end what was undeniable was that Jun-ho had come and no matter the way, had offered him forgiveness. He hadn’t pulled the trigger on him, not this time, but when he offered In-ho the possibility to die for him, that was his forgiveness. The blessing Jun-ho gave to him.
So maybe that was a sign In-ho’s soul could be forgiven. Forgiven but not redeemed. And Gi-hun would have to be the judge of that.
“So if I had been that masked man you talked about before… Knowing all that you do now. Do you think forgiveness could be possible for me?” He asked tentatively. If the question was out of taste, he still had to ask it.
Gone was Gi-hun’s caring face. His whole demeanor had shifted. Jaw clenched, and his stare hardened. Maybe In-ho had pushed his luck too far. But not all hope was lost, not when Gi-hun seemed to be thinking about it.
“Then the only salvation possible for you anyway would have been through death. Either that or only live to walk down a long, long path to redemption, painful, unforgiving and slow .”
Many judged Gi-hun, not understanding what he does or why he does. They under-estimated his intelligence, failing to see Gi-hun just how smart he could be. Destroying people with the worst — the best — strategy : the Truth.
In-ho nodded at him as an answer. He didn’t talk back, he couldn’t talk; he had to take the words in first. Truly understand them.
An awkward silence stretched between them. While In-ho reflected, Gi-hun was cooling down. And before it could get so heavy they would sulk, Gi-hun looked at him in the water’s reflection, with a tired smile that read ‘let’s move on’.
“Is that all that was weighing on your heart then? How they’d look at you?” Gi-hun asked, hoping they had cleared the grievances that were keeping them apart. “I suppose.” In-ho only told him as an answer.
“Stares should be the last of your concern. Plus, in the games there was no room to be scared of the public eye, because each and every one of your moves was always observed and scrutinized. You were pure entertainment all time long, but they never mentioned that in their contract, did they?” Gi-hun scoffed, feelings arising at the mere thought of the Games again.
Head still hung low facing the water, In-ho’s eyes ever so slightly wandered to his left where Gi-hun sat.
“If we ever meet them again, I guess we better tell them to make it into a new close.” He said with a sly smile, one hidden from Gi-hun’s view. “Eh, do you think that would have worked? If they had told people they were gonna be recorded and broadcasted, do you think many of them would have just turned around in fear of being watched and judged silently?” Gi-hun wondered out loud more than he asked In-ho. Still the other answered.
“Maybe. I think some would have had a change of heart for sure. There’s so much you can do for money and the hope it carries when you’ve hit rock bottom. And there’s a thousand excuses you can find to justify what you’ve done. And those excuses might work on you, you might find a way to comfort yourself. But then when comes someone else, someone better who carries a judgment; all that self-convincing falls apart. Because it’s not just you anymore, it’s the eyes and the thoughts of someone else on you. It’s someone much more respectful who makes you reflect on your own behavior.” In-ho stopped. He looked at Gi-hun’s distorted figure in the water once before immediately bringing his eyes back to his own figure further down at his feet. “And this feeling of being judged, of being looked at in ways you can’t control, it’s uncomfortable. It’s embarrassing. It's enerving. Because it can’t be as pleasing as you would like it to be. So you’d do anything to avoid this feeling of being judged. Whether it’s running away or abiding by standards.” He sighed once before his head snapped up to now stare at the dark sky horizon. “For instance, how many players would have voted X if there hadn’t been someone to comfort them in the idea that voting O was wrong. How many would have picked X if they had felt utterly judged and despised for their choice.” He concluded.
“And how many would have cowered at the idea of being a lab rat. Put in a cage of glass so you can’t see the walls and think you’re free, only to be toyed with, dehumanized, degraded just to please some rich assholes who knows where watching from who knows where. Maybe very far, maybe very close.” Gi-hun completed with a small amount laced in his words again.
“For money? The highest value on Earth… It seems people are ready to go to any length. If not for their lives, just for the cash and the promise of a new life.” In-ho honestly answered him, a disgust of his own now also present in his voice.
“There’s no new life after the game. Just death.” Gi-hun stated. “You play those games, you win, but you don’t really leave that island, on the contrary you stay stuck there with all the other players. Because you also died with them. Maybe not physically, but a part of you died there for sure. You entered as a certain someone, and left as another. That first person who made it in? They were never meant to come out alive. Ever. You can try to rebuild who you are but the moment you come back to the Game, you die again.” The old player 456 confessed. “And perhaps for good this time.” In-ho added in a whisper without meaning to.
But it seemed In-ho’s remark was enough to snap Gi-hun out of whatever daze he had fallen into as the older blinked before turning to him with wide confused eyes. “Uh?” He breathed out before realization flashed in those eyes. Right, In-ho was referring to the fact they were quite literally dead for real this time. “Oh yeah I guess. That’s just fate isn’t it?”
And In-ho thought about it. About fate. That same fate which brought them here and that one day would bring them together in an eclipse at last, when the universe alines right.
“Fate. I like the sound of it. But is fate always fair?” In-ho chuckled a little bitterly. “What do you mean?” asked ever so hopeful Seong Gi-hun.
In-ho took a deep breath before he answered him, yet still without looking at him yet.
“I’m saying Gi-hun, you played the games, won, had what it took to rebuild, but you refused to let go, so you came back to save us, and after all that I can only imagine you gave, you succeeded, but you’ll never get to see it. You had to give yourself wholly and entirely for your cause. Now that it’s achieved, it’s all you ever got time left to achieve. You could have finally gone back to your daughter, or reached for your mother on the other side, but instead you’re stuck here, forever. You were a hero, you died yet still got no rest. You’re a martyr Gi-hun. Is this fair?” In-ho asked with far too many emotions in his voice than he had felt in the last decade.
He felt angry. Angry against the system, against the Games, against fate, but mostly angry for Gi-hun — if not a little at Gi-hun — more than himself, also a previous winner now dead and broken down.
He felt sad too. With maybe a little pity too. Sad for what they had lost and would never get back. Sad about all the losses — of people, loved ones, or blissful ignorance — the disappointments, the heartbreaks. Sad about where they ended up, and why.
