Chapter Text
A blinding pain in the temple where the bullet had struck, masking the stab of the knife in his back. His mother’s sobs. Silence. Then music. It was classical music. Peaceful, but also eerily familiar. At least the pain seemed to be gone.
“Don’t hold up the line. People are waiting.” A hand on his back, the same place he had been stabbed, shocked him into awareness. The room was bright- pinks, greens, childish colors. There were photo booths lined up in columns with players filing in to have their pictures taken.
“Yong-sik!” his mother hissed, pushing him more forcefully to move forward.
“Mom?” Yong-sik turned to the woman speaking to him. Geum-ja, his mother, hair in a knot on her head, held together with the knife she stabbed him with.
“What’s going on with you? You’re too young to be having a stroke. Take your picture!” his mother urged, smiling as an example.
“Smile,” the voice of the booth directed, but Yong-sik couldn’t. He was staring off into the camera with thoughts racing. Why was he here? Wasn’t he dead? Is this what people meant when they had their lives flash before their eyes? If so, it wasn’t really a flash. More like he was stuck in a memory waiting for connecting flights.
“Are you alright?” his mother asked him, noticing his disorientation that remained strong. “Yong-sik, are you feeling okay?” Geum-ja pulled her son off to the side, giving up her place in line.
“I died,” he mumbled, starting to shake.
“What?”
“I died. I’m supposed to be dead. I… I…”
“You didn’t die. What are you talking about? Is this about your overdose? The doctors-”
“No, not the pills, mom. Here. I died here. You…You…” Did his mother, whatever version of her this was, know about what had just happened to him? He thought it better not to bring it up. He couldn’t even truly say it to himself. “I was shot in the head in this building. The room with the rainbows and the hands and the stars.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Did you take something? You have to tell me.”
“No, I didn’t take anything. At least I think I didn’t.” What if that was what was happening? Something in the chemicals that the guards used to knock him out in the van? Maybe the next four days were all a drug hallucination? It was all so crazy, wasn’t it? But it was so real. Was he dead or alive? Yong-sik could think of only one way to test it.
Yong-sik rammed his foot into the wall, yelping at the pain. “Ow, fuck!” So, probably alive then.
“What is going on?” Geum-ja questioned, mouth open wide at Yong-sik’s sudden deranged behavior.
“Everyone must take their picture before proceeding to the first game,” a square guard said from the side of the mother and son.
“Please, sir, I think my son’s not feeling so well. He’ll probably need to sit this one out,” Geum-ja said.
“Refusing to play the game will mean elimination.”
“No! No elimination. I’m fine. I’m completely fine.” Yong-sik wasn’t sure what was real anymore, but if he truly was alive he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Yong-sik-”
“Go take your picture, mom. I’ll wait for you out on the field.”
“The field? What are you- Yong-sik!” But Yong-sik was already moving on.
Yong-sik continued on to the first game, taking in as much of his surroundings as he could. Everything seemed exactly as he remembered, nothing out of place from a few days ago. It was as though everything had been reset. 456 people, most of whom would be dead by tomorrow. Were they also as confused as Yong-sik or was he in this weird experience alone? His mother didn’t seem to understand him, but she hadn’t died in Hide and Seek. He wouldn’t let her.
Up ahead he saw two people yelling at each other in line. 390 and 456. 390, alive. And even further ahead, tufts of bright purple hair belonging to that crazy rapper, also alive. It was the same people, the same place, same music. Was it also going to be the same game? Why is he able to know all of what was about to happen before it happens?
Once making it onto the field, also the exact same as before, Yong-sik waited at the entrance and caught his mother's arm upon spotting her.
“What has gotten into you?” Geum-ja asked, pulling her arm away.
“Mom, you have to listen close to me. When the doll says red light you must not move under any circumstances.”
“What doll?”
Yong-sik pointed across the expanse to Young-hee positioned so innocently- ironic for what was about to occur. Geum-ja was taken aback at the sight, squinting at first to get a better view. “That’s fucking creepy,” she said just as the doors swung shut and locked.
“The first game is Red Light, Green Light,” a voice called out from the intercom.