But also disbelief. Because why would Gi-hun not board that plane then? In-ho had warned him. And why would Gi-hun die when all he ever tried to do was save the world? Why is this how he’s getting repaid? Sharing the same punishment as In-ho who did much worse. Like the two have committed crimes of the same level. This made no sense. If anything it felt like Gi-hun’s punishment was worse. In-ho could benefit and take advantage of Gi-hun's presence, but Gi-hun had nothing to gain at all from being stuck here with the monster inside In-ho's lost and long gone soul.
Though of course if this mess of feelings was the tempest inside In-ho’s still heart, Gi-hun was once again his complete opposite. Calm, composed, even looking a little pleased In-ho would dare to think.
“Well first of all, it’s less that I ‘refused’ to let go, it’s that I simply couldn’t. I couldn’t go back to a normal life knowing what I knew. What I did. Or what I wasn’t doing, choosing to ignore human lives when I had the ressources to stop it.” — did he really? In-ho thought as he forced himself not to react — Gi-hun clarified. “Second of all, who said I’m not getting rest?” He asked light heartedly, with a small huff of laughter that blessed In-ho's ears.
And Gi-hun's radiance would always be enough to bring a smile to In-ho’s face, despite his best judgement. So do not judge him if in that moment, his lips stretched in a smile gained from contamination.
“Ah, well I just assumed since you’re here it’s because you’re stuck here. You can’t move on yet either so you’re still haunted by it all. And being haunted can’t be too restful.” In-ho nodded his answer, his tone now lighter too.
Gi-hun shook his head with a tired, but nevertheless real, smile. “That’s where you’re wrong Young-il. Yes I can’t let go, and yes I also have my load to carry that keeps me here and wild awake, but I’m not mad about my death. I don’t care that I died, not if I died for them.”
“You don’t? But what about… Not at all?” In-ho asked. And not as Young-il, Gi-hun’s pretend clueless friend from the 2024 Games. No it was Hwang In-ho who asked, with all the confusion in the (after) world.
Gi-hun pursed his lips, with a ghost of a smile on his face and ease — or was it contentement — in his eyes, turned to the sky that was starting to rise. He shifted his seating position again. He now held the edge of the Cliff with both hands, palms flat to the ground and legs sat a little spread in the void over the edge.
“I’m happy I died. What else would I have lived for? I had nothing waiting for me but misery, dead ends and self loathing. Not even my own daughter was waiting for her father. But even then, even if I had anything, how could I have kept on living anyway? I’d only say I’m alive because I’m still breathing. But I wish I wouldn’t be when being alive meant being stuck in the state I was in.” Pain . Yeah, In-ho knew that all too well. Being alive meant being physical, being able to feel the pain and never knowing how to make it stop. Because humans felt now matter how hard they tried not to. Being alive didn’t mean feeling alive. Oh not at all, no. “Then why am I stuck here you'd ask, if I'm so happy? It’s not life I'm hung onto, I’m glad I gave up on that. But it's the game. I can move on from my own death, but I never said I could get over the games. They'll forever have me trapped. That’s why I'm still stuck here.” He marked a pause to continue better. “But now that I’ve accomplished all that I wanted to do, my passing was a blessing. I like to think I died for rebirth. Maybe not just mine. But all the others too. All the ones I could save. Whoever they are, named and unnamed.” And Gi-hun's smile came back. Brighter, happier, and satisfied .
“I could name one.” In-ho suddenly spoke out very softly, a small smile gaining his lips, as always with Gi-hun. A small smile, proud but sad and resigned. “Me.”
And he felt Gi-hun immediately turn his head to him, like he had been slapped. “More than you think you did.” In-ho added, smiling down for real at the water.
But he wouldn't stare at reflections for long. Not until he would get Gi-hun’s reaction. The previous winner basically glowed beside him, the rising sun In-ho could feel against his face was probably envious of him. But In-ho didn’t want to just feel the sun, he wanted to see the sun. So his eyes tore away from the water, and moved to lock in Gi-hun’s.
And the sun was beautiful. And it burned, so bright. But the kind of burning that felt good .
Their eyes met and Gi-hun’s smile gained teeth, and soon turned into chuckles. A music even the wind couldn’t recreate. But In-ho wanted to be part of the melody, so he joined in, laughing with him. Like friends do.
And Gi-hun shoved him as friends do, and looked at him like he had given him the best news in the world. For maybe he had.
“You’re just saying that! Come on, I’m not that gullible.”
“No, Gi-hun, I’m being honest. You saved me in ways you didn’t see.”
“I guess I have no other choice but to believe you then.”
“Yeah, I guess you don’t.”
“But just how? I mean, I have to ask. I deserve to, you know!” Gi-hun exclaimed hitting In-ho on the arm one last time for good measure, as the shorter gave one last laugh before answering. “For starters, look at us right here right now.” And Gi-hun did. His eyes softened as he took in the both of them. Sat together on the edge of a cliff, laughing like old friends watching the sunrise over the realm of the dead. Long gone was the dread and the weight of the island as a deadly prison. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t have thrown myself in the water eventually? Before you came to sit with me, I wasn’t doing okay here on my own. I considered joining the waves more than once. See if I could die again for good, or just forever float around at the mercy of the sea, completely powerless for eternity, but far away from here. If you hadn’t come to me, what would I have done?”
Gi-hun stared at him with wide eyes. In-ho’s own eyes fled away from Gi-hun’s. He had held them in his for longer than he thought he was going to be able to anyway.
“So you were planning on leaving me? Tsk, I knew it you jerk…” Gi-hun joked, now also averting his own eyes away from In-ho. Instead he mirrored the other, watching the horizon with him.
“Yeah, but I would have never left. Because I couldn’t have left without saying goodbye.” In-ho confessed, voice just above a whisper. “And?” Gi-hun asked like he had already understood the weight of the conversation that was about to take place.
“And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say those words to you. Goodbye.”
“Why not?”
“Because it hurts; to say goodbye.”
“It doesn’t have to. It can just be bittersweet. A mutual agreement.” Gi-hun told him, as his head turned to look at him again. Their hands felt as though they were reaching closer to each other, like they were about to shake it off. So In-ho ever so slightly pulled his hand back, for he didn’t want to agree to it.