“When the game starts, I need you to stand behind me. When green light gets called out we’re going to move as far as we can, and then stop just before the doll turns around.”
“This is silly. We’re playing a children’s game?”
“Yes, it’s a children’s game, but you need to take it seriously.”
“Alright, alright, I know we need the money. I’m just glad it’s not gambling.” Yong-sik stared at his mother who rolled her eyes. It’s not about the money now , he thought. How was he supposed to explain that so many people were about to die? Could he stop it?
“Everyone, listen up! Pay attention!” Gi-hun called from the front of the crowd. Yes, that’s right. Gi-hun, even if not exactly like Yong-sik, had done this before. “This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!” Disbelief swept through the crowd of people, but Yong-sik felt like he was about to throw up.
“What is he saying?” Geum-ja asked her son, amusement in her voice.
“If you get caught, you die! That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!” Gi-hun explained.
“Oh, he’s a lunatic.”
“No, he’s not,” Yong-sik said gravely. “Listen to him very closely. He’s trying to help.”
“Are you developing latent schizophrenia?” Yong-sik wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t. What was his brain capable of?
The doll turned around, the first game set to start. Yong-sik pulled his mother behind him. “Use my body as a shield. The doll won’t be able to see you if you’re behind me.”
The first green light was called and Yong-sik began moving forward, one hand behind him to feel for his mother. He stopped just as the doll turned around, Gi-hun directing the larger group.
Another few green lights and Yong-sik continued to advance, listening intently to Gi-hun’s instructions. Him and Geum-ja made it relatively far, positioned at the front of the herd despite starting in the very back. A woman’s screams broke through the field. Shit, Yong-sik thought, forgot the exact details of how this went down . He wished he knew who the person was who first got eliminated just as a bullet flew through the air.
“What just happened-”
“Don’t move,” Yong-sik said, moving his lips as little as possible.
A domino of further eliminations quickly followed, panicked people running to the exit Yong-sik knew was locked. It confirmed to him that, for whatever reason, he was alone in remembering all that happened here. It wasn’t dependent on whether you died in a previous round or not.
Green light. Yong-sik tried to pull his mom forward with him, but she wouldn’t budge. She too was experiencing her own freak-out having no idea that any of this would happen. Luckily, Geum-ja had managed not to move a muscle.
Yong-sik turned around to face his mother, just as the doll rotated to inspect the crowd.
“Mom, listen but don’t talk. We have to keep moving when the doll says green light. If we don’t make it across the field when the timer goes off we get eliminated too. We can walk calmly, okay, but we need to keep moving forward.”
“You want me to walk calmly?” Geum-ja questioned in shock, her lips as still as possible.
“Whatever gets us across this field.”
Another green light and Yong-sik and his mother, alongside Gi-hun were the only ones who moved forward. Red light, and they stopped. Another green light and Jung-bae joined in moving forward as well. Yong-sik fell behind him who followed Gi-hun, knowing they were likely going to make it and could protect his position as well.
Yong-sik scanned the crowd with his eyes as Gi-hun directed them to form lines of people next time the doll turned around, modeled by him, his mother, and Jung-bae. Who else had been behind him last time? Who were the allies that he could make sure to keep protected? Thankfully one was spotted. 222, Jun-hee. He felt nothing but guilt looking at her. He needed to make it up to her if he could. Once green light was called, Yong-sik kept moving forward, calling out to Jun-hee just a few steps away to get behind Geum-ja. She nodded and fell into place, confused as to why Yong-sik was calling her out, but grateful for the help.
“Lean on me if you need to, I’ll be steady,” he said to Geum-ja.
The five of them were amongst the first to make it across the finish line. Yong-sik grabbed onto his mother and hugged her tightly, who began to breathe so heavily as though she hadn’t been for the entire game.
“Are you alright?” he asked his mother.
“I… I… Yes, I’m alright. Are you alright?”
“Fine. We’re fine. Are you okay?” he turned to Jun-hee who was also catching her breath, bent over with a hand on her side.
Jun-hee nodded once more. “Thank you. Sorry I grabbed onto you like that,” she said to Geum-ja.
“It’s alright,” Geum-ja said, doing a scan of Jun-hee. Yong-sik knew what she was putting together. He recalled back to the moments leading up to his death. Jun-hee with her newborn baby standing at the front of the exit. Yong-sik with the knife in his hand. His mother in between them. Deep shame settled deeper within him when realizing how in just four days this place could push him to consider attacking such a vulnerable young woman. His mother risked her own life protecting her during this first game. How had he not known what was going to happen?
⭘△☐
The survivors were returned to the dormitory, Yong-sik not letting go of his mother once. He was too disoriented to feel any sort of resentment towards her for the stabbing. He was too focused on survival however possible and wasn’t even sure what was real anymore. Now, walking back from the first game, Yong-sik had a moment to reflect. He still wasn’t sure what was happening, but felt he needed to make a plan of how to proceed. Whether premonition, limbo, or alternate universe, this reality was matching up identically with his previous one. Everything, except for him.
He quickly tried to remember as much as he could of the next few days. Six-legged pentathlon, mingle, the rebellion, hide and seek . Young-mi, Jung-bae, Young-il’s deaths. Was he doomed to witness all of those events once again? Was he going to die with his mother’s knife in his back once more? It seemed that nobody who had previously died survived Red Light, Green Light. Yong-sik was too focused on protecting his mother, worried that this universe might actually be a crueler hell. He should’ve helped Gi-hun convince the group of the game's rules. He should’ve tried to find the woman who first set off the domino effect. If he did, could he have saved people’s lives? What is he able to change here?
Everyone gathered at the back of the room, most unspeaking, all exhausted and horrified. Some were planning escape, Yong-sik supposed, knowing it was futile.
Yong-sik looked at Geum-ja whose expression was far off and terrified. He wanted so badly to feel angry with her. Even if she couldn’t remember the stabbing, her choices stuck to his brain like fly paper. However, for some reason he couldn’t be mad. The choices he made would’ve been a thousand times worse if she hadn’t stopped him. Still, he felt a divide between them that wasn’t there before. The first chance he got he needed to get the both of them out of there. If they weren’t in the games none of this would happen. He could finally prove to his mother that when given the chance he can actually make good in his life. He’s had so many chances before and he knows he’s kept letting her down. It stings him to realize he was doing that up until his very last moment. He can’t blame her for what she did.
The doors opened, overhead lights turning on, and several armed pink guards entered the dormitory. They informed them of the number of players eliminated. Geum-ja held on tightly to Yong-sik and pulled him forward.
“Sir! Please don’t kill us!” Geum-ja shouted.
“Ma-”
“Please don’t kill us! I beg you!”
“Ma-”
“As for my son’s debt, I will do whatever it takes to pay you back! Please forgive us!” She turned to Yong-sik, pulling his hand to join her where she was kneeling on the floor. “Don’t just stand there. Beg for his forgiveness.”
“Mom, they’re not the debt collectors. They won’t listen to our begging.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Geum-ja pulled him down beside her, but he didn’t beg. Several followed to beg for their lives. Yong-sik looked towards his mother, seeing the desperation in her eyes, the same one he saw in his final moments
“Clause three of the consent form! ‘The games may be terminated upon a majority vote.’ Correct?” Gi-hun recalled, stepping down from the bunks with conviction.
“That is correct,” the square-masked manager confirmed.
“Then let us take a vote right now.”
Yong-sik looked around the room, remembering how this first vote went down. Maybe if he could find Young-il somewhere in the crowd? He could convince him to vote X before it got to his turn therefore avoiding all the ugliness that was to follow. Where was he? Yong-sik stood and continued to scan. He was interrupted from his searching by the piggy bank above their heads filling with the money accumulated in the first round. He saw the hungry looks in his peers' eyes, unaware most of them would die before seeing a cent of that money if they decided to continue the games.
He looked around for Young-il again, but the crowd was even more densely packed. The voting station got set up and everyone gathered to start the first vote. Yong-sik was one of the only people moving amongst the tinned sardines of players, trying desperately to find Young-il.