“But I’m afraid that this agreement will never be mutual. Because I don’t know how I’d ever be without you now.” for just like the Earth orbits the Sun, the Moon orbits the Earth. So the Moon inevitably needs the Sun to find purpose. “It would always hurt to say goodbye, because I care about you. Cared ever since I understood you were different, just like me. Though a different kind of different. A better one.”
“So was it me you were talking about earlier? When you talked of ‘people better than you who judge you’. Do you think I was judging you?” Gi-hun asked as if the very thought of it was offensive.
“Were you not, when I voted O and you chose X?” In-ho shot back smugly, giving a side glance.
Gi-hun sighed, clearly done with the situation but not angry. “I was mad, it’s different.”
“So mad at me?” In-ho pressed. He was learning to be better, but when he could prove a point, he often jumped on the opportunity.
Before speaking up Gi-hun gave a first answer through his body language : he combed a hand through his short hair. — In-ho had liked it longer. “Yeah. Mostly. But also everyone else. Including myself. I failed.”
“You know you haven’t” In-ho urged to say. And Gi-hun nodded at him the same way he did after they had reunited in Mingle, when he thought him dead. “Yeah, I do now.”
“So you’re not mad anymore?”
“No.” Gi-hun answered truly.
“Even if I left you for a moment?” He pressed, like he wanted Gi-hun to be mad at him.
“It’s okay, I forgive you.”
Forgiveness.
In-ho’s eyes glistened and he huffed to conceal what could have been a sob, passed as suppressed laughter.
The Sun had risen now, and the Moon was low in the West. But it didn’t mind disappearing if it meant letting way for its Sun to shine and light up the world, leaving it to bask in all its glory.
Gi-hun and In-ho sat together, by the edge of the cliff, on this island that was no longer the Games’ island but their island. The sun was in their face, casting an orange glow on them. It forced them to squint their eyes but it wasn’t quite discomfort. It felt like nothing could be quite wrong when they had each other. When they held each other, even if just their hands, now intertwined.
As the sun continued to rise, the winds to blow in their back like it wanted to carry them over the edge, and the sea was calm as if ready to welcome them, Gi-hun commented :
“People like us are different, because instead of saying ‘I love you’ we say ‘I cared about you since the moment I understood you were different’”
And In-ho laughed. A real, healing laugh. “Isn’t that beautiful though?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Mumbled with fake nonchalance, forcing himself to stare at the sunrise or he’d break character. Though he couldn’t help the smile that cracked through, not when In-ho was laughing like that right beside him.
“Do you really care for it?” for me. In-ho asked. Gi-hun nodded assuredly. “Yeah. I do Young-il.”
Ah, right. His laughter died down. He was Young-il to him. The player he met who wore tracksuit 001. Young-il who wore every mask, including the one to Gi-hun’s trust — and now maybe more.
Well then maybe it was time to bury Hwang In-ho. He had been born Hwang In-ho and had died Hwang In-ho. Hwang In-ho was dead. He didn’t have to be him anymore. As a matter of fact he didn’t wake up as Hwang In-ho, but Oh Young-il. All of his past combined in one. Not just In-ho.
He had already let go of the Frontman the moment the Games disappeared. The Frontman had felt the switch and joined the rest of the players. That included player 132.
So now was only left In-ho. The one who back on Earth, wore all the masks at once. A being of shame that had to be let go if he wanted to be free. Jun-ho would carry his memory for him.
Hwang In-ho.
Perhaps now it was time to let the wind carry him and the sea welcome him. And this island would only be his and Gi-hun.
Was it fair for Gi-hunn to ignore the truth? No, but it seemed Gi-hun had accepted the world would hardly ever be fair to him. It was better this way.
“I died for rebirth” If Gi-hun meant that, then he’ll allow him to find a rebirth in death, and have Gi-hun as his savior. His enemy, his liberty.
Goodbye, Hwang In-ho.
And the wind howled once, as a splash was heard in the water. Young-il held Gi-hun’s hand tighter. He smiled.
Being left stranded on the island, stuck here for eternity. It didn’t feel like a punishment anymore, not now that the past was let go of and discarded.
This couldn’t be Hell, not when Gi-hun was there. He had found heavens he knew he didn’t deserve but refused to let go.
Though for Gi-hun to stay stuck with a liar might be a punishment, but it seemed in reality that to Gi-hun, to know a life without the Games existed couldn’t be a punishment. And to preserve Gi-hun’s bliss, he would erase himself a thousand times to only be what Gi-hun wanted from him. He’d give up his whole pathetic shameful self in an instant if it meant having a chance to repent — since it seemed to never be too late with Gi-hun — and be fixed by him. Gi-hun.
Days continued to pass, still at their random pace, but there. Then nights would come and they'd be refreshing; something that never used to happen on the island.
One time he had dragged Gi-hun to come stargaze with him. He had taken his hand and led him through the island as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. Which was surprising when all he had ever really owned on this island was its walls.
They had lied down in an open clearing, the dirt was cold and the rocks bit their back but they hadn’t mind. They didn’t feel it. They had their heads next to each other but not their bodies. They faced opposite directions. Gi-hun to the East and him to the West.
Gi-hun didn’t know much about stars, nor how to read them, so he taught him, like which stars made the scorpio’s constellation, Gi-hun’s sign.
And his passion ignited stars in Gi-hun’s eyes. Stars much more beautiful than the ones above. The kind he’d rather they would be the ones he could stare at endlessly. But to know he was the only who could gaze upon them was already rewarding enough.
He used to do that before. Stare at the stars, to see hope and beauty in them. He’d take Jun-ho with him out of the city so they could see them better without the light pollution, and later his wife would be the one by his side when would come the shooting stars shower each year.
He had foolishly wished upon stars once, and it led him nowhere, because he had turned to the wrong kind. You could wish upon a thousand shooting stars, but even put together they would never compare to the Star. The Sun.
Now he knew, he had turned to the Sun.
He had told Gi-hun once, about his theory. That they were the Sun and Moon. One engulfed in darkness and dependent on the other to shine through, while the other gave light even if it didn’t ask for that burden.
Gi-hun didn’t find him crazy for it. He chuckled in endearment. He didn’t mind being the Sun. On the contrary, he seemed happy to be at least somebody’s sun.