Gi-hun was called to vote.
“It’s all pointless! You didn’t decide when you came into this world, and you can’t decide when you leave it either. When and where you die were already decided by the gods the moment you were born,” Seon-nyeo said from the top of her bunk. Yong-sik hated her, knowing that she would use her influence as a shaman to convert people into voting for O, prolonging their time in the games and leading to several deaths. He did not believe for one second in her abilities, feeling it driven by her arrogance and desperation for control. “No matter how hard you try, you can never escape it.” He hoped with all his might that his disbelief in her would prove true.
Gi-hun chose X as expected, kicking off the voting. It then moved in descending order, too many voters choosing blue, a pattern doomed to continue unless Yong-sik had anything to say about it. He continued to search through the crowd for Young-il, finally catching a glimpse of him in the back of the crowd as Gi-hun stepped forward to chastise the “O” voters. Yong-sik, knowing Gi-hun’s speech wouldn’t work, thought it best if he spent his time targeting an individual.
“Young-” Yong-sik began, quickly stopping himself, realizing that from Young-il’s perspective Yong-sik was a complete stranger. “You, player 001.” Yong-sik spoke quietly, not wanting to distract entirely from Gi-hun in case, for some reason, in this universe it worked. That, and Yong-sik was certainly not the biggest fan of being the center of attention.
Young-il looked towards Yong-sik with a cold confusion, before giving his focus back to Gi-hun in the middle of the crowd. “We have to get out of here now. With a majority vote, we can!” Gi-hun shouted.
Player 100 stepped forward to question Gi-hun and Yong-sik retrained his efforts on Young-il.
“Player 001, sir.” Yong-sik grabbed Young-il’s shoulder, but quickly removed his hand when Young-il recoiled. “Sorry… sorry.”
“Can I help you?” Young-il asked, his eyes mostly on Gi-hun, but occasionally sparing questioning glances towards Yong-sik.
“Yes. I want to ask you to please vote ‘X’. I know it’s tempting to stay for the money, but you need to consider the people around you who will die if you do.”
Young-il stared at Yong-sik before turning back to the crowd, effectively ignoring Yong-sik. “Sir?”
Yong-sik turned his head to see his mother stepping into the middle of the escalating argument.
“Let’s put our lives first and get out of this place! Okay?” Geum-ja pleaded, making brief eye contact with Yong-sik who smiled at her. Several voices erupted amongst the sea of players, a seemingly equal mix of desire to continue and to stop the games.
“Sir, please, you need to vote ‘X’. That woman there, she’s my mother.” Young-il was barely meeting Yong-sik’s eyes. He felt colder than when he’d previously known him, like a different character. Possibly because Yong-sik was coming on so strong, he supposed. “She won’t be able to survive here. We can try to help you when we get out.”
“Help me? With what money?” Young-il then separated himself from Yong-sik and made his way into the crowd, just as Gi-hun called out that he’d previously been a player.
Yong-sik’s pleading clearly wasn’t going to work on Young-il. Not this round at least. Who else could he target? Who had voted blue in the first round that Yong-sik might be able to convert right now? Hyun-ju . She was somewhere and she still hasn’t voted. She was likely Yong-sik’s last hope. Now, where was she? It was easier to spot Hyun-ju than Young-il. Tall with beautiful straight hair down to her shoulders, rather distinct despite the uniforms. Yong-sik needed to focus, but he couldn’t ignore the relief he felt at seeing her alive even if he still didn’t understand why.
The guards put an end to the argument and got the voting process back on track, limiting Yong-sik’s time to convince someone to switch votes even more. Yong-sik approached Hyun-ju, tapping her on the shoulder just as player 228 made his way up to vote.
Hyun-ju turned around to face Yong-sik, confused like Young-il but warmer, although more apprehensive. Yong-sik figured she must be worried he was going to say something rude, and quickly smiled to try to quell her fears. “Sorry, miss, just… You don’t know me, but I can tell you are kind. I know we are all struggling with money in some way if we ended up here-” Votes continued to be made, blue staying too close to red for comfort. “But your life is worth more than the money here.” Hyun-ju’s eyes softened slightly, but she still seemed overtaken by a deep sadness and nervousness. “My mom is here. It’s my fault… It’s my fault that she’s here.” Yong-sik could feel tears building in his throat. “No one, especially not my mother, deserves to die because of my stupid decisions. I’m begging you to help us leave.” Yong-sik was fully crying now, eyes desperate as they bore into Hyun-ju’s.