They lied in the clearing, eyes on the stars, focused on this odd cycle of the Sun and the Moon rising and falling over the island. And their soft laughter filled the air. Killing the morbid atmosphere that was once casted on the island like a cursed fog.
Sometimes they’d go back inside the Games facility. Exploring what players weren’t supposed to see. Like where was the kitchen, the guards dormitories, or the control room. He had given Gi-hun a tour of the facility, skillfully disguised as an exploration. Together they had walked in his old room; the Frontman’s quarter, located up above with the best view. Gi-hun dug around, read through archives, went through the monitors of the Square Guards, discovered what other kinds of game rooms there were, or evaluated the comfort of a guard’s room. He seemed both amazed and choked at all he was seeing.
“Even the guards were just numbers to them. To them it’s not people's lives we were taking but soldiers . Replaceable, a setback.” Gi-hun had scoffed after seeing the row of numbered doors in a bright orange and black corridor.
And to calm the other, he had just slipped an arm around Gi-hun’s waist, because there was nothing to say. It was true. Even The Frontman was just another worker; replaceable, a setback if he decided to act as he pleased. And he had.
Once Gi-hun had felt satisfied with his exploring, they had walked back to the player dormitory. The door opened for them, even without the push of a button from a square manager back in the control room.
They instinctively went to sit by their old bunk. And Gi-hun felt tired, so they stayed there for a while. For days even. Because really, there weren’t many places to go on the island. And of the whole place, this room is the one Gi-hun had spent the most time in. Ten days of his life trapped in there. Now the rest of his death.
He had seen people die in here, fought in there, survived in there. It was diminishing, to crawl back to your cage, but at least the cage felt familiar. It was their cage. Where players slept. The ones who weren’t part of this massacre. It was best to stay a player then find comfort in the small luxury the higher ranks could get.
So they stayed in the dormitory for a while. Just the two of them. And like old time sake, they share a mattress. Though it happened they used it for other than just speaking.
It also happened that they wandered off in old Games rooms like the playground used for Dalgona. Or the kitchen as Gi-hun had once randomly decided :
“Let’s make Dalgona.”
And there was no telling him no. Gi-hun's mind was set, like he was a man on a mission. A man who had to heal something.
And so they made Dalgona, in triangle shapes.
A year of solitude had passed, neither saw it coming. They hadn’t been keeping count and the seasons, as the time, worked differently on their island.
The only they knew a year had passed is because that day when the sun rose it felt different. They felt a shift in the air. Not the shift, but a shift. Like people could reach to them but they couldn’t.
“Did you feel that?” Gi-hun asked, sitting up from his bed. They locked eyes and he nodded. “Yeah… That was weird.”
Gi-hun looked around them like he’d find answers in thin air. “Do you think someone died again?”
And he actually considered the question for a second before rebutting it. “But who… the Games were destroyed, we both saw it.”
Gi-hun didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, but it was the best he could give. With a sigh Gi-hun stood up with his hands on both knees. A reflex really, because one of the advantages of death was that it cured their old men back pains.
Gi-hun took two steps forward to the center of the room, still looking around at those familiar white brick walls painted with children's games drawing, as if they’d give him the answers he couldn’t. And maybe they had, when he saw Gi-hun stiffen.
“Jagi…” Gi-hun called out to him. He hummed in answer, following Gi-hun’s stare to see what shook him so bad. “There’s cracks in the walls.”
It was true, long cracks of different width, wide or narrow, run across the walls. Cracks that never should have been there. Was the place about to collapse on them again?
And just in case this would happen, he had urged Gi-hun outside, taking by the arm and dragging him out as the other fought back a little, looking at all the new found damages in the facility like he had to understand it.
Once they were out, they both stopped in their tracks. Not because they had to catch their breath, but because the feeling that something was even stronger here. That and not to mention the state of the Game complex. It was worse on the outside, absolutely destroyed. There were cracks, chunks of it missing, piles of debris right by it, ashes and burn marks everywhere. It was how the Games complex had looked like after the explosions. After it was blown up. But on the inside? It was fine — except for the cracks that led them out.
It didn’t make sense.
Not until they heard in the distance. The sound of footsteps. People were heading their way.
People who had already arrived minutes prior. If the two had been out earlier they would have heard them arrive. Heard the sound of a boat engine cutting through the waves and heading their way. Then the sound of voices and rummaging of the crew as they anchored on the island. And now the sound of their footsteps coming in the way of the dead.
The ghosts turned to look at the newcomers and the air was knocked out of their empty lungs. They could just stare in disbelief, mouth agape and eyes watering.
“There we are kid. I told you I’d take you to see him.” The man said, nudging the teenager that had walked beside him.
The kid looked at the trashed facility with a frown. “Are you sure it’s here sir?”
The man inhaled, like he was catching his breath after walking all the way there. Sweat had accumulated on his brows, the sun was burning hot today. He exhaled with a nod, casting a glance at the teenager before answering.
“Well the witnesses talked of an opening that started at ground level and dug under to tunnel inside the Games. Then it collapsed with him still inside… That looks like an opening no? Covered in rubles too.” He pointed out. “Plus I’m positive that’s where I met the survivors.” He told the other. His tone was a bit sassy but clearly not meant to be mean. He just looked like someone tired but on the verge of contentment.
The kid looked at him with big eyes; confused, curious, a little scared but still composed. “So… he’s really… under there?”
“In theory, yes.” The man sighed. “We have no way to confirm it though. We never found any body since they refused to investigate. They just pronounced everyone still inside dead on site, no chance of survivors within the rubbles.”
And beside Gi-hun a scoff was heard. Yeah that sounded like the Korean police. To make a case that would necessitate a little too much work die down. Getting teams and machines would have just taken so much. Plus it means admitting it to the public that such a deadly organisation existed and they let it happen. It would stir insecurity within the country, and no one would want to deal with the scandal.
“But people say they saw it, right here. Even if there’s no clear buried body to honor, he’s there. That’s his grave. So he’ll definitely be here in spirit.” The man nodded, putting his arm on the teenager’s shoulder in a comforting embrace.
“He died a hero you said right?” the younger one asked with sad eyes and a frown, staring at the pile of rubbles where the two other island residents were standing in front of.
“Yeah. He tried his best to save those he could. To stop those games. And he did, with his life.” He told her solemnly.
She took a shaky breath but didn’t dare to step forward yet. Sensing her restraint, the young man gave her a small smile. “Please, don’t be too harsh on him. I saw what this place does to people.”
He gave her shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before letting go of her. He then bend down, grabbing what he had previously carried over and discarded on the ground in the meantime he was accompanying the kid here.
Then he turned back and started leaving with determined steps, either having places of his own to be, or giving the teenager space. Maybe both.
“Wait sir, what’s the soju for again?” she asked, pointing at the pack of four soju bottles in the man’s hand.
“That? I told you, it’s for my brother! He always liked to drink soju with friends after a long day, or whenever we’d meet back to catch up, he’d buy me soju.” He answered, lifting the pack up to his eyes and giving it a tap or two, laughing as it brought back memory. Tearing his attention away from the alcohol, he looked at the teenage girl with a toothy grin. “Don’t tell him that if he’s around, but he still thinks he’s the one who bought me my first drink… Well he was the one who bought me my first soju though.”
The girl laughed, mimicking that her lips were sealed shut, and his secret safe. She had the mind to ask for one, as this was her father’s favorite drink too, but she figured it was out of turn to ask for a part of an offering. So she just watched the man walk away instead. Once he was out of sight, having passed the treeline and walked into the small forest, she turned back to stare at the rubbles she came for.
Muttering phrases of encouragement in her head, she walked forward with baby steps, before stopping right in front of the collapse entryway, as if afraid that if she came too close it would collapse again and she’d lose sight of her father again.
She stares at the destroyed pieces of concrete all stacked on each other, not granting access to the Games for the rest of the world. Keeping them safe. The longer she stared, the more her eyes stung from unshed tears and kept them unblinking. Her lips wobbled and her voice quivered.
“Appa…”
“Ga-yeong-ie.” But of course Ga-yeong didn’t hear her father calling out her name. She couldn't. Life and death were separating them, even if just for today it allowed the two worlds to collide so the dead could be honored and remembered.
Gi-hun wanted to cup her face, see how his little girl had grown, and make sure she was safe. But he didn’t find the strength to, so for a moment he just stared and cried.
And when Ga-yeong started crying too, that’s when his dead body finally moved. He couldn’t really hold her, but he still took her in his arms, hugging her tight like she’d disappear any moment. Like she was just a dream, a cruel illusion. But no. She was there. She was real. His daughter. HIs little girl, even if a little less little now. A bit more grown up.
And like she had felt her father’s cold embrace, Ga-yeong shivered and sobbed a little harder, muttering apologies and accusations. And Gi-hun wanted to tell her that everything was gonna be okay. That she had a beautiful life to live with her mom and step-dad in the US, and that she could move on. She didn't have to worry about him, no one was mad at her or ever blamed her. He wanted to tell her her dad was fine and he never wanted to hurt her.
He told her her dad was fine, he was happy now, and he loves her so much. And Ga-yeong cried for a little more, before she calmed down, rubbing the tears out of her tired eyes, and went to work, having an offering of her own.
Young-il had left, giving the family privacy. Plus he had his own family to run after. Jun-ho had came back. After a full year, his stubborn brother had come back for him. He had probably never stopped looking for an opportunity to come back. And maybe using Gi-hun’s daughter as an excuse to do so was a little harsh, but harmless nonetheless.
Jun-ho walked the length of the forest until he stopped right in front of that cursed tree. Proud, tall, probably century olds. It had survived heatwaves, freezing winters, tempest and In-ho.
Seeing The Tree, The actual Tree made him shiver in uneasiness but he pushed through for his brother. — and maybe just maybe he had a staring contest with the bark of three, but you’d never get him to admit that.
Jun-ho stared at the tree, sighing before squatting down in front of it. He dusted a small rectangle in front of it and tore off some dead weeds to clean up a spot for the white and pink flowers he was about to put down.
“These were her favorites. You know, you never had any excuse to never come see her, so this is your punishment. You don’t get your own flower.” Jun-ho spoke out loud like he knew he was listening, before laying down the flower on the makeshift grave. “It was already demanding enough to have to attend to one anniversary, but now two? One in Seoul, and one on some island. Why are you like that hyung? Making me pick up after you.” Jun-ho groaned, throwing his head back.
For a moment neither brother said anything. Just took in the sight in front of them. Death and commemoration. Life and the responsibility of grief. Jun-ho stood up and took a step back.
“Are you with her now?” Jun-ho asked. “Or maybe with someone new… Maybe Gi-hun-ssi is with you. After all, he died here too.”
No answer. He didn’t know if he should feel ashamed or amazed by his brother. Always quite the man, and the only other detective in the country who could rival to him.
“He’s with his daughter right now, I brought her here because she deserved to know what happened to her dad. I know what it's like to lose a family member and be left unanswered. Not even knowing if they’re dead or alive, so you can’t grieve because maybe they’re not dead, but living with hope feels worse.” Jun-ho spoke through knots in his throat. “I didn’t want to live knowing I was inflicting that on a poor girl… So I found a way to reach out to her in the US and I told her everything.” he concluded voice much more hurt now, his speech clearly meant to raise shame in his older brother. “Now they’ll either make up together. Or do whatever we did.” He sighed.
“But I don’t want us to fight again. There’s no point. What’s done is done and we can’t take it back. I can’t bring you back… What I could bring though was some soju.” Jun-ho announced as he sat up against the tree and reached for the pack he had bought. “Maybe a whole pack feels excessive but knowing who, I was almost worried this wouldn’t be enough. Just have one now with me and keep the other two for later okay? Don’t get drunk on it. I can’t either with the kid. I got to bring her back to her family. Be the responsible one.” He said as he grabbed one and started opening it. “Okay, I’m sorry, it was the last jab at you, I swear.” He laughed after a moment of silence, as he was busy with pouring himself a glass.
Once done he looked up like his brother was there watching him, and brought the filled glass up, raising a toast with himself. What he didn’t know though, was that another bottle had come gently clinking against his own.