“I’m not the only one voting. It’s not solely my decision,” Hyun-ju said.
“I know, but it’s close and every vote counts.” Yong-sik and Hyun-ju stared at each other, unspeaking.
“149,” the square guard called out. Geum-ja began to make her way to the voting stand. Yong-sik watched her, catching Young-il in his periphery staring at him and Hyun-ju with an odd expression of relief. Geum-ja voted “X” without hesitation before turning around. She met eyes with Yong-sik who waved to her and nodded.
“That’s my mother,” Yong-sik said to Hyun-ju. “She’s tough. She survived the Korean war and worse, but she doesn’t deserve to die here playing children’s games. You don’t deserve that.”
“You don’t know who I am,” Hyun-ju said.
“I don’t, but I know that your life is worth more than 100,000,000 won.”
“120,” the guard said.
Hyun-ju looked down to her number and then extracted herself from the crowd.
“Please,” Yong-sik called after her.
Hyun-ju walked towards the machine. She stood in front of it for several moments. Yong-sik adjusted his glasses, his hands shaking in anticipation. Blue illuminated Hyun-ju as Yong-sik’s stomach sank.
It was the same thing as before, all of it. The same people died during Red Light, Green Light. The same people voted for “O” despite both Gi-hun and Yong-sik’s differing attempts at persuasion. Hyun-ju turned around, looking at Yong-sik with his tears still drying on his cheeks, before lowering her head and sheepishly joining her fellow “O” voters. Yong-sik could swear he felt the phantom pain of the knife in his back.
Eventually his number came and Yong-sik shuffled to the voting machine. He pressed “X” after barely looking at it . He took his patch absentmindedly and immediately made his way to his mother.
“Thanks for not getting any stupid ideas,” Geum-ja said, taking Yong-sik’s hand. He squeezed it before looking into his mother’s eyes.
“I’m not gambling anymore. It ruined my life. I never wanted you to get roped into my shit,” he said, trying not to cry again.
“Your shit is my shit, Yong-sik,” Geum-ja said matter-of-factly.
Yong-sik wanted to correct her, but at that moment Young-il approached the machine, concluding the vote with the necessary “O” to continue the games.
Geum-ja let out an anguished sound as Yong-sik turned towards the cheering blues. Hyun-ju glanced at him briefly and Yong-sik’s mouth turned up into a defeated smile. He didn’t blame her for the way she voted. He blamed himself for not being able to change it.
⭘△☐
Yong-sik and Geum-ja got their food and sat together at their bunks dejectedly. Yong-sik was still trying to parse through exactly how he ended up here and what he was meant to do, if anything at all. He remembered finding Jun-hee, her baby, and his mother by the exit. He remembered going to kill Jun-hee when his mother stabbed him in the back. He remembered holding her, apologizing, her screams, and then the guards entering just as the timer went off. He also remembered the pain of the bullet in his head and then suddenly coming to while in line for the photo booths as though none of the past four days had happened at all. But this wasn’t a dream from what Yong-sik could tell. He was in his body and could feel his physical space, and nothing had skipped a beat. Since waking his consciousness has been continuous, time moves normal. This wasn’t a replaying of his memories. He had agency and was able to make different choices even if they didn’t seem to impact the larger outcome. The previous universe, time-line, whatever it may be, didn’t seem like a dream either. He could feel his body then too, and not only that, but whatever was happening now perfectly replicated everything he had previously experienced. Yong-sik didn’t believe in psychics. At the very least, even if they were real, Yong-sik didn’t think he would be one.
Yong-sik’s leading theory at the moment was that somehow in death he had been given a do-over, or a respawn like in a video game, a chance to try again and make things different. But then if that was the case, why wasn’t he able to get people to vote “X”? Maybe he just didn’t try hard enough?