While Jun-ho was busy getting comfortable against the tree, his brother had went to grab a bottle of his own in the pack. Of course he hadn’t been able to actually grab one, but a sort of miracle happened. Instead of grabbing a real life soju, a ghostly replica had emerged in his hand and out of the pack. In-ho chose not to question it. He guesses it must only be possible as it’s his offering.
Nothing could phase him anymore. He was already dead, what more could there be than that .
The brothers clinked glasses together then swung, drinking together, sat against the same tree, only on opposite side.
Their visitors had left before dusk. It was hard to have to say goodbye a second time, harder than the first one even — sacrifices tended to be less thought through and quicker. Now they had all the time to face their loss and miss them.
But they had to. After all, they already had death separating them, nothing could beat this kind of separation. Not to mention the fact that as soon as this day would end, their anniversary would have passed and this merging they had with the real world would cease to exist.
They’d be back to their island, just the two of them cursed together, and In-ho would become Young-il again.
The clock would strike midnight and the magic would be gone. That’s why they had to make the most of it while they could.
They met each other by the cliff. Gi-hun was already sat there, watching the boat leaving, crossing the horizon, something they’d never get to do. In-ho sat next to him, two bottles of soju in one hand.
“You look down.” He greeted him as he sat down, putting the bottles aside quietly.
Gi-hun didn't answer. He just stared at the ocean line, lost in thought. Young-Il craned his neck to glance at Gi-hun's face and follow where his eyes was looking.
“Ah, don’t tell me you were thinking without saying goodbye.”
That got Gi-hun looking back at him with that adorable expression of surprise of his. Then he closed his eyes and chuckled, though the harmony this time, sounded a little strained. A little sad.
“You know I wouldn’t. I gave enough goodbyes for today.” Gi-hun whined. “And it’s not like I could even if I wanted to.”
Young-il gave one quiet chuckle before turning back to stare at the sea with Gi-hun. “So you want to leave me?” he asked in mocked offence. And Gi-hun scoffed like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. Yet his face stayed blatantly neutral, the older man clearly having gone back to being lost in his own head.
“No . Just… leave this place and be with her. But I can’t.” He answered defeatedly. Like leaving was a battle he had already lost before he had even picked it. How unlikely for Seong Gi-hun. Death must have truly tired him.
“Hmm well that’s good.” Realizing his mistake and sensing Gi-hun’s glare piercing his soul, he quickly corrected himself. “ That you won’t leave yet!” Gi-hun glared at him once more before he hummed, showing Young-il was off the hook for now but threading a very thin line. That he better proceed his next words very carefully.
“Because if I recall correctly, you owe me a soju date,” he smiled.
And the words made all sign of annoyment disappear from Gi-hun’s face instantly; instead replaced with surprise and a little flush. Like that one time he had first used Gi-hun’s name then asked if it had bothered him. It hadn’t, so this shouldn’t be bothering him either.
“A soju date? I don’t remember it being a date.” Gi-hun chuckled softly. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t feel the tension then!” He joked right back.
Gi-hun looked at him as if he was crazy, but with a big smile.
“I thought this was just a ‘we’re about to die anyway’ kind of spur in the moment thing.”
He laughed, shaking his head ‘no’ while Gi-hun just turned his away with an amused huff. Once he had calmed down, he became a little more serious and answered Gi-hun for real.
“Well it wasn’t. I meant it Gi-hun. I’d really like to catch soju with you if you’re still okay with it.” He confessed with a genuine smile. One that begged not to be denied. And Gi-hun obliged, smiling back at him. “Of course I am Young-il.”
And he was glowing with joy. This day couldn’t get any better. Jun-ho had accepted him back, and now so had Gi-hun. — though it were much different contexts.
“But where would we even get soju on here anyway? I know we merged with the real world for a day but you can’t be planning to swim to the mainland and back just for a bottle of soju.”
With a sly smirk, Young-il triumphly pulled out the bottles from where he had hidden them with his figure. “I don’t need to, someone already did that for me.”
Gi-hun gawked at them, like they were the best thing in the world, and Young-il was his hero. “Where did you get that?”
“My brother.” He answered proudly. “He was the one we saw with…” though he had a good idea who this was, he preferred not to assume. He had learned that lesson.
“My daughter.” Gi-hun finished for him.
And his eyes widened a little. Of course he had expected this answer, but he had only ever heard of Ga-yeong. He had never seen her before, and especially not in person.
“Ah… I can’t believe I missed the presentations. Maybe next year.” He offered without really thinking about it.
But the words resonated in Gi-hun. Next year. Would Ga-yeong come back again next year? Could he see her again? Would her mom allow it… Would Eun-ji come too? Sure things ended on bad terms for them, but it wasn’t a messy divorce either. It was a “you had it coming” divorce. And Eun-ji wasn’t a bad soul. Sure their love was long gone and she had found someone she deserved, but Gi-hun had still been part of her life. So maybe…
“Yeah, maybe next year.” He whispered hopefully. And Young-il locked eyes with him, with a smile just as hopeful and a nod.
He then headed the bottle already in his hand to Gi-hun, and grabbed the other for himself. Gi-hun eagerly took the bottle but quickly noticed one problem. The two opened them but didn’t drink yet. They got comfortable instead. They had to do this right.
Gi-hun had his legs over the edge with one arm — the one which wasn’t holding the bottle — stretched back behind him to keep him up. Next to him, Young-il was sat straight and cross-legged. They took in the sight of dusk, the sun setting over the sea. Their relatives boats, only a small black dot in the horizon, about to disappear any moment now.
“I never thought they’d come to visit us.” A voice spoke out, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, neither did I. I can’t believe it’s been a year already.” Gi-hun answered, not taking his eyes off of the horizon.
“Didn’t feel like it uh? Time passes weirdly here. We had two summers, two winters, one spring and three Falls.” Young-il listed out as a fun fact. And now the conversation was starting to feel like one you’d have around good soju.
“Really? I haven’t been keeping count.” Gi-hun shrugged.
“I have. It keeps you busy.”
Gi-hun snorted. “Way to say I’m boring.”
“It’s much much more different than that.” Young-il defended, frowning at the idea Gi-hun would even think that. But Gi-hun only laughed.
He sighed before giving in to him, chuckling absentmindedly with him. “To our Chuseok?” he offered as a toast, raising his bottle.
And now was Gi-hun’s turn to feel offended. “We’re not calling our anniversary that.”
He tried to glare the idea through him, but was left unsuccessful. They had staring duels many times, and Gi-hun had to admit. There was just something powerful with the other’s eyes. Something so powerful it could rival with Gi-hun’s stubbornness. And even defeat it sometimes. “To our very own Chuseok.” He sighed with a small smile, clinking his bottle with Young-il’s.
As they drank, it was silent.
“You said earlier you wanted to leave to be with her, but couldn’t… Why not? What’s holding you back? Your daughter was right there, and she didn’t seem too mad with you.” Young-il suddenly spoke up, the alcohol easing his mind — after all this was his second bottle.
Gi-hun stopped his gulping to give him a side glance. “What do you know? You left to be with your brother. Maybe she insulted the hell out of me.”
Gi-hun’s tone wasn’t one of anger, but still one of reproach. Young-il chose to discard it, as he often had done with Gi-hun; overstepping to truly test the waters.
“No, I don’t think she has. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here sulking as you’re watching her go.” He expertly pointed out. Young-il was good at reading people, and he was an even better detective, always conducting good and correct deductions. The proof being :
“You’re right, I would have thrown myself in the water already.” Gi-hun scoffed, taking another swing of his soju.
“No you wouldn’t. You’re better than me.”
“Don’t say that. What did you brother tell you for you to get so harsh with yourself again?” Gi-hun whined like this — Young-il — was ruining the mood.
“Only the truth. What I needed to hear and what had to be told.” Young-il sighed truthfully, also taking a shot.
Gi-hun looked at him with a judgmental face before giving up with a sigh. “Complicated family stuff.”
“ You’re telling me? ” Young-il spat out defensively — but not aggressive. Because this was the pot calling the kettle black.
Gi-hun groaned, almost choking on his drink.
“It’s different! Your brother will always be your brother. With my Ga-yeong, I could have lost my right as her dad long ago. She could have chosen never to forgive me for being absent.” He sulked. But Young-il cut the feeling short like a man on a mission.
“But she didn’t. She forgave you, and as you said, she chose to. Maybe you weren’t that absent if she came all this way to find you. You were present in her heart this whole time.”
And Gi-hun looked at him in a conflicted way. He didn’t know if he should destroy Young-il right where he sat, or thank him for sitting next to him and trying to comfort him. Ultimately he chose neither option. Instead he chose to explain himself to give Young-il one last way out.
“I was supposed to go see her in the US, but at the last moment, right when I was about to board that plane, I turned around because I chose the Games instead. Stopping them became a priority before I could get to her. From there, I never called or never texted in three years. And the one time I did, it was as I was getting ready to walk the last corridor. And even then I couldn’t even talk to her. I just got to hear her voice before she hung up.”
But his words didn’t stop Young-il, on the contrary.
“So you tried.” he stated.
“Yeah. But I couldn’t. I failed as her dad.”
After a silence of consideration, he set down his drink, and turned to face Gi-hun fully.
“From how I see it, you stayed away because you felt undeserving. When in truth you had survivor guilt and an unhealthy obsession you could have never truly cured, because if you had talked to it to anyone, they’d have sent you to a mental hospital. So that’s an unfair situation. Gi-hun you can’t be treated as anybody because you’re not just anybody. You were different. Still are.”
Gi-hun opened his mouth to answer but he wasn’t done.
“And I’m sure you also stayed away because you wanted to protect her. You knew going to her would be bringing the game to her, because you could never let go of the game. They’d always follow you, no matter where you went. The US or further off. So you had to stay away. You couldn’t risk her getting involved into all this.”
By now Gi-hun had accepted to go quiet, staring down at his Soju instead.
“And when you fought to end the game, it had to be more than vengeance or ego. From what you told me, everything you did, you did it for someone. For yourself, for you fallen friends, for the players, for the Frontman to see he’s wrong… And deep down, maybe unbeknownst to you, also for Ga-yeong, so that this world can be safe for her and every other little girl or boy that will have to grow into this society, and that maybe one will also inevitably get thrown into the Games as well.”
Young-il stared at the distance as he downed another swing of his soju like a narrator who had to soothe his throat to tell the rest of the story better.
“You think you couldn’t have been a father to her, but you never stopped loving her. I think it’s the first step to being a father. To be a good or excellent dad takes more steps of course, but being a dad starts at loving your child and caring for them. And clearly, even in death, you still do. If you had to leave, if you ever felt the shift, I know it’s to her you would go. To catch up with all the times you wanted to be there for her.” He concluded a little roughly, leaving little room for discussion.
But that had never stopped Gi-hun before. teenagegirl
“Want isn’t enough. I should have been there.” The teenage girl's dad argued.
“You don’t get to decide that. Only she can be the judge of it. And she decided to forgive you. She still chose you as her father.”
And this time his judgement was final. Or rather Ga-yeong’s judgement. Young-il only being her rapporteur-judge in this trial. And though Gi-hun abided this time, he took it a little childishly, pouting.
“I can’t believe you… Giving me family lessons.” He mumbled as it was his turn to take a shot.
“ Hyung .” He warned, bordering on hurt.
Gi-hun wetted his lips and pointed at him changing topic. “Yeah! Let’s talk of hyung; I didn’t know Jun-ho was your brother .”
“Oh.” he said in surprise. This wasn’t heading where he thought it was going to. “Well now you do.”
Gi-hun hummed, about to take another shot until he was assaulted with a question. “I didn’t know you knew Jun-ho.”
At first Gi-hun just stared at Young-il deadpan before raising his eyebrows in a way that said “Well now you do.” When Young-il didn’t laugh and instead just stared back at him, Gi-hun took it upon himself to give an actual answer.
“Of course I know Jun-ho. He helped me put an end to the Games to find his brother. Guess he found him uh.”
Young-il only nodded. He was hoping this conversation was over before it could drift furthermore toward much more delicate areas.
“One thing doesn’t make sense though. Oh Young-il, Hwang Jun-ho… Why the different names?”
Oh. That was an easy question.
“We’re only step brothers, that’s why. But to us it’s already enough.”
“Ah I see…”
And when Gi-hun went silent, he dared to hope this was truly the end of the Hwang brothers topic this time.