“At least they’re giving us some good food,” Geum-ja said, opening her container.
“It’s cold,” Yong-sik said before even taking a bite.
“A fried egg is nice, though.” Geum-ja looked over to where Jun-hee was sitting alone. Yong-sik followed her gaze, shame now a permanent resident in his chest. “Excuse me.” Geum-ja stood up with her food and walked over to Jun-hee. Yong-sik saw her give Jun-hee her egg and talk to her, offering comfort and allyship considering Jun-hee’s pregnancy. Yong-sik, once again, realized he should’ve known immediately how the end of his life would go.
Yong-sik looked down to his food, losing his appetite completely. Geum-ja returned to her bunk with a delicate smile. She began to eat and Yong-sik slid his egg onto her rice.
“No, Yong-sik. You need to eat.”
“So do you. I saw you give that girl your food.”
“I’m old. You need it more than me-”
“I’m not hungry, mom, just take it.”
Geum-ja looked at her son kindly. “Alright, but don’t think this gives you any special favors.” Yong-sik smiled. Maybe this do-over wasn’t about changing anything? Maybe it was simply to spend more time with his mother before… before everything went wrong? Yong-sik sure wasn’t going to waste that.
“Mom, I meant it when I said I was done gambling. If I had known that you would end up here because of it I would’ve never done it in the first place. I shouldn’t have ever done it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. You were an idiot.”
“You shouldn’t have to worry about taking care of me so much. I’m sorry I’ve been bringing you down. You shouldn’t have come here because of me.”
“I will always be worried about you. You’re my son. And I chose to come here. I didn’t fully know what I was getting into, sure, but neither did you. It is what it is. We’ll play one more game and then people will come to their senses and we’ll make it out of here alive with hopefully enough money to settle your debts.”
Yong-sik sighed, his hands starting to shake again. Geum-ja noticed and put down her fork. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Because earlier you were acting really strange. What were you saying again? You said that you had died here, that you were shot-” Geum-ja gasped. “Wait! Did you know what you were getting yourself into?!” Geum-ja questioned, looking at her son with pure rage.
“No! No, of course not. I’m an idiot, but not that much of an idiot.”
“Good. But what was that about?”
“I don’t know. I think whatever knock out gas they used made me have a really weird dream. I think I was just remembering it,” Yong-sik lied. “I am fine, though.”
Geum-ja nodded, accepting the story. “If you say so. You were freaking me out.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” If this was all just a way to have some last moments with his mother he wasn’t going to spend them all convincing her he wasn’t crazy. Whatever information he had he needed to use discreetly. Not only did he not want to worry his mother more than she already was, but him seeming like a lunatic wouldn’t be at all helpful for future games where teams needed to form, if the results of those games could actually change.
Yong-sik looked over to Hyun-ju, also eating her food alone, scraping the last grains of rice into her mouth. Yong-sik looked at his still untouched meal. “Do you want any of the rest of this?” Yong-sik asked his mother, gesturing to his food.
“No, I’m already full,” Geum-ja answered.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Yong-sik also stood up with his container and approached Hyun-ju. She saw him coming towards her and quickly looked down, worried a confrontation was about to occur. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to berate you,” Yong-sik said. He held out his container. “Take it.”
“What?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“No, I mean. Why are you trying to be nice to me? I voted to stay.”
“I know, but a lot of other people did too. I won’t blame you alone. You need the money. I get it.” Yong-sik began to walk away.
“I can’t take your food!” Hyun-ju called after him.
“Yes, you can. I see you picking up individual grains of rice. I’m not gonna eat it anyway. It would go to waste.”
Hyun-ju looked grateful and nodded before bowing her head.
“Stay alive, Hyun-ju,” Yong-sik said.
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
Yong-sik thought for a moment, feeling stupider than ever before saying, “They… the guy said it before the first game, right?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Yong-sik turned away before Hyun-ju asked, “What’s your name?”
“Yong-sik. Park Yong-sik.”
“Stay alive, Yong-sik.”
I’ll try my best .