“... But another thing.”
Ah. Of course. Well maybe it wasn’t gonna be that bad.
“How did Jun-ho know you were there? I mean he had already come to the Games looking for you the same time I first played. Now he comes back years later, and you’re actually there this time. But you were already dead, you died during the revolt hours before Jun-ho and the mercenaries arrived.”
Gi-hun please don’t ask…
“So how did he know to find you here?”
Well now he had to think of a lie and quick. Does alcohol work on the dead? Because that would certainly help him right now.
Wait, he knew.
“Well, you heard him, they had witnesses. I’m sure he interrogated people like Jun-hee or Dae-ho and they told him I was there.”
He watched in tense anticipation as Gi-hun took in his answer.
“Would make sense yeah.” Gi-hun nodded. “But why did he go into the forest to find you?”
“He probably just wanted to give you guys some space. So he went for a walk in the forest nearby and settled on the most imposing tree he could find. You know the oldest, strongest, most respectful tree there is. The kind that reminds him of his hyung.” Young-il bursted out laughing to himself.
“Okay stop flattering yourself.” Gi-hun told him through a light chuckle. It wasn’t even that funny but Young-il’s laugh had always been contagious to him.
“Though I guess that in the end it doesn’t really matter where you stop on the island. Anywhere is our grave. This is our grave.” Gi-hun sighed out, as he patiently waited for Young-il’s laughter to die down beside.
“ Jagiya ” he called out, now calmer.
“Hmm?”
“I just wanted to say, it’s an honor to share a grave with you. When I know I don’t deserve this.” Young-il whispered with the smile of a man that was down bad for the other.
Gi-hun smiled back, but it was clear he was holding back.
“But what about your wife? Wouldn’t you rather be with her?”
“Well we already had this discussion, I can’t go back to her, like you back to her either.” He said pointing at the horizon.
By now the boat had disappeared into the distance a while back, but it was the thought that count, and Gi-hun understood what he meant.
“Plus, my wife already has her husband. He died before I did, and he’s with her somewhere in some obscure way… That or she found a better soul than me in heaven.”
His words seemed to sadden Gi-hun as much as they seemed to swoon him. So he gave the final blow.
“And Gi-hun, I believe anyway that we’re soulmates.” He confessed as he stared at the water. At the picture of Gi-hu and him sat next to each other. Of Gi-hun right there with him. That was a beautiful picture. It felt right. But it also felt wrong . “I’m just sorry you got stuck with me.” He smiled sadly.
“ Sorry ? Why’s that.”
“You deserve better than me.”
Gi-hun furrowed his brows and looked away from him. Then he looked back at him with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Someone once said you don’t get to be the judge of that. And I decide that I’m fine with you. For now .” He teased. “Or I’d have thrown you into the sea already.”
“Yeah, I’d have deserved that.”
Their eyes met through the water. And now the picture only felt right though it was a little wrong. They were the Yin and yang. Evil in kindness, and kindness in evil. They’d either destroy each other or complete each other. They had gave up on their grievances against each other. Now they had accepted the other, or what they both thought they knew of the other.
But then their perfect picture was distorted. A drop falling into the sea disrupted their peace and shook their beings. Then another fell and blurred their faces. And then another, and another, and another and they were ruined. Attacked never ending droplets of water.
“It’s raining, really?” He groaned, glaring up at the sky and sticking his hand out just to make sure.
Gi-hun laughed, enjoying Young-il’s reaction, as if the rain wasn’t gonna be a bother to him as well. Young-il confusedly glared at him. What did this man know that he didn’t and that was just so funny.
Putting down his soju beside him, Gi-hun put a hand on Young-il’s shoulder for stability as Gi-hun turned his back to Young-il, as he reached for something a little further off behind him.
“It’s okay don’t worry. I got something my Ga-yeong left me.” Gi-hun told him giddily, opening up “An umbrella?”
She stood in front of the rubbles that were labelled as her father’s tomb. She evaluated them, as she tightened her grip around the umbrella she had carried all the way over.
“When you left our house that day, you forgot your umbrella. So I came back to bring it back to you. But you left without it, alone in the rain, and I never saw you again. When we left to America, mom wanted to throw it out, but I told her it was mine that a friend gave me and she allowed me to keep it. I think she knew I was lying, but she still allowed me to bring it with us. I took great care of it don’t worry! And now I finally have a chance to give it back to you, for real this time. It’s supposed to rain on the island tonight, so you’re gonna need it. And that way you’ll never be alone all wet in the rain again. Because you’ll have a part of me like I had a part of you.”
She then carefully angled the opened umbrella on top of the rubbles, sheltering her father ’s grave.
“I always used to forget my umbrella. It’s the best gift she could have given me.” Gi-hun smiled with a shimmer in his eyes. The one only proud father would get.
Young-il smiled too. Because he was happy for Gi-hun. Happy that he was happy. Happy that Gi-hun had such an amazing daughter. Happy that Ga-yeong had such a loving dad. Just happy and touched by the little family.
Together they scouted under the pitch black umbrella, enjoying their soju under the rain, with a soft wind, and a chanting sea. There, on their island, by the edge of the cliff, happy to have each other.
“Did you drink the whole thing already?”
“No, I still have at least one shot left. Why?”
“Because I’d like us to drink to one last thing.”
“What?”
“Would you do me the honor, of accepting to share your grave with me?”
And glasses clinked.
Notes:
Did it suck? Yeah, it's not my best work. "All that wait for this???"
I'm sorry, I wished I had provided better really. Hope it wasn't TOO bad either :')
As said in the tag, it's really bittersweet, and I tried to explore as many themes as possible. Including In-ho's fractured identity and his choice to become Young-il, because Young-il is everyone he's ever been merged into one person. Except Young-il is his best option since Young-il he's also someone an invention. He gets to chose who he becomes now, as he choses to explore how to have this new "life" with Gi-hun, even if he still find himself undeserving and manipulative. There's kindness in evil!
Also, I have another excuse if this is poorly proof read... My cat just disappeared, I'm extremely worried about her, and I was really sad the whole day so I didn't have the will to be proof reading. Only writing as best as I could.
If you read up to here, thank you so much, it means the world to me, really.
I love you whoever you are out there!!! <3
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